Trapped with the Blizzard (Tellure Hollow Book 4)

by Adele Huxley

  Marie turned her nose up and leaned against a wall at the far end of the circle. “Exposition isn’t part of the game,” she sniffed.

  Miah groaned, rocking back on the counter far enough that he needed to pull on me for balance. “I loved that poor dog!”

  “All right, all right. Someone else has to go next,” Drew laughed as she pulled the hood of the sweatshirt over her dark hair.

  The group was silent for a few beats until Miah stuck his hand up in the air. “I’ll go, dammit. Just give me a minute to think.”

  I tried to conceal my excitement at discovering a few things about this mysterious, hot guy who’d suddenly appeared in my life. I’m afraid I probably did flash him a goofy smile when he winked at me before starting.

  “So… three things, huh? Who’s guessing?”

  “I’ll go!” Marie declared.

  “You’re my best friend,” he laughed. “It’s not exactly fair.”

  “Just go.”

  “Three things… okay. I know how to knit, I’ve never seen the ocean, and I want to be a sports photographer when I’m all grown up.”

  As Marie made a dramatic scene of thinking over the choices, Miah pulled me between his two knees. Leaning against the wall, his legs on either side of my shoulders, he bent down to whisper in my ear.

  “Which one do you think it is?”

  I shrugged, mostly to hide the shiver his breath sent racing down my spine. “Do you think you could knit me a pair of mittens to match my hat?” I asked with a smirk.

  He kissed me quickly on the cheek. “In a day,” he replied as he sat up. “All right, time’s up.”

  My entire face burned red. I scuffed my toe against a tear in the worn carpet, not wanting to meet anyone’s eye for fear of looking like a stupid kid.

  Marie huffed and shook her head, curls bouncing around her head. “I have no earthly idea which one is the lie.” Her brow crinkled as she tipped back the bottle of vodka.

  “None of them,” Miah laughed.

  Marie choked and sputtered. “You’re a cheat! You can’t do… no, drink. Drink twice for that you little…” she growled as she handed him the bottle. Standing only a foot away from me, I think she noticed our body language for the first time. A little wobbly on her feet, she studied me. “How about you go next and Miah gets to pick?”

  “I don’t really think…” I protested before Miah bumped me with his leg.

  “It’s only fair.” I could hear the smile in his voice. Still reeling from his kiss and the vodka warming my body, I worked to find a good lie. But I realized there weren’t two truths I was comfortable sharing with these people yet. A plan in place, I spun between his legs and took a step back so I could watch his reaction.

  I held up a finger for each point. “I have a vestigial tail, my mom is a High Priestess of the largest coven in Orange County, and…” I stopped, the last lie morphing in my throat as I spoke. “My dad is undead, kept functioning by my mom… obviously.” Not entirely a lie, I thought bitterly.

  I enjoyed watching his expression as he mulled over the weirdness I’d just thrown at him. He didn’t seem perturbed, only intrigued. Not that I normally cared, but he was expertly hitting every curve ball I threw at him.

  The corner of his left eye twitched and he smiled. “They’re all lies, I hope.”

  “Ding, ding,” I replied with a little nod. I happily accepted my liquid punishment and fell back into place between his knees.

  “That’s too bad. I was looking forward to seeing your tail,” Miah whispered in my ear. The phone buzzed in my pocket. I quickly checked and saw Liz’s number pop up. “You need to go already?”

  “Nope,” I replied as I hit silence. “I can stay for a bit longer.”

  The game moved on, leaving Miah and me to get closer. My head swimming, I had to stop myself from grinning like an idiot. I tried to temper my excitement, but things were certainly looking better and better. We took turns until Bryan announced that dinner was ready over the intercom system and I reluctantly said goodbye to my new friends, hoping I could hide the smell of vodka on my breath.

  At first, I was reluctant about the plan to house over a hundred people in the lodge. Bryan and the council threw the evacuation together so quickly, I was sure they’d missed some important logistical point. But as I hung back and watched our friends and neighbors line up for dinner, I realized the lodge perfectly suited it.

  Bruce and his volunteers set up a cafeteria-style line with a huge variety of meal options. Everything smelled delicious and there was definitely more than enough food for everyone. While it was a little difficult to eat with all the tables put away to make room for sleeping bags and cots, that was the only real issue.

  We even opened the bar just off the dining room. Kathy, the PR and marketing manager for the mountain, had the clever idea of printing out drink vouchers. She circulated through the crowd offering them to all the adults. It was a brilliant move and I could’ve kissed her for it. The dinner took a while to serve in the cramped space, but really, who’s going to complain about free drinks? The right amount of booze would keep them happy.

  Most people pitched in and worked together to make it better. Jerry Spolack, the retired piano teacher, saddled up to our out-of-tune piano and took requests. Diane opened the daycare for an hour after dinner so a few of the parents could get a break and use their vouchers. On the outside, everything looked peaceful and normal, under the circumstances.

  But under the surface ran an undercurrent of tension. Murmured conversations about the arsonist, if their homes would be safe left alone and unprotected. From what I could tell, most thought it would be better to be alive and homeless than dead and stuck out in the cold. But those were the opinions of the people who had evacuated. Many others thought to ride out the storm at home, protect their property. Even for the tough mountain folk of Tellure Hollow, that was a difficult decision to make.

  We all tried to ignore the growing storm outside. The wet snow from the afternoon had frozen after sunset, a perfect recipe for falling branches and downed power lines. The wind was whipping up, and the snow showed no signs of slowing. It seemed like every forecast was worse and worse.

  I was acutely aware of the growing storm within. A large group of people trapped inside during a high-stress situation didn’t exactly create a stable atmosphere. Add visiting family, missed celebrations, and upset children to the mix and… well, you get the idea. Even without the arsonist looming large in the back of our vivid imaginations, it was vital we all kept our spirits up.

  After we ate, I wanted to get us all settled in for the night. It was hard to believe we’d started out the day skiing, but my aching muscles certainly remembered. Dani reluctantly joined us. And by joined, I mean stuck her nose in the phone and ignored everything we said.

  Just as I was putting Jack down, Dusty weaved his way over to us. My stomach sank when I saw his expression.

  “We’ve got trouble,” Dusty said as he jogged over to our spot in the hall. He was mid-20s and an outdoorsman through and through. He had the calm, self-assured nature of an emergency responder.

  “Of course we do,” Bryan sighed. “What’s going on now?”

  “911 just got a call through, a rental on Powder Drive is on fire,” he said, looking between the two of us.

  The promise of snow had lured a good portion of tourists for last-minute trips. These were the rich people who pumped money into the town, much to the chagrin of the locals. It was a love-hate relationship. Tellure Hollow wouldn’t be what it was without their cash injections, but there was a big ideological divide. The town hadn’t issued a mandatory evacuation, and it was mostly the rich tourists with rentals who hadn’t taken us up on our offer of hospitality. They didn’t want their money to go to waste… nor did they respect the strength of this storm.

  Bryan and the other council members had split the emergency services, as small as they were, and keep half down in the town to respond to any calls. That left us
two paramedics, Dusty and Lacey, along with a handful of volunteer firefighters, and not much else. So when the call came that one of the luxury cabins dotting the slopes of Powder Mountain was on fire, we didn’t have many choices.

  “Jesus,” I muttered. “What the hell are we supposed to do?”

  Dusty spoke decisively, having already developed a solution before delivering the problem. “We already have one plow coming straight up here, fire truck is on the way. But we need snowmobiles to get up there quickly. It will be at least a half an hour before the truck arrives,” he said seriously.

  “If we’re lucky,” Bryan said, getting to his feet. “Okay, we have three fueled up downstairs. Get your stuff and we’ll head up.”

  I stood too, gathering my stuff when Bryan stopped me. “Where do you think you’re going?” he chuckled.

  I’d already zipped up my jacket and was pulling on my hat. “You don’t get to have all the excitement, you know. I’m going to lose my mind if I have to sit waiting and worrying. Besides, you probably need all the help you can get.”

  Bryan looked at me, his eyes twinkling with humor. He put both of his hands on my shoulders and leveled a look. “I think you’ve used up your lifetime supply of excitement. Stay here with Jack, keep an eye on the lodge, and I’ll be back before you know it.” I opened my mouth to complain but he quickly put up a finger. “What exactly are you going to do to help fight a fire? Swear at it until it finally goes out?”

  I leaned on my back heel and crossed my arms. “Maybe. What are you going to do? Try to smother it with your natural coolness and good looks, Blizzard? You don’t always have to go running to save the day.”

  Dusty jogged over and clapped Bryan on the shoulder. “Lacey’s right behind me with a bag. Come on, let’s go.”

  I unzipped my jacket and nodded. “Fine, but be careful. Lord knows I can’t run this place without you,” I said, standing on my toes to plant a kiss on his lips.

  The three rescuers ran out of the room, a few onlookers watching with confusion. I tried to give them a reassuring smile as I gathered Jack in my arms and settled back down on the floor.

  When I’ve looked back at all the trouble I’d gotten into over the years, I’ve realized it comes down to the tiny choices we make. A left turn rather than a right. This restaurant over that one. If I hadn’t gone for a walk that day, leaned over that bridge, and tried to take that one photo, Bryan and I may never have met. Choices, decisions, ones you make and ones that are made for you.

  So I’m often left wondering what would’ve happened if I had gone out with them that night.

  Bryan was gone maybe twenty minutes when the lights flickered off. The Great Hall was only lit by the roaring fires and a handful of flashlights. There were a few muffled gasps as the power tried to kick back on. Christmas music dimmed and brightened from the radio before going silent altogether.

  “Just what I fu…” I cursed before looking down at Jack in my arms. “Just what I fudging need,” I finished as he giggled.

  Dani pulled the headphone from her ear and rolled her eyes. “I’m guessing you’ll want me to…”

  “Yes, thank you,” I replied as I handed him to her. “I shouldn’t be long.”

  Bryan had taken our headlamp up to the fire, so I had to use the meager light of my phone to get upstairs. I tore through the drawers of Bryan’s desk, cursing under my breath when I couldn’t find anything I needed. I considered using the intercom system to call Chris before I remembered I was an idiot and intercoms required power to run. After digging through every single drawer, my hands finally fell on a heavy metal Maglite. I tested the batteries and said a little prayer of thanks when I found them fully functional.

  I made my way downstairs to the basement through a back staircase, but with so many people bouncing around the lodge, everywhere I went I ran into people. I even passed a girl who looked exactly like Dani’s new friend, the loud Snow Princess. The power outage had stirred everyone up, like a poked anthill. Heading down the service stairway to the outside shed where we kept the generators, I dialed Bryan on my cell phone. It rang several times before going to voicemail.

  “Hey babe, you’re probably in the thick of it up there, but I wanted to let you know the generator died again. I can’t find what’s-his-name, so I’m just going to take a look at it as if I know what the hell I’m doing. Give me a call when you get this.”

  I bundled up to go outside and gave the heavy metal door a big push. It didn’t move an inch. I frowned, took a step back, and really threw my weight into it. The door finally gave, but only shifted a few inches and left my shoulder aching. The snow had piled up so high that the bottom of the door became wedged against it.

  With a grunt, I threw my shoulder into the door hard enough to create a gap I could fit through. With a hand in place to keep it from swinging shut, I searched the nearby area with my boot for something to wedge in, finding half a broken cinder block.

  After propping the door open, I took a second to look around. It had been a few hours since I’d stepped outside. The amount of snow that had fallen in such a short time was astounding. The generator shed was to the left side of the building, away from the parking lot and quite close to the edge of the woods. During normal business hours someone from the maintenance team would keep the path to the shed clear. Since we were running on a skeleton crew as it was, a lot of these tasks were going by the wayside. A shovel had obviously been taken to the path at some point, but at least ten inches of snow had accumulated since then.

  I briefly considered going back inside and grabbing a pair of snowshoes, or even a better pair of boots, but I shook it off. I knew I had to get this generator up and running as soon as possible. Pulling my jacket tight around me, my hat down to cover my ears, I trudged through the blowing snow. By the time I reached the shed, which was about thirty yards away, I was panting and sweating. With the snow at knee height, every step was exhausting.

  It was a basic double sized shed, just big enough to house the generators for the lodge. In case the power ever went out, we’d be able to keep the lights running inside for a while. It already looked a little buried in the snow with only a few feet of snow climbing the walls. I scanned my pockets for the big set of master keys when I noticed that the door was already unlocked. As I pushed it open, I saw Chris hunched over with a flashlight in his mouth. I tried to scream hello, but the sound of the generators swallowed my voice. I moved closer and startled him, the flashlight dropping and flicking off.

  “Hi!” I shouted again. He gave a little wave as he recognized me. The relative heat of the shed and break from the wind were welcome. The loud whirring of the first generator filled the small space. After shaking the snow off and unzipping my jacket, I made my way over to the second one, but it seemed to be struggling. The motor sounded fitful, as if it wanted to start but didn’t have enough power. Chris turned both of them off.

  “Sorry. I came right out here the moment the power went out. I’m still trying to get ‘er up and running again.”

  “Your fix from earlier didn’t work, huh?”

  The corner of his mouth twitched slightly. “No. Apparently not. Can I show you?”

  If I’m being honest, I had no idea what I was looking at. It was like when your car breaks down on the side of the road. You pull over, pop the hood, stare at the engine, and pretend you can recognize a piston from a carburetor. Maybe if the damn thing had been on fire I would’ve been bright enough to dump water on it, but other than that, I was at a complete loss. I found it odd that one generator seemed to work perfectly yet we had no power back in the lodge.

  “I think the problem is coming from the regulator here, which explains why it was making that sound you heard just now. But I can’t figure out why the power keeps fluctuating.”

  “We have enough gas?” I offered.

  He blinked at me a couple times, probably trying to figure out if I was kidding. “We have plenty of gas.”

  Even after establishi
ng that I was certainly not a mechanic, I still gave the machines a once over. Chris had pulled the cover off one. After inspecting it closely with my flashlight, I wondered aloud if the reason the generator wasn’t working had anything to do with the bunch of frayed wires I found in the back. Some of the rubber sheaths had been torn off while other wires were broken completely.

  “Mice or something?” I asked as Chris knelt beside me.

  “Weird. I didn’t… no… I didn’t see that.” He was a bundle of tics and tension. The erratic movements were contagious, like how you feel bugs on your skin when you see them from a distance.

  I didn’t notice any evidence of rodents, but it seemed a likely explanation. “Probably with the storm, they wanted to find someplace warm and dry.” It was the only figurative fire I saw with the generator.

  “If I can find some electrical tape and piece the wires back together, I might fix it,” Chris said. He bit the skin on the side of his index finger. Maybe it was the power of suggestion, but it was so rat-like I nearly shuddered.

  “Let me go,” I replied as I jumped to my feet. “You keep looking, we might be missing something important.” Truth was, I didn’t want to spend much time alone with him. I had no reason to dislike him, but he was an odd guy.

  “I know exactly where it is. I’ll be right back,” he said as he ran out of the shed.

  Without the generators running, the shed quickly turned into a freezer. Left waiting in the cold long enough, my fingers grew numb. I stomped in place, trying to keep my toes moving, but after a few minutes, I followed his footsteps back towards the lodge. There were some places I visited more than others, but I knew pretty much every inch of the building. I stood in the open doorway and shined my flashlight down the dark hallway. The bright light cast odd shadows.

  “Hello?” I called out. No response.

  I shined the light up a stairway directly in front of me, the one I’d taken down earlier. A utility door hid the exit upstairs, connecting the corridor to the main staircase. It was one of several that made up an intricate system of back spaces the guests never saw. I called out Chris’ name again, but still no response.