by Alice Sabo
Asher pulled himself up by the window frame. The slick mud was an aid now as he eeled out of the vehicle. Water cascaded down onto him, plastering his hair to his face. The rain was pounding so hard that he couldn’t hear anything above the drumming. He hitched his hip up on the window and felt along the side for another handhold. There wasn’t anything to grab on to. He blinked water and mud out of his eyes. It looked like the front of the truck was clear of the slide field. They seemed to be wedged against a stand of trees. The terrain was ridiculously steep. He got a grip on the wheel well and pulled himself free. Then he braced his foot in the under carriage and reached back for Oscar.
The rain needling down on Asher was freezing cold. He was soaked to the skin and losing body heat fast. Below them was darkness. He couldn’t see the bottom, just sharp rock and pointy branches receding forever. In the fading light, it could be ten feet or a hundred. The mudslide crunched and grumbled to their left.
“There.” Oscar pointed. Far to the left was an ledge of stone that looked like it was level enough to sit on. He waved Asher on. “Go.”
For the next millennium, Asher dragged himself transversely across the nearly vertical ridge of rock and scrub. Scrambling for handholds, he didn’t want to think beyond the next second. If he thought about falling, about never seeing his children again, he wouldn’t be able to move. The glancing thought brought a pain in his chest and froze him clinging to the mountainside. His fingers were numb and cramped at the same time. Muscles in his arms were on fire. The rocks were slick from the rain. He just needed to get to that ledge, and then he could rest.
“Move!” Oscar hollered over the roar of the rain.
Had he stopped? Asher narrowed his focus to the next handhold, or foothold. He forced himself to stay in the moment. His feet and hands were so numb, he had to watch himself reach and grab. Every inch gained was considered and conquered at a snail’s pace.
His right hand slipped, and he banged his forehead against rocks as he clutched tighter with his left. Oscar was right next to him grumbling encouragement that was half swallowed by the pounding rain. Asher’s brain was getting foggy. He thought that was a symptom of hypothermia, but he wasn’t sure. It was getting so dark, he could barely see the next handhold. Pushing fear down, he forced himself to reach and grab and pull over and over.
It surprised him when he arrived at the ledge. Their goal had been to get there; attaining it left him dumbfounded. The rock was larger than he’d expected. Their unplanned route took him in much lower than intended. He found handholds to drag himself up on to the horizontal surface leaving barely enough room for Oscar. Flat on his back, he collapsed into a shaky pile of strained muscles and delayed panic.
A light flashed. He peered up through the darkness expecting thunder. Above them, he could almost make out a figure against the gray of the storm clouds. Not lightning, it was a flashlight. He could sort of hear a voice, but not the words. Then there was the reflection of flashing lights, red and blue.
“Rescue,” he said to Oscar. Or he tried. He wasn’t sure if the words made sense. Oscar had wedged himself against a rock with his eyes closed. Asher didn’t know if that meant he was resting or unconscious. After an age of watching, making sure he was breathing, Asher decided he must be unconscious. Following the rush of fear that Oscar might be dead, the leaden burden of carrying him up the mountain hit Asher. His arms and legs were shaking from getting himself to this boulder. Dragging Oscar behind him was more than he could handle, but he wouldn’t leave him. He opened his mouth to yell for help, but only a harsh whisper came out.
At first panic, then anger, rushed through him. Help was right above them. He needed to get their attention. And he was a trained actor. He took a deep breath, focused on his audience and let out a bellow with every fiber of his being. His knees shook so hard he had to sit.
Nothing happened. Forcing himself back to his feet, he took another deep breath. A spotlight hit him. Asher waved madly. The shadowy figures moved around. Asher had to stop waving and sit again. His rubbery legs wouldn’t hold him any longer. He hoped they’d seen him.
“Heads up!” A man in a bright orange Search and Rescue jacket rappelled down. Asher felt all his muscles go limp with acute relief. He mumbled his thanks over and over as the man strapped him into a harness.
Chapter 11
Wrapped in a blanket, Asher sat in the back of the sheriff’s car as they hauled Oscar up in a basket. He could barely form a thought, but had been able to tell the EMTs that he wouldn’t go to the hospital. Aside from the publicity, there were the drugs to consider. He didn’t want to have to explain to every doctor called in that he was an addict and did not want painkillers. And then there were the photos that always got leaked regardless of security. If this was at home, with Denny to stand guard, he might be safe. There were too many things to guard against, on his own, in this condition. He managed to convince them that he had no broken bones and despite a bloody welt on his forehead, no concussion. He was fine.
Oscar on the other hand might not be fine. Asher knew to stay out of the way and let the professionals take over even though he felt like he should offer to do something. These men were trained for situations like this. They’d hauled Asher up in a harness, then handed him over to the EMTs with practiced efficiency. He had watched them send down the basket for Oscar which meant that Oscar couldn’t climb out on his own. Asher’s hands twitched, thinking about the struggle across the rocks. If Oscar had passed out at any point along there, he’d have fallen to his death. He shook his head trying to dispel that image. They were on solid ground now.
The rescuers had Oscar in the ambulance in no time. Or maybe Asher had passed out for a few seconds and the slamming of the door woke him. The sheriff was back in the cruiser and Asher worried that he’d lost time again. The heat was blasting. He could hear it roaring in the front seat, but it wasn’t warming him in the back at all.
“You sure you don’t want to get checked out?” Danson asked. He flipped on the dome light and turned around to give Asher the once-over.
“I’m good, Sheriff,” Asher tried to say, but his lips were numb and his teeth were chattering, so it didn’t come out very steady. “I’m three years sober. Want to keep it that way.”
“Hmm.” Sheriff gave him a nod. “Okay then.” Without another word, he put the car in gear.
Asher got a good look at the slide damage as the sheriff maneuvered the cruiser around the rescue vehicles. The road beyond them was gone. County trucks and fire engines were parked with their headlights shining on where it had been. The pavement abruptly ended. Beyond that was darkness and pelting rain. A shiver wracked him when he thought about all the dire possibilities. He spent the rest of the ride trying to keep his mind as blank as possible.
The sheriff’s car bumped into the driveway at Kozy Kottages, splashing muddy water out of the ruts. Asher roused from his stupor to see Bunny, in a bright orange slicker, hopping across the puddles. He opened the back door before the sheriff could even get out.
He locked eyes with Asher, checked the rest of the back seat and clenched his jaw. “Is he alive?”
“He’s okay, he—”
Bunny cut him off. “Don’t tell me.” He grabbed Asher’s arm, hauling him out of the car. “Thank you, Sheriff. I’ll take over now.”
Asher stumbled along with Bunny steering. He was surprised at how strong Bunny was. They lurched into Asher’s cottage. Bunny seated him on the loveseat, then turned on all the lights. “Let’s get a look at the damage,” he said, heading for the bathroom.
“I’m okay,” Asher said automatically.
Bunny came back with a bath towel in his hands. “Oh sweetheart, you are definitely not okay.”
Asher looked down at his hands, realizing they were covered with mud and blood. “I. . .I don’t. . .”
“Let’s get you warmed up first,” Bunny said in a gentle voice that made Asher want to cry. He handed Asher the towel. “I’ll heat up some sou
p. You get out of those wet clothes and into a hot bath.”
After a long hot soak, Asher had a new appreciation for the claw-footed tub. Then he practically inhaled the bowl of chicken noodle soup Bunny had waiting for him. After eating, Asher sat at the kitchen table to let Bunny examine his hands. Asher worried about how bad they’d looked in the bath. He’d torn the skin off all his fingertips and ripped some nails. His hands were still bleeding. They’d left red smears all over the towels, and the sweats he’d pulled on. Bunny had a huge orange toolbox filled with a vast array of first aid items. He patched up Asher with calm expertise. “You’re good at this,” he said, examining the tidy fingertip bandages.
“Oscar did stunts for years. I’ve had a lot of practice. I can even stitch things up if it’s needed.” He pressed his lips together and sighed out his nose. “We have rules. I don’t visit while he’s in the hospital, and he doesn’t tell me the grisly bits.”
Asher thought about that. He and Ellie had rules. They made the relationship work. So he didn’t want to break any of Bunny’s rules. “It was a rock slide,” he said carefully.
Bunny licked his lips, then poked in his supplies. “Was he badly hurt?”
“He got out of the car, and we had to climb,” Asher held out his bandaged hand. “So he’s probably in the same shape as me. The EMTs wanted to take us both to the hospital.”
Bunny nodded as he started on Asher’s other hand. “He’s got a lot of old injuries. It’s always better for him to get checked out.”
“Thanks for doing this,” Asher said, nodding at his hands. He had scrapes and bruises all over. The hot bath had made him acutely aware of them. Both knees were bruised and swollen, but the knot on his forehead was the prize. He started to reach for it, but Bunny grabbed his hand. “How bad?” Asher asked. He’d avoided looking in the mirror.
“Not good.”
“Makeup’s gonna kill me.”
“Well, you’ve got time. I’m sure the swelling will come down by the time they get here. We won’t be filming for what, a month, now?”
“What made you and Oscar come out so early?”
“He loves bluegrass. There are a couple of festivals that he’s wanted to see, so we decided to take a bit of vacation here. And George asked us to keep an eye on you.”
Thunder cracked nearly overhead making Asher flinch. “Wow. This storm isn’t letting up.”
“People around here are saying it’s a very wet year. I hope things dry out before filming starts.”
“I hope the stables are okay.”
“I called when you two were late. They’re fine.”
“Just stranded. The road’s gone.” Asher shivered despite the warm clothes.
Bunny’s eyebrows shot up. “Gone?”
“The whole road gave way.”
Bunny blinked at him, expressionless for a moment. “Well that’s going to be problem. Isn’t it?”
Chapter 12
Bright sunlight streamed in through the lacy bedroom curtains. Asher tried to pull the blanket over his head, but his hands weren’t working right. It wasn’t simply the bandages. The muscles in his forearms twitched with spasms when he tried to use his fingers. They wouldn’t obey him. He pawed at the covers ineffectually. As he came more awake, he registered aches from a variety of sources—strained muscles, contusions and abrasions, and maybe a little whiplash. He could barely raise his head off the pillow. Even breathing hurt because of the seatbelt bruise that ran diagonally across his chest. He wanted to lie in bed and brood, but he hurt too much to get comfortable now that he was wide awake.
Last night Bunny had given him some aspirin to take the edge off, but he’d crashed the second his head hit the pillow. Sheer exhaustion had won out over pain. He was thinking about taking more aspirin and staying in bed when there was a knock on the door. Since his hands wouldn’t work properly, getting the blankets off was unreasonably difficult.
“Hello?”
“Jeff?” Asher thought he recognized the voice. He stared out the open bedroom door, catching the sound of the front door closing.
The young man spoke from the living room as he came through the house. “I heard about the accident, and thought you might want. . .” He stopped in the bedroom doorway. “Wow.”
“Looks worse than it is,” Asher said, hoping that was true.
“Looks real bad.”
Asher levered himself up onto the edge of the bed dragging the blankets half onto the floor, tangled around his legs. He was glad he’d put his old sweats on. At least he was decent. The prospect of struggling through a change of clothes and cooking breakfast was daunting. He squinted up at Jeff. The kid was definitely spooked. “I could really use a cup of coffee.”
Jeff brightened. “I’ll make some for you. Cream and sugar?”
“Please,” he said with a slow nod.
Asher moved carefully as he shifted the blankets to free his legs. It took him a couple tries to get to his feet. Once there, he discovered a whole new set of aches. He hobbled into the living room with muscles protesting. Jeff had found an old tin tray-table and set it up by the overstuffed armchair.
“Set yourself here. I’ll bring you your coffee. Do you want some breakfast? I can do eggs and biscuits.”
His stomach felt especially empty. In fact, he felt light-headed with hunger. “That sounds good. But not runny. I can’t handle runny right now.”
“Scrambled?”
“Mmm. And maybe some cheese. I think I need extra protein.” Asher groaned as he tried to lower himself into the armchair. His legs didn’t seem to want to work either, delivering him with a jolt that yanked on every bruise on his body. He didn’t know what he should do next. Sitting still and staring into space was tempting. There wasn’t anything on his schedule that couldn’t be put off for a day or two. He was in a lot of pain, but he could handle that. On the other hand, he worried about the possibility of serious injury. If he had torn some muscles, maybe he should go see a doctor.
Jeff brought him a big mug of coffee, carefully settling it into his damaged hands. “Bless you child,” Asher said fervently.
The kid gave him a skeptical look. “I didn’t think Hollywood people went to church.”
Asher smiled, opening a split in his lip and rediscovering the bruise on his cheekbone. “Ow. I’m only religious about coffee in the morning.”
Jeff snorted. “At least you’re honest.” He hurried back to the kitchen.
Asher sipped the coffee, willing his head to clear. The hot liquid abruptly reminded him that he’d cut his mouth at some point last night. His memory was mostly a blur of torrential rain and rocks and fear. It was all shadows of black and gray with the deafening growl of the falling rocks. He looked down to see his coffee nearly gone and wondered how long he’d been day dreaming.
He stretched out his legs, or tried to. There were all kinds of injuries that he didn’t remember happening. He needed to sort himself out and make a plan for the day. His new calendar had gone down the cliff with Oscar’s truck. That didn’t bode well for his new system. He was going to need some kind of backup if things kept going this way. A frisson ran down his back waking any aches that had eased. If things kept going this way, he wouldn’t live through the week. That thought turned around and slapped him. “Is someone trying to kill me?”
“Maybe,” Jeff said in the kitchen.
Asher hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud. “What?”
“Well, either you’ve got the worst luck ever, or somebody’s out to get ya.” Jeff smiled as he brought in a plate full of food.
Asher blinked at him, wishing he hadn’t answered. Unanswered questions could be ignored. The aroma of the buttered biscuits and omelet distracted him. “Wow, this smells awesome.”
“You need to eat. Then I think maybe you should get back into bed.”
The eggs were light and fluffy, stuffed with goat cheese and spinach. The biscuits had a hint of black pepper. It was all he could do to not wolf everything in
sight. He swallowed a mouthful of biscuit. “I need to move around, or my muscles will freeze up.”
Jeff frowned at him. “I don’t think you should be walking on that ankle.”
Carefully moving his leg out from under the tray, Asher examined his ankle. It was twice its normal size and a rather alarming shade of purple. How had he missed it? Now that he was aware of it, pain throbbed up his leg. “You might be right.” He turned back to his lovely breakfast. “Any more coffee?”
While Jeff got him a refill, Asher thought about what he should be doing for the rest of the day. Horseback riding was definitely out. Even if he could get to the stables, he couldn’t get on a horse in this condition. If Imre had arrived, he couldn’t work with him today either. Maybe they should meet to discuss how he was going to train for the sword fights with all these injuries. But he’d lost all his phone numbers, again. That made him realize that he hadn’t called Ellie last night. “Oh, no.”
“Cream and sugar, right?” Jeff asked as he put the mug on the tray. He sat down on the other side of the room in a wooden rocker.
“Yes, that’s fine. I just realized I didn’t call my wife last night.”
“I think you were probably too tired.”
Asher didn’t want to go into all the reasons that he had to call Ellie every night. He loved calling her, telling her about his day. He needed to talk to her. To hear her voice, the love in it. The trust. “I broke a rule.”
“You have rules?”
“Yes.” He stared at the last few crumbs on his plate feeling a little panicky. “We have rules. I need rules.” He felt shaky inside.
“Seems like a rock slide’d be a really good reason,” Jeff said with a touch of defensiveness in his voice.
Was that enough? Asher’s throat tightened as he thought about what could happen if he lost Ellie’s trust. He glanced over at Jeff. The kid was studying him with a strange look on his face. “I’m like your mom,” Asher said softly. “Rules help me do things the right way.”
Jeff’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. “But. . .”
