by Alta Hensley
The strong stench of onion will forever burn my nostrils, and the vows I made to Scarecrow will forever taint my tongue.
When Violet and I are behind my privacy curtain, she begins making my bed. “I know you don’t want to be here,” she says. “I don’t blame you.” She looks up at me and smiles. “But I’m happy you’re here. It will be nice to have some extra company around. It’s awfully lonely up here on the mountain.”
I try to smile politely back, but my face is frozen in misery. I wonder if I will ever smile again.
8
Ember
* * *
It’s so cold. Bone-shattering cold.
We don’t have enough firewood to get us through the night unless we use it sparingly, which sadly isn’t enough to keep the chapel warm. The three of us knew Papa Rich and Scarecrow didn’t leave us with enough food to survive the entire time they’ll be gone, so we spent the next two days foraging for food before the snowfall made it impossible to do so. Which then meant we didn’t gather and chop firewood like we should, since something had to give.
Luckily for us, Violet seemed to have good luck when she went into the forest alone. She’d come back with a basketful of mushrooms or berries. She went out this morning, insisting to go alone, and came home with two rabbits and told us she came across them in traps that must have been set by Scarecrow. Violet’s eyes sparkled with pride, but she never smiled.
None of us smiled.
Sadness is her permanent, as it is ours.
But no matter how sad Violet appears, a sweetness masters all else. Such a gentle soul. So kind, generous in everything she does, and I truly have fallen in love with her. Even in this short time, it’s impossible not to. I never had a sister, and now… I have two.
Holly—though kind—is very different in how she interacts with me. Strong, steadfast, and determined are her characteristics, but they all give me comfort. I know I can count on Holly and her leadership. She knows this mountain. She understands how it ticks, how it breathes. The mountaintop has a heartbeat, and her palm is the one over it.
She collects pine needles and rosehip for teas. She pulls moss and pine branches and carries them back to the chapel to fill in all the gaps in the wood that allows in the cool air. She has also placed containers outside to start collecting water when the storm comes. She’s preparing for the storm, and it’s obvious this isn’t her first time.
Because it’s so cold tonight, we all choose to make our beds around the fire rather than our respective corners with our privacy curtains pulled. I’ve reached a point of comfort with the women, and I figure we’ll spend the majority of the approaching winter together with the fire giving us warmth rather than concealing ourselves in coldness.
The fire crackles, and I hear the heavy breathing of Holly asleep beneath a thick quilt. Easy sleep—her reward for the hard work she does in a day. Sleep of my own begins to take over when I feel Violet’s body cuddle up behind me. Considering the chill in the room, I don’t mind the touch and the need for body heat.
“Is this okay?” she whispers, wrapping her arm securely around me.
I nod, not sure if it’s appropriate or not. But I’m cold, I’m on the ground in the middle of nowhere, and at this moment in time, I don’t care what is right or wrong. Her touch gives me comfort, and clearly mine gives her the same.
“I love you, Ember. Sweet dreams,” she says as she snuggles her face into my hair.
“Sweet dreams, Violet.”
We both deserve them.
Christopher
* * *
The pilot is lucky I don’t turn his ass in. Although he seems the type to keep his head down and just see what he wants to see—as long as there’s a paycheck in the end. I don’t like the man one bit, but when he got the call from my mother with the orders to fly me to the exact same spot he dropped Richard off at, he obliged. Did he offer me any other information when I grilled him? No. But at least I was in the general area. The man had to be scared shitless now that his idea of fast cash was blowing up in his face.
We land on an old tarmac in a meadow surrounded by pine and redwood trees for as far as I can see. My guess is the runway was once used—or maybe still used—for wild land firefighters and hotshots. I had once done a shoot on the heroes who fought the mountain blazes, and we went to remote places such as this.
“If you’re really crazy enough to hike out there in the mountains with no destination in mind, you better find shelter or someplace soon,” the pilot says as I get out of the plane. “A storm’s coming, and I’m not hanging around.”
“I got this,” I say, grabbing my backpack, which is fully loaded with every survival necessity I usually travel with on destination shoots.
Biting my tongue so I don’t say what I really want to say, I walk away without speaking another word. I don’t need his concern, and I don’t need to waste my breath telling the man what a piece of shit he is either.
I just need my wife.
He’s right, however. A storm is coming. Luckily, I dressed in thick boots, waterproof clothing, and a down jacket that could withstand the arctic. My experience as a photographer in some rugged and freezing locations has truly trained me for this. Ironic to think that my career brought me into Ember’s life, then chased her away, and now it’s going to help me bring her back into it.
During the flight, I studied the maps and terrain and really tried to put myself into Richard and Scarecrow’s minds. Where would they go? They’d have to walk away from the plane just as I am, so they couldn’t go too far. No way to have a vehicle to aid in getting away. They also have Ember, and though she’s physically in shape, there is only so far she can hike in these conditions. And though they may have tents, something deep inside me screams that they’d try to repeat history. They’d want an old mining town or at the very least a hunter’s lodge. They’d want to rebuild another version of Hallelujah Junction. They’d also know the authorities are hunting them down, so they’d need to hide. Which means wherever they are would be remote but in a place they’d see people coming with a way to escape if they were found.
A ridge. A cliff maybe. Some place vehicles couldn’t drive to give the authorities the upper hand. Richard would pick a place that any sane man wouldn’t want to reach.
But I’m not a sane man. Not anymore.
I’m about as mad as The Hatter due to Richard. And for that… he’ll now have to face my insanity head-on. He created this beast inside me. I’m his own creation and will be his undoing.
Now, to hunt down my prey….
“Mr. Davenport,” the pilot calls out as I begin my search.
I turn to face him but don’t say a thing. Speaking to the man who helped madmen capture Ember is not on the top of my list of favorite things to do.
“You have a satellite phone, right?”
I nod and pat my backpack to show I do.
“I’m removing myself from this situation. I’m going to act like I didn’t meet any of you.” He clears his throat. “But I’m going to tell a colleague of mine about you and that you’re out here. I’m going to tell him to fly you and that woman of yours out of here when you’re ready.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
The pilot looks up at the sky. “But he can’t fly during the storms or even the risk of one coming. So, you have windows where he can come and when he can’t. Be prepared to wait out the storms if need be. And that phone of yours won’t work well or at all in parts of this mountain. Especially during a storm. Just be aware.” He hops out of the plane, marches to where I am, and hands me a card with the other pilot’s information.
I nod again, turning on my heels to leave, grateful I at least have a way out when the time comes.
“One more thing,” the pilot calls out.
I turn to face him, still annoyed but appreciative that the man’s conscience is getting the best of him. “They spoke of a chapel. They also spoke of hiking up. I don’t know where exactly, but they kept
mentioning ‘up’ and ‘chapel.’”
I reach for my maps and begin looking at all the terrain and my notes again. Chapel? There’s no town anywhere near the area. We are literally in the middle of nowhere. Nothing but mountaintops, ridges, canyons, cliffs, and pine trees for as far as the eye can see.
“I also don’t think they were going too far from where we landed. They were lugging a lot of supplies and bags. They were stocked up but nothing but their backs to carry it all with. No way would they have trekked far with all that weight,” he adds. “And one of the men only had one leg, so I can’t see how that would lend to intense hiking.”
Folding the map and deciding to head toward the highest ridge, I say, “I appreciate the added info.”
I pick up my pack and look toward the sky. A storm is coming, and I don’t have a lot of time to find some sort of shelter. I have a sleeping bag that will keep me warm in subzero temperatures, but I don’t exactly want to test how efficient it is.
I’ve gone on many photo expeditions in my time. I’ve hiked the most grueling trails, put myself in extreme temperatures, and placed myself in the middle of dangerous situations. All for the perfect photos. And to be honest… I loved it.
But this is different. Hiking this mountain, with no camera in hand, in search of my wife who was taken from me, is anything but fun. I know I’m a skilled survivalist, if need be, but I really don’t want the need to be. Not to mention the last time I went out in the wild by myself, I got hit over the head by a madman, held captive in a cellar in a ghost town, and forced to marry a woman who was also kidnapped and held captive. You’d think I’d learn.
Miles and miles, I walk with no destination. I just go “up” and search for any sign of life. Tiny snowflakes begin to fall. They aren’t sticking yet, but I know it’s only a matter of time until they do. But I won’t give up until I find something… anything… Ember. I will find Ember.
9
Ember
* * *
I can feel eyes on me.
I’m not alone.
“Hello?” I call out. “Is someone out there?”
I’m on the top of a mountain with only the sisters inside as company, but I’m not alone.
I feel it in my bones.
Someone’s watching me as I collect firewood. Someone’s out there.
“Papa Rich?” I call out, wondering if he and Scarecrow never left.
Maybe this is a test. They tell us they are leaving to see what I’ll do. Will I escape? Will I take the sisters with me? Will I try to burn down the chapel like I burned down Hallelujah Junction?
Are they waiting in the woods, watching my every move?
They did leave easily enough. They didn’t even warn me or make threats. They simply left… or did they?
“What are you doing out here?” Holly asks. “It’s getting dark.”
“I think someone’s out there. Watching.”
She looks toward the woods. “What makes you think that?”
“I thought I heard something. And it’s just a feeling I get.”
She studies the dense trees for several moments, then reaches for the pile of wood in my arms and takes some. “We really need to get inside. It could be a mountain lion or a bear stalking us.”
As we head back to the chapel, I look over my shoulder and swear I see movement in the distance. “Do you think Papa Rich and Scarecrow really left?”
She pauses her steps for a moment but then continues on. “Why would you ask that?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “I just get the feeling it was a person out there.”
“They left,” she states simply.
“I know it might sound crazy, but I really feel like there was a person out there.”
“Did you see a person?”
“No.”
“Well then….” She opens the door to the chapel and ends the discussion as we enter inside.
I spend the rest of the day uneasy. The incident in the woods didn’t sit well with me, and Holly and Violet’s reaction to my feeling as if someone is out there doesn’t sit right either. It’s almost as if they know someone is out there. That they are in on a secret that I don’t know.
Did Papa Rich and Scarecrow tell them they were going to test me?
Are they in on the plan to catch me trying to escape?
I’ve never been good at reading people. I never had practice. And by my most recent experience with Louisa Davenport, with Christopher’s good friend attacking, his ex-girlfriend, and the media circus… I don’t exactly trust anyone.
Although something inside me tells me I can trust the sisters, which makes their actions odd to me. What do they know that I don’t?
“So, what did Scarecrow tell you about me?” I ask, wondering if my voice sounds as suspicious as I feel.
Violet looks up from her masonry that she’s nearly completed. Her head tilts slightly as if she’s reading me, but no doubt she’s just as out of practice as I am due to her living situation. “He told us that you burned down your home with a man who was your husband. That you fled to live in the evil world. He said you were tempted by the devil and couldn’t resist.”
“Did they say anything to you when they left?” I question.
Violet shakes her head and returns her attention to her chimney. “Scarecrow doesn’t say much to me.”
I look at Holly, who shrugs. “His usual,” she says. “He warns that I better keep the homestead up, that I better watch over all, and that I better pray to God he returns to find things in order.” She walks over to the table and pulls some mushrooms we had collected earlier out of a bag to add to the stew we’re making. “He didn’t ask me to spy on you, or to test you, or to make sure you don’t burn down the chapel. I know that’s what you’re getting at.” She does look up from cutting then. “And even if he did, we wouldn’t. We like you, Ember. You’re on the same team as us. Trust in that.”
“It’s hard to trust anyone anymore,” I admit.
“Scarecrow did say your husband was a bad man,” Violet says.
“No,” I nearly spit out. “Christopher is his name, and he’s far from a bad man. He’s a genuine, kind, and gentle man. He’s a protector, caring, and loving. He’s not bad.”
“Then why did he try to kill your father?” Violet asks. Her tone isn’t accusing but simply curious.
“We didn’t try to kill him when we started the fire. We just wanted a way out. Christopher was being held captive. We were chained together and knew we couldn’t get far without authorities coming to us. Papa Rich was away… or at least we thought he was.” I take a deep breath and say the truth, even though it hurts to. “Papa Rich is the bad man. He’s always been the bad man.” I look at Holly and then back to Violet. “But so is Scarecrow. You both know this.”
“Scarecrow is no worse than our father,” Holly says, which makes me sad for both girls.
They’ve never known happiness and comfort. At least I got that for a short time with Christopher. Even though my life was chaos in New York, and there were so many times I was unhappy… I did have happy moments. I did have times of love and affection. I had hope. I had so much hope.
Holly and Violet, however… they’ve only had darkness.
“Why did you leave him?” Violet asks. “Christopher. If he’s such a good man, why come back to… this?”
“For him,” I admit. “It wasn’t fair for me to stay. He didn’t ask for me. He didn’t deserve to have his nightmare continue. I did what was best, regardless of how hard it was.”
“I’m sorry,” Violet says as she stands to approach me. I think she’s coming to hug me but stops midway as if she’s gone too far as it is. “But I’m glad you’re here. We can make a home. We can have a family. I promise.”
I hear Holly sigh, and I turn to face her as she says, “Let’s just focus on surviving the storm. One day at a time, remember? That’s how we live. One day at a time.”
10
Ember
*
* *
The pounding of the door causes all of us to jump. We stare at each other wide-eyed, uncertain what to do.
Feeling as if I should be the one to defend us, if need be, I pick up a fire stoker and place my finger on my lips to tell the girls to remain quiet.
Another knock and a rattle of the door that we fortunately have locked has us all jumping again.
I hesitate at first but then pad over to the door, unsure of who could possibly be on the other side. I hold the poker high enough that I can bring it down on someone’s head if I need to. Or maybe I should have it in a position so I can stab them…
Or maybe we should just hide and hope no one enters.
Another knock. This one louder.
Is it the person I could have sworn was watching us? Was he just biding his time to catch us when we’re least expecting it? But why knock on the door? Why not just force his way in?
And then I hear a muffled voice on the other side. “Open up! Ember! Are you in there? Ember!”
Another knock and then the rattle of the handle.
“Christopher?” I open the door, cautiously, unsure.
Snow swirls around him, the tip of his nose red from the cold, and he’s bundled up so much that if I didn’t have a close relationship with the man, I may not have been able to recognize him.
“What are you doing here? How? How did you find me?”
Am I imagining him standing before me? Is this all in my head—wishful thinking?
The biting cold hitting my exposed skin is the only thing that is keeping sanity present. It acts like the slap to the face I need in order to remain in the present. I reach out to be sure I’m still awake or alive and touch his arm.
He’s here. He’s really here.
He remains frozen in place as if the storm is holding him hostage.
