Chapter 4

FOUR

At an almighty crash and the gunshot splintering of trees, Johnny Raven ducked for cover and peered out between the branches of the pines heavily bent with snow. The ground shook under his feet and a ball of smoke rose into the air. Moments later charred fragments of flaming debris rained down onto the pristine snow-covered slopes. He ground his teeth and fought the flashbacks of war. It had been a time but loud noise and the smell of acrid smoke awakened memories he'd rather forget. His dog, Ben, an Alaskan Malamute, was never far from his side and whined, pushing against his leg. "That can't be good."

He picked up the frozen critters he'd collected in his traps and hurried back to his cabin. He didn't have much time if he planned on saving any survivors. The blizzard was setting in and visibility would soon be down to less than a foot in front of him. He had a good idea where the aircraft had hit the mountainside. He had often seen small aircraft coming through the pass on the way to Black Rock Falls Airport. Most flights would take the scenic route but in winter a blizzard could render the visibility to zero in a matter of minutes. He'd listened to the weather report before he'd set out to check his traps and there had been no mention of a blizzard heading their way. Such was the crazy weather fluctuations of late. He'd never seen storms of such magnitude or variations of temperature to such a degree as he had seen in the last three years. Winter had come late this year, with snowfalls barely reaching the towns until after Thanksgiving, but they had sure made up for it now. He had woken a week ago to drifts of six and eight feet blocking his front door. He'd needed to dig his way out and was glad that he'd made sure his dogs had suitable accommodation for the winter.

Without delay he packed his dogsled with medical supplies and blankets and drained the coffee pot into two Thermoses. He'd filled his pockets with energy bars and then headed out to the kennels. Housed inside a barn, the dogs had access to a large yard. These dogs he'd rescued and trained. Most of them were mixed breeds, strong and resilient with thick winter coats. He'd trained them to pull his sled in winter and to hunt with him, but he chose others to become personal protection dogs. It had become a lucrative business since Black Rock Falls had become Serial Killer Central. Not that he ventured into town often. He had a friend at the animal shelter who contacted him when a suitable stray was available and acted as a go-between if he needed to sell a dog. He preferred the solitary life and enjoying his own thoughts. His life in the military, and the discharge clutching his Purple Heart, seemed a lifetime ago. He'd retreated as far away from people as possible for three years before venturing into town and discovering his pension had been accruing in the bank. He'd purchased tools and other things he needed to extend his cabin and build the accommodation for his dogs.

The dogs were eager to be up and away. They enjoyed a run after being cooped up for a couple of days. He attached the harnesses, and with Ben bounding along beside him, they headed toward the downed aircraft. The trails on this side of the mountain were more familiar to him than the lines in the palm of his hand, although traveling through the forest in a blizzard was like living inside a snow globe. The dogs bounded over the snow, barking and creating a cloud of steam. Raven ducked the low branches weighed down by the snow and icicles. It was as beautiful as it was deadly. He needed to be on his game or he'd be knocked from the sled and out in the forest he'd die a fast and miserable death. Although he doubted Ben would leave his side. He'd trained him as K-9 from a pup during his rehabilitation and he'd become his constant companion.

Out with Ben one day, the dog had led him to a deserted cabin with a large mixed-breed dog chained outside. The dog was thin but had survived due to a drip-feed water supply from the adjacent river. Inside the house Raven discovered the body of a very elderly man and searched the place for any signs of friends or family. Finding nothing, not even one scrap of paper giving the man's name, he'd taken the dog and headed back to his cabin. The next time he'd ventured into town, he'd told his friend about finding the old man and ask her to notify the authorities, but no one had come by to claim the body. Months later, he'd returned, gathered the dried corpse, and given it a decent burial. Maybe someone would return the favor for him one day.

The dog had been the first personal protection canine he'd trained in Black Rock Falls and had started his lucrative business. He'd signposted the cabin and filed for possession. The cabin, a very old forest warden's dwelling, wasn't owned by the old man, and forestry had sold it to him for the filing fees of the paperwork. The old place had a good solid barn and a garage stocked with tools. He used the garage to store his truck over winter and to repair his snowmobile when necessary.

The smell of fuel and burning flesh seared his nostrils as he rounded a bend in the trail. The forest floor was littered with debris and he left the dogs to venture closer to the wreck on foot. The aircraft had hit the mountain and broken in half. The front section had burst into flames and the back section had slid down the side of the mountain in the thick snowdrift and was buried, the broken section opened to the elements. Bodies, some burned beyond recognition, lay half buried in the snow. One man had been thrown out of the back section, and although he appeared to be unconscious when Raven checked his vital signs, he'd died. Baggage was strewn all over. A set of pink suitcases caught his attention because all the people he'd examined so far resembled males.

Somewhere in this horror was a woman. He went to the back section and, glad of his thick leather gloves, grabbed the ragged edge and pulled himself up to peer inside. His gaze fell on a young woman with long blonde hair still strapped to her seat. He dropped back to the ground. She looked so still and waxlike but he needed to check life signs. Getting inside would be a problem. After gathering up the luggage, he piled it up alongside the aircraft and used it to climb over the edge. Once inside he kicked open the door. Immediately snow drove into the small area making the floor slippery. He slid down to the woman, removed his glove and pressed his fingers against her throat. He heaved a sigh of relief when a flutter pressed against his fingers. He removed his other glove and checked her for injuries. She seemed okay until he moved a large piece of the wing section that had cut through the side of the plane and covered her. The piece of metal had held her in place, but he suspected her leg had a clean break. As a medical doctor, the scene brought back memories of his time in the medical corps and flying into a battle zone. He'd need to splint the leg before he attempted to move her. He went back outside, hunting the wreckage, and found a piece of hard plastic, likely from a suitcase. He dragged the medical kit from the wall of the aircraft and used the bandages and plastic to splint her leg.

Before he moved her, he checked her again, lifting her eyelids and running both hands over her neck. She was bundled up in layers and wore a long sheepskin coat and a white knit cap. With care, he lifted the hood of her coat over her head. Her skin was so pale and her lips had turned blue. She resembled an ice queen. Like someone straight out of a fairy tale. A Nordic princess maybe. He guessed her age at maybe eighteen or twenty. Frightened he might break her, he lifted her with care and headed for the door, slipping and sliding on the snow-covered floor. He trudged through the snow and, reaching his sled, bundled her up in the blankets and then covered her with a foil blanket he'd retrieved from the first aid box. He ordered Ben to stay with her and went back to the aircraft, making many trips back and forth. He gathered the pink luggage and the first aid box and took the boxes of supplies the plane was carrying. No one would get to the plane before the melt, and the wildlife would devour everything edible by then. He could make use of everything, especially with another mouth to feed. With his sleigh packed, he made his way slowly back to his cabin. Tremors shook the ground and he stared at the mountain as snow shifted and slid down toward him in a wave of white dust. An avalanche would isolate him from the outside world. It had happened before, and of late, the seismic tremors had increased to frighteningly dangerous levels.

The intense blizzard was pelting the crash site with snow so thick and hard the charred bodies would be covered within the hour, maybe less. He shook his head, as emotion for the lost lives engulfed him. Tears stung the backs of his eyes. Families would be waiting for their loved ones to return home for the holidays. This young woman would be missed. He wiped a hand over his face. He had no form of communication at his cabin. He wanted to be incommunicado and deal with people under his own terms and when able to do so. When he wanted to speak to Breda Arnold, the woman at the dog rescue center, he walked to the dead man's cabin and fired up his CB radio. He'd purchased a battery and solar panel. There was no way he could risk the trail down the mountain to the old man's cabin. If he didn't make it, the young woman would die along with his dogs. He had no choice. Taking her home and nursing her back to health was his only option. The wind increased and snow fell so hard he couldn't see Ben running alongside him. He called to the dogs, encouraging them to keep going. They knew their way home. He looked at the blonde hair flowing from under the blankets. He'd find out her name and get a message to her family as soon as possible, but first he'd try and save her life.