Brave

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents
either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is
entirely coincidental.

Copyright by Karen Alarie. All rights reserved, including the right to
reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. The author
acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of
the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Lexus, Winnie
the Pooh, Piglet

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ISBN: 978-0-9884188-4-4

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I'd like to thank Barbara Robyor and Sue Stewart for all their many, many
sessions of reading this book over and over again. Thank you, also, to
Faith Freewoman for her excellent advice and editing skills. A big thank
you also to Sarah Hansen for her fabulous cover design.

To all the dedicated and caring health care professionals who put their
lives on the line.

Dakota

Sweat
rolled down my back and off my arms. The waistband of my jeans was
soaked through, but I swung the axe with a sure, steady rhythm in the
early afternoon. I needed to have plenty of firewood stashed safely
under shelter before the massive winter blizzard hit, buried us in
snow and closed the pass. Hiding out in my family’s cabin
outside the outskirts of Aspen had made a survivalist out of me, and
my instincts told me I was going to need a lot of cut wood.

But
at the moment 55 degrees felt too warm, so I shrugged out of my
shirt. I got lost in the movement and the exercise. Even though I was
sweating profusely, my skin felt numb. I was numb by choice.

It
was better than facing my demons. For now, the turmoil inside me was
dormant. I wasn’t quite at peace, but I was empty. Better to be
a wasteland than a maelstrom.

Maybe
I should have sought help six months ago, but talking about it only
made it worse. Although now I wasn’t sure if the silence was
keeping me in perfect balance, either…but I hadn’t had a
flashback in a while, and I’d take precarious over those
horrifying memories any day.

Thunk
.
The ax bit deep. The cold air against my sweaty skin barely
registered. I had retreated so far into my isolation that the
numbness had reached my skin. I didn’t even want to think about
how long it had been since someone touched me. It was much too long
ago—so long ago, it might have been a dream.

Time
drifted past as my muscles tightened and released. Stretched and
contracted.

There
was no wind, not even a breath to disturb those leaves, but there
soon would be. With winds exceeding 35 miles an hour, a blizzard’s
ferocious buffeting was responsible for the famous whiteouts, when
the air was filled with blowing snow. It was so easy to get caught
and not know which way to go. In a whiteout, the horizon disappeared.

I
lived my life in a whiteout.

It
was eerie, almost, the stillness. There wasn’t a sound except
for the soft
whoosh
of snowfall and the crackling as it hit the aspens’ withered
leaves.

I
got into the rhythm of the cutting, and before I knew it, an icy gust
blew across my back yard from the cliff edge that provided both a
spectacular view and my probable future.

The
cliff. It was my weapon of choice to put an end to the constant
mental torture and terror. It’s why I was holed up here, yet I
lived in an agony of indecision, with demons as my constant
companions.

Finally
I realized that I’d piled up more than enough wood to last the
week or so before I would be dug out enough that I could go for more
supplies. Breathing hard, I swiped the sweat from my forehead before
it trickled down and burned my eyes. For a moment, I stood there,
noticing my breath frosting the air. It had been snowing for a while.
I just failed to notice. It thickened as I watched, then all of
sudden a deluge of white.

That’s
when I realized that the front end of the blizzard had arrived, its
cold iced along my skin. I hadn’t felt the bite due to my
exertions, since the core of me always seemed to be raging hot.

A
tangle and press of vile demons trying to take over.

I
turned to reach for my shirt. She was about 20 yards away, too far to
shout and be heard above the wind. Her long white blonde hair rippled
like the flutter of angels wings against the backdrop of winter
white. Distracted by her and why she was here, I dropped my axe.
Trudging through the new powder, she trailed a backpack, slogging
slowly towards the cliff through the fresh snow. Anger boiled through
me and my shackled demons laughed.

Not
a woman. Not here. I couldn’t bear it.

If
I lost my numbness, my equilibrium, it was open season on me.

Even
this glimpse of her disturbed my peace, and I desperately needed my
peace. Heavy snow obscured my vision and, with a shot to my heart, I
realized I couldn’t see the horizon.

It
had blindsided me. The monster was here.

I
quickly headed toward the cliff, cutting our distance in half. Why
was she on my property, and what did she want? Didn’t she
realize that this was private land!?

I
was just about to call out. I had almost made it to her when I heard
her piercing scream. She must have gone over the cliff! And I was too
far away to help.

I
stopped dead. That scream echoed in my head, mingling with the
screams, shouts, and gunfire that came boiling out from behind the
locked door in my mind. I looked around and the snow vanished. I was
surrounded by people running, screaming and dying, their blood
flowing like water. A voiceless panic hung at the back of my throat.
My head hurt. I could hear my own pulse in my ears. The dread in me
escalated suddenly to cold-sweat terror. I clenched my teeth against
a moan of fear and dropped to my knees. I would have prayed if I
could have uttered a word past my frozen lips.

The
man from my nightmares was there, his flattened, broken nose, the
scar that ran from the corner of his mouth. I knew his pockmarked
face as well as I knew my own face in the mirror. As vividly as the
endless nights of beatings and torture at his cruel hands. I was
chained and I couldn’t move. The manacle cut into my wrist as I
fought to get free. I couldn’t get to her. She was too far
away. My head ached from the butt of the rifle that drove me to my
knees. I couldn’t get to her, save her…I promised…Elsa!
Death breathing on the back of my neck, it was so close. I covered my
ears, but it did no good, the screams were trapped inside my head. I
could still hear them, see her face, see what they were doing to her.
The horror and the helplessness crashed into me.
Stop
it! Stop it! I can’t bear it.

My
skin was burning with cold as I came to awareness lying in the snow
in a fetal position. The fury and the terror ebbed away like that
fading scream. The woman! The cliff. My training kicked in and I
staggered to my feet and ran.

God,
please don’t let her be dead at the bottom.

I
braced myself for the sight of her broken body. But mercifully she
was huddled on a ledge about ten feet below.

“Are
you all right?” My voice sounded rusty from disuse. Damn
thoughtless woman.

“I
think so,” she said, the undertones of panic in her voice
reaching out and awakening the demons, who tried to suck me back in.
But she was in dire need of help and finally my memories and terrors
receded in the wake of the urgent need to rescue her.

Then
she tilted her face up to me. The look of her slammed into me like a
bludgeon to the chest. I couldn’t breathe. She had the face of
an angel, heavenly eyes that promised solace and mercy. All legs and
tiny waist and silky hair. Her mouth was a lush bow and promised
wickedness, expressly fashioned to blow a man’s mind.

My
world exploded into color that bled into the white, saturating it
until it was soaked with breathtaking hues. My eyes met hers, deep
blue in a pixie face of some kind of otherworldly creature, as if she
had materialized out of a long-forgotten tale of faeries and dragons.

It
was the strangest moment. She looked at me as if she knew me and had
not expected to find me here. But I didn’t know her. I had
never seen her before.

I
would have remembered a face as lovely as hers.

“Oh,
thank God! Can you help me?” she called, staring up at me,
snowflakes drifting onto her hair, her eyelashes…melting on
her soft lips.

My
sigh of frustration, or weariness—probably both—hung in
front of my face in a frosty puff. I should just let go, just sail
over the edge to the bottom and, finally, end this anguish.

It
would solve all my problems.

But
then she would surely die.

“Are
you hurt?” A part of me was already assessing the situation,
figuring the best way to get down to her and to bring her back up. I
needed to know how much she could help me.

“No,
except for my ankle. I twisted it when I fell.”

Beneath
my concern for her safety I was pissed as hell. I couldn’t
control the innate need in me to save her. It was ingrained in my
bone and sinew. But I also didn’t want her here. Not anywhere
near me.

“I’ll
be right back,” I said. Sprinting quickly toward the back porch
and the shed, I reached the wooden deck. Breathing hard, my breath
fogging in the chill air, I grabbed my climbing gear and headed back,
my upper body still heated, whether from the sight of her or from the
flashback, I didn’t know. My gut churned. I’d have to
touch her. She would have to touch me. After the isolation, the
thought of it felt alien.

It
scared me.

As
I tied the end of a rope to the deck, the snow was coming down even
harder. I trailed it out and pegged it into the ground at the base of
the cliff. The snow was starting to pile up, but I trampled around it
to make sure I could find the peg when I came back up.

I
put on the belt, drove a piton into a nearby boulder, clipping on a
carabiner, threaded the rope through it, then giving the rope a
couple of hard pulls to make sure it was secure. Heading to the lip
of the cliff, I called down to her. “I’m on my way.”

I
rappelled down the side of the cliff. When I reached her, she didn’t
move, just looked at me like I was crazy. Probably because it was
below freezing and I had no shirt on.

“Well,
I’m sure you’re not the abominable snowman, because you
don’t have enough fur.”

“Fucking
jokes? At a time like this? That’s what you got for me?”
My concern for her made me nastier than I would ever have been under
other circumstances. Wind screamed around us, the deep throaty voice
of the vicious monster that was almost upon us. I had to get her the
hell off this ledge.

She
blinked several times and I could only hope she wasn’t going to
cry.