Champagne Romance (Romance Novel) (5 page)

“
Over there!” Dog shouted.

The hawk eyes of Dog had spotted a wisp of
smoke twirling above the looming mountain on the left. Hope with a
little elation fell over the atmosphere inside the small enclosure
of the humming black bird. Fire in this kind of landscape probably
meant life---human life.

They were not prepared for the sight that
greeted them. A small lump of powdered snow poked up from the
frozen tundra that was in the middle of what looked like a deadly
war zone. It would have been difficult to spot except for the weave
of smoke emanating from the top. Several bloody bodies were
scattered close to the icy mound. On closer inspection, Dog
realized that they were the bodies of the great Northern American
Timber Wolf. It looked like they had challenged a formidable
opponent and had lost. Even at this distance, bright red blood
could be seen sprinkled about the mountainside. It was fresh, as
though a battle had just taken place. The person inside the lump of
ice had obviously been the victor.

Bear grinned at Dog, “What do you think?”

“
I think we’ve found our
man.”

The friendly sound of the chopper caused
Slater’s dimples to appear on each side of his face. He had again
endured a dangerous situation and had come out victorious. He knew
that swirling helicopter above contained his buddies, Bear and
Dog.

The warrior wolves heard the noisy helicopter
as well as they began to slink into the edge of darkness and into
the safety of the Colorado native pines that survived in the high
altitude of the stately Rockies. Even though the pines had absorbed
these creatures of the mountains, Slater knew that they were still
watching and waiting. He also knew that any more attempts to round
up a second attack would be futile.

Slater began heaving the heavy metal and
plane chairs from the entrance cursing and muttering obscenities as
fast as was humanely possible, most of which Swan in her isolated
world had never echoed in her ears. Within minutes, the barred
entrance was open and Slater was waving a hearty sign of excitement
to his friends twirling above them. Upon landing the helicopter,
they greeted each other with the exuberance of long lost buddies
that had bonded the trio’s friendship long ago.

“
We thought we would be finding your
frozen ass on some mountain pass. Glad we were wrong buddy. Do you
have anyone else stashed away in there?” questioned Dog.

Slater grinned, “Only one.”

Slater retreated into the frozen barrier and
cautiously carried out his bundle of fox fur as though it were the
most precious and fragile of all packages.

Bear extended his arms, “Let me help.”

Slater met his warm brown eyes with a
determined steady gaze, “Not a chance.”

Bear’s eyebrows lifted a fraction and he had
a difficult time stifling a grin. “Well, well,” he thought, “Leave
it to Slater to crash on a mountaintop with some gorgeous chick.
Further-more, perhaps my buddy, Slater, may well have boxed himself
into some deep feelings from which he may never return,” he smiled.
“It was about time.” Bear was finding the thought more than
amusing. After all, everyone should have that feeling of being
castrated for all women but one. With a chuckle to himself, he
proceeded to climb in the front seat of the Black Hawk
helicopter.

Slater rarely looked back from any kind of
confrontation in his personal or professional life--no exceptions.
But, as the helicopter ascended into the dreary drab sky above, the
forlorn call of the wild caused his gaze to rivet below to the
devastation that he had left behind.

The black devil had mounted the top of their
makeshift home. His devoted clan gave homage to the great leader by
surrounding and commiserating with their powerful general. His
frustrated howl of not outwitting the enemy, his dead soldiers, or
a cry of victory for chasing away the intruders in his territory
continued as they retreated from this deserted ice land into
civilization.

The intelligence of this powerful wolf animal
would probably turn the war experience into a conquest by
establishing a new den within the tin tail dwelling that would
house the pups his mate would bear him in the spring. One thing was
for sure--he remained king. Slater gave this savage black creature
a silent salute and promptly turned his attention back to the
present.

Swan was terrified. She remained
exceptionally quiet, but the ordeal of a mass attack by creatures
unknown and the flight of something airborne was driving her close
to hysterics. Her only stabilizer was a stranger with whom she had
intimate relations for the first time in her life. She clung to him
with the tenacity that only pure terror could evoke. Slater felt
her body language and understood her need as he once again gathered
her close in his arms and tried to shelter her from the unfamiliar
world that was crashing down upon her. For now, he was her solid
rock and he accepted that. The gesture was not lost on his amused
pals in the front seat.

Bear was concentrating on the area below.
Because of the blizzard storm, the burned area of the unfortunate
Flight 330 blended into the mountainside and was camouflaged
beneath a foot of debris and the snowy sustenance. There was no
evidence of life, but because of the shortage of fuel and all
spaces of their small craft were occupied, they radioed the
location and continued their journey back to the nearest helicopter
pad. When they landed, an ambulance was waiting and whisked the
previous passengers of the ill-fated 707 to the emergency room of
the nearest medical facility at the Breckenridge ski resort.

Med-act finally persuaded Slater to let go of
Swan and place her on the small gurney. Although they were
separated by body, there was no way that they were going to pry
their fingers apart. Slater’s stern frown booked no argument from
either emergency worker as he climbed into the back of the
ambulance. The door shut, the flasher was turned on, and they took
off at top speed.

The whole ordeal was an extremely emotional
upheaval from which most people never survive without a lifetime of
consequences. For Slater, it was business as usual, but for Swan
and the ordinary “Joe” it was understandable very traumatic. Her
head began to throb painfully. She soon escaped from the blaring
siren of the moving med truck by retreating into the world of
darkness. It swirled around her like a warm cozy blanket. She
wasn’t afraid. She knew Slater was there protecting her and just
maybe he even cared for her a bit.

Slater knew the minute that Swan was no
longer in the present. Her hand became limp, but he never let go.
He continued to stroke her extremities and speak to her in a
soothing and comforting voice. He only hoped that he was
penetrating the fog that had encompassed her mind and caused her to
enter a deep sleep beyond his reach.

CHAPTER 12

Previous memories began to intrude and fade
away as Swan revisited her growing-up years. They were not “Happy
Day” memories. Swan had had a difficult childhood that only
escalated as a high school adolescent.

A working mother whose only source of income
was waiting tables at the local diner was the only parent Swan
could remember. Her mother provided as best she could, but money
was scarce as was her love and concern for Swan.

Swan never knew her dad. He had disappeared
when she was a toddler and had never resurfaced again. It was
probably just as well as he was a predicted alcoholic and most
certainly had long ago passed into another world.

Because of Swan’s life in the low-income
bracket, there were never enough coins to buy something new. It was
a sacrifice to buy any clothing at all. So, when they went to the
local second hand store, it was a special treat.

Swan was always an exceptionally tall skinny
child with frizzy red hair. As she grew older, nothing changed. The
taller she grew, the more other children delighted in ostracizing
her at every opportunity from grade school through high school. It
was, especially, unpleasant during her growing stage, as she was
nearly a head taller than even the boys. Her unruly medusa red hair
made it impossible for her to blend into the woodwork, which is
exactly where she most wanted to be.

Unfortunately, one day a teacher made the
mistake of using her middle name, Swan, when she was calling roll.
The snickering vibrated around the entire school. It wasn’t too
long before she was dubbed the “The Ugly Duckling” or just plain
“Ugly”, which stuck with her through most of her school years. Just
when the term seemed be dying down, out of necessity, glasses were
perched on the tip of her nose. They were much too big for her face
with totally outdated rims that had a way of “geekinizing” her even
more.

Swan’s humiliation became almost unbearable
when other young girls began to realize that she was wearing
“their” hand-me-downs from the second hand store. They would joke
and tease her so much that she could hardly function.

As she approached her senior year, Swan’s
outward appearance began to change. She had a small job after
school working as a “gofer” for a small advertising firm. Although
it brought in a very small income, she was able to buy cheap
clothing of her very own at Wal-Mart and Target. The new clothing
fit her flourishing figure and it was not long before the opposite
sex began to take notice. As it turned out, this was not
necessarily a good thing.

Billy Branson who was the high school star
quarterback was the first to zero in on Swan’s blossoming bosom. He
began to joke about it in the workout room. It wasn’t long before
she was the butt of locker male humor whenever the topic arose and
wouldn‘t it be a “hoot” to deflower “The Ugly Duckling”. It was a
game they liked to play.

The little game was more than a little
disturbing when they began to be more aggressive with their sexual
verbal assaults whenever the opportunity presented itself. Billy
and his buddies became more and more brazen simply because they
knew they could. They continued these sexual innuendos because they
were typical cowards and because they enjoyed it. They also knew
that they would not be pursued if a criminal act of rape were to
take place. They were probably right.

All of Billy’s little gang came from wealthy
families and with that wealth came powerful friends in high places.
Over the years, they had committed several minor crimes, which the
local officers chose to overlook with very little encouragement. It
was just a mentality that was accepted in this small community.

Swan was no novice to this cruelty by her
fellow classmates. She dealt with their obscenities and tried to
cope with them the best she could as she always had.

One evening as the sun was going down; Swan
decided to walk back to the school to get an assignment that she
had left in her locker. As fate would have it, Billy and his gang
of buddies were hanging around the facilities’ parking lot in his
high-powered four-wheeler truck drinking beer. The lot was empty
except for a few unoccupied cars scattered throughout the area.
They observed Swan entering through the open side door. This was
the perfect opportunity that they could not pass up. Perhaps if
they had not been drinking or perhaps if they had not been goaded
by each other, Swan’s nightmare may never have happened.

The gang of four entered shortly behind Swan.
The halls were silent except for an occasional squeak from their
sneakers. They listened for any human activity. There it was on the
top floor of the institution. They scrambled in that direction.

After gathering up the necessary book and
papers to complete her homework assignment, Swan slammed the locker
door to proceed on her journey back home. Behind her, a cynical
snicker alerted her that she was not alone. With a sickening
feeling of dread, she whirled around. She was not prepared for what
she saw.

Four young men that looked like the Ku Klux
Klan were standing behind Swan. Their faces were covered with white
t-shirts. Swan did not doubt for one minute who had surrounded her.
The one that she knew was Billy had a dirty rag in his left hand.
She had no doubt that the situation boded ill for her.

The ghastly gang began to taunt and tease.
Swan tried to run, but she was no match for this football team.
Although she was hysterically kicking and screaming, it was not
long before they had roughly torn open her blouse, ripped off her
panties, and spread her legs on the hard cement surface of the
third floor of the high school. Stuffing the rag in her mouth,
Billy began to unzip his jeans. It was at that point, the custodian
flipped on the hall lights and the rapists all scattered like the
cockroaches they were.

The police were notified that a near rape had
taken place in the halls of their small town alma mater. The law
enforcement; however, of this minor town refused to believe such a
thing had taken place in their community much less in their local
high school. Neither Swan nor the janitor could identify the
assaulters without a doubt because of their covered faces. So, it
was cataloged in the police annals as a misdemeanor or a prank--
after all, boys will be boys.

Two weeks later, Swan’s mom suffered a fatal
heart attack. The day after the funeral, Swan left the good town of
Edgerton, Pennsylvania and never looked back.

It was only in later years that Billy Branson
became a drug dealer and user. One day, he was fatally shot in the
head and found in the gutter where he belonged.

CHAPTER 13

Swan sat quietly on the hard wooden bench of
the bus depot waiting to board the Greyhound vehicle that belched
out thick black smoke from its exhaust. This was Swan’s golden
coach to another life and she was squirming inwardly with
excitement.