1. Sierra
1
SIERRA
“You sure you know what you’re getting into, girlie?”
Girlie. I supposed it wasn’t the worst thing I’d ever been called. Still, I suppressed a sigh as I studied the small man in front of me. His bald head was covered by an ancient stocking cap that had probably been knitted during World War II. Between that and his wild gray beard, it was hard to make out the beady little eyes that peered up at me.
“Yes, I’m fine. I’ve been here since Tuesday.”
This was my fourth day at Cabins for Creatives. So far it had lived up to its promise—peace, solitude, and plenty of time to work on my writing.
Winston looked skeptical. “That’s because you haven’t seen any real weather yet. Ever been in a blizzard?”
Alarm jolted through me before I remembered that the cabins were built for weather like that. Plus, I was checking the weather report three times a day, and nothing like that was on the radar. “I’ll be fine. I love the cold.”
That wasn’t entirely true. I was born and bred in Los Angeles, after all. But so far, I loved the charming little cabin, the silent woods, and the incredible view.
He eyed the bags of groceries he’d just set on the table. “You’re not going to stay warm eating that birdseed you ordered.” The way he cleared his throat suggested he was a smoker. “You need some beef and potatoes. I got steaks out on the ATV for those boys up the way.”
“Good for them.” Only one other cabin was visible from mine. It was twice the size and currently housed three men and their dog.
The only one I’d met was the collie, who’d made his way down here once, but I’d seen the others out on their deck. The most we’d done was to exchange waves, since they were at least half a mile up the hillside, but that was fine with me. More than fine.
“Why don’t you tromp on up there sometime? Bet they’d be happy to share a meal with a pretty young thing like you.”
Yes, that was exactly why I’d booked a cabin in the mountains—to meet men. “I’m not looking for a free meal.”
“You should.” The way he eyed me wasn’t leering, like most men did. In fact, it was downright insulting. “You could use some meat on your bones, and broccoli’s not going to do it.” He said the name of the vegetable as if it had personally offended him.
The fact that he was basically calling me scrawny felt almost like a compliment. In a month, I’d be off on the press tour doing publicity for Thrill of the Chase , a movie I’d filmed last year, and if I gained any weight before then, my agent and the studio would crucify me. Plus, I’d be pretty pissed at myself, too. Being on display the whole time—since my role in the movie had been basically to be arm candy—was awkward enough even at my ideal weight.
“Thank you for delivering the groceries.” Despite the fact that Winston was the only person I’d spoken to face-to-face in days, I was eager for him to go. But when I reached for my purse—something else I hadn’t used in days—he waved me off.
“You already pre-paid your tips, miss.”
Miss seemed like a step up from girlie .
“Well, I really appreciate it. It can’t be easy to drive through all that snow.”
The tip of his bulbous nose turned pink. “It ain’t, but sometimes I worry about all you artsy folks up here all alone.” The cabins were marketed as a place for artistic types to come to work in solitude. “You a writer?”
“Yes,” I said firmly. He’d asked that before but hadn’t seemed to believe me.
“You don’t look like one.”
I nearly rolled my eyes. I had on fuzzy slippers, leggings, and a hoodie over my t-shirt. My hair was up in a high ponytail, and I had no makeup on. Still, I wondered if he got a whiff of Hollywood from me. Hopefully before my month’s stay was over, that would wear off.
“Well, I’d better get them boys their vittles,” Winston said, making no move toward the door.
“How long have they been here?” The question had left my lips with no prior warning from my brain. What did I care about the men up the hill?
“Just a few days longer than you. This is their first fresh food delivery, too.” Winston squinted at me. “You understand that it might be a while until I get back, don’t ya?”
This squat man who’d probably lived up in the mountains his whole life looked worried, and that worried me. “They said every ten days.”
“That’s only if the route’s passable. We get a big storm, it won’t be.”
Right. That was the deal I’d signed up for, and it was the whole point—to take a time-out from the real world and get some work done. Still… “There’s a backup generator, right?”
“Yep, and it won’t fail ya. I keep it oiled and purring myself.” He seemed to pick up on my concern. “You’ll have power and water, and there’s enough canned food in the pantry for an apocalypse. You’ll be good, you just won’t have your fresh veggies, girlie.”
Since he was back to girlie again, it seemed that his concern for my well-being had passed. Still, he’d made me feel better. “That’s good to know.”
“You’ll be okay. Now get a move on and finish that book.”
I nodded and followed him to the front door. It wasn’t a book I was working on, but he didn’t need to know that. After donning my boots and winter coat, I walked out onto the front step, winding my thickest scarf around my neck as I went.
Winston stomped through the foot of snow to his ATV with the funny tires that looked like the kind found on tanks. Next time, I’d have to clear a path for him, but I didn’t come outside very much. Walking through deep snow wasn’t the easiest thing in the world. From time to time, I eyed the collection of snowshoes piled in a big basket near the fireplace, but I had no idea how to use them.
A loud roar filled the air and Winston was off, weaving his way through the trees up to the men’s cabin. Presumably there was a path under all the snow, but if so, I hadn’t seen it yet and likely wouldn’t. I watched him fight his way up the mountain for a few more minutes and then made my way back inside.
Since I was already in my winter gear, I decided to go straight through the small cabin to the deck out back. That was where the best view was. Grabbing an extra scarf from a hook by the door, I slid open the glass door and stepped out into paradise.
It was the most gorgeous view imaginable. It almost made me wonder how anyone got any work done up here. Evergreens scattered the landscape, their branches thick with pristine snow. A ravine opened up just beyond the deck and led to a small valley below. In the distance, mountain tops peaked, one after another, looking like they were waiting for a painter to immortalize them.
For a few moments, I filled my lungs with the freshest air I’d ever breathed. Yes, it was cold—really, really cold—but the pine scent accompanied notes I couldn’t even name. All I knew was that the air here was as different from Los Angeles as it was possible to be.
As I scanned the landscape, my eyes traveled up the hill to the left. At the top was the only other man-made item in sight, the other cabin. It looked like mine, but in triplicate. Bigger cabin, bigger deck, bigger everything. The deck was empty at the moment, but as I watched, one of the men came out onto the front porch. I squinted, trying to figure out which one it was. I thought of them as small, medium, and large, even though they were all likely much taller than me. It was hard to tell much else about them, because of both the distance and the fact that they only appeared in head-to-toe winter gear.
Nevertheless, I thought that the one who strode out into the snow, evidently having heard Winston’s approach, was the tall one with the dark hair. I scanned the woods in front of him, but the ATV was lost in the trees. The man seemed to be scanning the forest, too, but then he turned my way and held up a hand.
After a moment, I waved back. That was it—that was the extent of my human interaction these days. Talking to Winston when he’d first dropped me off a few days ago, and today when he’d brought the groceries, and waving at the guys up the way.
And that was exactly how I wanted it. My gaze returned to the tree line as I moved to the edge of the deck. I’d been acting since I was eight. I’d made countless indie and made-for-television movies, and last year I’d been in a major mainstream action movie. After all those years of acting, I was ready for something different, and this was my chance.
Sure, I’d struggled with my screenplay, but that was back in the real world with dozens of things competing for my attention. Now, there was just me, my writing, and a whole lot of snow.
This was my chance to do something different, something worthwhile, something incredibly important to me—and there was no way I was going to let it go to waste.
Four days later, I was far less sure about the situation. I’d been mentally prepared for snow. Lots and lots of snow. I’d never once thought of the possibility of an ice storm.
But one had arrived, and it was making its presence known.
Crack.
The unbelievably loud sound made my heart skip several beats before resuming its regularly scheduled rhythm.
“Sierra? Are you okay?” The noise had been so loud that my friend Alyssa, over a thousand miles away in Louisiana, had flinched too.
“It’s okay,” I assured her image on the laptop on the desk in front of me. Then I had to tell her the whole story—how the weather had gotten warmer two days ago—warm enough that it had actually started to rain.
“In February? In the mountains?”
It had been hard for me to believe, too. But the warmer temps didn’t last long. As night fell, all the water on the branches and the ground had frozen. Now I could barely set foot on the deck or the front porch, not without my feet slipping out from under me. And the frozen branches were so heavy that several times an hour, I’d hear a sharp crack of one breaking from the weight.
Alyssa looked so concerned that I had to assure her how much I was enjoying the solitude. It was the perfect place to work. The large desk dominated the living room. The window over the desk showed the frozen forest outside. The view was still gorgeous, even if the ice covered everything. I was beginning to see why our mutual friend Kylie was transfixed by mountains.
Still trying to reassure Alyssa, I told her about the guys’ dog, a huge collie that had made its way down here when it was raining. He was a big, friendly guy, and he’d let me dry him off on the front porch. He’d even given me a big grin when I brought a cookie out to him.
But Alyssa, who’d recently met the men of her dreams, was far more interested in the men than the dog. “Hey, next time it comes by, attach a note to its collar saying that you’re single,” she suggested.
“Very funny,” I said, looking away. I liked Alyssa, a lot. She was in her early twenties, like me, but I hadn’t known her all that long. Apparently not long enough for her to realize that I was far more comfortable with a collie than a man. Dogs, I trusted. Men, I didn’t. At least, not most of them. I didn’t understand how any woman who’d spent most of her life in Hollywood could.
A sound from outside like a deep groan caught my attention. It felt like the entire cabin had shuddered. Still, I felt safe and warm inside. The ceiling was low, unlike the high roof on the cabin up the hill. Because my place was small, it kept me nice and cozy.
“Everything okay?” Alyssa asked.
“Yeah.” Ever since the ice had coated every tree in sight, the woods had been anything but quiet. “I just thought I?—"
CRACK.
The noise was as loud as a cannon, and it sounded like it was right outside. Instinctively, I ducked down. A roar hit my ears, a terrible sound like a boat crashing ashore and being torn apart on jagged rocks. A shadow crossed over me, and a heavy wooden beam came crashing down, making the wooden floor tremble as it landed. I dropped to my knees as more debris fell. It felt like dozens of icy hands were pushing me down. My rolling chair was knocked to the side as my knees gave out. It felt like the sky itself was falling on me.
Crying out, I covered my head, trying to scramble under the desk, but I couldn’t. Something huge pinned me down. Something huge and heavy and ice cold.
I tried to move out from under it, but it was everywhere. I gasped, trying to draw a breath, but the air was too cold and the branches on me too heavy.
From somewhere far away, I heard Alyssa frantically calling my name before the sound cut off, mid-syllable. There was another noise, far in the distance, but I couldn’t place it.
All I could do was wait. Shivering. Afraid. Pinned down.
I didn’t know what I was waiting for—or if it was coming at all.