CHAPTER 44
Evander
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
A whole rear corner of the structure has buckled, and I don’t know what triggered it. Yes, there’s an accumulation of snow and ice on the roof. But no more than at any other time since we got here.
I’ve been diligent about it.
Maybe this whole thing was ready to topple before the blizzard. I suppose we were fortunate to get a few days out of it.
I check to make sure a secondary collapse isn’t imminent, then I move as fast as possible in the snowshoes, trudging to the opposite side of the building.
That’s when I see that the river rock chimney is compromised.
Several stones have been dislodged and more are ready to fall.
It was barely safe to begin with, but now it’s unusable.
I’m calling it—we’re going to the cave.
This is going to suck for Phoebe. She’s been a champ through all of it but hunkering down in a snow shelter is roughing it to the extreme.
It will make this pile of sticks look like a five-star luxury resort.
But I’d rather she be miserable than injured. Or dead. Keeping her alive is all I care about.
I hike back to the front door as fast as I can, taking a moment to look up. It feels warmer out here today, which could be a sign that the front is weakening. But the snow and wind are still fierce, and there’s no way Declan should fly in it.
Doesn’t mean he won’t think about it, but I trust his judgment. At least when it comes to being a pilot. Rotors and motors can freeze in severe cold, and snow can cut visibility to nothing. Declan won’t fly if he thinks there’s a chance he’ll kill himself and everyone on board.
He’s a dumbass, but not that much of a dumbass.
It’s probably about noon, which means we’ve got just four hours of weak daylight to do what needs to be done. At least setting up the cave will give Phoebe something to focus on.
I don’t want her to flip out. Not now.
I reach the door only to find that it’s blown wide open. There’s a split second where my heart drops to the pit of my stomach, and I throw open the tarp. Relief floods me when I find her exactly where I left her. She’s counting aloud and stops when she sees me.
“You had fourteen seconds left,” she says from under the parka hood and face mask. Even covered up like this, she’s adorable.
“Thank you for staying put.”
“You’re welcome.”
I glance at the fireplace. I see the first curls of smoke coming into the room.
“We need to go. The chimney’s damaged.”
“We’re going to the igloo?”
I can’t help but laugh. “Yeah. The igloo. Come on.”
I reach down for her gloved hand and pull her to her feet. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You hand me firewood and I’ll throw it outside. Let's move.”
She does what I ask, and within a few seconds, we’re an efficient assembly line. I’ve pulled back a corner of the tarps. She’s picking up several split logs at a time, handing them off to me, and I’m throwing the wood out into the snow as far away as I can get them.
Wet wood is a hell of a lot better than no wood at all.
Within about ten minutes, we’ve cleared out what’s left of the fuel supply, but the smoke is now rolling out from the chimney. The front room is smoky.
“Phoebe, I want you to go to the cave and start digging. I’ll get the supplies.”
“No. We do this together. It’ll go faster.” She’s already running around gathering up the blankets, canned food, and whatever paltry kitchen supplies we have, and throwing everything into the center of the old rug.
“What happened to our chain of command?”
She smiles at me. At least I think she’s smiling. But I can only see her eyes. “Still intact. I just happen to disagree on this issue.”
“That’s not how a chain of command works. Trust me. I was in the Navy.”
She isn’t listening. Instead, she’s racing around grabbing everything she can.
She throws the first aid kit, the lighter, my headlamp, and a lantern onto the pile.
For good measure, she adds the couch cushions.
I watch her grab her distress whistle from the side table and zip it up inside a side pocket of her parka.
“Phoebe.” I stand in front of her. She stops. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, but—”
Just then, I hear a loud crack! I look over as that secondary collapse I worried about happens in real-time.
“Go! Go!”
Shit.
The whole back section of the shack gives way. The chimney is collapsing. Heavy, black smoke comes pouring out.
Phoebe doesn’t go. She bends down and grabs the edge of the rug and starts tugging it out the front door. I add my muscle, and we work together to get it outside. I yank the tarps down on our way out.
“Now!” I yell at her so loud that she jerks back in surprise. “Go!”
Phoebe runs behind me and heads to the snow shelter. With her out of harm’s way, I take a few seconds to collect my thoughts. I need to save the firewood. I need to get everything at least twenty-five feet away from this structure before it disintegrates and throws debris on my head.
I start throwing split firewood onto the pile of supplies until I see Phoebe coming at me.
“What the fuck?”
She’s leaping through the drifts with the snow shovel in her grip and starts clearing a path behind me so that I can drag everything to the cave. I’m shaking my head, but honestly, it will help. A lot.
How did this woman get so stubborn? And what would I do if she got hurt because I suddenly decided to become a soft touch?
Just then, I hear the first whoosh of fire. Instantly, the old backcountry cabin is engulfed in flames. “Back! Now! Go!”
Phoebe drops the snow shovel, having no time to make progress. She grabs the plastic tarps and drags them away from the heat.
The shack’s going down. Only then do I remember the container of kerosene. It will act as an accelerant.
This is a shitshow.
Phoebe’s suddenly back at my side helping to drag everything away from what could be an inferno of the first order.
“Dammit, Phoebe! You’re not listening to me!”
She isn’t even listening to me tell her she’s not listening! Instead, she puts her back into it, and together, we drag everything through at least another foot of fresh snow, all the way past the buried ATV.
But we need the rest of the firewood.
I look up, startled by how fast the place is burning. The old shack is nothing but hundred-year-old kindling, and with this wind, it has everything it needs to light the fuck up.
I race back for the wood. It’s dangerously close to the fire but if I don’t go back for the wood, it will burn. We’ll have nothing for heat.
That would be an extremely dangerous development.
“Evander!”
I look over my shoulder to see Phoebe standing in knee-deep snow, her arms out to her sides in disbelief at what I’m doing.
“Please, no!” she screams. “It’s not worth it! Please!”
I turn toward the wood pile and start heaving one armful after another in the direction of the shelter. Phoebe runs toward me, picking up what I throw and carrying it away.
It’s at that moment that I understand something about the woman who’s about to become—no, she already is—my girlfriend.
Gil Travis was right about his daughter. She’s a pit bull with a porkchop, and I’m just going to admit it to myself right now—I’m fucking in love with her, stubbornness and all.
Sparks fly in the wind. Black smoke billows up through the heavy snowfall and floats skyward. Just then, one of the already broken windows blows out from the thermal shock and sprays shards of glass everywhere.
“Back!” I yell to Phoebe.
“Evander!”
I feel a sting, then look down to see that a piece of glass has punctured through every layer of fabric covering my forearm. I yank it out and toss it aside.
I grab the rest of the wood. I’m about to make a run for it when the last piece of upright framing decides to topple and lands right on the sleeve of my coveralls. Instantly, I feel it burn my flesh.
I drop my armload of wood and lift off the heavy wood beam, but it’s made contact with my body long enough that my flesh sizzles.
I grab the wood and run. The pain is inconvenient, but I’ll be fine. I’m just pissed off at myself for a lot of shit I just let happen.
I didn’t anticipate that the shack would go up in a blaze as fast as it did.
I allowed Phoebe to make decisions that put her life at risk. She could have been killed.
I allowed myself to get injured.
And I’m fucking pissed off by all of it. I’m pissed off at myself.
If Phoebe thinks she’s seen me at my ugliest, she’s about to find out she was mistaken.