FINDING LOVE
1
WILDER
Iwipe the sweat from my brow, pausing long enough to take a breath of fresh mountain air before swinging the ax again. Over and over, I get the log in position, hoist the heavy steel ax above my head, and swing downward. The sharpened metal slices into the wood, breaking it in half with a satisfying crack that echoes down the mountain.
The sun is about to slip behind the highest peak here in the Smoky Mountains, which means daylight in my little valley will soon be gone. That was one of many things I had to get used to when I moved up here almost a year ago. Sunrises and sunsets aren’t the subtle occasions they often are in other places. In the mountains, darkness falls swiftly, followed by a temperature drop so stark it has to be felt to be believed.
Eyeing up the last few logs to be split, I decide to hustle and get it done in the ten minutes or so I have left of the yellow-orange glow. I get lost in the rhythm of chopping wood until the stack is gone and I have a wheelbarrow full of firewood. Good thing, too. I haven’t been able to shake the feeling that something’s coming my way and I need to be prepared.
“It’s your paranoia, you idiot,” I mutter.
Jesus Christ, now I’m talking to myself?
Maybe my friends were right. Maybe a year alone, without a single soul around other than the wildlife and occasional helicopter flyby has gotten to my head. Then again, it’s better for everyone if I go crazy up here alone than mingling amongst civilians like I was trying to do before.
Focusing back on the task at hand, I wipe off the blade of my ax and put it away before wheeling the stack of firewood up the path to my cabin. I make quick work of unloading the wheelbarrow, lining the logs up in rows against the back wall of the mudroom in my small cabin.
By the time I’m done, the solar-powered lights on the corners of my roof are on, letting me know it’s officially quitting time. As much as I’d like to work longer into the evening, it’s not worth configuring a light set-up at this point. Not when it’s just me. Maybe when Elliot, Huxley, and Cassian join me, we can discuss a more permanent electricity solution.
Right now, everything I need runs on solar power aside from the construction equipment I’ve purchased in the last few months and my personal water heater. That all still needs gas, but once the major work has been done, the goal is to have a self-sufficient community up here in the Smoky Mountains.
I rinse off in the shower, thankful for the hot water. I don’t have many creature comforts up here in my cabin, but warm water to shower in was at the top of my list of things to figure out once I decided to make the move up here.
The hot liquid pours over my aching muscles, and I roll my shoulders out, groaning as the tension subsides. For now. I'm fine as long as I have something to do, a plan of action, and a task at hand. The darkness is kept at bay. Barely, but it’s better than when I was trying to “fit in” with regular people and society. I don’t know how to do that anymore—and I don’t want to.
After I left the Army Rangers, I fell into the bottom of a whiskey bottle, trying to forget the reason I retired earlyin the first place. When that didn’t work, I considered trying something stronger. Possibly something I wouldn’t wake up from.
Even at my absolute lowest, I couldn’t bring myself to end it all. Something kept me here, some sense of purpose I still don’t understand. I spent days at a time in bed, only leaving to go to the bathroom and gag down whatever food I had on hand. Still, when I woke up in the morning, I knew I wasn’t done. My time wasn’t up.
But something had to change. I couldn’t keep numbing my pain with alcohol and ignoring my friends when they tried reaching out to me. So, I did what any barely-functioning, depressed-as-fuck, emotionally-scarred veteran with demons screaming in his head twenty-four-seven would do; I got a shady loan from a friend of a friend who may or may not be in the mob so I could buy an abandoned mining town in the Smoky Mountains.
At least, it seemed like a good idea to me at the time. I have no regrets, even if my Army buddies don’t understand. They will. Huxley is joining me soon, along with Cassian. Both are coming up on retirement in the next few months. Elliot has already been medically discharged, but he’s…
Fuck. I let Elliot down. If it weren’t for me…
I stop myself from spiraling, though just barely.
Turning off the water, I grab a towel and dry off, wrapping it around my hips before stepping out into my single-room cabin. It’s not much, but I built it with my own two hands instead of diving off the nearest cliff to silence the voices, so I consider that a major accomplishment.
Besides, it’s not like I’m trying to impress anyone out here. My log cabin has everything I need for it to be a home base while I’m planning and building the rest of the town over the next several years, with lots of room to expand if I so choose.
At the moment, I can’t imagine sharing this space with anyone. When my friends get up here, we’ll build their homes according to their specifications, but even so, they won’t be staying with me. No way in hell. The first thing I did when I got the deed to the land was to make a drivable path down to the nearest town at the base of the mountain.
I finish dressing and look over my meager options for supper. One day, I’ll have a row of fully stocked greenhouses and fields full of grains, veggies, and roaming cattle. Until then, I still rely on supply runs every few months to the town at the bottom of the mountain.
Something catches my eye in the kitchen window, but I don’t see anything when I try to investigate further. Shrugging, I grab the last freeze-dried soup mix from the cupboard and fill a pot with water to boil over the fire.
A strange feeling sweeps through me, not quite a chill and not quite a shiver. It’s just… I don’t know. I can’t explain it. My heart races, and I’m on edge, ready to spring into action. I know it could be my PTSD, but this feels… Again, I don’t have the words to describe the feeling settling over me.
I’m drawn out to the back of my cabin, onto the porch, where I lean against the railing and strain my eyes to see something,anythingin the darkness.
Shadows weave in and out of the thick forest, the moonlight catching here and there on the branches. The silver light swirls with the navy blue of the sky, the dark brown of the earth, and the yellow glow of the stars, and suddenly, I’m not here.
I’m back there. In the dark. Can’t feel my arms. Not sure what happened. The colors fade in and out as screams and explosions cut into my subconscious and make my head throb. Elliot. Elliot! Where did he go?
A sizzling, hissing sound fills the air, followed by smoke.
