Page 53 of Hearts Storm

We approach cautiously, calling out as we near the front door. “Lakeside Fire Search and Rescue!”

Silence. The door is unlocked, swinging open when Brex gives it a gentle push.

“Hello? Anyone home?” I call out, stepping inside as I follow behind him.

The cabin is small but well-kept. There’s a kitchenette with a wood stove and a small dining table. A living area with a worn leather couch. And a hallway leading to what I assume are bedrooms and a bathroom.

“Clear,” Brex announces after checking the main room. “I’ll take the back.”

“I’ll check the bedrooms,” I reply, moving down the hallway.

The first door opens to a small bedroom with a neatly made bed, but it’s empty. The second door is the bathroom, also empty. The third is another bedroom, this one clearly used as storage with boxes stacked against the walls.

“All clear back here,” Brex calls. “But you’re gonna want to see this.”

Following the sound of his voice, I find him standing at the back door.

Sidling up beside him, what I see next makes me gasp. Where there should be a backyard, there’s nothing but mud. A massive pile stretching at least twenty feet from the back of the cabin has also crept around to the side, swallowing half of what looks to be a garden. Or it was.

“Shit,” I mutter, stepping outside to get a better look. The mud has claimed the entire back and side yards, but thankfully, the cabin itself seems structurally sound. “At least the building wasn’t damaged.”

“Small miracles,” Brex agrees, pulling out his radio. “Dispatch, this is Saint. We’ve reached the cabin over on Copper Pass. No occupants found. Mudslide affected back and side yards. Structure appears intact. No injuries to report.”

“Copy,” comes the response. “Continue sweep.”

“Will do. Saint, out.” Brex clips the radio back to his belt. “Guess we keep moving. We’ve still got two cabins left to check before we can head back.”

I nod, giving the pile of sludge one last wary glance before heading back inside. When we reach the front door, a photo sitting on the sideboard catches my eye. An elderly couple is standing on the porch steps of what looks to be this same cabin, smiling at the camera.

“Think they’re okay?” I ask, gesturing to the photo.

Brex follows my gaze. “Probably evacuated when the alert went out. Most people in these remote areas tend to have contingencies in place.”

I hope he’s right. Just the thought of someone being trapped under all that mud and debris makes my stomach churn.

Quickly doing a sweep of the cabin’s perimeter to make sure we haven’t missed anything, we head back into the trees. The mud has changed the landscape dramatically, creating new gullies. Even shifting the trail in some places.

The deeper we go, the more treacherous the terrain becomes, forcing us to navigate around large chunks of trees that have been ripped from the ground. At one point, we have to scramble over a couple of massive boulders that obviously weren’t there before, their surfaces slick with mud and rain.

“Nice and easy,” Brex grunts, reaching up to steady me as I climb down from the second boulder.

“Thanks.” The further we walk, the heavier my bag gets. But the last thing I’m going to do is complain. This is what I signed up for.

Maybe it’s about time I start using the stair climber at Summit Studio.

We’re about fifty yards from the next cabin when a sudden, sharp, splintering crack cuts through the air.

“Look out!” Brex shouts.

I spin around just as a massive pine tree behind us starts to fall.

Time slows to a crawl. The tree tilts, roots tearing from the saturated earth with a wet, sucking sound. My feet refuse to move, frozen in terror as the massive trunk hurtles through the air.

twenty-four

Strong arms wrap around my waist, yanking me sideways. We hit the ground hard, mud and wood flying as Brex shields my body with his.

The back of my head smacks against the ground, pain exploding through my skull as mud splatters across my face. The ground beneath me trembles from the impact of the tree hitting the earth, as the sound of snapping branches and splintering wood roars in my ears.