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Pain. Guilt. Anguish. Anger.
I shot up from my bed, leaving behind a pool of sweat while my brow continued to drip. Throwing the covers off my body, I swung my legs around the bed. The bed in the cabin. In Gatlinburg.
I’m in Gatlinburg. I’m in Gatlinburg.
That had become my mantra over the past month. The nightmares and terrors that seemed to follow me all the way from the Navy had found me in my self-inflicted deep, dark hole. I dragged myself to the bathroom to splash some water on my face. I needed to get this sweat off my body. I needed to change my sheets.
I needed to have another reel to play in my head.
I got to the sink and opened up the tap, splashing water on my face with my shaking hands. I couldn’t breathe. I placed my lips underneath the faucet, avoiding the one thing I knew was waiting for me when I picked up my face. I guzzled down the crystal-clear well water, trying my best to wash away the metallic taste of blood. So many innocent lives spared to save the wretched and all of it fell onto my back.
All of it was my responsibility.
I drank until I sputtered and then I drank down some more. I drank until I knew my stores had been replenished. I felt the water running through my beard. The beard the Navy would never have allowed me to have. I didn’t want to look at myself. I couldn’t stand the sight of the traitor I felt I had become.
But when I lifted my head up to dry myself off, there I was. Right there in the mirror.
I studied the sunken-in look of my eyes and how pallid my skin had become. I took in the thickness of my beard and how I could no longer see my face underneath. My lips were barely there and my eyes were bloodshot. The water was trickling down my lackluster skin and, even though I recognized the eyes staring back at me, I still felt like a stranger.
A stranger in a cabin in the middle of the damn mountains. Who was this man?
I couldn’t roll back into bed. Not after the things my mind had conjured up. I could smell the sweat that permeated my bed all the way from the bathroom, so I went out and ripped the sheets off. I threw them into the washing machine before gathering up my dirty flannel, chuckling at the memory of that conversation I’d had with Paxton.
It seemed the mountains had finally inducted me into their family.
By the time I started the washing machine, the birds were chirping outside. Despite winter setting in, there were still a few birds who chose to hang on until the very last minute. I had to check the storage shed and make sure I had enough dry wood chopped up for the next few weeks of winter. Then, I needed to run into town to stock up on some supplies.
I needed gas for the generator in case the power went out, matches to make sure I could always keep a fire going, canned foods and meats I could deep freeze and vegetables I could vacuum seal to get me through until spring if I got stuck up here in heavy snows. The city of Gatlinburg didn’t snowplow the roads all the way back here. There just weren’t enough people for them to justify the expense.
But that didn’t matter to me. I was completely fine with being snowed-in.
I went out to the storage shed and opened the door. I’d have to chop up a little more wood to get me through the cold months but, other than that, I was all right. It wasn’t urgent like the need for food and gasoline was, so I hopped into my truck and ran on into town. It took me a good forty minutes to get to the store I knew would have everything I needed.
“Hey, Liam!”
“Hey there, Moose,” I said, walking into the general store.
“Coming into town for some stuff, I see,” he said. “Need anything in particular?”
“Just as much gasoline as you can load me up with,” I said.
“How does twelve gallons sound?” he asked.
“Can you put them in those one-gallon containers with the nozzles?”
“You got it.”
Henry Weavil, also known as Moose due to his sheer size, was the shop owner in town. His place had everything you could need. From bait and tackle to hunting boots, to gasoline, to every single grocery you could ever need, he always made sure the people of Gatlinburg could make only one stop if they needed to. Him loading me down with gasoline freed me up to grab the groceries I needed to stock my place, which meant I could get out of here and back to my cabin quicker.
I didn’t like being in town too much or too long.
I walked around the store and grabbed anything I could think of: steaks, fresh fish, some chicken breasts. I’d already shot and processed a couple of bucks while I’d been here, so I didn’t need much meat, but a bit of variety always did a soul good. I grabbed lots of canned goods, as well as some frozen vegetables, then grabbed two massive sacks of rice before I started loading up the smaller things.
I ended up making two trips around the store before I could think about leaving. I bought another set of sheets for the bed and picked up some free newspapers for kindling. When I was finished, I took my second haul up to the register, where Moose was standing.
“So, newcomer, how you liking our part of the country?” he asked.
“I like it just fine,” I said.
