The Georgia Series Collection

Chapter 12

The next few days were a blur, as I fell in and out of consciousness. My body had never been so cold. Concerns about hypothermia forced me to drag myself to the stove to rebuild the fire, making sure to drink water before I passed out again. Thoughts came back to me of looking out the window at the never-ending snowstorms, further trapping me here. I was plagued with dreams and nightmares.

The fire in the wood stove flared with each stoke of the iron poker, my body soaking up its warmth. Sudden whispers from the front porch caught my attention. I crept across to the window and peeked through a slat. My heart raced as recognition took hold.

It was them.

Oh dear God. What"ll I do? I backed quietly away from the window, my eyes glued to the front door. The handle began to wiggle and the sound of someone"s weight pushing against the door pounded in my ears. “Uh!” My hands flew to my face, covering my mouth to stifle a scream. My breath caught in my throat.

Oh dear God. What"ll I do?I turned and ran to the back of the cabin, unlatched the door and rushed outside. A fierce wind swirled snow all around, chilling me to the bone. Blinded, I raced behind the sheds. I saw an old water tower. A wooden ladder led to the top. My focus became that platform.

“There she is,” Bobby yelled.

The climb took away my breath and filled my lungs with cold air. Gary and Bobbie stood below, laughing at me. I wrapped my arms around my body to protect me from the cold … understandable with one glance at my socked feet, bare legs and oversized sweatshirt.

Gary waved an arm. “Come down, b***h. Don"t make us come up there and get you.”

Tears stung my eyes and froze when they reached my cheeks. “No … no.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a g*n. “Maybe I"ll use you for target practice from here.” He laughed and pointed the weapon at me, pretending to shoot. “Pop … pop … pop.”

A voice bellowed from behind the cabin. “No, you don"t. Not yet anyway.”

“Colin?” I couldn"t believe my eyes, as my husband walked towards Gary and Bobbie. “How did you get here?”

Gary spun around. “Who are you? Gary asked. “What do you want here?”

Colin stared up at me, but spoke to Gary. “Not what I want, who I want. I"m her husband. Georgia, what are you doing? Come down this instant.”

My body was numb from the cold. I couldn"t comprehend his words. Colin wants me? No, I didn"t believe that. Still, I asked: “You came for me?”

Colin wants me? No, I didn"t believe that.He started to snicker. “You? No, not you.” He turned to Gary and Bobbie. “I want my baby. Then, you can do what you want with her.” They all stared at me and laughed cruelly.

“But, it"s not time. She"s not ready to be born yet.” I stared into the sky full of stars, trying to sort my thoughts and then, looked down at this man who became a stranger. “Why, Colin … why?”

Colin just shrugged. “I grew up and you didn"t … you live in a fantasy world.”

My eyes searched the sky again and focused on the Pleiades Constellation, home to the Lemuroids, higher souls who came to live in Lemuria before Atlantis according to mythology. I want to live in their world, to float free, and know their wisdom.

I want to live in their world, to float free, and know their wisdom.“One way or the other, you"re coming down, b***h. Hard or easy, it"s up to you,” Gary said.

“No … no,” I cried. “You can"t have her. She"s mine.” The edge of the platform pressed under the edge of my toes, and one push forward propelled my body into the air. The freedom of flying like a bird overtook me and I shrieked with laughter at the shocked look on their faces. The ground loomed closer as I began to tumble and fall, with my body plummeting faster and faster. My light-hearted cries turned to screams of terror.

The mournful cries of the wolves jolted me awake. “Yuk!” My bedding and clothes were damp. My fever had finally broken. Combined with the chilled air and the lasting effects of my recent nightmare, I shivered under the blankets.

My watch revealed that four days had passed. I forced myself out of bed and scurried over to the stove to restart the fire. A change of clothes came next. Moving to the window, I was amazed to see a clear sky, stars shining. The Pleiades Constellation caught my eye, like in my dream. It"s believed the Lemuroids went home to the stars when Lemuria sank into the Pacific Ocean. And that today, they are reborn, bearing our world a new generation of enlightened children.

For the first time since returning to the cabin, the snow stopped falling. In a hollow way, I felt comforted. At least something changed. The clearing in front of the cabin was blanketed with three feet of untouched snow. The evergreens of the forest beyond stood as sentinels, protecting the cabin from harsh winds and the world beyond. Filtered moonlight through the trees cast dark shadows across the clearing.

The wolves howled again.

“Oh no, those damn wolves … please … please stop.” My hands covered my ears and my legs shook. It wasn"t so much fear of the wolves that I felt, but the feeling of loneliness and extreme isolation that their cries accentuated. When Colin had left me, I"d experienced loneliness for the first time in my life. Surrounded as I was with loving family and friends who cared, I didn"t think anything could make me feel worse than I felt then.

What a joke compared to this!

Thoughts of death were in my life for a while. Five months previously, when Colin left, I had wished for it. The day of my k********g I thought I"d be killed. And now? Now, I didn"t want to die. But who was I to think I was in control? My tracks to the cabin were well covered. My enemies would never find me. That meant my rescuers might not as well—if there were any. Was this a sanctuary or a tomb? Stay or leave? I had no idea in which direction to head. Here at least, the cabin provided warmth and water, but not enough food. So—stay and eventually starve to death, or leave and possibly freeze to death. Some choice!

As I thought of those closest to me, tears wet my cheeks. What a wimp I"d been—selfish and self- pitying. I"d tried to cling desperately to my old existence during those six months. Having never lived alone, my present situation was a reality check compared to the fantasy world I"d been living in. This past week, my shattered world tumbled down around me, with no experience or life skills to deal with the challenges facing me.

The sky suddenly came alive with light, rolling back and forth across the horizon like waves on the shore. Normally an exhilarating experience, this colorful display of the Northern Lights left me feeling overpowered by its raw energy. I was a mere speck surrounded by a daunting universe.

Standing by the window, I made my decision to stay. Better to face the small world inside the cabin than face the unknown world outside with its wolves, bears, and who knows what else. Now … did I base this decision on sheer logic or because I was a coward? Whatever my motivation, it was a definite decision and it felt good. I"d been indecisive for so long, running blindly from crisis to crisis. My whole world had been based on sheer emotion instead of rationale.

Yes, the past eight days were hell.

My time in the woods and at the cabin were filled with tears, fears, and self-absorbed despondency. One moment I was fearful that my enemies would find me; the next I wished they would come and put me out of my misery. I felt tired—tired of crying, tired of fearing the unknown, and tired of being tired.

Feeling a decisive kick from within, my hands moved to my abdomen.

“Oh my God! You"re moving. You"re alive.” For the first time in days, the baby moved. Look at me. I"m laughing and crying. But this time, they were tears of joy.

. Look at me. I"m laughing and crying.A definite reminder that there was more to consider than my sorrowful life. I knew I must take control. Since my situation wasn"t about to change, and since my future was unknown, the only choice left was to take charge of the present, one day at a time.

I sat down by the warmth of the stove. Relaxing into the hypnotic sway of the rocker, I thought back to the circumstances that brought me to this place— at this time and in this state.

Why do I think I"m a coward? I"ve survived a marriage break-up, escaped my kidnappers, survived my encounter with a grizzly, and found shelter and some food.

Why do I think I"m a coward? I"ve survived a marriage break-up, escaped my kidnappers, survived my encounter with a grizzly, and found shelter and some food.I think all the tears and fears I"d been experiencing for so long, right back to the day Colin walked out on me, were accentuated by my pregnancy. Hormones. Through all my suffering, physical and emotional—my baby survived. Her strength and endurance amazed me, and I drew from her strong will to live.

Hormones.Her? Yes—her! I knew my baby was a girl.

Her? Yes—her!I didn"t know how, but at that moment it became clear that we would make it. I wouldn"t give up. I looked down at my abdomen and felt another wave of movement.

I"m not alone. You"re here with me. I rubbed my stomach and smiled. “Maybe you"re one of the enlightened ones, sweet pea.”

I"m not alone. You"re here with me.Thoughts of family saddened me. With no way to let them know I was alive and sheltered, their grief would be all consuming. Were they looking for me? Was anyone looking for me? Probably, I concluded, but there were a lot of miles between where I was now and where I was last seen in Whitehorse.

Were they looking for me? Was anyone looking for me?As the days passed, my concerns of being discovered by my captors lessened. A daily routine developed. Mornings were spent doing cabin chores. Afternoons were spent fishing in the stream for rainbow trout with a rod and tackle found in one of the sheds, adding to my larder. I wrote in a notebook found in the bookcase, keeping a careful record of each day. My evenings were spent reading the selective choice of titles. One book, which became my bible, was on survival in the outdoors. There was a short section on childbirth in the wilds with instructions about cutting the cord and the afterbirth. I reread that section over and over. There were books on the gold rush, similar to Marion"s, and an assortment of fiction books. A set of three books in a series of thrillers by Sean Dixon, an author I never heard of, was particularly exciting.

All I had for clothes beside my one set were the ones hanging on the hook by the door. Another wooden trunk used for the coffee table contained bed linens and towels. “Oh dear, baby girl. This reminds me of your needs when you arrive. I"ll cut up the towels for diapers and figure out some nighties for you.” I let out a snort. “This should be fun, sewing has never been my strong suit.”

There were some doilies, tablecloths, and knickknacks that I placed around the cabin, adding a feminine touch. The routine became important because it gave me a focus and a purpose to each day. When the day ended, I told myself to be proud of surviving another sunset.

The one constant that nagged at me on a daily basis was hygiene. Daily showers and long soaks in bubble baths didn"t exist here. An old metal washtub from under the bed served as the only thing available for washing clothes and for stand-up baths. There was no soap, no shampoo, no hairbrushes, blow dryers, or hair curlers, only a bottle of bleach, which I used sparingly. My biggest chore was constantly boiling water, to wash dishes, clothes and myself, and for drinking water.

Using an outhouse did not appeal to my delicate senses, including my sense of smell, but that was my only choice. I felt grateful that at least at this time of year, the pungent odour of this necessary outbuilding was not enhanced by excessive heat. At night an old metal bucket served the purpose. No way would I go outside in the dark or the cold for relief.

As the days passed, my long hair suffered from lack of grooming. I felt unclean. An old mirror hung on the wall with the silver scratched off a lot of the back. But I could still see a broken reflection and my hair looked pretty wild. With a pair of scissors I found under the kitchen counter, I chopped it all off to chin level. Luckily, the water in this area was hard water, meaning it had a lot of minerals in it. My curls and waves all but disappeared, leaving my hair hanging straight. I used a fork to comb my hair and control the tangles. Over time, I became quite adept at this new grooming feat. I used the scissors meant for cutting paper to cut my nails and shape them. It seemed there was always dirt under my fingernails, so a small paring knife served to clean underneath them.

One day I stood on the outside porch looking in the picture window. I caught my reflection in the glass. My hands flew to my mouth as I exploded in a fit of the giggles. This woman with no make-up, chopped stringy straight hair, over-sized sweatshirt and men"s jeans held up with twine, did not resemble the woman I knew.

If they could see me now.

If they could see me now.If I hadn"t looked so ridiculously funny, I probably would have cried. I gave my head a shake.

Get a grip, girlie. Make-up and clothes won"t help you here. This is survival.

Get a grip, girlie. Make-up and clothes won"t help you here. This is survival.It was now the end of November, and I decided to drag the throw rugs and carpets outside to air and beat with a broom. Pulling the rug that ran along the front of the counter, a new discovery stopped me in my tracks.

“No way, sweet pea … a trap door.” I talked to my baby constantly. She became my focus and my comfort.

I stared at the door, compelled to open it, but afraid of what might be down there. Some cabins had trap doors in the floor as a means of escape. However, this cabin was close to the ground with a log skirting. If it opened to a crawl space, it was anyone"s guess as to what would be down there. I envisioned rats, spiders and other undesirables. In the end, my curiosity overcame my overactive imagination, and I leaned down and pulled the door open, revealing nothing but blackness. A blast of cold air hit me in the face, along with a cloud of dust, making me cough. I lit a lamp, and lying on the floor, dropped my head and arm into the dark hole.

… you cannot run away from a weakness, you must sometime fight it out or perish,

… you cannot run away from a weakness, you must sometime fight it out or perish,and if that be so, why not now, and where you stand

and if that be so, why not now, and where you standRobert Louis Stevenson

Robert Louis Stevenson