Stuck in Pine Hills

Stuck In Pine Hills

Nothing can quite compare to the sensation of being strapped to a spinning car with zero control of your steering, brakes, or bladder. I threw my hands in the air and prayed, Carrie Underwood style, and braced myself for the end.

The car stopped when it hit the snowbank. My face stopped when it hit the steering wheel (Maybe I should have looked into that airbag recall.)

I sat there, paralyzed from shock, feeling I'd been punched in the face by Chuck Norris. Flipping the mirror down I scrutinized the mutilation. Could be worse, I thought. My lower lip was swollen and a steering wheel-shaped bruise had already begun to form on my jaw. Most startling by far was the chip in my front tooth, almost half of it was missing. Just my luck, how am I going to fix that without dental insurance.

Turns out I couldn't back out, dig out or pray my way out of that mountain of snow. The more I tried, the deeper in I went. With no phone signal, I had no way of knowing where I was. I resigned myself freezing to death inside my Honda. Then I remembered my dad had given me an atlas for graduation. On it, he wrote, “I know you’re going places; hope this gets you there safely.” Super corny and turns out dead wrong.

I pulled it out of the glove box and found the nearest town. A ski resort about 5 miles away called Pine Hills. With hope in my heart and a working phone on my brain, I set off toward my new destination. Enjoying the sunshine as I went.

The steep icy terrain quickly disheartened me. As the wind picks up it bit at my exposed skin, devouring every ounce of heat in my body, before chewing its way into my very bones. The sun which had so recently made me cheerful now only mocked me with its heatless light.

Having no other choice, I trudged onward one foot in front of the other not thinking about the distance.

Eventually, frozen and desperate, I caught sight of the resort.

A large log cabin surrounded by small booths meant for refreshments and gear rental. A Layer of pure white snow covered varies objects protruding from the otherwise flat land scape. I could only as to guess at exactly what lay beneath. To me, like a sheet over the body of the dead, it meant the life was gone from this place. Hanging over the barren stillness as a stone over a grave was a posted sign.

"Pine Hills Resort closed until further notice" dated two years ago.

I stumbled forward numb to my very core. Perhaps I could find shelter from the wind in one of the buildings. A deep burning settled in my chest and begun to build until I could hold it in no longer, sinking to my knees I began to sob deep and hard. Was it possible I might actually die out here?

Thoughts spiraling downward into the darkest of places. My spirit hovered over me a though I was no longer a part of myself.

"Excuse me, ma'am. Are you ok?"

Awareness came back to me like a bolt of lightning at the unexpected sound of another human voice.

"Thank God." I practically shouted. "I slid off the road a few miles back and walked all the way here to see if I could get help. Only to find this.” I gestured to the snow-covered buildings.

"The resorts have been closed for almost three years now. Ever since the accident. Lucky for you I walk up here in the afternoons. I like the peace and quiet."

I couldn't imagine anyone walking up here for fun, but I was glad she did. "Do you have a phone or something I could use? I need to call a tow truck."

"Phones don't work really well up here. Why don't I give you a ride down the mountain, you can make your call from town?" She gave me a sweet smile "My name is Mara Wilson."

Like I said, she seemed harmless enough. Much lower risk than dying of exposer or being eaten by a bear, or so I assumed. I grasped the hand she held out and let her help me off the ground. She was surprisingly strong for a small woman, but I guess you would have to be to live around here.

"Thank you so much. I thought I was going to die up here.” She simply stared at me. Suddenly I was aware of how insane I must appear. I tried taming my hair, a bob of brown curls that at this point probably look like a bird's nest, while simultaneously brushing the muddy snow off my jacket. "I'm Lauren," I said, "I'm not usually this crazy. It's just been a really rough day." I attempted a friendly smile, my fat lip and chipped tooth just making me look that much crazier.

I followed Mara to her car before she could change her mind. It was a beat-up ford pickup, definitely nineties or older, that had no business hauling itself up and down a snowy mountain every day. The bench seat had once been a velvety powder blue was now worn and browned with dirt. The most startling thing about the car was a lifelike stuffed rat hanging in the front window.

"Don't mind him," she said, "my uncle Remy was a world champion taxidermist. That right there was his prized possession."

Under different circumstances, this may have been a turn-off, but I was too cold and desperate to give it a second thought. Mara cranked the heat filling the cab with a strong odor of mothballs and burning oil, but who cares in the presence of blessed warmth.

Mara maneuvered the like an old pro, and before I knew what happened, we were down the mountain, on the flatter well-plowed road leading into town.

"Why did they close the resort?" I asked.

"Avalanches, every skier knows it's something you got to look out for." I nodded my head like I had a clue what she was talking about. "A few years ago, they came wave after wave, kept getting bigger too. By the end, it seemed like the whole mountain was going to come down on us. Lost twenty-seven people that year. Then most of the town lost their jobs when the resort closed down. My husband Howard used to manage the lifts, and my son Jim taught lessons. Now all they do is sit on the couch and watch sports center."

"That's probably what my parents say about me. I lost my job and had to move back in with them a few years ago. At first, they were super supportive. And now… well, now I think my mom wants her craft room back."

"I'm sure they don't feel that way. I'd do absolutely anything to have my children around me all the time."

The town of Pine Hill's wasn't much to look at, just a long row of emaciated houses stacked one after the other like the ribs on a stray dog. The plow truck had lined both sides of the street with mountains of snow. Creating an unwelcoming barrier between those passing by and those who dwelt within. Mara turned off the main road into a narrow alley filled with old garages and dilapidated fences. Not sure where she was going, I thought I had better speak up.

"If you don't mind dropping me off somewhere. Maybe a garage where I could get a tow or even the local police station, that would be great."

"Jerry's garage closed an hour ago, you won’t be getting a tow today. No, you'll be much more comfortable coming home with me. Then you can eat a warm meal and make any calls you need too."

I felt a little thrown back by this. We definitely did not discuss going to her house, if she had mentioned it, I would have politely declined. Now I had no choice. I could either rudely insist on being dropped at the police station or go enjoy a nice home-cooked meal, albeit with strangers. So, I let it go.

Soon we were pulling up to her house it was a small shaker shingled two-story, same as all the others on the block. The paint was chipped, and peeling in places, the shingles were so old they had begun to curl in on themselves. Only a small portion of the driveway had been shoveled. Just enough for the truck to get in and out and a narrow walkway up to the back door. The door was a cracked and chipped cherry red that stood out against the desolate landscape like an open wound.

When I tried to open the passenger door it wouldn't budge. I pushed harder, still nothing. Tendrils of panic began to creep into my subconscious. Just what had I gotten myself into.

"Sorry about that deary, I must have left the child locks on."

She pressed a button, and with a click, I was free. It briefly flashed through my mind that I had been locked in the car with a stranger, but it had been an accident, so I let it go.

Following Mara, we went through the back door straight into the kitchen. Everything from the golden-brown linoleum, yellow-painted cabinets, and a once brightly patterned wallpaper now faded and peeling, gave the impression of a place once loved. Now unseen. Curling in on itself, as though making one last-ditch effort to escape the creeping mildew that had infested every corner. The space was just big enough to accommodate the countertop and appliances on one wall with an oak table and four chairs on the other. I sank into one of the chairs, relieved to finally be out of the snow. Above the table hung half a dozen photographs. Faces froze in time. Were they still that happy? Were they that happy even then? I looked at the eyes, trying to decipher their unreadable emotions.

"I'm home boys, and I brought company."

I peered around the corner and caught sight of two men, their heads barely visible over the back of the couch. Howard, her husband, and Jim, her son. I glanced back at the pictures for confirmation before asking.

"You have a daughter, right?"

"Yes, Rebecca, but we lost her to the mountain a few years back."

"I'm so sorry."

She pinched her lips together turned around and set about preparing supper, pulling out mixing bowls and various ingredients. Filling a glass of water, she set it down in front of me before finally continuing.

"They never recovered her body. That why I go walking up there so often. Foolishly hoping something new will turn up. Then when I saw you…" She stood up and went over to the counter "Well, I thought I was going crazy. That's what I thought. With your brown curls all blown in the wind."

She whirled around suddenly. Face mere inches from mine "Are you her? Are you, my Rebecca?"

Was she serious? I could tell by the desperation in her eyes that she was. "No, I'm so sorry I'm not her. I'm just Laura Baker." I gave a nervous laugh.

"Of course, you are. Of course."

She turned back to her cooking as though nothing had happened. I listened to the sound of an egg crack against the side of her bowel followed by a squelch and plop as it fell. I asked a few questions but got no more response than the continued click and swish of the spatula. This was weird. I knew that, but grief makes people crazy. So, I let it go.

I stared at the family pictures trying to distract myself from the cloying silence, but now all I could see was Rebecca and our shocking resemblance. Eventually, the tension grew so think I thought it might actually smother me. So, muttering an excuse about needing some air, I rushed out the back door.

To my relief, the next-door neighbor was out shoveling. Feeling silly, now that I was no longer alone with Mara, I smiled (with my mouthed closed) and called a greeting.

"Haven't seen you around here before little lady."

"I had some car trouble. Mara was nice enough to give me a ride into town."

"She is nice like that, odd but nice. I think she just a little lonely ya know."

"Yeah, she seems that way," I agreed.

"Such a tragedy losing your whole family in one day like that."

My stomach turned to lead, "Her whole family?"

"Yes, surely she told you. Her husband and both her kids died in an avalanche up at the resort."

I didn't hear anything else he said. All I could think about were the two men sitting on the couch in Mara’s living room. Who were they? I desperately wished I had brought my purse and jacket out with me.

"I hate to ask this but, it seems Mara is busy for the rest of the night; is there any way you could drop me at a garage or the police station?" I asked the man. Praying silently, he would be my way out of this bizarre situation.

"No problem at all. I was just headed into town."

"Thank you so much. Let me just grab my bag and say goodbye to Mara."

I needed my bag, but I was really hoping I could get it without seeing Mara. Easing open the back door, I peered inside. I didn't see her at the counter so I slipped inside. The floor creaked with every step I took. Making it to the table as quickly as possible, I snatched up my stuff. Feeling a moment of relief, I allowed myself a glance into the living room. Sure, enough there were two men in there. Part of me had hoped it was just my imagination. I turned to leave then my world went black.

"You were leaving again! How could you do that to me, Rebecca?"

As the fog in my brain slowly cleared, I could hear her muttering.

"Were a family you can't leave me."

Feeling slowly returned to my body. I was tied to a chair by my feet and ankles. My right wrist was loose. Perhaps I could work it free if only could distract her for long enough.

I had an idea. It was risky, but I didn't have a lot of options at this point.

I let my eyes flutter open as though I had just woken.

"Mama?"

"Rebecca, my sweet Rebecca why did you leave me?"

"I didn't leave you, mama. I've been here the whole time you just couldn't see me." I had to convince her I was her Rebecca.

"Your father and I missed you so much."

I looked at the couch for the first time, It was all I could do not to scream, there sat Howard and Jim Wilson. So perfectly preserved they could have been posing for their next family portrait. only when you looked closely could see the waxiness of their skin and the dryness of their hair. Glass eyes stared back at me from the dark caverns in their faces. There was no doubt they were dead, and only through the skills passed down by her uncle Remy was she able to keep them with her. The sight made my skin crawl. Even after I turned away, I could still sense their ghoulish stares.

"Mama, daddy, and Jim are gone. They've been gone a long time."

"No, no, they're here,"

"But they're not here. Mama! They sent me to tell you that you need to move on. You need to let us go."

"No! they are here! They stayed! you left me, but you won't leave me again."

She came at me, the blade glinting in her hand. All I could think about was how I was going to end up on that couch, waxy and stuffed, just like Jim and Howard.

I tried to scream, but all that came out was a pathetic whimper. The cold steel pressed against my throat; I knew it was the end. Then came a knock at the door. The mania faded from her eyes in an instant, taping my mouth shut she went to answer the door.

I could hear her casually conversing with the neighbor. They seemed to be talking about me. She told him I had left with a friend and apologized for the inconvenience.

I knew I had to do something, and I had to do it fast. Yanking on my wrist over and, over I slowly loosened the bindings.

Mara said goodbye and shut the door. My time was up.

Ignoring the pain, I gave a last desperate tug and pulled free. I finished untieing myself as quickly as I could.

Grabbing a heavy table lamp, I waited just inside the door frame. Holding my breath, body tense, each second ticked by with ominous weight. The moment she stepped into view I used every ounce of my strength to bring the lamp crashing down on her head.

Dropping the lamp, I ran out the front door screaming like a banshee straight into the arms of the kind neighbor man.

Through my sobs, I managed to get out most of my story. The commotion drew a large crowd, no one believed me at first, but all it took was an inspection of the Wilson home to prove my wild tale.

The rest of that day was a blur. Someone called the police, to take my statement and an ambulance for Mara, who thankfully was not dead.

My parents showed up and took me home. No longer willing to hold onto the past, I soon found a new job (with dental) and moved out of my parents’ house. I live with Pine Hills every day of my life, sometimes It feels like I never really made it off that mountain. Who knows maybe I didn’t?