Tommy Parker didn't want to die this way.
The young college student had thought it would be a lark to go for a hike in the snow, but had underestimated a Maine winter snowstorm. The blowing snow wiped out the trail, and soon he was lost in the woods. The cold seeped into his bones, and he shivered uncontrollably, the first signs of hypothermia. Desperately, he searched for anything that looked like the trail he had come in on, but to no avail. He was slowly freezing to death in the snow. Night had fallen, and Tommy knew he was going to die in the cold and dark.
Blundering along, he suddenly stumbled into a clearing in the woods, with a small neat cabin. A dull orange glow shone from the windows showing light from within, and a thread of white smoke rose from the stone chimney. Tommy staggered up to the door and pounded on it. It was opened by a compact man in what looked like late middle age, with salt and pepper hair and beard. For some reason, Tommy couldn't see him well, like his vision was wavering, but the man told him to come in out of the cold.
"Look's like you're in a bad way young fella, you better git in her by the fire." the man said.
Tommy was not about to protest, and went over to the stone fireplace and held out his shaking hands to the warmth.
"You're coats about soaked through" the man said, "Let me hang it up by the chimney to dry."
The man took Tommy's coat and hung it on a cord that stretched across the room in front of the fire.
"I hang my stuff up there to dry after I check my trapline. It gets good and dry in no time." the man said.
"You're a trapper?" asked Tommy.
"Yep. I get a good load of pelts and go to town and sell them to old Perkins at the general store."
Tommy looked around the cabin, and saw an addition had been built on the back. Everything was neat and well kept, and the glow from the oil lamps gave a cozy warmth. It looked like more than one person lived there, and he saw a toy car sitting on the shelf by the back door. The man saw him looking and got a sad look on his face.
"You have a family?" Tommy asked.
"I used to, but not anymore." the man said, "They were killed a year ago in a car accident. My wife and 7 year old son are both gone now. It happened just before Christmas."
The man reached into his pocket and took out a knife, and handed it to Tommy. It was a pristine Remington trapper model, with thick brass liners and beautiful jigged bone handles. Tommy had seen a badly worn specimen of this knife in the hands of his uncle who was a hunter, and knew it was a rare collectors piece. Especially in the mint condition that this one was in.
"I was going to give it to my son for Christmas, but it wasn't to be." said the man.
"I'm very sorry for you're loss Mr. ah, I don't know your name." said Tommy.
"Oh, I guess I plum forgot to introduce myself. I'm Charlie Lawson."
"I'm Thomas Parker, my friends call me Tommy."
The man got a strange look on his face.
"My son's name is, or was Tommy. Ain't that a funny coincidence? I get to save the life of a young man named like my son. Good thing for you I stayed around."
They talked for a while about things in general, and the man found himself liking the young college student come in from the cold. He wondered if his own son had lived, would he have turned out as nice as the kid falling asleep in the chair by the fire.
The man seemed very sad and Tommy still had trouble seeing him clearly. His eye lids felt heavy, and he had the overpowering desire to sleep.
"Why don't you just lay down on that bunk there and get some shut eye till the storm blows out. You look beat." said Lawson.
Tommy couldn't argue, and as he lay down, Lawson covered him with a thick wool blanket. Tommy dropped off in a deep slumber, and the trapper stood looking down on him with a thoughtful expression. Then he crossed over to where Tommy's coat hung on the cord by the fire place, and put the Remington trapper in the coat pocket.
--------------------------------------------------
"TOMMY? MR. PARKER, CAN YOU HEAR ME?"
The voice was yelling at him from what seemed far away, and Tommy dragged himself awake with a great effort. There was a bright light glaring in his eyes. It was so peaceful in his deep sleep, he didn't want to come back. He opened his eyes and looked around him in shock at what he saw.
He was no longer in a nice snug warm cabin with a fire glowing in the stone fireplace. Gone was the furnishings, and he was laying on rotting wooden floor boards in a derelict wreck of an abandoned cabin. The dark was pierced by the powerful flashlights of the search and rescue teams that had been looking for him since the snow plow driver had spotted his car at the snowed in parking lot by the trailhead. Trash of leaves and packrat nests lay in the cold stone of the long dead fire place, and the cabin was freezing cold. Not a single pane of glass remained in the windows, and shreds of rotting canvas that were once curtains hung in the empty windows.
"Where the hell am I?" demanded a confused Tommy Parker. "Where's the cabin I was at, and how did I get here?"
"Victim is confused and disoriented," One EMT spoke into a radio, "We'll transport to the high school for airlift to county ER."
The EMT's tried to calm Tommy down, but he grew more confused and demanded to know what was going on
"Why am I here in this place, where's Mr. Lawson's cabin?" Tommy demanded, looking around in shock at the deserted falling down cabin.
At the mention of the name Lawson, a big man in a artic parka shoved his way through the SAR team and EMT's. On the chest of the parka was the badge of country sheriff. Walter "Bull" Macklin had been keeping the peace in the county for over 20 years. At six foot and four inches of solid mussel and gristle, Bull Macklin stopped bar brawls just by walking in the door. There wasn't much in this world that shook up Sheriff Bull Macklin, but he looked shook up now. He leaned down and grabbed the almost frozen college boy by the front of his shirt.
"What is this, some kind of prank?" he demanded.
"Hey Sheriff, take it easy, take it easy, lets get him out of here, okay?" said one of the SAR team EMT's.
The EMT's got Tommy up and as he was being led to the gapping door of the derelict cabin, a sheriff's deputy grabbed the coat hanging over the cord by the cold debris filled fireplace. As he took it down, he got a puzzled look on his face, and he felt the coat all over.
"That's weird," he said, "the coat feels warm, like it was hanging by a fire."
As he was feeling it, an object fell out of the pocket and clunked on the rotted floor. It was a mint Remington trapper pocket knife. The EMT picked it up and looked at it, and went to stick it back in the coat.
"Hey, that's Charlie Lawson's knife, the one he was going to give to his son." said Tommy.
Bull's face when rigid with shock, then anger.
"WHO TOLD YOU ABOUT THAT, YOU LITTLE PUNK?" yelled Macklin. "WHAT KIND OF CRAP ARE YOU TRYING TO PULL?"
The sheriff's deputy and an EMT calmed Sheriff Macklin, and the other SAR team members bundled up Tommy Parker and got him out to a snowmobile and on the way to a meeting with the medivac chopper. The other SAR team members got on their snowmobiles and left. The clearing with the abandoned cabin was empty now, but for Sheriff Macklin and the deputy.
"Bull, what the hell was that about?" asked the deputy, "We've been together for over 10 years, and I never saw you ruffled like that. Who's Lawson and what's going on here?"
Bull Macklin took a drag on the cigar he'd lit.
"Something from a very long time ago. You weren't even a gleam in your daddy's eye back then. I was just a kid myself when it happened. Old man Lawson was a trapper. He made a decent living at it. He got married to a gal from just up the road, and they had a son. Lived right here in this cabin. Had a little dirt road went out to the main road, you can still see the outline of it over there. One afternoon his wife and son went into town to do some last minute shopping before Christmas, and on the way home there was a bad accident. A drunk driver celebrating early crossed the center line and took them out head on. Killed them both right there. The old man went a little nuts after. Became a hermit, stayed out here by himself for years after. One day, I got a call from a neighbor who stopped by to check on him, found him dead. He'd hung himself right there in the cabin, and left a suicide note behind saying he'd gone to be with his wife and son."
Macklin stopped and took a deep pull on the cigar. Overhead, the sky was partly clear as the storm broke up. The wind had died down and it was the calm after the storm.
"Anyways, from then on, people said strange things went on out here. They tried to sell the cabin, but nobody ever stayed a night. After a while it was just abandoned, and became like you see it now. Once in a while some kids try to stay the night on a dare, but they never make it past midnight."
Bull deceided not to tell of the time he tried to stay when he was 16 years old and on a dare. He'd never tell how he ran terrified from the cabin. He looked at his watch.
"It'll be dawn in an hour, lets go over to Donna's and get some breakfast. I could use some hot coffee after looking all night for some damm college kid lost in the snow. "
"You buying?" asked the deputy.
"Why not. Donna's Diner has the best hotcakes in the county. "
The two men got on the last two snowmobiles in the clearing, and left in a shrill whine of two stroke engines. Quiet settled over the clearing once again. The calm after the storm had left the sky a pattern of silver pin points of stars on a velvet black background of night. In the clearing, not a single bit of breeze blew. It was still and quiet. The silence of a tomb.
Suddenly, a faint orange glow came from the dark empty windows of the derelict cabin, and the rotted remains of the curtains moved aside as if pulled by the hand of somebody, or something, wanting to look out.
A thread of white smoke rose from the cold chimney.
The young college student had thought it would be a lark to go for a hike in the snow, but had underestimated a Maine winter snowstorm. The blowing snow wiped out the trail, and soon he was lost in the woods. The cold seeped into his bones, and he shivered uncontrollably, the first signs of hypothermia. Desperately, he searched for anything that looked like the trail he had come in on, but to no avail. He was slowly freezing to death in the snow. Night had fallen, and Tommy knew he was going to die in the cold and dark.
Blundering along, he suddenly stumbled into a clearing in the woods, with a small neat cabin. A dull orange glow shone from the windows showing light from within, and a thread of white smoke rose from the stone chimney. Tommy staggered up to the door and pounded on it. It was opened by a compact man in what looked like late middle age, with salt and pepper hair and beard. For some reason, Tommy couldn't see him well, like his vision was wavering, but the man told him to come in out of the cold.
"Look's like you're in a bad way young fella, you better git in her by the fire." the man said.
Tommy was not about to protest, and went over to the stone fireplace and held out his shaking hands to the warmth.
"You're coats about soaked through" the man said, "Let me hang it up by the chimney to dry."
The man took Tommy's coat and hung it on a cord that stretched across the room in front of the fire.
"I hang my stuff up there to dry after I check my trapline. It gets good and dry in no time." the man said.
"You're a trapper?" asked Tommy.
"Yep. I get a good load of pelts and go to town and sell them to old Perkins at the general store."
Tommy looked around the cabin, and saw an addition had been built on the back. Everything was neat and well kept, and the glow from the oil lamps gave a cozy warmth. It looked like more than one person lived there, and he saw a toy car sitting on the shelf by the back door. The man saw him looking and got a sad look on his face.
"You have a family?" Tommy asked.
"I used to, but not anymore." the man said, "They were killed a year ago in a car accident. My wife and 7 year old son are both gone now. It happened just before Christmas."
The man reached into his pocket and took out a knife, and handed it to Tommy. It was a pristine Remington trapper model, with thick brass liners and beautiful jigged bone handles. Tommy had seen a badly worn specimen of this knife in the hands of his uncle who was a hunter, and knew it was a rare collectors piece. Especially in the mint condition that this one was in.
"I was going to give it to my son for Christmas, but it wasn't to be." said the man.
"I'm very sorry for you're loss Mr. ah, I don't know your name." said Tommy.
"Oh, I guess I plum forgot to introduce myself. I'm Charlie Lawson."
"I'm Thomas Parker, my friends call me Tommy."
The man got a strange look on his face.
"My son's name is, or was Tommy. Ain't that a funny coincidence? I get to save the life of a young man named like my son. Good thing for you I stayed around."
They talked for a while about things in general, and the man found himself liking the young college student come in from the cold. He wondered if his own son had lived, would he have turned out as nice as the kid falling asleep in the chair by the fire.
The man seemed very sad and Tommy still had trouble seeing him clearly. His eye lids felt heavy, and he had the overpowering desire to sleep.
"Why don't you just lay down on that bunk there and get some shut eye till the storm blows out. You look beat." said Lawson.
Tommy couldn't argue, and as he lay down, Lawson covered him with a thick wool blanket. Tommy dropped off in a deep slumber, and the trapper stood looking down on him with a thoughtful expression. Then he crossed over to where Tommy's coat hung on the cord by the fire place, and put the Remington trapper in the coat pocket.
--------------------------------------------------
"TOMMY? MR. PARKER, CAN YOU HEAR ME?"
The voice was yelling at him from what seemed far away, and Tommy dragged himself awake with a great effort. There was a bright light glaring in his eyes. It was so peaceful in his deep sleep, he didn't want to come back. He opened his eyes and looked around him in shock at what he saw.
He was no longer in a nice snug warm cabin with a fire glowing in the stone fireplace. Gone was the furnishings, and he was laying on rotting wooden floor boards in a derelict wreck of an abandoned cabin. The dark was pierced by the powerful flashlights of the search and rescue teams that had been looking for him since the snow plow driver had spotted his car at the snowed in parking lot by the trailhead. Trash of leaves and packrat nests lay in the cold stone of the long dead fire place, and the cabin was freezing cold. Not a single pane of glass remained in the windows, and shreds of rotting canvas that were once curtains hung in the empty windows.
"Where the hell am I?" demanded a confused Tommy Parker. "Where's the cabin I was at, and how did I get here?"
"Victim is confused and disoriented," One EMT spoke into a radio, "We'll transport to the high school for airlift to county ER."
The EMT's tried to calm Tommy down, but he grew more confused and demanded to know what was going on
"Why am I here in this place, where's Mr. Lawson's cabin?" Tommy demanded, looking around in shock at the deserted falling down cabin.
At the mention of the name Lawson, a big man in a artic parka shoved his way through the SAR team and EMT's. On the chest of the parka was the badge of country sheriff. Walter "Bull" Macklin had been keeping the peace in the county for over 20 years. At six foot and four inches of solid mussel and gristle, Bull Macklin stopped bar brawls just by walking in the door. There wasn't much in this world that shook up Sheriff Bull Macklin, but he looked shook up now. He leaned down and grabbed the almost frozen college boy by the front of his shirt.
"What is this, some kind of prank?" he demanded.
"Hey Sheriff, take it easy, take it easy, lets get him out of here, okay?" said one of the SAR team EMT's.
The EMT's got Tommy up and as he was being led to the gapping door of the derelict cabin, a sheriff's deputy grabbed the coat hanging over the cord by the cold debris filled fireplace. As he took it down, he got a puzzled look on his face, and he felt the coat all over.
"That's weird," he said, "the coat feels warm, like it was hanging by a fire."
As he was feeling it, an object fell out of the pocket and clunked on the rotted floor. It was a mint Remington trapper pocket knife. The EMT picked it up and looked at it, and went to stick it back in the coat.
"Hey, that's Charlie Lawson's knife, the one he was going to give to his son." said Tommy.
Bull's face when rigid with shock, then anger.
"WHO TOLD YOU ABOUT THAT, YOU LITTLE PUNK?" yelled Macklin. "WHAT KIND OF CRAP ARE YOU TRYING TO PULL?"
The sheriff's deputy and an EMT calmed Sheriff Macklin, and the other SAR team members bundled up Tommy Parker and got him out to a snowmobile and on the way to a meeting with the medivac chopper. The other SAR team members got on their snowmobiles and left. The clearing with the abandoned cabin was empty now, but for Sheriff Macklin and the deputy.
"Bull, what the hell was that about?" asked the deputy, "We've been together for over 10 years, and I never saw you ruffled like that. Who's Lawson and what's going on here?"
Bull Macklin took a drag on the cigar he'd lit.
"Something from a very long time ago. You weren't even a gleam in your daddy's eye back then. I was just a kid myself when it happened. Old man Lawson was a trapper. He made a decent living at it. He got married to a gal from just up the road, and they had a son. Lived right here in this cabin. Had a little dirt road went out to the main road, you can still see the outline of it over there. One afternoon his wife and son went into town to do some last minute shopping before Christmas, and on the way home there was a bad accident. A drunk driver celebrating early crossed the center line and took them out head on. Killed them both right there. The old man went a little nuts after. Became a hermit, stayed out here by himself for years after. One day, I got a call from a neighbor who stopped by to check on him, found him dead. He'd hung himself right there in the cabin, and left a suicide note behind saying he'd gone to be with his wife and son."
Macklin stopped and took a deep pull on the cigar. Overhead, the sky was partly clear as the storm broke up. The wind had died down and it was the calm after the storm.
"Anyways, from then on, people said strange things went on out here. They tried to sell the cabin, but nobody ever stayed a night. After a while it was just abandoned, and became like you see it now. Once in a while some kids try to stay the night on a dare, but they never make it past midnight."
Bull deceided not to tell of the time he tried to stay when he was 16 years old and on a dare. He'd never tell how he ran terrified from the cabin. He looked at his watch.
"It'll be dawn in an hour, lets go over to Donna's and get some breakfast. I could use some hot coffee after looking all night for some damm college kid lost in the snow. "
"You buying?" asked the deputy.
"Why not. Donna's Diner has the best hotcakes in the county. "
The two men got on the last two snowmobiles in the clearing, and left in a shrill whine of two stroke engines. Quiet settled over the clearing once again. The calm after the storm had left the sky a pattern of silver pin points of stars on a velvet black background of night. In the clearing, not a single bit of breeze blew. It was still and quiet. The silence of a tomb.
Suddenly, a faint orange glow came from the dark empty windows of the derelict cabin, and the rotted remains of the curtains moved aside as if pulled by the hand of somebody, or something, wanting to look out.
A thread of white smoke rose from the cold chimney.
Last edited:
