Chapter 1 – Lightning
“That was great. I love your chicken enchiladas.” Ryan picked up the last two plates from the kitchen table and set them on the counter beside the sink, where Emily, in a blue tank top and cut-off jeans, rinsed the pans and glasses before putting them in the dishwasher. The aroma of chilies and corn tortillas still filled the room.
“What do you have planned for tonight?” He put his arms around her waist and kissed the soft brown skin on her neck below the brunette ponytail. “I think we should light a fire and make out on the sofa,” he whispered in her ear.
Emily shook her head, slapping him with her hair while she pushed back on the counter. “You know I’ve got to get ready to give my testimony at Celebrate Recovery tomorrow. Pastor Paul is counting on me, especially after you gave yours last month. Many people, especially women, want to know how we made it through your infidelity and kept our marriage intact.”
“I know.” He kissed her neck again. “But you smell so good.”
“Stop. Go take Toby for his walk and let me finish.”
Toby, their three-year-old German shepherd, sat at the back door waiting and staring at him with his big brown puppy-dog eyes. Toby served as their watchdog and companion. Emily said she felt safe having him around, especially when Ryan traveled to his various clients scattered around the world. Last year, Toby chased a mountain lion out of the yard while Ryan was in Cincinnati. Though Emily loved the dog and spent a lot of time with him, he remained attached to Ryan, who had spent the time training and walking him.
“Well, boy. It looks like me and Mrs. Jones won’t have a thing going on tonight. Shall we go for a walk?” He kissed Emily’s neck one more time before releasing her.
Toby yelped and turned a circle before bouncing on his front paws.
When Ryan went to the hall closet for his jacket, Emily said, “I’ll be here when you get back, you know. It shouldn’t take me too long to go through the testimony. Why don’t you bring in some firewood when you get back?”
“I can do that.” He grabbed his jacket and went to the back door. I am the luckiest guy in the world. Who would have thought seven years ago when I cheated on her, we would still be married. That she would forgive me and even let me continue my consulting job. God did an incredible work of healing in us.
Toby barked, letting his impatience show.
“I’m coming, boy.” Stopping behind Emily, he kissed her neck again.
This time, she turned around and kissed him, holding her mouth against his before saying, “Go on, now, and let me finish.”
He opened the back door and Toby ran out into the late afternoon sun. God, I can’t thank you enough for restoring my marriage and changing me.
When he stepped out onto the back deck, Toby was standing at the edge of the yard, looking back, wanting to know which direction they would go. Though there was no fence, the mowed area around the house designated the yard. Past that, the weeds grew tall. Toby would not go beyond the yard without permission.
“Go on, boy.” Ryan pointed to the left and Toby bounded into the weeds with his nose to the ground.
Ryan walked across the yard to the path that led to the creek. Toby ran a few yards ahead, pausing occasionally to look back and see where he was. When the dog got to the creek, he waded in and took a quick drink, then waited for his master to show him which direction they would go. Ryan pointed left again, and Toby started downstream.
They went down the well-traveled path that meandered along the creek bank. The willow bushes lining the path opened occasionally into meadows of long grass and aspen groves where beavers built their dams. They stopped, and he watched the brook trout rippling the surface of the pond. It had been a while since he had brought his fly rod down here. Maybe this weekend he would catch a mess of brookies. But tonight, he wanted to spend time with Emily, so he didn’t want to go too far.
The sun was setting. Birds chirped and flitted in and out of the willows along the stream. Ahead of him, Toby stood at the edge of a clearing, growling with the hair on his neck on end. Ryan hurried over, wondering if Toby had spotted a bear or a lion. But when he got there, he couldn’t see anything, though Toby still growled.
“It’s all right, boy.” He reached down and stroked Toby’s neck. “Let’s step out and have a closer look, then we’ll head back to the house.”
That’s funny. The birds have stopped. He took two steps into the clearing with Toby, who remained alert with his ears up. The dog crouched like a predator beside him, ready to spring. Ryan’s body tingled all over, like an electric current was flowing through him. A buzzing noise grew louder, then a blinding light flashed. He threw his arm up to shield his eyes. Pain seared his chest, burning his skin. The smell of ozone filled his nostrils. Then everything turned black.
Chapter 2 - The Dream
Ryan opened his eyes to a bright sun shining on his face. Too bright for him to see anything around him. He lay still for a moment before he tried to sit up, but his whole body tingled, like a thousand insects were crawling over his skin. Then a shadow blocked the sun, and a wet tongue licked his face, followed by a whine.
“Toby, stop.”
The dog barked and continued to lick Ryan’s face. He finally pushed him away, wiggled his fingers, then touched each finger to the thumb of the same hand until the tingling went away.
Toby continued to bark.
Ryan sat up; Toby came to lick his face again. The moisture evaporating off his face was cooling. What happened? When did the sun get so bright and hot? Wasn’t it sunset? Ryan tried to remember. Looking around, all he saw was tall grass. Toby bounded in front of him, grabbed his sleeve, and pulled, wanting him to get up.
“Okay. Okay. Give me a second.” Ryan moved to his hands and knees, then stood, swaying, trying to keep his balance. The ground seemed to spin under him. When the dizziness passed, all he could see was tall grass and rolling hills. Where’s the creek, the willow bushes? Am I dreaming?
Ryan tried to raise his right hand to shade his eyes from the sun, but pain that felt like a hot knife stabbing into his shoulder prevented him from lifting it. After a few seconds, it subsided, and he lifted his arm.
Toby ran through the waist-high grass to Ryan’s left, toward the top of the hill. The dog stopped, looked back, and barked, acting like he wanted Ryan to follow him up the hill.
“Okay, boy. I’m coming.” He followed Toby, but stopped just below the crest of the hill, where he could look over the grass and down the other side. There he gazed upon a sea of black and brown shapes rolling toward them. The animals looked like bison, huge bison. More than he had ever seen, and they were coming fast. Then he noticed tawny shapes loping at the edge of the herd. Are those lions?
Toby whined and started back down the hill. “You’re right, boy. We need to get out of their way.” Ryan and Toby jogged along the top of the ridge that ran perpendicular to the herd’s path. They trotted toward a line of trees to their left, hurrying to get out of the bison’s path and hoping the lions didn’t see them. They reached the tree line with the thunder of thousands of hooves reverberating through the ground behind them. Ryan watched from the cover of a large pine tree as the herd rumbled down the hill a mere quarter of a mile away.
Sweat ran down Ryan’s face and back. He sat against the trunk of the pine with Toby panting beside him.
He looked at the dog. “If this is just a dream, why can’t you talk?” Toby sat up and cocked his head and looked at him. He reached over to the dog, petting his neck and behind his ears. The last thing he remembered was kissing Emily. Why can’t I wake up? Why does everything feel so real? This is the worst dream ever.
“I’m thirsty. We should head down the hill through the trees. Maybe there’s a creek down there.”
The hike through the forest seemed to continue forever, and the trees got thicker the farther down they went. The shade from the trees and the sinking sun turned the early heat into a penetrating chill as the wind blew harder. Ahead of them stood a fir tree with branches hanging nearly to the ground that grabbed his attention. “Well, Toby, it doesn’t look like we’ll find water today. That tree should give us some shelter from the wind and hide us for the night.”
They sat under the boughs of the fir. Exhausted and aching, Ryan fell asleep. He dreamed of sitting at the kitchen table. Emily danced around with a pitcher of iced tea. She poured him a tall glass, then disappeared. Opening his eyes, he was still under the tree with barely any spit in his raspy throat.
Toby’s head was on his lap, the dog’s body heat helping to ease the chill. He had to move. His back felt locked and didn’t want to bend. He leaned over and curled up next to Toby’s body. It took a while for him to go back to sleep. The wind sighed through the trees of the pitch-black night. He could hear the howl of wolves or coyotes in the distance. When I wake up, I’ll be home in my bed next to Emily.
Chapter 3 - Survivor Mode
Ryan woke up with a stabbing pain in his left shoulder. He eased his arm out, trying to find Emily. She wasn’t there, only the furry warmth of Toby. He sat up. What’s happening? The darkness pressed in on him. He moved his arms and twisted his back to loosen his joints. He reached up and struck a limb.
“Ugh.” Toby’s cold nose pressed against his cheek. “Hi, boy,” he said, petting the dog’s neck, then he leaned back against the trunk of the tree. Toby lay back down with his head on Ryan’s lap. What time is it? Where am I? I was walking Toby and stepped into that clearing.
He remembered the events of the previous day. I thought this was a dream, but here I am under a tree with Toby. How did we get here? He couldn’t make sense of anything. It was impossible. He checked his Fitbit to see what time it was, but the battery was dead. Great.
Toby’s head was still across his lap, locking him into the sitting position. He shifted his back to the left to get away from a knot that was poking him. He hurt all over, but eventually, the fatigue won, and he drifted back to sleep.
A cacophony of birds woke him to the gray dawn. Stiff, achy, and cold, he moved and woke Toby, who stood and nuzzled his face into Ryan’s chest.
“It’s okay, boy. I don’t understand what’s happening either.” He gave the dog some reassuring pats, then rolled to his hands and knees and crawled out from under the tree. The light breeze cut right through his light jacket. It felt like twenty degrees, but he knew it was probably closer to forty since no frost covered the ground. I wish I had worn a heavier jacket.
Swinging his arms and stomping his feet, he continued to loosen his stiff joints. Twisting, his back popped with an audible crack that got Toby’s attention. The dog stood a few yards away, sniffing a bush. The dog came back to him and looked at him with pleading eyes and whined.
“I know, boy, I’m hungry and thirsty too. Let’s keep moving downhill. Eventually, we will get to some water. At least I hope so.” He had been elk hunting enough to know that the streams ran through the valleys. They should find water down at the bottom of the hill.
Ryan walked a mile or more, until the slope increased, and the deadfall forced him to climb over all the fallen trees, while Toby went under or around them and waited for him on the other side. His body and mind seemed sluggish, and his head ached. Dehydration. It felt like altitude sickness. Slow down, I can’t afford to fall. It could be fatal.
After an hour of scrambling over and through the dense forest, Ryan sat on a fallen tree to rest. Toby sat panting at his feet. “I hope we find water soon,” he rasped.
They trudged on through the trees. Ryan lost track of time, but eventually the forest thinned out, and the trees changed from dense spruce and fir to ones resembling ponderosa pines with limbs uniformly spaced and long needles in clumps. He saw a clearing ahead, and when he stepped out of the trees, he was in a narrow valley. A clear stream flowed at the bottom. Toby ran ahead to the stream and waded in, drinking loudly as he lapped the water with his tongue. Ryan’s legs felt too heavy to run, so he walked faster, but his feet slid out from under him when he started down the steep bank. He bounced hard on his rump, jarring his teeth. “Ugh!”
He crawled the last few feet to the clear, rocky stream and plunged his face into the cold water before drinking. The cool water tickled his parched throat as he swallowed. He drank and drank until satisfied. Then, moving a short distance up the bank, he lay back on a patch of soft green grass. The afternoon sun warmed his body and eased some of the aching. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
When he opened his eyes, the sun was getting low. Toby lay near him with his ears erect, listening. A natural guard dog, he always stayed alert. When Ryan sat up, Toby stood. “It’s getting late, boy. We need to look for a place to spend the night.”
As they walked down the valley, the walls steepened into a small canyon. The stream got narrower and deeper, with large rocks and pools. Spotting a boulder with an overhanging face, he said, “That looks like a good place to shelter for the night.”
Though Ryan still believed he was dreaming, he thought about survival. He had been through a couple of short survival training courses and spent plenty of time in the mountains hunting, fishing, and backpacking. As he sat under the rock face, he took inventory. He had his clothes and shoes, including a jacket, a belt, and a useless Fitbit. In his pockets, he had a wallet and a small pocket knife.
When he finished, he went into the forest and found enough small tree limbs on the ground to form a lean-to against the rock face. With his pocket knife, he cut fir boughs and laid them over the lean-to frame to create a rough shelter, then he put other boughs under it to form a bed. When he was done, he headed down to the stream for some water.
Below them, the stream split into two flows with a gravel bar between them, which made it a little wider and shallower than it was higher up. Toby ran ahead and drank from the nearest flow. When Ryan got there, he kneeled on the gravel and drank. He looked up at Toby. The dog was acting strangely. He looked at the water, barked, and plunged his nose into the stream.
“What’s going on, boy?” Ryan asked, but Toby didn’t respond. He watched as the dog plunged his head in again. This time he came out with a fish in his mouth.
“Good boy! You’re a good dog!” Ryan waded across to where Toby stood. The dog dropped his catch on the sandbar and played with it, pawing and sniffing it as it flopped around on the gravel.
In the stream where Toby had caught the fish, Ryan noticed more of them in a small pocket along the far bank in front of him. He waded upstream, herding the fish in front of him, closer to the bank. Then, he put his hands into the water and tried to grab one, but they were too fast and too slippery. He waited with his hands in the water, staying as still as possible with the fish between him and the bank before throwing his hands out and up, launching a fish out onto the gravel.
He took his catch over to where Toby played with the first fish. “Good boy, Toby,” he said as he took it from under Toby’s paws. He cleaned the two trout, giving Toby the roe that had swollen the fishes’ bellies. The dog gobbled up the eggs and begged for more. Ryan cut the meat from the bones, giving Toby one fish, before he gulped down the second. It tasted like sushi, but without the wasabi.
After eating, they waded back across and went up to the shelter. Ryan gathered some dry wood and pine bark along the way. When they got back to the shelter, he cut a thin stick and sharpened one end into a point.
