The Other Side of Lone Mountain

Prologue

Mark spent his entire second day on Lone Mountain assessing the land his clients wanted to purchase. It’s been raining all day and the wind on the mountain was blowing at a steady 25 miles per hour with gusts up to thirty-five. Mark didn’t mind the weather so much because he was well prepared with his winter rain gear, warm rain slick, his boots were of pure leather and were insulated. He had the foresight to have them waterproofed; therefore, his feet were warm and dry.

On his tour of the land so far, Mark had found a road that he felt might have been used to slide logs down to a landing where they would have been loaded for transport to the mills. However, now that it was able to use more modern ways of bringing the logs down the road has basically been abandoned. Mark wasn’t even aware that logging was still being done on this mountain. Of course he hadn’t checked either, so he made a mental note to ask Paul if he knew anything about it. If Paul said no, he would then check with some of the townsfolk before coming back up the mountain tomorrow. He could see signs of deteriorating logs that had become home to a myriad of insects. Mark was amazed at nature and how it utilized everything; nothing was wasted, unlike people, he thought. He was feeling almost philosophical walking back to his truck, as he thought of how people could learn from nature, if only they paid more attention to how nature worked.

Upon reaching his truck Mark placed his soil samples in the Tundra. He wanted to check out one other area before heading down the mountain. He headed towards the east road on the opposite side of the clearing where his truck was parked. Once on the road he began to check out the terrain. On one side he spotted a ridge that began about three miles in, on the opposite side of the road was the forest, thick and lush with Spruce, Sugar Maple, Pine, and several other varieties of trees.

Mark was about five miles up the road when he heard voices. They were the voices of two men and they seemed to be arguing. Mark continued a little further and finally spotted the two men. One was tall, about six-three, approximately two hundred and thirty pounds and he was wearing a red and black, checkered jacket, the kind lumberjacks wear. It reminded Mark of a checkerboard. The other man was considerably smaller, maybe five-ten or eleven and weighing about 180 to 190 pounds. He was wearing a Mac Intosh but he wasn’t wearing boots which didn’t make any sense considering the weather and where they were. Mark could tell he was cold and uncomfortable. He didn’t look like the kind of man you would expect to find in a place like this, especially in this kind of weather. Mark’s curiosity was piqued so he moved in closer in order to hear what the two men were talking about. The smaller guy was yelling at the big guy and he had his finger in the big man’s face. Mark still couldn’t hear what was being said so he started to move in even closer when he heard someone behind him. He was too late; he was hit in the back of the head. The last thing Mark remembered was falling forward into the brush in front of him and his glasses flying off his face as he fell.

When Mark woke up it night had fallen and the rain was still falling at that same pace. His left leg was pinned under him in an awkward position and when he tried to move it a sharp pain ran straight up the leg. He screamed from the shock of the pain. When he tried to roll his body over in order to get off the leg he nearly fell off his perch on the ledge. Mark recovered his balance just in time; otherwise he would have been at the bottom of the ridge. He had to see where he was. He fished around in his pockets and found his little Mag light. He turned it on and shined it around him. He quickly realized that he was in a very dangerously precarious predicament. He found himself on a very narrow ledge that barely accommodated him. He checked to see if there was some way to climb back up to safer grounds, only to find that the face of the mountain was very sheer with nothing substantial to grab hold to. He tried to call out but his voice was parched and hardly a sound came out.

As his mind began to clear he remembered being hit from behind and he figured that whoever had struck him must have thrown him over the ridge. Mark knew if he didn’t get off this ledge the possibility of dieing from exposure or hypothermia was very great. However knowing that there was nothing he could do at the moment he decided to get as much shelter as possible against the weather that was not only wet and windy but cold as well. He managed to push himself as close to the wall of the ledge as possible and pulled himself into as much of ball as he could. He found that his head was hurting real bad and all he wanted to do was sleep but he was afraid that if he slept he wouldn’t hear if someone came near.

He began to think of Vickie and the children. He had to survive. He couldn’t leave her to raise the children alone. And he didn’t want his children growing up without their father. With that determination set, he began thinking back on his survival training. He would survive this until someone came to rescue him. His friend Paul would realize he was missing when he didn’t check in and Vickie would be worried when he didn’t call to say goodnight to the children. Paul would come looking for him. All he had to do was hang on.