The Widow’s Mountain, Part 3: The Storm

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This is the third installment of a four-part series. If you haven’t already be sure to start with Part 1 of The Widow’s Mountain before reading on. You can do that here.

The Widow’s Mountain, Part 3: The Storm

It was just past 4 p.m. when Naomi, Chad, and myself made our way back to the hotel.  The snow storm’s intensity had picked up and I was glad to be far away from the widow’s cabin.  I assumed from the silence that Naomi and Chad were thinking the same.

As we stomped the snow from our boots and removed our coats, Tom, the resort manager, called out for us from the other side of the large lobby area.  He was crouched down by the stone fireplace near the edge of the hotel bar, stoking a freshly made fire.

“Was she home?”  He asked.

No one spoke at first. 

We glanced at each other and eventually I spoke up, “Yes sir.  And we dropped off the box of supplies.”

I didn’t intend on leaving out the details of us snooping around the widow’s cabin, or how she seemed to appear out of nowhere as we were leaving.  But I was still struggling to comprehend the strange encounter with her and how she even survives out there on her own.

“That’s good,” Tom replied. “Thanks for taking care of that.”

Tom seemed uninterested in further details anyway as he remained focused on the fire building. 

We slowly crept our way into the bar and Naomi sat down in a leather chair near the fireplace.  Chad went straight to the counter behind the bar and grabbed an unopened bottle of whiskey. 

As he stripped the wrapper and removed the cork, he held up the bottle towards us.

“Cheers, guys,” He uttered. “To the first blizzard party of the ’87/ ’88 snow season.”

He took a large swig from the bottle and slouched down on the couch opposite of Naomi’s chair.  I stood around for a moment, still unfamiliar with the staff customs as I was only three days in on the job. 

Thankfully, Tom took a break from adding wood to the fire and walked over towards me. 

“How about a drink?” He asked.

“Yes, sir,” I said without hesitation.

Tom stole the bottle from Chad as he walked towards the bar, then grabbed four glasses from the counter.  He filled each glass halfway then handed them to each of us, keeping one for himself.

“How about a better toast?” He requested.  “To the first blizzard of the season, but also to Bert looking forward to his first year with us.  Cheers, everyone.”

We raised our glasses in each other’s direction.  Tom’s glass and mine made slight contact, then we drank.  For the first time in the past three days, I felt as though I was allowed to relax.  I sat on the couch with Chad as Tom went back to the fireplace.  We sat in silence for a few minutes until we heard creaking from the main stairway to our left. 

It was Sammi. 

She was strolling down the steps, running her fingers through her freshly washed, damp hair.  Wearing a loosely-flowing, black gown with sleeves running halfway down her arms, she held up one side of the dress to keep from tripping as she walked towards us.  I tried my best not to stare as she sat directly across from me in the chair beside Naomi.

Tom strolled back to the counter and poured another glass for her.  As he handed off the drink, he turned to us.

“I’m heading to the shed to check in on Jonny.  I’ll see if he wants to join us for a drink,” he informed and walked towards the back of the room. 

He grabbed his jacket and headed out the back door, making the 200 yard trek to the Search and Rescue shed near the main ski slope. 

My focus immediately went back to Sammi, with her long, blonde hair and dark-green eyes.  I tried hiding my urge to stare by occasionally glancing around the lobby, examining the mounted animals along the walls.  It must have been fairly obvious as she quickly addressed my interest in the décor.

“That one’s my favorite,” she stated, nodding towards the ram’s head above the fireplace.

I hadn’t noticed before, but now it somehow stood out amongst the others.  The ram’s horns formed a full 360 degree curl alongside its face and snout, which seemed to be angled down with a menacing glare.  I felt an uneasy tension from the mounted animal’s presence and looked back to Sammi, as she peered at me with a half grin and focused eyes.

We locked sight for what seemed like an eternity, but were eventually distracted by the flash of headlights through the front windows. 

It was nearly dark now, but there was enough light to see the tan, diesel-powered Mercedes slide into place out front. Chad and I walked over to the lobby door to investigate and watched as a young woman grabbed a suitcase from the trunk and stomped through the snow towards us. 

She seemed quite affluent, dressed in fur-lined boots and a high-quality, turquoise jacket with a matching wool-knit cap.  Even in the low light I could see her piercing blue eyes and blonde hair.

“Nice,” Chad whispered as he winked at me. “Another blonde.”

“That’s enough, Chad,” Sammi scolded from behind us. “Why don’t you help her with her luggage. I’ll get her checked in.”

Sammi glided over to the Guest Services counter in the lobby as Chad rushed down to help the young woman with her suitcase. 

“Thank you so much,” She expressed, quickly handing over her bag. “You’re such a gentleman.”

“Oh it’s nothing.” He lead on, “Pretty girls should never carry their own luggage.”

They stomped the snow from their boots and walked inside as I held open the door. Chad continued sparking up a conversation.

“What on Earth brings you out here in this storm?”  He inquired, setting her bag down by the stairs.

“I’m supposed to be meeting my sisters here, but I decided to get an early start,” she explained. “I thought I’d try to get ahead of the storm and all.”

“I’m surprised you even made it up the mountain,” Chad expressed, as he rubbed her arm for warmth. “It’s nearly white-out conditions out there, Miss….”

“Edith, my name’s Edith.”  She responded as she batted her eyes at him.

Just as quickly as Chad’s flirting seemed to progress, the lights in the lobby flickered and went out.  The main area was now dark, with the only light coming from the fireplace.  The light bounced around the room, casting moving shadows of furniture along the walls.

As we moved back towards the fireplace, I noticed Naomi had never got up with us.  She remained sunk into the seat cushion, pressed against the back of the chair with her hand firmly gripping the arrowhead necklace on her chest.  She had been silent since we left the widow’s cabin, and now appeared on high alert. 

In the moment, I assumed it was due to the power outage, or perhaps the unexpected guest interrupting our staff drinking session. 

I didn’t have time to give it much thought, as Sammi tugged on my sleeve and asked me to help her find some candles.  I quickly obliged and left with her as Chad grabbed several bottles of Schlitz and herded Edith over to the fireplace.

“You deserve a warm and relaxing evening before your sisters get here,” he said as he scooted the couch closer to the fire.  They snuggled close as Naomi remained focused in her chair, while me and Sammi headed towards the back of the hotel.

With a small flashlight in my hand, we worked our way down the long corridor past the kitchen and entered the storage room.  Sammi grabbed my hand and guided me towards a shelf along the back wall.  We pulled several boxes out and combed through them.

I filtered through a box with tools, a few small candles, and kitchen utensils.  I stacked the candles over to the side and moved on to the next box.

The box contained folders with random paperwork.  I passed through a few files with guest lists, inventory sheets, and insurance documentation.  The last folder tucked in the box was slim, which at first I thought was empty.  Upon second glance, I noticed a single newspaper clipping from 1937.  I pulled the paper out and shined my flashlight across the headline: Multiple Staff Missing, Several Dead, at Local Ski Resort.

“Sammi, check this out,” I said and motioned her over with my flashlight. “Looks like something bad happened here.”

I skimmed through the article and handed it over to Sammi.

“Apparently there was a bad storm that night and they never found some of the staff,” I explained, paraphrasing the article. “And the rest they found mutilated out in the snow, likely by wolves.”

As terrible and foreboding as the article should have seemed at the time, I was still entranced by Sammi’s presence and the fact that she asked me to come back here with her.  She took a look at the newspaper clipping and placed it back in the box, almost shrugging off the severity of the story.

“Yeah, must’ve been wolves,” she dismissed and opened another box.

“Bingo!” She exclaimed.

She pulled out a few large candles and two Coleman lanterns, which felt as if they still had fuel in them.  The mantles were burned out, but we found several spares further in the box and replaced them.  I gave the primer several pumps and slowly opened the fuel valve.  With a book of matches also found in the box, I struck one to light both lanterns, then the candles.

As I adjusted both of the lanterns’ fuel valves and let them hiss away, I caught Sammi staring at me.  Assuming this might be my only chance alone with her for a while, I leaned in for a kiss.

She backed away and pushed her hand out to stop me.

‘Nice one, dumbass,’ I thought to myself.

“Listen,” She said, “You’re sweet…but we can’t get close.”

“It’s ok,” I tried to recover. “I know this is probably just a fling.  We don’t have to take it serious.”

“No, it’s not that.” She continued, “Things are about to get hectic around here and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

I felt deflated and passed off as too young, but mostly embarrassed.

“It’s fine,” I replied and walked out of the storage room with a lantern in each hand. “I can handle a little on-the-job-hook-up, but I guess I’ll just go back to being the new kid.”

“You don’t understand,” She called out, following me out of the room. “There’s something you should know…”

Before she could continue, I saw two shadows stumbling down the hall.  I held the lanterns out and saw Chad with our new guest, Edith, walking towards us.  We met in the middle of the corridor and I handed off one of the lanterns to them.

“We’re uh…we need to get something out of the bunkhouse,” Chad slurred.

I was stunned at how quickly he was able to convince her to head back to the staff quarters, but didn’t care too much as I was mainly focused on getting back out to the lobby.  The open bar seemed very appealing now.

I exited the long corridor into the lobby and saw Naomi was now seated on the couch, staring towards the front door at the opposite side of the room.  I felt a cold draft coming from that direction and assumed we may have left the door open.

I walked over to the front of the dark room, lantern held out and guiding my way, when I saw a figure in front of the open door. 

It was the widow.

She was stood still, staring back at Naomi with a half-smile.  I stepped around her and pushed the door closed against the howling wind and snow.  As I turned back with my lantern, I noticed she was slouched to her right side, firmly holding her straw broom upside down as if it were her walking cane.  She was in a rough state, hair unkempt and bare footed.

“Ma’am,” I quickly stepped towards her. “You must be freezing!  Get in here by the fire.”

She pushed her broom in between us as I approached.  I came to a quick halt and began to take a step back.

You,” She grunted. “You have something that belongs to me.”

“I…I don’t know what you mean,” I stammered, confused.

“You stole from me,” She accused, looking straight through me.

I looked back at Naomi.  She remained pressed against the couch, gripping the arrowhead around her neck so hard that her hand was bleeding. 

‘The Knife,’ I thought to myself. ‘The fucking knife. Chad must’ve kept it.’

I tried reassuring her, “Listen, I’ll be right back.  I know what you’re after and I’m really sorry.  Just stay right here.”

I turned and rushed down the corridor, hoping Chad had the knife and was willing to give it up.  As I turned the final corner towards the male staff housing-quarters, I could hear George Michael’s Careless Whisper blaring in the room.  I slowed down, trying to prepare myself for the scene I might be walking in on.

I stood still at the closed entrance, listening to laughter and running water among the music.  I turned the handle, slowly opening the door.  I could see straight to the end of the room, past the bunks, to the bathroom sink and mirror.  Chad was standing there with a towel wrapped around his waist, fixing his prized-hair.

Before I could say anything, Edith came walking up on his right, naked and dripping wet from the shower.  I panicked in the moment and didn’t want them to think I was spying, so I stood still and remained silent.  As I planned how I was going to notify them of my presence, I watched as Chad grabbed a cotton swab from the counter and clean his left ear.  Then he swapped hands and shifted to his right ear.

All of the sudden, Edith stepped behind him, reared her arm back and smashed her right hand into the side of his head, jamming the cotton swab deep into his ear canal.

Chad buckled over in pain and began screaming, while frantically pulling the cotton swab from his ear.  Blood began to pour from the side of his head as he fell to the ground.

Just as I began to step forward to help, I watched as Edith’s head tilted back, her mouth opened to an inhuman-like size.  Her jaw appeared dislocated and shifted several inches as she pounced on Chad’s panicking body, biting out large chunks of flesh from his head and neck.

She took a few short breaths and chuckled as Chad’s screams gargled to a silent moan, smiling over him with blood pouring from her mouth.

Finally, my legs regained life and swiftly backed me out of the room towards the long corridor.  I couldn’t save Chad, and I needed to warn the others. But most importantly, I needed to protect Sammi.

For the conclusion of this story, click here.

Cadbury Pringlebatch is the Operations Manager for The SoBros Network, but knows a little bit about everything. Known for frequenting Nashville YMCA steam rooms, he’s a firm believer that winning football is produced by moving the chains, and became a SoBro after mistaking one of our podcasts for an AA meeting. Follow on Twitter: @SoBroCadbury

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