Retreat at the Camel Cove Lodge Part 8

This is the 8th chapter of a collaborative story.

For the first chapter: https://vocal.media/fiction/retreat-at-the-camel-cove-lodge

For the 7th chapter:

https://vocal.media/fiction/retreat-at-camel-cove-lodge-part-7

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Leland was in trouble.

He knew he shouldn’t have left the lodge. After all, his excuse for not joining the search party was that he was too old to keep up. But after hearing the news that Harpreet had been found— dead, frozen, and still laying in the snow untouched— he couldn’t resist. He needed to see her with his own eyes. They could make up whatever excuse they wanted, but Leland knew the true reason nobody had moved the body was based in fear. At this point, everybody was a suspect.

Leland sighed and attempted to roll his ankle. A sharp burst of pain shot through the length of his entire right leg, and he ground his teeth in agony.

This isn’t good, he thought to himself. What a stupid idea to trek out alone with all this fresh, slippery snow. He’d injured himself before, but never this bad. Leland was confident that the snow-covered rock his kneecap had landed on had shattered the bone. Any attempt at movement hurt like a bitch in heat.

Leland took a deep breath and decided to rest for a moment. How many hours had it been? Judging by the darkness of the sky, it had to be past midnight. The irony was that he hadn’t even gotten that far, he was less than a quarter mile away from the lodge. Had anyone even noticed he was gone? He doubted it. He knew the kind of people that rented out the Camel Cove— a bunch of rich, entitled toddlers who didn’t give a rat’s ass about anyone except themselves. Leland had taken care of the lodge for longer than most of the guests had been alive, and he was always amazed at how incapable of taking care of themselves they were.

He chuckled darkly. Who's the incapable one now? He thought to himself grimly. This current group had been particularly difficult to deal with. If he had to hear that spoiled woman whine one more time… well, let’s just say he’d almost prefer dying alone in the snow. If there was one thing Leland couldn’t stand, it was entitlement.

Leland let out a sigh and stared up into the dark night sky. The stars appeared to be twinkling, like dying Christmas lights on a 3-foot plastic tree, and Leland wondered if he was starting to lose his mind. If this was the way he had to go, so be it. Leland had lived a long, difficult life, and he supposed if he had to die anywhere, it may as well be here.

He reached for his thermos and slowly unscrewed the cap. There was less than a quarter left of his special Burmese Highland Gold coffee, and he tipped the thermos back and swallowed it all in one gulp. After all these hours, the coffee was still warm, and he enjoyed how the precious liquid warmed him up as it slid down his throat. Leland didn’t care much for alcohol, and had clung to this coffee as his vice for more than a decade. He saw the way the guests at the lodge stared wistfully as he sipped his private stash, undoubtedly smelling the rich, intoxicating aroma of raw, harvested beans. He never shared. Some things are meant to be enjoyed alone, and alone only. Perhaps death should be the same way.

Leland closed his eyes, and prepared to drift away. He imagined his soul leaving his body and drifting towards the fading stars, the snow falling softly on his old, weathered face. Whatever was yet to come, Leland was confident he deserved it.

Suddenly, he heard a noise that sounded like a cough. Leland‘s eyes flew open and he swung his head to the right. Not five feet away, looking back at him with dark, curious eyes, was a Bison covered in snow. Leland froze. As if in response to his sudden movement, the Bison let out a bellow so loud it sounded similar to revving up a truck. Leland knew what this meant. Not only was this Bison a male, but his bellow signified his dominance within the herd.

Herd.

Leland heard a branch snap behind him. He swung his head around to witness another bison, just as big as the first, slowly step closer to him. He turned his head and watched in horror as several large Bison continued to step out from the darkness, surrounding him. There were at least 15, maybe 20. Leland had never seen this many up close. Bison are dangerous mainly because they‘re unpredictable, and have been known to charge at humans without any reason whatsoever. After a moment that felt like a lifetime, Leland realized he was in shock and quickly snapped out of it. Miraculously, his hand found his gun and he pointed it into the air. The Bison stopped moving and stared at him, curious. His finger stayed frozen on the trigger.

Maybe they’ll back off, he thought.

After a couple moments of observing him, the first Bison that had found him took another slow step closer, and the rest of the herd followed suit. Leland panicked, and pulled the trigger, releasing the bullet into the sky. The Bison reacted to the gunshot, stomping their feet and braying into the night. He was sure their eyes looked angry. They stared at him, waiting to see if the next bullet would be aimed in their direction, but Leland kept his gun pointed to the sky. Surely someone would hear him. Surely somebody would have noticed by now that he was gone.

“GET BACK!” He yelled angrily, but his warning was more of a wheeze than a bellow. The Bison continued to stomp their feet, and Leland felt his stomach drop. He tilted back his head and stared at the dying stars for what felt like the final time.

Perhaps his death wouldn’t be so peaceful after all.