Flight from Fear

By Lesley J Mooney

A family adventure-mystery drama, set in the snow covered Canadian forest. After a plane crashes, a Grandfather Frank Benders and his two teenage grandchildren are disturbed at night by desperate banging on the cabin door. When opened, a dramatic story of mystery and danger is revealed, involving this injured, blood covered visitor. They later find out he is Gabe Huntley, an accountant and ex-pilot with a mysterious, bizarre disorder affecting his brain and memory. When recovering, he forces a hostage situation and leaves. Police, Trackers and Insurance Investigators search through the wild forests of the Canadian National Park for him and his hostage, encountering dangerous bears, and wolf packs. After the girl has a’ run in’ with a mountain cougar, Gabe is again badly savaged by wolves, and his hostage almost freezes in the ice covered canyon waters, then they disappear. The grandson, a friend and their eagle continue searching through the thick forest, first without success. When found, blinded and wounded, later in hospital Gabe needs only the only one whose voice he knows. A combination of suspense, surprising twists, a revelation and an enigma which occur later on.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Aug 12, 2018
• ISBN: 9781925814477

Lesley J Mooney

Lesley June Mooney, (nee Hubbard) the author was born in Perth W.A. in the early thirties of mixed English/European blood- and educated at boarding Colleges there. When aged fifteen, with her father and brother, they travelled up North by train to Nullagine, then three days on a mail truck, Dad in the front and the two children out the back sitting on the stores; going to work at Roy Hill station, the first of three outback properties. After there on she enjoyed an interesting working life, a few weeks at Wyndham, nearly three years in Darwin and Sydney, then back to Perth. When over twenty one, she was asked to try Station cooking in Queensland, then cook for an elderly man helping the bush nurse, totally inexperienced.Met husband Ernie, they married moving to Mackay, and her brother died in Perth. Worked beside Ernie in his various building trades and ran a Dairy until he became ill for two years. Then ran a Bull stud, had six children and leased a country Hotel for six years until back to the bull stud. Their only son died at twenty one and her father later.As a Taurean, she is a creative lady - artist, dancer of all styles, pianist, singer, composer, writer & gardener and some travelling. Combined work in businesses until moving to a small acreage at Habana. After fourteen years of gardening, twenty of dancing, courses at U3A and TAFE, starting a tap group and theatre group for 45-70’s entertaining Seniors, she began to write. First 480 poems called ‘Fragments of The Mind’, then completed five novels, gaining experience on the internet. Ernie passed away and with a loving family to help she continues to write, hoping to be recognized with success in publishing while possible.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

AN UNEXPECTED SHOCK

The descending night brought the usual sense of silent isolation, and the two grandchildren, Jacob a young lad aged twenty and his younger sister Natalie decided to lie down beside each other on the wide bearskin rug in front of the fire, arms under their heads, sleepily watching the variety of colour patterns forming in the coals of the smoking wood. Their grandfather Frank Benders settled on his chair nearby, as smoke drifted up the chimney. Above the soft music emanating from the old record player which Natalie had wound up, they could hear the insistent whine of the chilly wind outside. The two teenagers barely moved while relaxing on the rug and the feeling of contentment permeated the cabin. Slowly their senses were lulled into a mesmerized state of sleep.

The window was closed to keep out the cold winter chill, and white patches of snowflakes gently brushed down the window glass piling up on the wooden ledge, but the air inside was heavy with warmth. When the music stopped, the silence outside felt soothing! The dim light of the fire created a halo on the ceiling, with shadows reflected on the walls by the flickering flames on the coals, and on the tiny bright eyes of a spider on the cobweb in the corner as it constantly watched them. Abruptly and noisily the silence was shattered as the dogs outside barked madly. A loud, staggered banging on the door shocked them into wakefulness, and Old Frank Benders sleepily turned his head to abruptly open his eyes as the other two sat bolt upright on the rug.

Natalie a short shapely lass of sixteen with brown eyes and dark brown plaited hair was alarmed, and jumped up onto her feet with Jacob her brother doing the same. He pulled on her arm slowing her movement, looking anxiously around.

‘Grandfather, what on earth was that?’ Jacob asked, his voice sounding concerned, his green eyes startled. ‘It’s so late. Who could that be at this hour of the night, especially way out here, we must be careful?’ and he turned towards his grandfather who by now was now sitting upright in his chair, his eyes looking intensely at the cabin door.

They hesitated as Jacob moved cautiously towards the door, and Natalie felt a cold shiver running down her spine, an odd panic filled her senses. Her throat dried up and she couldn’t speak, and Jacob, a wiry young man shook his head, though feeling uneasy. He ran his fingers through his dark hair, not sure what to do.

The loud banging had eased off and a muffled male voice could be heard calling out in faltering words, ‘For – God’s – sake, someone open – up – please. I – need some – help, I – am wounded – and bleeding!’

This was a voice bordering on hysteria, and they heard the sound of fingers scratching and clawing at the door. Now the two teenagers were very tense their nerves tingling with apprehension. Who in heavens name could that be outside?

Fully awakened, Old Frank quickly spoke, ‘Go on boy, see who is there. Someone does need our help. Just be careful, as you never know who it might be.’

He slowly got to his feet taking the rifle down from the bench beside him, keeping it handy nearby as Jacob quickly reached the door and undid the lock. Outside they could hear the snarling of a pack of timber wolves hidden in the trees, their eyes glittering red in the darkness, though they stood a short distance away behind the low log fence. Jacob began to peer around the door, when it was abruptly and violently shoved open as he stood back in alarm, and Natalie screamed, ‘Oh gosh, Grandad!’

A tall, roughly clothed figure of a man, half lumbered, half staggered across the doorway into the room, and a cry choked in Natalie’s throat again when the man lurched towards her. Clutching at her clothes, he collapsed onto the rough cabin floor near her feet. They could see broad patches of blood all over his badly ripped and torn jacket and clothing, and bloody streaks from the awful wounds covering his hands, face and body. The blood had seeped out then frozen. Larger bloody patches stained his ripped and dishevelled jacket and shirt, and were all over his dirty crumpled trousers. Then he groaned noisily and moved no more! Natalie was shaking as she pushed the man’s hand away from her legs, her face white with shock. She couldn’t think or speak.

Jacob had moved towards her when the stranger fell down, but he now just stood there, his eyes open in amazement, a frown on his face. ‘Gee grandfather, what should we do?’ he asked, as an odd silence reigned in the room.

Now all they could hear was the crackling of the logs in the fire when the dogs ceased their barking. Jacob came closer to lean over the recumbent body feeling the man’s neck to see if he was alive, but Natalie did not move at all until her Grandfather called her. Having put down his gun, he came over to see the intruder himself, whose many wounds seemed messy and deep.

‘Natalie, quickly get a basin of clean water and some old rags dear, this man needs to have his injuries attended to,’ he said to his granddaughter.

Slowly crossing the room to look down at the dishevelled person sprawled on their floor, his eyes narrowed with misgiving seeing the way this man was dressed. Almost a ‘city slicker’ he thought, but definitely not from around this ‘neck of the woods,’ or any place nearby.

Jacob knelt on the mat, carefully rolling the heavy man over, looking at his greyish dirt-stained face spattered with blood. There were deep, jagged wounds over the flesh of his head, face and neck. His heavy jacket was shredded, embedded with dried blood, and patches of blood all over the badly tattered collar and sleeves of his shirt. His dirty trousers were stained everywhere with dried bloody streaks, and he was a mess, definitely in a lot of pain.

‘Jeepers Grandfather,’ he said,’ Check the state of his clothing and face. It looks as though he’s had a ‘run in’ with a wolf pack. This must be the reason his clothes are so badly ripped and damaged! But he could be injured in some other ways.’

The man groaned loudly as he opened his eyes a little, seeing these strangers looking down at him on the floor, and he tried to move one arm but the effort was too much.

In a feeble voice he slowly whispered. ‘My – plane,’ he stopped for a breath. ‘It crashed – further back – in the woods, and I – was – injured.’ Coughing, he continued with staggered breaths, ‘Then out of nowhere – a pack of – wild dogs – found my scent – and – the beggars – gave me hell. – I tried – to keep going – but couldn’t. –Can you do something, anything, for me – please – and the pain?’

He passed out again, the lips in his open mouth drawn back in agony. His skin seemed to be a sickly white colour, and to Old Frank it was obviously that of a man who spent his most of his time working inside. Why was he flying out over the Canadian forests? Frank wondered. This man clearly had a problem, personal or otherwise that had somehow bought him so far out here away from civilization. Rarely did they have visitors here, only the Ranger or the odd trapper. By now Natalie had lost her fear and found clean rags and a bowl of warm water, and she knelt down near him, though still nervous. With a shaky hand, she began to gently wash out the dirt from the edges of the deep, bleeding wounds on the man’s face, head and hands. This caused him to wince and moan loudly until he opened his eyes again to see the pretty face above his, then with an effort he tried to smile.

‘Is that you Lisa?’ he muttered. ‘How’d you – find me here?’ he muttered. ‘It’s been a long time – love.’ and then closed his eyes.

Old Frank realised this man was delirious and he sadly shook his head. ‘He has a fever Natalie, so after you have finished washing all the wounds, we will move him over onto the rug near the fire for a while, and see if the warmth helps him to recover. Those bad wolf bites and ragged cuts are pretty deep and should be stitched up, but I’m unable to do that, and I don’t have any sort of the right equipment or antiseptic out here. I will try to give him some Indian herbal medicine, that is, if he can swallow it. He may improve in a few days or more, and his wounds will still need to be cleaned, but we will have to bandage them up somehow to cover them. Also, Jacob and I will try to change his torn clothes.’

So saying this he turned around and from the shelf he picked up a dark skin coloured pouch containing some powder. Shaking some into the mug of water he warmed it on a stone near the fire, and soon between them, he and Jacob forced a few drops into the partly opened mouth of the man until they heard him swallow, coughing as it went down his throat. They repeated this twice, and after slipping a towel under his head the stranger fell into a deep unconscious sleep.

Old Frank sat down on the chair, his mind filled with questions about this man. Where had he come from, and where was he going? He decided to wait and see. It was very rarely anyone but family came out this far. Natalie and Jacob just sat around waiting, until they too became tired, and went to their bunks to sleep, but grandfather couldn’t. His mind would not rest, there were too many unanswered questions in his brain about this stranger, but he found a thick blanket and covered up the man where he lay on the floor rug.

The next day Jacob and his grandfather went into another room and bought out a folding stretcher, which they assembled over near the wall closer to the fire. Laying a couple of thick blankets on it, they woke the stranger up telling him they were going to help move him. With their arms around him he awkwardly stumbled across and lay down more comfortably on the stretcher. Old Frank sat on a nearby chair to think about this most unusual situation thrust upon them, and at this time of the year. It was freezing cold outside and he was surprised that the stranger had managed to get here at all without hypothermia taking him first while stumbling through the forest.

Winter brings deep snowfalls across the entire country in Northern Canada, and though soft, it is often deadly to the unwary traveller. Here in the hinterland of a Canadian National forest, fresh snow covered all the grounds and the mountain tops clothing the branches through the pine tree forest, glinting in the sun like crystals, beautiful, but ethereal. Old Frank Benson was the main resident and owner of this old log cabin, and his two grand-children often stayed with him when they travelled out to visit their grandfather during the winter holidays, both coming from a southern city to the National Forest.

This time the two older grandchildren had arrived here only three days back. It was a lonely life but it suited the old man who had lived here with his old pet husky dog for many years, before and after his marriage. He loved the country and forest, especially the silence and the beauty of the snow in winter, and the vibrant living greens of the summer months. This had been his life, but sometimes he did enjoy having his family stay there now and then during the holidays for the company, and for him to catch up on their progress and ambitions.

Much earlier that evening, Old Frank had glanced out of the small cabin window in the early evening light, and noticed his grandson Jacob had finished splitting some wood for the fire. As Jacob stood up he glanced around, speaking to his grandfather’s old dog Benson. ‘How’re you going Benson, not chasing wolves any more,’ he asked the dog patting him.

Gathering up the lighter pieces he was making his way back to the cabin when to his dismay his shoe caught on a piece of wood nearby in the snow-covered ground causing him to stumble, almost falling over. Dropping some of the wood, Jacob muttered loudly to himself, ‘Jeepers, you blinkin’ no-hoper. Mind what your flaming well doin!’ he complained angry at his carelessness. Picking the wood up once more, he walked across to the cabin.

Old Frank grinned to himself, remembering when and where young Jacob had first heard those Australian words. Just a few years back Jacob and his family had taken the trip over to Australia for their first and only holiday, and there he learned a new bunch of expressions after meeting some Australian boys over there. These were unknown to Old Frank back in Canada, and he had thought, well they weren’t too bad. Not like some other words the boy also knew, but rarely used. Opening the door, Frank stood there to help him in with the wood, slapping him on the back afterwards.

‘I see your memory’s still good Jacob. Shame you cannot remember your school work so well,’ he said laughing while shaking his head of sparse grey hair.

Jacob gave him a rueful look offering no comments, as he knew what his grandfather was talking about. He’d stoked the fire as his sister Natalie joined them having cleaned up the kitchen after their dinner. She looked around first to see if her grandfather needed anything, then had walked over to the side table to wind up the record player. Natalie loved to hear music, and as it began to echo through the cabin, the warmth from the wood fire spread out and felt good to them, so they made themselves comfortable in front of the glowing flames. These darted here and there around the burning wood, and the red and black coals seemed to hypnotize them as they sat there in silence, when enjoying the quiet sounds of the music being played.

Most nights, Grandfather Frank Benders rested comfortably in his old chair near the hearth, his head leaning back on the top edge of the chair cover made of dried animal skins. His long white and grey streaked hair lay in patches around his head and across the back of the chair, and soon his eyes would begin to glaze as the fire crackled before him. Blue tongues of flames licked around the edges of large logs, and hints of smoke wafted into his nostrils as he closed his eyes.

The air outside was so bitterly cold and dropped to below freezing when the light faded. Here the warmth tended to bring them together in contentment. It was rarely strangers come out this far where the cabin is situated, near the edge of the forest in a small sheltered pocket. The entire part of the forest was quite isolated in this section of the Canadian mountains, close to the edge of one of the National Parks, and miles away from any main roads. Now everything had changed with the abrupt intrusion of this unknown injured stranger into their peaceful lives.

A few days slowly passed, and all of this time they watched over the badly wounded man who slept uneasily and intermittently, as the others went about doing their daily chores. Feeling less worried, Natalie and Jacob were able to sleep at night though old Frank kept on waking up to check the man on the stretcher nearby. Eventually the unknown guest seemed to regain consciousness, and early one morning his eyes opened. He moved his head painfully but slowly from side to side, while glancing around to see where he was. His eyes cleared and seeing the walls of the log cabin around him he was confused. Calling out in a weak voice he asked, ‘Hey, is there anyone here? Where am I?’

Looking up, he noticed not far from the bed a tall old man standing close by, dressed in a heavy checked jacket and long dark trousers. Beside him a young girl stood, holding a cloth, both staring at him with concern. He could feel one of those terrible headaches coming on, and as he touched his head he remembered some of these caused him dreadful pain. They also affected his memory, so he moved his head around on the pillow to ease the aching, and after a dizzy spell, he noticed a young lad across the room watching him intently.

The old man asked him, ‘How are you feeling now friend? Is there anything you can tell us about what happened to you?’

The stranger rolled his head again then spoke, although his voice seemed strangely different to how it first sounded the night before. Now he talked in a very different broad accent, which surprised them.

Looking at them, he asked, ‘Hey there, mate. Who are you? Crikey what am I doin’ here? Where’s the ‘missus gone? How the hell’ did I get to this bloomin’ place? I gotta get back and tell the men to start drafting the cattle.’ and he tried to get up from the bed, but was unable to as it hurt and made him giddy. So he just sat there bewildered, his mind muddled, holding the sides of his head.

The girl gasped clutching old Frank’s arm, ‘Grandfather what’s wrong with him, and why is he talking in that strange way. Do you think he has lost his memory?’

Jacob quickly offered an opinion, ‘That is odd Grandfather. Only Australian men speak like that! He doesn’t look anything like an Australian bloke.’

‘Maybe, but never mind that, he is still very sick. Go make a hot cup of coffee for the poor fellow. He probably needs it now, as his eyes seem much better, though his memory isn’t.’ grandfather told him.

The man again asked, ‘Oh my head is bad. Where am I? Can you tell me please?’

Old Frank quietly replied, a puzzled look on his face. ‘Don’t worry yourself man. I will try to explain everything to you in a minute or two.’

He sat beside him and slowly told the sick man all that had happened in the last three days, ending with, ‘We gave you some Indian herbs and they seem to be helping you. Your wounds were pretty deep and infected. So do you remember how you got them, or where you were? By the way, my name is Frank Benson, and the young girl is Natalie my granddaughter. Jacob over there is my grandson,’ pointing out to where the lad was sitting near the table.

When the stranger did not reply, Old Frank continued, ‘These two come out here for a holiday break every winter. This is our cabin, and it is far away from everywhere. I’m damn-well amazed you found us here in the forest. It is a long way off the beaten track. Can you tell us in which part of the country did your plane crash?’

After Old Frank had finished speaking, the man rubbed his head and stared at him for a minute, then spoke, but this time his voice sounded normal, so different to the previous ones they’d heard before.

‘Sorry man, my head often aches, but no, I cannot remember anything yet.’ He lay there thankful the headache was going away. Sighing with relief, he thought, well I am here and alive, so he turned to the old man.

‘Thank heavens old man you were here to help me. You and your family saved my life! I thought I was done for out there in that snow. Could I move to a chair or something higher then this bunk for a while so I can sit up.’

By now Natalie had made him a hot drink as directed by her grandfather with a little bit of whisky in it, and offered the liquid to him.

He thanked her. speaking again in a normal voice, ‘If you don’t mind, I would like to drink this first before trying to remember what did happen to me.’

Old Frank moved away, and asked Jacob to take Natalie outside to get some fresh air, and give the stranger some time alone to think. This they did for a while, as both chatted to each other about their strange visitor. It was intriguing to them how he managed to get this far in the woods on foot, when so badly wounded. While the grandfather stood near the door, the man on the bed sat there, and he was puzzled as to why he couldn’t remember anything of the last few days now. Perhaps it would come back to him later on, as the other images often did. Afterwards he lay back, and with the help of the whisky he gradually fell asleep. After a while Frank came back into the room and sat down near the fire, then began to think back to his past.

He remembered the many earlier years when he and his dear wife Bessie would come here to the small but strong cabin he had built before their honeymoon. They would stay during the winter snows to spend a quiet time together away from the city and the demands of a family, and this had been his and Bessie’s paradise. Here they could talk, reminisce, and share their deep love for each other and the wild, in spite of the intense cold and the deprivations. With a smile in his heart, he recalled her gentle tender touch on his skin, every time they showed their overwhelming love, thinking of her trusting nature and her deep blue eyes gazing into his. Their life had been blest with only one daughter, though her husband had been killed in an accident a few years back, and even now, in their present lives, they sometimes needed the advice of their Father and his wisdom.

His grandchildren also enjoyed the times they had spent with the grandparents until the sudden death of Bessie from pneumonia, two years ago. Though they all grieved, they knew her spirit would always be with them, every time they or anyone came out here to the cabin in the wilds of the Canadian hinterland. Any roads out here were scarce and so rough that vehicles hardly ever travelled along them. They rarely saw anyone, only the natural animals or the odd Trapper coming through. Quite a few kilometres away from here, the river surged into water falls through canyons further along in the river, past the thick timbered forest. Other than hearing the howls of the wolves, it was this silent peace they all loved, allowing them to relax and enjoy their blessings.

As the day passed, all this time they watched over the wounded man while he slept and they carried out their everyday tasks. Eventually, the unknown guest seemed to regain consciousness again, and one morning, his eyes opened again. He moved his head slowly side to side while looking around to see where he was. Not having any idea how many days he had been here, when suddenly, without warning he began to have vague flashes of places he had been to before now. His brain filled with these part memories from his previous life and he tossed and turned, moving uneasily around on the simple bed.

He recalled the memory flashes had occurred just after a plane crash and when lost in the forest, but then there were other times they were different to this, and they only came in short bursts. Though now open, his eyes were cloudy as his mind tried to revise some of those times before now. These at first were dim, but gradually cleared as he concentrated. Closing them again, he suddenly began to recollect things, and realised he did not want these people here to know these thoughts. It was not safe for him or for them. The flashback of memories disappeared and his eyes cleared, seeing the walls of the log cabin around him.

Once more he called in a weak voice, ‘Hello there, is anyone here? When looking around he noticed there was no-one in the cabin or anywhere near him, so he tried to stand up, but the pains in his head returned making him feel giddy and faint once more. Putting his hands to his forehead he moaned in distress, cursing his problem. He hated being like this, unable to help himself. Calling out loudly, he noticed a young girl appearing at the door looking anxiously at him. ‘You had better stay on the stretcher sir, you are not well enough to stand yet.’ she said, and coming over she wiped his face with a wet cloth.

He calmed down, and just lay there watching her face as she stared at him, compassion showing in her eyes. Now she remarked, ‘There you are. Just wait until my Grandfather comes in and he will talk to