Gray (Book 1) by Lou Cadle Read Free Book Online Page B

only make her sick to give in to that desperate hunger too quickly. And maybe she’d luck into some fuel, some wood that the fire had spared, so she could cook these last two.
    Feeling deep gratitude, she closed her eyes and silently thanked Nature for the gift of the fish, thanked the fish for giving their lives to keep her alive. She was not the type who prayed, but in this moment, it seemed right to acknowledge the connection between her and the trout and whatever god or goddess there might be, even were that goddess the earth itself. A few moments ago, the fish had been imbued with spirit, silvery flashes moving through the deep and cold muddy water. Now they were part of her. This connection was a reality as old as life on Earth but made new for Coral today.
    She decided to stay put, to rest and keep fishing here for another day. As much as she wanted to find people, to find an answer to the mystery of what was happening, eating was far more important.
    No more fish bit that day, so her dinner was the fish she had saved from the morning. She refused to let disappointment in the afternoon’s angling take root; she simply sat and conserved her energy. The next morning she was rewarded for her patience when the fish began biting again in the very same spot soon after dawn
    It was a good morning of fishing. She hauled in nine trout. She ate three for breakfast and cleaned the other six of their guts, then put them into the plastic bag that once held her toilet paper. That she tied onto the outside of her pack. After she broke camp, she set off downstream again, feeling more energy and hope than she had in a week.
    * * *
    Later that day, it began to rain. The splash of the rain on her face surprised her. She thought now nice it would be, a refreshing rain.
    But within moments, Coral was wretched. As the rain fell through the ash, the two substances combined. It wasn’t raining water but a thin, gritty mud.
    There wasn’t even a stand of fir trees to hide beneath. The canopy had been decimated by the wildfire. Coral moved to a large boulder and leaned against it, miserable, trying to find a lee side without success. The mud rained down on her, coating her clothes and her hair. Some dribbled off her hair and into her eyes. She couldn’t blink it out. The freak mud storm seemed unfair, after all she had endured. The grit in her eyes stung. She shrugged off her pack and waded into the stream.
    The current swept her off her feet. In an instant, she was tumbling downstream. Her knee hit a submerged rock and she spun around. Before she could gain her feet, she was pinned against the branches of a fallen tree. Water surged onto her face, plastering her bandana against her face. She sputtered into the wet cloth, swallowing gritty water. Fumbling behind herself for a handhold, she found a branch. She pulled herself up a few inches and turned her face away from the onrushing stream. The mask made it hard to breathe. She rubbed her face against the tree until it moved below her mouth, and she hung on and breathed.
    Once she had caught her breath, she pulled herself hand over hand along the tree toward the bank. Her feet hit solid surface again and she was able to stand. Mud still poured from the sky as she made her way to the shore. She reached solid ground and yanked her mask off then washed it in the stream and wrung it dry. She had no idea where her pack was. The rain came down harder.
    She hung her head, letting the rain pound the back of her head. There was no protection from it, nowhere to run. All she could do was stand there and take it. “Shit,” she said. Then louder: “shit, shit shit shit SHIT!”
    Yelling didn’t stop the mud from falling, but it made her feel a little better. Keeping her head down, spitting out bits of grit, she hiked back upstream until she found her pack. She sat next to it, pulling her jacket over her head as an umbrella, and waited out the miserable storm.
    * * *
    The next morning, she woke to