G.I. Joe: Agent Blue Jaye and the Beasts of Lakeside

Chapter 4

Thirty-four years ago

Flint skied through the thick snow down the mountain side and curved in and around a forest of birch, beech, and maple trees. The sun was pouring through the branches, reflecting a glistening gold as Flint, Alison, and their teammate Harlan weaved their way down the slope. It was winter furlough, and Harlan had convinced Flint and Alison to come up to Vermont for some weekend skiing. Alison was raised in Massachusetts and in addition to heading to Maine every summer, would also travel to Vermont in the winter.

Once Alison realized their team's Arctic Specialist was born and raised in Rutland, Harlan and she made an instant connection and would spend many conversations talking about the weather, traffic, vacation spots, and sports, always sports. Flint avoided a cluster of yellow birches and tried his best to keep up behind Alison and Harlan. Harlan was dressed in a white ski jacket with a fur brimmed hood and matching thermal pants. Some of his thick red hair had come loose and was flapping backward in the wind.

Alison was wearing a single piece ski suit colored teal with vibrant pink stripes racing down the sides. She was an excellent skier Flint thought. Smiling to himself, Flint dug his left ski into the snow, flexed his quad and speared his pole into the earth as he lifted himself up and around a tree. Flint looked down the mountain to see Harlan and Alison repeat the same move effortlessly from side to side.

A few moments later, they reached the tree line and glided out into an open field. Even though Flint was wearing goggles, the effect of the sun reflecting off the snow blinded him. Quickly adjusting his line of sight, Flint took in the breathtaking view of the Vermont winter valley. The snow was untouched, and he watched Harlan and Alison cut across the sloping field as the snow-covered pines rose around them. Harlan was right Flint thought, as he watched Alison gracefully carve a long wavy path in the soft powder. This place was beautiful.

The trio of skiers made their way down the field toward a small cabin peacefully waiting at the far corner of the tree line. Flint watched as Harlan casually skidded to a stop in front of the small wooden lodge. Alison then stopped in front of the cabin and started to take off her skis. Flint came in a distant third, his chest heaving from the workout.

"Figured this would be a good place for a lunch break. You guys hungry?" Harlan asked. Flint nodded vigorously and followed in stride behind Alison into the cabin. It was a small cabin, roughly 300 square feet, with a raised loft at the far end above a cast iron stove that Flint assumed supplied both the heat and a place to cook.

A large rifle case adorned the left wall of the cabin, flanked by bookshelves on either side. One shelf was stacked with a variety of reading materials from hunting and fishing guides, to fiction and mystery novels, to a vast number of military history books. The other bookshelf was stacked with preserved goods in glass jars, cooking pots, pans, and mugs.

The right wall of the cabin was decorated with a set of downhill and cross-country skis and poles, two sets of snow shoes, a medium sized hatchet, and what Flint immediately recognized as a brand-new Brown Bear Compound Bow. Below the bow and skis stood a small writing desk, covered in maps of the area, some marked in red. A CB AM/FM radio sat like an oversized paper weight on the pile of papers strewn across the desk.

A love sofa and a recliner sat in the middle of the cabin each facing a low round wooden table. Harlan had started a fire in the stove. Flint smelled burning beech and soon felt the warmth begin to radiate around them. Harlan walked over to the bookshelf and grabbed a French press and a tall brown bag of coffee. He held both up to Alison and Flint grinning.