An Excerpt from Haven Hill Here’s where the story left off last time. With one last surge, Kate muscled Collins over the threshold. They went down together, hard, hitting the cabin floor with a thud that rattled the picture frames. For a moment, she lay on the floor with his torso across her legs, trying to suck air into her own burning lungs. Ariel slammed the door shut, and that spurred Kate into action. She wiggled out from under the deputy. She and Ariel replaced the armoire where it secured the door. Then Kate was all business. “The kit we need is in the basement,” Kate told her. “This time I’m going to cover you.” They shoved the heavy kitchen table away from the basement door and removed the Molly bar. Kate flipped on the light and went down first, checking all the shadowy corners. “All clear,” she called out. Ariel sprinted toward the shelves. “Red dufflel!” Kate ordered. Ariel grabbed it and ran up the stairs, Kate close behind, walking backward, gun fixed forward just in case trouble showed up. She didn’t think he’d be able to squeeze in, but he might be able to get off a few shots through the broken window. She breathed a sigh of relief when they were able to barricade the basement door again. All business, Kate scrubbed her hands at the sink, fast but thorough—the prepper instinct drilled into her bones. Blood and dirt spiraled down the drain. “I’m going to need your help, Ari,” she told the girl, who nodded brusquely. “Unzip the bag and go get all the clean towels.” Ariel raced away, and Kate could hear her open the linen closet in the bathroom. She soon returned with an armload of linens. “Now go get some water boiling, honey.” Kate didn’t need the water but it would give Ariel a sense of purpose. His breaths were fast, shallow, bubbling. The wound under his ribs made a faint sucking sound with every inhale—the unmistakable sign that air was entering the chest cavity. She cut open his uniform shirt with trauma shears she pulled from the bag. “Collapsed lung,” she talked herself through it, remembering the course she’d taken on advanced trauma care. “Open pneumothorax. I need to seal it.” Ariel returned with the kettle and a large bowl. “Look for a light brown envelope that says CHEST SEAL in big black letters.” Kate told Collins, “Hey, my friend, I know that was horrible, me dragging you up those stairs. I’m going to do everything I can to help you. Unfortunately, it’s also going to suck.” He smiled through the pain and said through gritted teeth, “I have a little girl and a wife to get back to.” “I’ll do my best.” Ariel located the chest seal and held onto it while Kate blotted the wound. Blood foamed at the edges with every inhale. She soaked the corner of another towel in the clean water and patted around the wound to clear away blood. She dried the area thoroughly so the seal would stick. “Ariel, grab the flashlight. High angle. I need to see.” Ariel clicked it on with shaking hands. Kate tore open the package containing the chest seal with her teeth, peeled the backing off, and rapidly adhered the plastic over the wound, smoothing the edges with her palms to create an airtight seal. The bubbling sound stopped. Collins gasped—one long, shocked inhale—then continued breathing shallowly. Kate cheered him on. “You’re okay. That lung will reinflate some on its own now.” Next wound, she thought. A gash in his lower left abdomen was still seeping blood and needed to be packed. “This one’s going to hurt like hell,” she warned. “Your bedside manner is terrible,” the deputy joked weakly. Collins groaned as she packed the wound with sterile gauze, strip by strip. Once filled, she placed a pressure dressing over it and secured it with an elastic wrap. She checked his pulse. Thready. Fast. Cold sweat beaded his forehead. Shock. She elevated his legs with blankets and slid a pillow under his head. “Stay awake, Collins,” she ordered. “What’s your first name?” “Evan,” he whispered, barely audible. “Good,” she said, smoothing his hair back. “Stay with me, Evan. You did good out there. Damn good.” Ariel hovered behind her, voice trembling. “Is… is he going to die?” Kate looked at her daughter—steady gaze, calm tone, no lies. “Not if I have anything to say about it.” Then she leaned close to Ariel and whispered, “I’m going to call for help on the deputy’s SUV radio. Logan didn’t break the one in the truck.” Ariel’s eyes widened. “Mom… are you sure?” Kate nodded. “We’re calling for help. Evan needs better care than I can give him. I want you to cover me the best you can from the porch, okay?” Ariel nodded. Once again, they shoved the heavy armoire away from the door, this time leaving only enough room for Kate to squeeze through sideways. “If Logan shows up when I’m in the cop car, I’m going to lock the doors and stay out there. You get back inside and lock up.” “But, Mom—” Kate interrupted her with just a look. She emerged onto the porch and scanned the area. Logan was somewhere in that fog. Bleeding. Angry. And coming back. But she couldn’t see him, so once Ariel gave the all-clear from the porch, Kate raced to the police car. The door was unlocked. She got in and locked the doors behind her. She snatched up the handset. “Hello? HELLO? Can anybody hear me?” All she heard from the radio was crackling. She looked closer at the handset and discovered a button labeled TALK. She pressed it and called out again. The radio crackled. Nobody. Tears filled her eyes. She was so very tired. Then the radio flared to life. “This is an official channel. Identify yourself.” Kate laughed with relief. She used the last of her emotional reserves to give her name and address. “Your officer is hurt—Deputy Collins. I’m doing my best to help him, but you need to come fast. You need an ambulance.” “Hold on this line,” ordered the voice from the radio. “I can’t,” Kate replied, not at all intimidated. “It’s not safe here. Please come quickly. I have to go back inside with your deputy.” She put the handset back in its cradle, opened the door, and looked around. Ariel nodded from the porch and gave her the all-clear. Kate headed for the porch at a quick trot, too tired to move faster. A stick cracked in the forest, loud as a gunshot. She found her energy then and ran for the porch like a host of demons was behind her. About Daisy Daisy Luther is a coffee-swigging author and blogger who’s traded her air miles for a screen porch, having embraced a more homebody lifestyle after a serious injury. She’s the heart and mind behind The Organic Prepper, a top-tier website where she shares what she’s learned about preparedness, self-reliance, and the pursuit of liberty. With 17 books under her belt, Daisy’s insights on living frugally, surviving tough times, finding some happiness in the most difficult situations, and embracing independence have touched many lives. Her work doesn’t just stay on her site; it’s shared far and wide across alternative media, making her a familiar voice in the community. Known for her adventurous spirit, she’s lived in five different countries and raised two wonderful daughters as a single mom. Now living in the beautiful state of North Carolina, Daisy has been sharing her knowledge through blogging for 15 years.  She is the best-selling author of 5 traditionally published books, 12 self-published books, and runs a small digital publishing company with PDF guides, printables, and courses at SelfRelianceand Survival.com You can find her on Facebook, Pinterest, and X. The post Haven Hill: Chapter 34 appeared first on The Organic Prepper.