by Danika Stone
“O-okay.” Vale unwrapped herself with the slow, plodding motions of a drunk. She wobbled, then placed her hands in his. “H-here.”
“Sheesh! They’re like ice, Vale.”
She didn’t answer.
Ash held her fingers tightly in his, but no amount of rubbing would dispel the chill that had leached into her body. He frowned. That feeling he’d had before—when he’d realized the seriousness of the situation they were in—was back, only now it was focused on someone else. Bits and pieces of Perkins’s talk from the class filtered into his mind, heightening his fear. “Shivering is one of the first signs. It’s the body trying to warm itself up … then there’s the slurred speech. Confusion … People have difficulty thinking. They’re drowsy. Eventually they lose consciousness … they often don’t wake up.”
“Vale, we’ve got to warm you up,” Ash said in a sharp voice.
“B-but I thought…?”
“Take off your coat. We need to get your core temperature up.”
She blinked in confusion. “B-b-but I’m cold,” she said. “I d-don’t want t-to take m-my c-c-coat—”
“I need to warm you up,” he said—hating how high pitched and frightened his voice sounded. “I need the wet layer off. Come here.”
“I d-don’t think—”
“Look, Vale, I don’t have time to argue about this!” Ash reached out, touching the zipper of her jacket. “If you’ll—”
“N-no!”
Ash jerked his hand back. “Sorry, I just—”
“L-leave me ALONE!”
With a huff, Ash put his chin down to his knees. “Fine, then!” Ash snapped. “Be that way.” He couldn’t very well force Vale to let him help her. Not when she was freaking out. Outside the shelter, the wind howled, snow piling higher as the storm continued.
“F-fine!” she said. “I w-will!”
He closed his eyes, dozing for a few minutes, then jerked awake once more. The temperature was steady, his body almost comfortably warm. He yawned and looked over at Vale. In the pale glow of the light stick, she was a statue. A nervous twinge filled his chest. She looked like she was wearing lipstick. He leaned closer.
My God! Her lips are fricking blue.
Ash reached out and touched her cheek. He jerked his hand back, heart pounding. Vale’s flesh felt like bacon straight out of the fridge. A sudden terror shouted at him for attention. She’s too cold!
Vale wasn’t just cold, she was hypothermic.
“Vale?”
She didn’t answer.
“Vale! I … I need to warm you up.”
She mumbled something, but otherwise didn’t move.
Ash moved closer. “Vale!” he snapped. “I need you to take your jacket off NOW!” He reached out for her zipper, half expecting her to slap his hand away. Vale’s head lolled sideways. He unzipped her coat. She mumbled, but didn’t open her eyes. The panic rose inside him. “Oh God … Oh God…”
Vale’s got hypothermia for sure!
Ash’s stress had jumped three levels in the past minute and a half. “Got to get these wet layers off,” he said. “We’ve got to!” He reached for the collar of Vale’s coat, easing it down her arms. She mumbled and wobbled in place. “Hold on,” he said, fighting with the second sleeve. “I just need to—”
It was at that moment that the Vale he knew seemed to return. She blinked in confusion, then shrieked. “S-S-STOP!” She struggled blindly, whacking Ash in the side of the face with her icy palm.
“Ouch!” He staggered back, smacking his head on the shelter’s bowed roof. A shower of sifted snow dropped onto both their heads.
“B-back o-off!” Vale pulled her hand back again.
“Vale, STOP!”
“Y-you c-c-can’t just DO that!” she snapped.
“But you’re freezing!” Ash reached for her sleeve, ducking as she swung drunkenly to stop him. More snow fluttered down. “Vale, just stop! STOP, PLEASE!”
Vale glared at him, her breaths coming in sharp pants. Her skin was unnaturally white, lips purple blue, eyelids drooping. As she lowered her arms, she wobbled in place.
“I s-said t-to l-leave m-me—”
“No!” Ash said, voice cracking. “You’ve got hypothermia. You honestly do! And you’re gonna die out here otherwise. And I—I can’t—” A worried sob bubbled from his throat. This, here, was Vale’s tone … her words from hours earlier. He added more gently: “Just trust me. Okay? I need to warm you up.” He reached out hesitantly. “Once your wet clothes are off—”
“N-NO!” Vale said through chattering teeth. “W-why are y-you t-t-trying to undress me?”
Ash let out a frustrated groan. “Because if you get the wet layers OFF, then you can warm up!” He dropped his hand to his side. “Listen, we can cuddle and—”
“I-I’m n-not c-comfortable with that.”
“Why not?”
“I-it’s w-weird,” Vale said. “I d-don’t like you that w-way.”
Ash frowned. Years before, at a middle school dance, he’d tried to kiss Vale. That impulsive peck had not gone well. Ash wondered if that memory (and the awkwardness that followed) was bothering Vale now. “Well, I don’t like you that way either.”
“B-but—”
“I know it’s awkward, and I’m sorry. But your lips are blue. You’re cold and getting colder.” He let out a hiss. “Please just trust me on this. Perkins warned us about this. Hypothermia kills people. You KNOW that!”
“So j-just for warmth?”
“Just warmth,” he said. “Nothing else. I swear to you.”
“F-fine.”
“Let’s get off the wet layers,” he said.
Ash slid off the plastic bag that covered his clothes and laid it on the ground, then did the same with the one Vale wore. Her jacket—unlike his—was soaked through with water. He carefully guided her arms out of the sleeves, and undid his own jacket. Next, he helped her out of her long-sleeved shirt, but left her tank alone. He pulled off his own tee. Ash was surprised at the warmth of the lean-to, but it wasn’t enough to help Vale. In the open air, wearing little more than a T-shirt and damp jeans, her shivering grew more intense.
“I’m gonna lie down,” Ash said, wishing that Vale was anyone else in the entire world. His brother Leo even! She was his friend, but nothing else. And that made this situation feel weird. “You lie down in front of me. Back to front.”
Vale’s eyes widened until there was a line of white around the edges. “B-b-but—”
“I’m not trying anything, Vale,” Ash said. “Promise! Just … just lie down.” He winced. “Please.”
“F-f-f-fine. J-just don’t g-get the wrong i-i-idea.”
“I won’t.”
“N-no kissing! N-nothing like that.”
“I promise.”
Vale crawled forward on hands and knees. She stumbled, head-butted Ash, then fell onto her side next to him. “S-s-so c-cold,” she said through chattering teeth. “C-c-can’t feel my hands or feet.”
Ash undid her hiking boots and set them aside, then pulled her into the cradle of his arms. She was soaked through, and touching her limbs felt like holding cold clay. Even moving her was a struggle. Finally, he pulled her into a small ball, and laid the two jackets over both of them. Ash’s teeth chattered for a few minutes, then stopped. Vale’s continued.
He tightened his arms around her torso. “You’re gonna be fine, Vale. We just need to warm you up.”
Barring their footwear, they were covered in every piece of clothing the two of them had been wearing, only they were together under all the layers, rather than separate. Vale lay back against his chest, her breathing coming in shallow pants, teeth chattering a staccato beat that never stopped. After a time, he felt her relax against him, though her shivers continued. Wave after wave ran through her.
“How’re you feeling now?” Ash asked.
For a few seconds she didn’t speak and then: “B-b-better.”
Ash pulled her tighter against
him. Her back was against his front, his taller body an outline of her own. For the first time since he’d taken hold of her hands, a small flame of warmth grew between them. It was only in one spot at first—the center of Vale’s back and Ash’s bare stomach—but half an hour later, it had moved to include his entire chest and the places where Ash’s arms wrapped Vale’s crossed arms. It struck him that she was no longer shivering.
Ash lifted his head. “You still doing okay there?”
“Guess so. I mean … given the situation.”
“I know it’s awkward—”
“That’s an understatement,” she said.
“Sorry about that.”
She sat for a moment longer, then sighed. “I … I don’t like you, Ash. I mean, I like you—as a friend, I mean—but not…” Her words faded uneasily.
“I know.”
“You … you do?”
“I don’t like you that way either.” He laughed. “But it’s better than freezing to death. Right?”
Vale seemed to be on the verge of saying something else, but then she shook her head. “Yeah, it is.” She was quiet for a few heartbeats. “Thanks. Sorry for arguing about taking off my coat.”
“Just so you know, I wasn’t gonna try something.”
“Good.”
“We’re friends, Vale. That’s it. I mean, I don’t think of you like that. You’re not like other girls.”
Vale turned slightly in his arms. “I’m exactly like other girls. And just so you know, that’s an awful thing to say.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way—I only meant—” Ash groaned. “That’s not how it was supposed to come out. It was supposed to be a compliment.”
“It’s not a compliment. You should never say that to another girl. Seriously, Ash. It’s a rude thing to say. It’s like saying there’s something wrong with being like everyone else.”
“Uh … yeah. I got that part.”
There was a long uncomfortable moment, the only sound the howl of the wind in the trees. “Look,” Ash said. “I just meant to say I wasn’t trying to make a move on you or anything. I … I just wanted to warm you up. Not that someone couldn’t think of you that way. I’m sure lots of people have crushed on you. But I didn’t assume you felt like that for me, or anything. I mean, if you did—or do … well, that’s cool and all. I just, I—I—”
Vale turned over the rest of the way. “Ash, I’m aro-ace.”
He stared into the shadows, wishing he could see her face clearly. He wondered what he could read from her expression. Ace meant asexual. He’d read that online somewhere. Aro he wasn’t actually sure. He thought it might have something to do with—
“So are you going to say anything?” Vale asked.
“Am I supposed to?”
She laughed tiredly. “I don’t know, Ash. Some people just get … weird about it.”
“Oh.” Ash took a slow breath and let it out again. He’d occasionally wondered about Vale’s sexual orientation. (She’d never dated anyone in all the years they’d been friends.) But he thought it was more to do with being shy. Ash cleared his throat. “So if you’re ace, then—”
“I’m aro-ace; asexual and aromantic.”
“Right. Aro-ace. So you just … don’t like anyone? Guys or girls?”
“I like them as friends—at least nice ones, like you and Bella—but I don’t feel romantic toward them. I don’t feel any urge to make out, or have sex or, well, to do anything but be friends.”
“I never knew that.”
“You never asked.”
Ash chuckled. “Guess not.”
Vale sighed and settled closer. “I actually enjoy being close to people. I just don’t want them to confuse cuddling with something else.”
“Got it.”
There was a long quiet moment, and then Vale spoke again. “If you tell anyone in our class about my sexuality, I swear to God, Ash Hamid, I’ll hunt you down and kill you myself.”
Ash smiled. “I wouldn’t do that. It’s not my business to tell anyone.”
“Good.”
“And you’re welcome for saving you from dying of hypothermia.”
He felt, more than heard, Vale giggle. “Well, I’m the one who thought of the shelter, so let’s call it even.”
He grinned. “I guess that’s fair.”
For a long time, neither spoke. Minute by minute, the growing spot of warmth spread all the way down to where her socked feet were tucked between his calves. Ash grew sleepy, the warmth of the makeshift tent and the heat of their bodies growing warmer by the minute, drawing him into a sleep born of exhaustion and terror. He was hovering on the edge when Vale rolled over. He jerked awake, but she only burrowed deeper, her cold nose—like a dog’s snout, he thought sleepily—pressing against the hollow under his chin. He tightened his hands around her back and closed his eyes.
“Thanks, Ash,” Vale murmured. “For real, just … thanks.”
“No problem.”
And in the darkness of the lean-to, the snowstorm raging outside, the two friends slept.
* * *
Janelle Holland had been up for nearly twenty hours, but as she reached the bus and used the wireless to call the Waterton police station, exhaustion was the last thing on her mind.
“There are kids lost where?” the officer on the handheld asked.
“Lost on the trail between Twin Lakes and Red Rock,” she said as she glanced up at the sky. It was a black, moonless night, every bit of light sucked away by the storm clouds overhead. Ash and Vale won’t be able to see unless they brought flashlights! “They’re out there somewhere. I … I can’t find them. And it’s starting to snow.”
The handheld crackled with static. “I’ll call the warden station, and we’ll have a team out in half an hour. When they get there—”
“I’m not waiting,” Janelle interrupted. “I’m going to hike back again.”
“But—”
“Those kids are lost out there. They’re—” Her voice caught and broke. “They’re not dressed for this weather. I need to find them.”
“Do you have a flashlight at least?” the officer said. “Don’t need another person getting lost while stumbling around in the dark.”
Janelle wiped away a tear. “Yes, I’ve got a flashlight.”
“Bear spray? This is the worst time of year to run into a grizzly.”
“Yes,” she sniffed. “Bear spray too.” Somewhere in the dark forest, an animal howled and she turned. “I-I’ve got to get going, Officer. I’m sorry.”
“The searchers will be there soon. I think you should wait for—”
Janelle clicked off the wireless and set it back into the bus. She grabbed a handful of fresh batteries from the glove box, tucked them into her pocket, and then headed back to the trail for the second time that day. There was no choice; she needed to keep going. No time to stop. No time for fear.
Their parents trusted me with those kids.
The forest closed in around her. Wind howled, sleet stinging her face and hands. She squinted into the sky. It’s already snowing at the higher elevations.
Janelle had been in a state of near-constant panic since the moment she’d realized she’d lost two of her students. Janelle could almost understand Ash getting lost—the boy had difficulty following clear directions at the best of times—but Vale was a rule-follower to a T. The girl never let any infraction go without an argument. In the dark woods, something moved and a sliver of fear ran the length of Janelle’s spine. What if they ran into a bear? It was autumn. They were hiking in a remote location. Janelle winced. It was all too possible.
She reached Twin Lakes (for the second time that day) just after four in the morning. By then, it was snowing in earnest. A heavy layer of flakes painted everything like frothy white icing. The moon had reappeared, but it left the landscape transformed. Karl waited outside the tent, tending the fires.
He jogged toward her as she stepped from the shadows. “Did you find th
em?” he called. “Are Vale and Ash—?”
“Not found yet.” She swore. “So they didn’t show up here?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
Karl shook his head. “No. Not here.” He winced. “I walked back a ways on the trail and called for them for a long time. No luck.”
Wobbling on her feet, Janelle turned away. “I’m going to run the trail one more time.”
“Again?”
“Yes,” she said grimly. “Again. If they’re out there, I need to find them.” And in seconds, she was hiking again.
Snow fell. Cold spread through her bones, making her hands ache and her feet feel like stumps made of ice. The trail she’d taken was barely visible now, and Janelle struggled to find her way, finally making it back to the meadow below Avion Ridge in the dark hour before dawn.
“Hello!” a woman shouted.
Janelle stumbled and almost fell. Vale?
“Hellooo!” the voice called again. “Vale! Ash!”
Janelle’s shoulders slumped. It’s the searchers, of course … She lifted her hand, waving wearily. “It’s Janelle,” she shouted. “Janelle Holland, the teacher.”
Bobbing lights appeared in the trees, and a group of searchers wearing headlamps came toward her. They were dressed more for the weather than she was. A brief flare of intense frustration rose in her chest, strangling her. I should have canceled the trip when the weather started to turn! But Janelle had taught for more than fifteen years. This trip had been done that many times. There’d never once been an issue.
There was now.
As the searchers reached her side, Janelle paused, her legs wobbly. “I—I just came back from Twin Lakes,” she choked. “N-not there, as f-far as I can see.”
One of the searchers—a warden, by his uniform—nodded. “You need to head back to town. We’ll take it from here.”
“But I need to—”
“Go to town. The police need your help,” the warden said. “They’ll be starting a helicopter search in the morning.”
Janelle nodded. “Okay, then. I … Okay.” In her exhausted state, nothing made sense. “I’ll walk back.”
The warden—an older man with graying hair—put a hand on her shoulder. “You can tell the parents we’re doing everything we can to find their children.”