He popped it open. The first thing that caught his eye was his sweatshirt and the fleece blanket his mom had made his freshman season of football. They would keep him warm, but the other items looked so useless now: fishing line, lures, rod, pliers to cut fishing line, cribbage board and cards, a pocket knife, a fishing guidebook, tarp, rope, and bungee cords. He took all of the supplies and shoved them in the back seat. Something tumbled out of the pile as he moved everything over. Zach scooped a spray bottle out of the snow and brushed it off. He almost laughed at the label: bear spray.
When Zach was younger, they had gone on a family trip to Yellowstone. The last service station they hit before driving into the main park sold bear spray. The picture on the display showed a totally freaked-out guy with a torn shirt, claw marks on his face, and blood running down his neck. Zach’s dad said they were just trying to scare people into spending $40 for no reason, but his mom had still bought a bottle and stuffed it in their trunk. Zach sided with his dad during that particular argument, but now he was grateful his mom had been cautious. He looked around, as if a bear would come bolting out of the woods that very second. Zach shook his head—he was just being paranoid. He threw the bottle in the back seat with everything else.
Zach slammed the door closed and turned around. He squinted and shielded his eyes. The sun reflecting off the white everywhere was blinding. The edge of the road was harder to see, except for the outline of trees lining the road.
Zach looked at his watch. Four o’clock. Four already? Two more hours had gone by. Zach’s dad had never been this late before. It would be harder to see where he was going in the dark, especially with the snow blanketing everything.
What if something had happened to his dad on the way up? That curve on the main road got slippery in the winter, and with the drifting snow, driving conditions were horrible. His dad could have driven into a ditch. He could have braked and swerved to avoid hitting a deer. Maybe he had left Zach a message calling the trip off. Zach pulled the phone out of his pocket. Still no signal. Even if his dad had left a message, Zach wouldn’t be able to get it. He needed to find his dad.
5
Zach encouraged Skye into the car and slid into the driver’s seat. He reached his keys toward the ignition, but they fell out of his shaking hands before he could get the car started. His hands were so cold already. If he could drive back to the main road, he could get back into town—to food and to a warm fireplace.
He took off his gloves and fished around the floor mat for the keys. He remembered he once dropped a lure into the water of his ice-fishing hole and had to quickly grab at the freezing cold water to retrieve the lure. But now his hands were like ice and fishing around for the keys was even harder because his hands were already numbing before he even started the search. Finally, his fingers grasped the cold keys and pulled them up carefully like one of those crane games in the arcade that promised an expensive watch or wallet, but this time his keys were the prize.
Zach sat up in the seat again. He pushed the cold key into the ignition. He turned the key. Nothing. He tried again, giving it some gas. A sputter. Then nothing. Zach rushed out of the car and ran to the back with Skye at his heels. The tailpipe was completely covered in snow. He dug around it with his gloved hands, stopping every few seconds to shake out his hands. The prickly feeling washed through them, the pins and needles. He could not get frostbite. He needed to get the car heater going to warm up his hands.
Once he cleared the tailpipe, he climbed back in the car.
“Here, Skye.” Zach motioned Skye closer and held the door for her to jump in the car.
Skye sat down in the passenger’s seat as Zach dropped back into the driver’s seat and slammed the door. He was tired from not eating. The chips he had brought with him for the drive were long gone and the crumpled bag at Skye’s feet taunted him. Some neighbors back home said that up at their cabin, about twenty miles away from Zach’s, they saw three black bears once outside of their place eating a bag of corn chips that had been left out. It was important not to leave food lying around because bears had such a good sense of smell and the food might attract them. Zach laughed to himself. He hardly had any food. Was it still enough to attract a bear?
He turned the key again, revving the engine several times. He revved again. Finally, the engine turned over. He let out a deep sigh. He pumped the gas pedal a few more times. His hands prickled and throbbed. He slapped them against his legs, trying to feel them again. He shoved them under his arms, anything to warm them up. The prickles shot through his fingers until the numbing lessened. He blew on them, but even his breath was cool. Zach shivered. The wind howled around the outside of the car, and the little car heater could only do so much.
Skye leaned into him, as if she knew her duty now was to warm Zach up. Or maybe she needed comforting. Zach ran his thumb along the fur between Skye’s eyes.
“Good girl.” Zach scratched Skye’s wet ears. The dog panted quietly and leaned into the rub.
Zach’s stomach growled again. He needed to eat before he could think of doing anything else. The candy bar? No. Save it. He eyed the two cans of beans. Beans. Perfect. One for now, one for later.
He pulled the pocketknife out of the pile of supplies from the trunk. It was one with tons of tools. He was sure it had—ah, yes, a can opener. Well, not exactly a can opener. More of a knife you had to work around the can to cut the lid off. He would have to remove his gloves to use the opener tool, so he wanted to be efficient about it. He couldn’t afford to have his skin exposed to the cold any more than necessary, even though he was inside the car.
Zach took off his gloves and quickly fit the opener onto the cover of the can. He had never used that tool before, but he thought he could figure it out. He pressed down and pushed the blade forward. Repeat. Press down, push forward, repeat. He was halfway around the can when his hand slipped and the blade sliced right across his thumb.
Zach yelped in pain.
He pressed down on the finger right where he had cut it. Bright red blood gushed out.
6
He grabbed part of his “I’d rather be fishing” shirt, cut a strip off the bottom using his pocketknife, and held that in place over the wound. When he lifted the cloth, the cut was still oozing blood. Skye stood up in the passenger seat and whined.
“It’s okay, Skye. I’ll be fine. I just need to get the bleeding to stop.”
He quickly pressed the cloth over the cut again and held his arm up in the air. He counted to sixty and looked at it again. The bone wasn’t visible, so that was good. The bleeding hadn’t stopped but it might have slowed a bit, so he covered it up again and held the cloth in place by making a fist.
Skye watched intently as, one handed, Zach whipped open the glove compartment and dug around with his good hand. No first aid kit. He kicked himself for not making sure the car had one. He closed the compartment and tightened the cloth around his hand for a makeshift bandage and pressed against it until the pain dissipated. Skye gave one last whimper and lay back down on the seat.
Zach looked at the beans again. The can was only half open. He carefully took the pocket knife and finished opening it. Pressing down was harder now, with his hand throbbing and a bulky cloth getting in his way. But hunger won out and he pressed on.
He wished he could heat the can over a fire, but there was no place to make a fire. He ate them right out of the can—careful not to cut himself on the jagged edge. Cold beans. Better than nothing.
Skye sat up again and started sniffing the can. She nudged her nose against the can and against his hand, bumping the sticky fingers he was eating the beans with.
“Okay. Just a second.” Zach grabbed the discarded chip bag and dished some beans out for Skye, who lapped them up gratefully off the glossy, plastic bag.
After Zach finished his beans, he got out and cleared the windows one last time. Putting on his gloves was harder now since he had to work around the makeshift bandage, but he pulled them on all t
he same. He looked at the cabin again. Snow had drifted through the broken windows. Zach rubbed his face with his gloved hands. His cheeks were cold and numb in places. He had never had frostbite before but he was almost certain he was getting it now. They couldn’t stay here. If they stayed, they could die.
When Zach got back in the car, Skye tried to jump out of the car, but Zach held her back.
“We don’t have a choice,” Zach said. “We have to go.”
The snow was still coming down, but he thought he could see enough of the path to get through the gravel back roads and out to the main highway. Zach shifted the car into drive. It couldn’t plow through snow like his friend’s SUV, but at least it had front wheel drive.
The thick snow had drifted into big piles on the driveway, but Zach was pretty sure he could get through it if he tried. He had shoveled out the tires again as best he could with his one good hand, but he would never be able to clear off the rest of the driveway. If he could just get the wheels going he would try and push right through the other snowdrifts. Maybe they had even plowed the main road by now. His family’s cabin was just over ten miles from a popular resort, so they would want to clear things out for anyone who had come here on vacation.
Zach had never driven with only one hand, but he was doing pretty well considering the other hand was bandaged and out of commission. His little car was doing pretty well too.
“I think we’re going to make it, Skye,” Zach said, looking over as she wagged her tail. They had passed the first few landmarks: the end of the driveway, the clump of birch trees, the point where the road grew wider then went narrow again. He went around the final corner, but the road was slick with ice. He drifted right and whipped the steering wheel in the opposite direction. Zach tried to brake, but by now he couldn’t stop the car from spinning out. By the time it stopped, he was facing the opposite direction and stuck in a thick pile of snow in the middle of the road.
Zach’s arms shook. He had never lost control of his car before. He took a deep breath. The car was still in drive. He pressed on the gas. For a second, the car lunged forward, but it stopped after only a couple of feet.
“Come on!” Zach yelled at the car.
Skye barked once.
“Come on.” Zach shifted the car into reverse and backed up a couple of feet.
Skye stood up and sat down again nervously in the passenger seat.
“I’ll get us out, Skye. Don’t worry.”
He shifted into drive and pressed the gas. The car went forward a couple of feet, but stopped again. The wheels spun.
Zach yelled and hit the steering wheel with his good hand. He pressed on the gas again. The tires spun forward. Maybe he should just back up and try again. He put the car in reverse. But now the tires just spun in reverse.
“No!” He smacked the steering wheel three more times.
Meanwhile, snow pelted the windows. It was getting stickier and thicker. Flakes were falling in big pellets now. The wipers left icy streaks on the windshield. This was sleet. And he couldn’t move the car at all.
7
The walk to the main road from here was about a mile. He knew that because he had often walked that way when he was visiting during the summer and sharing the cramped cabin with his family. In good weather, he could walk it in fifteen or twenty minutes. Today, it might take twice as long, fighting against the wind and slogging through the deep snow. And it was starting to get darker.
Zach looked down at his watch. Five o’clock. If he left now, he might catch the last bits of daylight. And if he reached the road and the conditions worsened, he wasn’t too far away to turn back. He could grab his blanket and make himself an igloo shelter. He had done it once in Boy Scouts and although he hadn’t spent the night inside the snow sculpture, he remembered it being warmer than it was outside. He checked his phone one more time. Still no signal.
Zach grabbed his sweatshirt from the backseat and put it on, pulled his hat down and his gloves up, and checked that his zipper was up to the top of his jacket. He opened his door and pulled himself up and out. He wanted to see around that bend in the road. He needed to know if anyone was coming.
“Come on, Skye.” He held the door open and motioned for the dog to jump out. She glanced out the door and whined.
“Come on. We need to see if anyone’s out there or if the plows have been through yet.”
Skye hesitated. Finally, she obeyed and jumped out of the door and onto the snow. She gave Zach a quick nuzzle and started trotting back down the driveway to the cabin.
“Let’s go.” Zach gestured up the street to the main road. “There isn’t anything back there for us.”
Skye stood in place. She whimpered and glanced back the direction of the cabin again.
“No, Skye. We’re going this way. We need to get to the main road and find help. There will be traffic. Maybe we can flag someone down.”
The dog lowered her head and yowled, but she turned and reluctantly started out walking a step behind Zach. He looked back at Skye, feeling bad for the dog that he had grown up with.
The walk to the road looked completely different with the path covered in snow. But Zach knew this path by heart.
When he reached the main road, maybe he would have a cell signal. He would call his dad and he would be able to see if he had left Zach a message earlier. Anything so that he would know that his dad was safe. Any way for Zach to tell his dad that he, too, was safe. Despite what had happened to the cabin.
The path felt weird and quiet. Zach and Skye hadn’t seen another living creature all afternoon. Usually there were squirrels, chipmunks, and sometimes raccoons. Today there was nothing.
Zach’s thumb was still throbbing slightly, but he took that as a good sign. It meant his blood was still flowing—that he could still feel his fingers.
Zach glanced back at Skye, who was lapping up snow. She stopped what she was doing and stared at Zach. The snow was coming down so hard now that he could barely see Skye through the thick flakes.
“Come on, Skye.”
They turned at the fork in the road and started on the narrower stretch. The trees engulfed them. They were almost a third of the way to the main road but would have no chance of getting a cell signal until they hit it. No turning back now, Zach thought, as he encouraged Skye forward.
Zach hunkered down into his coat. He probably looked like a turtle. Or maybe like a no-neck wrestler. The image made him laugh—a moment’s release from the pain in his hand and the sleet that was slowly soaking through his clothes.
Zach tried to imagine what he and his dad would be doing if the blizzard hadn’t hit their little cabin up north. They would come home with dirty gear and a couple of good fish stories.
They always exaggerated the size of the fish they caught. Zach’s dad would say he caught a walleye that was this big. He would hold his hands eighteen inches apart, indicating the fish length. “No. Wait,” he said. “It was actually this big!” The distance between hands would grow to two feet. Pretty soon that fish was over three feet long. “That was some big walleye.” His dad’s fish stories always made Zach laugh and his mom roll her eyes.
The sleet felt like it was coming down sideways now, the way it slapped Zach across the face. He wiped the wet slush away. He bent down to shield his face and grabbed the edge of his hat, forcing it further down so that it would be perfectly snug on his head.
When he got back to school, the first thing he would do would be compare his spring vacation in the frozen tundra to his friend Patrick’s vacation in Hawaii. Zach would say, True, you have a tan, but I have battle scars and frostbite. You don’t have to be tough to get a tan. But frostbite—only the toughest guys survive frostbite.
The main road was finally in sight. He looked back for Skye. She was struggling through the deep snow, limping slightly on her bad paw. And Zach didn’t feel like he was doing much better as he trudged through the thick, wet layer toward the open expanse.
When Zach got cl
oser to the main road, all he saw was white snow. Not a promising sign. Skye whined. The dog was clearly exhausted and she was coated with a thick, sticky layer of snow. Zach bent over to brush some of the snow off Skye and to catch his own breath. The cold air stabbed his lungs. The main road didn’t look plowed like he’d hoped it would be. Drifting snow had partially covered the place where the side road and the main road linked up and it looked like white sand dunes blocked his path. A cold, white desert extended as far as the eye could see.
His feet were sinking into deep snow every few feet. It took all the energy he had to keep moving. Was it worth it to try to go farther down the road? With every step more snow sneaked into his hiking boots. Zach dug the snow out as much as he could without removing the boots. The snow wet his socks and now the socks were freezing up. It felt like his feet were frozen in heavy ice blocks. Zach was slowing down and close to giving up.
On the main road, Zach was exposed to the wind with no shelter. The cold blew through his pants, making his legs ache. “Okay, Skye. Next time remind me to bring snow pants.”
Skye perked up at the sound of her name and wagged her tail, but Zach’s legs were freezing as the wet fabric clung to his skin. He needed to rest. He knew that if he sat down there would be a good chance he wouldn’t be able to get up again, but he was so tired. So cold. He just wanted a little break.
The wind died down for a moment, and something caught his eye up the road. The wind and blowing snow had made it harder for Zach to see before, but now Zach could see a flash of red along the side of the road. Yes, definitely something red. Red—like his dad’s car.
8
A jolt of excitement flashed through Zach, which turned almost immediately to fear as he realized that the car wasn’t moving.
Deep Freeze Page 2