by Ray Gorham
As Kyle came around the back of the trailer, he looked up and stopped dead in his tracks. The vehicle he had pinned his hopes on for survival was a delivery truck, not a full semi, and the cab, which was even smaller than the pickup he had abandoned, had its passenger door wide open and was filled with snow. Desperate, he staggered to the back of the truck, unlatched the door and rolled it up, exposing an empty trailer. As the icy fingers of the storm clawed furiously at him, Kyle climbed stiffly inside to escape the wind and reconsider his plan.
Too tired to cry, Kyle looked out at the sky. “Why?! I want to live! I need to live!” he pleaded. Cold, hungry, and weak, Kyle dropped to the floor of the trailer and crawled to the side. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, picturing his wife while the wind shook the trailer. “Jennifer, I’m trying, honey. I’m really trying…but I don’t know…I’m so cold,” he whispered the words as he held his frozen hands against his cheeks, trying to warm his skin.
Kyle stood up and leaned out of the back of the truck. The house to the west was on a hill that was much steeper than it had looked from a distance. To get to it, he would have to continue north and then hook back around. The house to the east looked like an easier journey and the better choice, especially since he was sure it would be his last chance for survival.
Kyle climbed down from the trailer and stepped into the wind. A gust caught him and pushed him to the side, almost knocking him down. Weak and unsteady as he was, he still maintained his footing and laughed defiantly at the storm, then tightening his grip on the sleeping bag he still had wrapped around his body, he pressed on. He climbed clumsily over a barbed-wire fence that lined the edge of the road, tearing a hole in his pants and gouging his leg, but the pain of the wound barely registered. The drifting snow almost came up to his knees in some places, and the soil underneath was uneven and slick, making his progress difficult and slow.
A small creek, about seven feet across, interrupted the way to the house. He couldn’t tell how deep the water was, nor see an easy way to cross, so he backed up a few steps, lumbered as fast as he could towards the creek, and leapt. Under normal circumstances, jumping the creek would have been easy, but stiff with cold, he could barely get up to a run. His foot slipped on the bank as he jumped, and what little momentum he had wasn’t enough to carry him across the water, landing him instead in the shin-deep creek a foot from the opposite bank. He took a quick step up the bank on the far side, but slipped and fell on his stomach, then slid towards the water. Frantic, Kyle clutched the soft, loose snow, which did nothing to halt his slide into the shallow creek. When he finally came to a stop, the right half of his body was submerged in the water, which felt warm compared to the bitter cold of the wind. As he sank into the creek he considered rolling all the way in to escape the wind. The image of his dead body, frozen in a sheet of ice, flashed briefly through his mind and he was roused back into action.
Clinging to tufts of grass buried under the snow, Kyle pulled himself up the bank and collapsed on the frozen ground, his spent body covered in mud, snow, and ice. He turned back to the creek and watched, not caring as his sleeping bag slowly floated away. On top of the bank, Kyle gasped as a fresh gust cut through his wet clothing, sending sharp pains through his chest, like a knife being shoved between his ribs. He staggered to his feet once again and headed for the house, stumbling desperately across the field. He was aware of nothing but his goal -- a house that was quickly dimming, both in the fading light and in his fading consciousness.
A hundred yards from the house, Kyle fell to his knees, exhausted. His clothing was nearly frozen stiff, hinging just slightly at his elbows and knees. He crossed his arms across his body and rested briefly, then, with enormous effort, got back onto his feet.
Kyle teetered unsteadily, pausing to gain the balance to put one foot in front of the other. The only thought in his mind was to get to the house in front of him, now maybe ninety yards away. Like an infant learning to walk, Kyle moved haltingly across the field, losing his balance and falling repeatedly, each time forcing himself to get up.
With just a driveway, a short rail fence, and a small yard separating him from the house, he fell again, too tired to rise. On frozen hands and knees, Kyle crawled across the road to the fence and used the horizontal wooden rails to pull himself up and over, where he fell to the ground completely spent.
Kyle eyed the house, which was now less than a hundred feet away. He needed to rest, he thought, just to regain a little more strength, and then he could make it. Sheltered from the wind by the fence and a few small shrubs, Kyle felt warmth spread slowly through his body. He looked down at his shirts. They were dirty and frozen, so he stripped them off and set them on the snow beside him. He leaned forward to untie his boots but gave up when his numbed fingers wouldn’t grab the laces. Leaning back against the fence, he felt warm for the first time in three hours. In the shelter of a row of trees, the snow fell more calmly, almost peacefully, and Kyle watched as the flakes landed on his stomach, melting upon contact with his skin. Kyle, comfortable and warm, closed his eyes. He was tired and just needed a few minutes of sleep, then he’d have the energy he needed to be on his way again.
CHAPTER 26
Friday, October 21st
Deer Creek, Montana
The sun had barely cleared the eastern horizon. Jennifer stood at the living room window, shielding her eyes from the brilliant glare that reflected off the snow. Snow had fallen most of the day Wednesday, and now everything was covered in a thick, soft, as yet undisturbed, blanket of snow. She stared at the snow, fighting to breathe normally, her throat aching from suppressed sobs, streaks of tears staining her cheeks.
“Kyle, where are you?” she whispered haltingly. “I’m so worried about you, and I need you. I don’t know if I can do this alone.”
She heard a door open at the end of the hallway, followed by the sound of approaching footsteps. Emma appeared around the corner, bundled in sweat pants, thick socks and a robe. “I’m cold, Mom. Can we turn the heat on?”
Jennifer wiped the tears from her face. “I’ll go turn on the fireplace, doll. Did you sleep okay?”
Emma swung her head emphatically from side to side, a perturbed look on her face.
“Why not?” Jennifer asked. “I thought the three of you’d be warm in there?’
“It was kind of warm, but Spencer squirms around too much and kept pulling the covers off me.”
“Sorry, doll. We’ll try and come up with a better plan for tonight.”
They walked into the family room together, and Jennifer turned on the fireplace. She pulled the couch up close and laid a blanket over their legs after they sat down.
“Are you okay?” Emma asked.
“Why do you ask?”
“You’ve been crying again. What’s wrong?”
“Well, I guess I’m just worried about your dad. He’s not home yet, so I worry. It’s what moms do.”
Emma looked at her mother and smiled. “I think he’ll be fine. Grandma always tells me that I can pray about stuff, and God will take care of things. Every night I pray for dad to get home, and I think God’s going to hear me.”
Jennifer gave Emma a hug. “You’re sounding better. I think maybe I need to start asking, too, just so God knows I want your dad home as much as you do.”
“Grandma said you don’t like to pray too much, so I need to do it for the family.”
“When did she tell you that?” Jennifer asked, taken aback.
“When she was here at Easter and took me to church. She said you hated to go to church and do all that stuff. But I liked it. It felt good.”
“Well that was nice of grandma to be talking behind my back like that.”
Emma giggled. “It’s true, isn’t it?”
“I suppose,” Jennifer stammered, “but it’s not like I hate God or anything like that.”
“Then why don’t we ever go?”
Jennifer shrugged uncomfortably. “I went a lot when I was your
age, but none of my friends did, and it always seemed like they were having more fun than I was. We had this really ancient minister. He was as deaf as could be, and having to listen to him shout the sermon every Sunday in his squeaky, old voice wasn’t very exciting.” Jennifer’s eyes glistened again at the memory of Sundays with her mother and sister.
“Did you pray when you were my age?”
“I did when I remembered to, but I think I forgot to a lot. When grandma and grandpa decided not to be married anymore I prayed myself to sleep every night for a month…but God didn’t listen, at least that’s what I thought then.” Jennifer found herself caught up in her memories. “I think that’s when I decided that I really didn’t like church anymore.”
Emma gave Jennifer an innocent smile and snuggled in closer to her. “After breakfast can I go out and make a snowman? I’ll take Spencer with me.”
“I suppose, but I’m going to need your help. We’re going to collect as much snow as we can today, and you and David will need to help. We’ll fill the bathtubs, the sinks, and all the buckets I can find so we don’t have to keep carrying water from the river, or from Mr. Patel’s; he’s really low on gas. Maybe the snow will help us get by for awhile.”
“Okay, Mom. But first I want to make the snowman.”
North Central Wyoming
Rose Duncan leaned forward in her recliner to once again check the unconscious man on the floor. He’d been in rough shape when she dragged him into the house the night before, and she hadn’t been entirely sure that he was going to make it. The man had lain for hours without moving, then finally, a little before sunrise, he’d started to show some signs of life. Now that he was moving more, Rose got up from her chair and went into the kitchen. She retrieved a bucket of honey from the pantry, scooped three spoonfuls into a small pan, then added water. Returning to the living room, she placed the pan on the woodstove that warmed the room.
The man moved again, and she turned to watch him. His foot slipped out from under the mound of blankets that covered him, and she noticed that, although his toes were still pale white, his skin was starting to regain a healthier tint. Carefully, she leaned down and placed a hand on his forehead, noting that his temperature had risen since she had last checked. She pulled the blanket back and put a hand on his chest. It felt warmer as well.
Gradually the man became more animated, until she noticed his eyes open just a crack. “Good morning,” Rose said. “How are you feeling?”
****
Kyle slowly drifted into consciousness. His body ached and his head throbbed, like someone had mercilessly beaten him with a club. He wanted to open his eyes, but the bright light in the room hurt too much. There was a voice saying words that his mind couldn’t process, and he had a vague notion to sit up, but his body declined the request. He tipped his head to the side and forced his eyes open, squinting to take in his surroundings. The room came into focus and Kyle saw gray sky through a picture window and someone sitting nearby with a large dog curled lazily on the floor beside them. Kyle closed his eyes and let his head slump back down. He tried to piece things together in his mind, but the thick mental fog wouldn’t clear. Soon he was drifting back to sleep.
****
Rose watched as the man came to and could tell that he was disoriented and confused. He hadn’t responded to her greeting but did at least seem to recognize that she was there and that she had spoken to him before he had drifted off to sleep again. His mind seemed to be in another place, reminding her of how confused she had felt a few years back when her horse had thrown her and she’d come to with her panicked son kneeling over her.
Rose was relieved that the man was coming around and hoped the steady progress meant he was returning to normal. She knew in cases of hypothermia that brain injuries were a possibility, and the thought of rescuing someone who wouldn’t fully recover had been worrying her for the fourteen hours since she’d pulled him into her home.
Tired and anxious, Rose walked over to the window and looked outside. The storm had mostly blown over during the night and left the area blanketed in a deep layer of snow. The trees behind the house were bent low, struggling under the heavy load of snow, and several branches had broken and were hanging to the ground. The light snow that was still falling was being carried by the wind, blowing around the fences, across the sidewalk, and behind the house, adding to drifts that were already over two feet high. Before closing the blinds to darken the room, Rose checked the outside thermometer and noticed that the temperature had climbed a couple of degrees, resting just below the 25º mark.
Rose found the book she’d been reading, opened it up to her bookmark, and stretched out on the couch with a favorite quilt pulled over her. It had been a long, fitful night with very little sleep, and after a few minutes of trying to read in the dimmed light, she gave up the fight to keep her eyes open. Rolling onto her side, she set her book on the floor and pulled the blanket up over her shoulders. From across the room, she watched the man on the floor, his chest rising with deep, steady breaths, his eyes shut to the world. She worried about him, this mystery man, as she too drifted off to sleep.
****
Rose had no idea how long she’d been asleep when a loud shout broke the silence and jolted her awake. Across the room, the man was still lying on the floor, but his eyes were open and panic stricken. She quickly crossed the room and knelt beside him, speaking in a soft, reassuring voice. “It’s alright. I’m Rose, and you’re in my home. You’re going to be okay. Just try and relax.”
****
Kyle looked at Rose and breathed deeply, but did not answer, his mind trying to figure out who this woman was and how he’d gotten inside her house. The last thing he remembered was standing in the back of a truck, trying to decide where to go. Now he was lying on the floor of a home he’d never seen, being tended by a woman he didn’t know. Dim sunlight filtered in around the blinds, illuminating the room and its contents. There was a couch, a recliner, a coffee table stacked with books, and pictures and statues of horses and cowboys. The woman looked down at him, her brow furrowed. After a pause, she went to the woodstove and returned with a mug.
“Here, drink this,” she said. “It’s warm honey water. You need to get some warm liquids inside you.”
Feeling as if he was in a drugged stupor, Kyle struggled clumsily to get into a sitting position so he could take the mug. Rose grabbed his arm and helped him sit up, then put the mug to his lips.
Kyle took a sip and swallowed it, feeling the liquid warm its way to his stomach.
“You had a close call last night,” Rose said. “But I think in a couple of days you’re going to be fine.” Kyle watched her closely as she spoke.
She tipped the mug up again, and he took a few more swallows of the sweet, warm liquid. As the fluid settled in his stomach, Kyle felt as if the various systems in his body were being switched on one by one. A couple more sips and he reached up and took the mug from her, cradling it in his hands and drinking it slowly, enjoying the sensation of it warming his body.
“Let me help you to the bathroom,” Rose offered when he finished the drink. ”We need to be sure to get you in there regular the next couple of days. Your body has a lot of toxins in it that it needs to flush out.” She stood and reached down to help lift Kyle. Kyle grabbed her hand and, bracing with his other hand against the wall, struggled to his feet. His legs were strong enough to support his weight, but were stiff and sore and his balance was off, so he held her shoulder as they shuffled through the house to the bathroom.
Rose helped him to the toilet, then excused herself when she was sure he wouldn’t topple over. Kyle sat there, the haze that shrouded his mind continuing to clear like a fog gradually burning off with the morning sun. The memory of struggling across a field came to him, but he still couldn’t place himself in the house.
Pulling himself back to his feet, Kyle paused in front of the mirror, curious to see his reflection. He held onto the countertop, steadying himself in
his weakened state, and was astounded by his changed appearance. Returning his gaze was a frail, underwear-clad man with a bushy beard and cheeks that were weathered and red. His dark, tired eyes scanned from side to side across his body, taking in the skinny, discolored arms and legs that were more white than pink, leaving him dismayed by his withered physique.
He turned from the mirror, let himself out of the bathroom, and carefully made his way back down the hall.
Rose was arranging blankets on the couch and turned when Kyle entered the room. “You going to make it okay?”
Kyle nodded.
“I’m going to get you situated here on the couch. It’ll be more comfortable than the floor. Tomorrow I’ll get you a bed, but this room is warmer with the stove.”
Kyle crossed the room, step by tender step, till he made it to his new bed. He lay back on the pillows Rose had piled at one end and pulled the blankets over himself. Rose refilled his mug and placed it on a table she’d pulled up by the end of the couch. “Here’s some more honey water. You need to drink a lot of this. Your body needs calories to burn to get your temperature back up. Seeing as I can’t get you to a hospital, this is the best I could come up with.”
Kyle pulled up into a semi-reclined position and took a long drink. His head was clearing, but he still felt foggy. He was grateful that the headache that had plagued him earlier had eased to a dull ache. He set the cup down and looked at Rose. “Thank you,” he said.
She smiled at him. “It’s nice to hear your voice. You’re welcome.”
Kyle leaned back into the pillows, feeling exhausted. “I’m Kyle.”
“Nice to meet you, Kyle. I’m Rose.”
Kyle smiled at Rose in place of a handshake. “How’d I get here?”
“That’s what I want to know,” she answered. “I found you in my front yard. Beyond that, I can’t say.” Kyle looked confused, and she could tell he was trying to come up with an answer to the question she had implied. “Listen, Kyle. Let’s get acquainted tomorrow. Today you just need to rest. You were pretty far gone when I found you, so just take it easy, drink lots of that honey water, and hit the bathroom every couple of hours. If you need anything else, just ask. Okay?”