Page 6 of Caesar DeLuca
Tonight it feels different. Almost ominous.
“Keep it up,” I urge my wipers. They’re falling behind as visibility drops and the snow falls in thicker flakes.
Lake Kittatinny comes up on my right in the distance. It’s a landmark I’m grateful for because it reminds me the trip is more than halfway over. Half an hour more until I reach my destination.
Home.
Then I can be holed up in peace, even as this blizzard comes through. I have enough food and supplies to last me months if need be. I’ll be just fine with my warm bed, shelves crammed with books, and other hobbies to entertain me. Should the power go out, I have my backup generator as a failsafe.
I’m comforted by these reminders as I drive by the lake. I’m so distracted with thinking about what waits for me at home that I almost don’t notice the man crumpled in the snow—and I know it’s a man because, as I glance over, I see his dark clothes and pale skin. I see the blood that stains the snow he’s lying in.
He’s been seriously injured and left to freeze to death.
If someone doesn’t get him emergency treatment right away, he won’t survive the night.
Every reclusive, survivalist instinct I have screams at me to keep driving. It’s not my problem if some man’s passed out in the snow. My more natural nurturing instincts beg to differ. They urge me to pull over and check on him.
Make sure he’s even still alive.
The weather is so bad, only worsening, that no ambulance will come out to find him. No other cars are passing through any time soon.
I sigh as the decision weighs heavily on me and I struggle over just what to do…
4
ARIANA
Islow down and pull off to the side of the road. Twisting the key to turn off my Rav4’s engine, I check the rearview mirror. The night sky hangs like a pitch-black blanket, making it near impossible to see anything. But the snow is so bright that nothing can hide on its white banks.
The man’s blood looks morbid against something that’s otherwise pure. Gruesome crimson streaks paint the snow and freeze in the cold night.
He’s a large dark heap that’s stopped moving.
I spend another moment watching him in the mirror.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been this torn on a situation—I’ve removed myself from civilization for this reason.
Life became too difficult and complicated, and I couldn’t deal with all the repercussions.
So I removed myself from the equation. Things have been so much simpler ever since. I keep to myself, stay out of trouble, and savor my peace.
This man bleeding out in the snow presents a problem for me. No matter what I do, I could come to regret it.
There’s no way I can take him to the hospital that’s over an hour away. That’s not even addressing the fact that it’d draw attention to myself. I could open myself up to being found. But he’s an injured human being and I’m a former nurse. Professionally, I feel compelled to help him. On a personal morals level, I have to help him in any way I can.
I can patch him up and then return him to the side of the road so he can be on his way. No one ever has to know, and it’ll be like it never happened.
With my mind made up, I check the zipper on my winter coat and then open the driver side door. My boots sink into the snow before I can even take a step. I pull up my fur-lined hood and slog my way through the knee-deep snow.
The wind’s brutal and bone-chilling. I’m wearing four layers and it still draws a shudder out of me. It won’t be long until the forecasted storm hits.
Maybe another hour, hour and a half tops.
I have to be quick.
I rush toward where he’s collapsed in the snow and reach out with my gloved hands to turn him over. He rolls onto his back, heavy but limp. He’s unconscious, his skin so pale and cold it’s started tinging blue.
He’s alive, though his pulse is weak. Another sign he needs immediate treatment. He’s bleeding from his stomach, his white button-up shirt soaked in his blood.
