She’s visibly trembling from the cold, her damp hair covered in snowflakes.
“He’s not dead?” There’s an urgency in my voice as I cast my gaze around the small clearing when she shakes her head.
“No,” she whispers, her voice barely audible over the roar in my head.
“We need to move.” I grab her cold hand and drag her through the spindly trees with no destination in mind. We need to get away from the threat.
“Melanie?”
I shake my head, not willing to listen to her soft, frightened voice. Not until we’re safe. At this rate, we’ll freeze to death.
“Are you okay?” she pulls me to a stop, despite my audible protests. Her trembly, icy fingers stroke over my cheeks in an attempt to get me to look at her. I refuse to. I don’t want to see the fear in her eyes. “You killed a man tonight.”
“He deserved it.” Shouldering past her, I reach for her hand again and interlace her fingers with mine. She follows behind in silence. The only sound is our labored breaths and the crunching snow beneath our shoes. I don’t know when the cold turns warm, but that’s my first cue that we’re in deep shit. I walk faster, tugging on her almost frantically.
The relief I feel when we stumble upon a small log cabin is almost too much to handle. Laughter bubbles up from my chest as I let go of her hand to run through the snow and trees.
My hand slides over the icy handrail as I use the last of my strength to haul myself up the icy steps. They’re covered in cut-off fir branches—a Scandinavian tradition.
I knock on the door, knowing no one is home since the house is dark. Jessica is close behind me—so close I feel her warm breath tease the hairs on my neck. I tune her out while I knock again, harder this time. When no one answers, I try the handle. It’s locked.
“What are you doing?” Jessica asks when I step back and land a hard kick on the wooden door.
I kick it again, then again. “What the fuck does it look like?”
Her nervous energy makes me fucking fidgety. I kick it again with an angry roar, which transforms into a crazed bubble of laughter when it slams open. The lock is damaged, but who the fuck cares? I killed a man tonight; what’s a little breaking and entering to top off a shit evening?
The floorboards creak beneath my Doc Martens as I step inside. It’s dark. I try the light switch, and the room floods with a soft glow.
“Is this such a good idea?”
“Look at the weather outside. Do you want to freeze to death?”
“No,” she admits, following me into the small, cozy living room. A fabric couch with a tartan blanket sits pushed up against the wall, the large rug on the floor takes up most of the room, and above the fireplace is a moose’s head. Jessica looks at it uneasily before she follows me into the bedroom.
“Looks like we’re sharing a bed,” she jokes.
I throw her an unimpressed look over my shoulder as I walk deeper into the room. It’s a small cottage with only a tiny kitchen, bathroom, living room, and this small bedroom.
Shouldering past her, I walk back out into the living room and set to work, lighting a fire. As I rub my icy hands in front of the warm flames, Jessica sits down on the couch. “What if the owner returns?”
I add another log, grateful for the stack beside the fireplace. “Look outside. The snow is coming down too heavily for anyone to travel in this weather.” I don’t tell her we’ll likely get snowed in tonight. She’s already anxious enough. At least we’re safe for now.
“Maybe you’re right…” She falls silent, then, “We should see if we have a signal now.”
Poking the fire with a metal stick, I watch the flames spark. “I lost my phone.”
Silence.
“You lost it?”
“Yeah.” I turn to face her, and the fire warms my back while she stares at me like she can’t comprehend what I’m telling her.
“But you had it—”
“I lost it in the fight.”
The fire crackles behind me as she continues staring at me before shooting to her feet. “There must be a phone here somewhere.”