Page 3 of One Chance to Stay
Oh. Guilty.
My legs continued to stiffen, and every step grew increasingly difficult. I couldn’t tell if I had a few hundred feet to go or another mile. I will not die. I will not die. Fatigue set in as my chest continued thumping. My body begged for even a second to rest. Pause, take a deep breath, and then it’d be ready. My body lied, and if I stopped now, there wouldn’t be another step.
“I’m going to drink so many blue lagoons.” My jaw hurt from the chattering. The thought of sipping those nasty blue drinks, liquid candy filled with booze, was enough to tighten my stomach.
I smashed into the side of something. Large. It knocked the wind from my lungs. There was no time to inspect. Even the stunned pause meant more willpower to take another step. Banging on it as I walked around, I realized I was inches away from a vehicle… a truck, and yet I couldn’t make out the front grill.
“Drive. Way.” The chattering continued.
I pushed forward, hoping I hadn’t gotten turned around in my scuffle with the truck. “Hello.” Even a shout vanished into the night. “Hello.” My voice refused to get any louder. Somewhere around here, I had seen the light. I just needed to?—
My boot caught on something, and I fell forward. My shin banged against something hard, and I hit a flat surface. No snow? I had tripped up stairs and landed on the deck. There must have been a roof above. I was so close.
Joints seized up, and I forced myself to crawl. Reaching the wall, I pulled myself upright. Feeling about, I banged on the wall, hoping the noise would bring the stranger hidden inside.
The blinking light of a microwave clock. In the darkness, it might as well have been a floodlight. On. Off. On. These four walls held warmth. One last barrier, and I'd give Mother Nature the finger. I just needed to get inside. I barely got my hand on thedoorknob when it jerked open. Heat blasted me. My body sagged in relief—but my heart stuttered. The barrel of a gun rested inches from my nose. As I followed it up, the owner stood in the darkened entryway, hidden from view.
“Hi.” Please don’t let me end tonight with a gunshot wound. I gave a slight wave. “I bet you weren’t expecting company.” The words came out in a stutter as I fought for control of my jaw. The heat radiating from the house was enough to make the tip of my nose burn.
“Can I come in?”
The owner of the rifle relaxed. “You’re not going to die on my floor, are you?” Not exactly a warm welcome, but I was taking it as a yes.
“I’ll try not to.” I couldn’t make any promises.
He reached to the side, and a light flipped on. The barrel of the rifle dipped, pointed at the floor. When he stepped back, I could see the barrel-chested man with a short beard, more salt than pepper. With a slight gesture of the head, he beckoned me in.
“Come in.” I took the first step inside. “Boots off.”
My savior wasn’t a man of many words, but it didn’t matter. When I stepped in, he shut the door behind me. I tried unlacing my boots, but my fingers were useless. I kicked them off, my wet socks close to falling off.
He watched with a curious eye, but said nothing. The judgment from his puckered lips spoke volumes. I could almost hear him comment about my wardrobe, or going out in the snow in the middle of the night. I didn’t care. The burning in my fingers and along my cheeks meant my ice-filled veins were warming. I made it. I wouldn’t die tonight, at least not from the cold.
“Have a seat on the couch.”
He turned, walking through the parlor and into the living room. With each step, my toes squished in my socks. The shivering hadn’t subsided, and my limbs remained stiff as I walked. He didn’t flip on any other lights as he vanished into another room. Taking a seat on the couch, I thought the warmth would have set in. Did it mean I wasn’t out of the woods? I should have listened more during my high school first-aid class.
My savior returned without the rifle. He towered as he stood in front of me. He wore sweatpants and a flannel hoodie. I couldn’t guess his age, but I’d say he was north of fifty.
“Here.” He held out a bottle, and I took it, gripping it with two hands. I recognized the whiskey. Johnnie Walker, an edition far more expensive than anything we kept at the bar. While the gentleman wandered off, I pulled the cork and took a swig. Even as it burned, leaving a fire in the pit of my stomach, I took another.
He returned holding a glass. “No manners, I see.”
“Sor-sor-sorry,” I stuttered.
He placed the glass on the coffee table before having a seat opposite me in an old recliner. Carefully, I leaned forward, setting the bottle next to the glass. My savior was more animal than anything I found while hiking. His voice had sounded like he’d growl at any moment.
I wiggled until his couch wrapped around me. We stared in silence for minutes before the shivers mellowed. Somewhere, I heard the rhythmic ticking of a clock. I couldn't handle the awkward nothingness. I didn’t know what to say other than a meager, “Thanks.”
“You have hypothermia,” he said bluntly. It wasn’t judgmental, just a fact. “Your body is going to feel like it’s burning. Expect shivering. Your muscles will hurt.” He laid it out as if he had dealt with this before. Was I the last of many wayward hikers knocking at his door?
The whiskey continued burning, and I thought I might spit flames. Instead of responding and making a fool of myself, I closed my eyes. First, I’d get dry, and then I’d thank him before asking for a ride to my truck. I just needed to get warm, and then I could worry about…
MAN OF FEW WORDS
I stared at light blue walls and a ceiling with a crack running along the center. The blankets had been stacked on me until I sank into the bed. The soft top wrapped around me like a warm glove. Light poured in a pair of windows, bright enough that I had to squint. I pulled an arm out from under the blanket and?—
“I’m naked.” Lifting the blanket, I glanced down my body to see my birthday suit. “What happened last night?”
