Chapter Seven #3
“My father basically disowned me, turned into an alcoholic, and drank himself to death two years ago. I’ll never stop saving as many lives as I can because it’s the only way I can live with myself.
” I pierce her eyes with my own as a warning, but also to surrender.
“I’ll only destroy you if you let me in.
” She reaches for me, and instead of shutting her out, I fall into her.
I haven’t cried in someone’s arms since I was a boy, and I fight it, squeezing my eyes shut.
I start to pull away and compose myself, but she clamps down on my back.
That hold, that security, that trust further chips at the wall I have been hiding behind.
I grit my teeth, and my body shivers uncontrollably.
I bury my face into her chest, wetting the fabric of her jacket with my tears.
She tightens her hold on me, but I still won’t release my pain.
“Spencer, it wasn’t your fault. You must know that after all these years.
” My body shakes uncontrollably, and I hide my face behind one of my trembling hands.
The back of my throat hurts, and all my muscles spasm.
“It wasn’t your fault,” she soothes, stroking my hair as I continue to hide.
I can’t talk. I can barely breathe. A sob creeps up my throat, and I bury it in her jacket.
“It wasn’t your fault,” echoes through my soul.
The tremor that wracks through me splits me in two.
A muffled bellow escapes me, and my arms stiffen so tightly around her I’m afraid I will snap her spine.
I freeze, clamping my jaw shut and absorbing my pain like I did for years at night after the drowning so my parents wouldn’t hear me cry.
I didn’t deserve to grieve my sister’s death or the deaths of my parents because I caused them.
I killed the people who loved me the most, the ones who were my world.
“Spencer, you don’t have to hide it from me. Please don’t. Let me love you.” She presses her hand into the one that is shielding my face against her, banding the other behind my back.
Her words. She means them. The dam inside me crumbles, and I fall apart in her arms. I don’t care how shattered I look or sound, or about the noises coming out of me, or the fact that I look like a small child, hysterical in a heap.
I don’t care about any of it; all I care about is that she is here in a way no one ever has been before.
For the competent doctor and for the broken disaster.
For me. For all of me. I cry, and she holds me until the trembling stops and I drift over soft waves to sleep.
The next morning, it’s a new day. Amanda and I slept in each other’s arms last night, foreheads touching through winter hats, on our sides, wrapped in jackets and blankets.
I feel like I shed an old layer of skin or unzipped myself and a new me stepped out.
I am open and vulnerable, and that’s okay, because it’s with her.
The exhaustion from my emotional release weighs me down to my very bones.
My limbs are heavy, and it’s difficult to move.
I gently unravel from her and sit up. I am the most at peace I’ve been since before my sister’s death, despite the ache in my stomach and dire situation. We’re starving and almost out of food.
I peek outside the cave and into the snow-covered world.
The storm has passed, and the sun is breaking through the clouds.
We are not far from the valley beneath us.
The next mountain looms in the distance.
Just one more mountain. That could be it.
There could be human life on the other side.
But if people were near, they would have found this cave and made a spa out of it.
I push out the dread that creeps in and chase out that thought.
Amanda sits up and rubs her eyes as I stride over to her and offer my assistance to stand. “The storm broke, want to see?”
“Yes.” I dip down so she can drop her arm over my shoulder, and I hug her side as we walk together over to the opening of the cave.
She slides her hand around my waist and leans against me as we scan the frosted mountainside, broken by pine trees and drizzled with crystal and snow.
A cloud blows in front of the sun, casting a shimmering dance over the layers of ice.
One reflection bounces and projects a blinding light into our eyes.
A reflection that I’ve only seen by a window or a mirror.
My head snaps towards Amanda. “Did you just see that?”
“I did.” She gasps. “If you go into my bag and grab my camera, we can use the zoom lens.”
“Okay.” I rush to her knapsack, unfasten the top buckle, and pull out her camera.
The black strap dangles as I hand it to her.
She holds the viewfinder up to her eye and clicks a button on the top as it focuses.
Her arms jerk down as her eyes squint, then widen, before swiftly lifting them back up.
Her open mouth spreads into a smile as she peers through.
“There’s something down there. Look,” she says as she hands me the camera.
Through the lens, I see a clear and shiny surface caked with storm. There are edges of a roof traced in the snow drift along the side of the next mountain. “Is that a small cabin or a post of some kind?” I ask, feeling the coolness of the camera against my cheek.
“Possibly.”
“It doesn’t look occupied, but maybe there’s a phone line or radio or something to eat.” I lower the lens.
“We’ve got to get to it. We are down to the last bits of food,” she says.
“Let’s go.”
We prepare ourselves for the journey and decide to leave the tarp and supplies back in the cave, but we still bring a torch in case our wolf companions return.
My gut tells me they don’t see us as a threat anymore, but I don’t want to take chances, especially if they are hungry.
We move down the mountainside the quickest we have yet, with the promise of hope on the other side of the valley.
Sliding on our asses and bracing against the trees, my body guides Amanda’s when needed.
I’m used to being her crutch, and I don’t want it to end.
We come to a flat, open, and vast treeless covering, panning to our destination.
The small cabin sits in the distance. “Come on, let’s go!
” Amanda says, pulling on my shoulder and leaning into me to go faster.
Happiness pings against my insides at the hope that warms my chest. We have this tandem march between us down to a rhythmic science, and this is the quickest we have moved yet.
Her injured foot barely touches the ground as we break into a full stride.
A subtle chinking noise stops me in my tracks as I jerk Amanda backward and steady her in my arms.
“Hang on. I think we are on a lake.”
“So?” She pulls me forward, but I don’t budge. “Do you know how frozen this lake is? The ice is probably twenty feet deep at least. You could drive a car on here, no problem.”
“In theory, but didn’t you hear that noise?”
“No.”
I grind my foot into the snow until I reach the dark frosted glass. “It’s a lake all right.” A small crack catches my attention, and I squat down and run my finger over it. It appears surface-level, but it still makes no sense. “We need to turn back and walk around it.”
“Around it? Do you know how long that would take? There is no way this ice isn’t secure.”
“Amanda, no, we have to go back. I know what I heard, and there is a small fissure just under us.”
“No way, we are right there.”
I tighten my grip on her waist. “We’re going back.”
“I’m not! You walk around, then, and meet me there.”
“Absolutely not.”
“What the fuck, Spencer!”
“No, something isn’t right.”
“Let go!” She wriggles against me, digging her elbow into my side, and shoves my arm away. She limps forward through the snow. In the distance, two birds circle overhead as if they’re ready to swoop down on their lunch; their wings beat heavily in the eerie silence.
I drop to my haunches as a shadow darts beneath the ice, followed by another.
Fish. I straighten up. “Amanda! The ice is thin here. We need to turn around!” She’s a good twenty feet away from me now.
Panic steals my breath as my body tenses.
“The hot springs!” She freezes with her arms out.
I’m not sure if she heard me or the fracturing of frozen water surrounding her underneath the blanket of snow.
I can’t see them, but the sounds of splintering ice are fast approaching, and I imagine they look like fissures spreading like veins towards me.
“Turn around! Crawl back this way. Spread your weight—”
There’s a sickening snap, and Amanda is swallowed into an aphotic gash.
I drop to my hands and knees and throw the torch as it extinguishes, flying through the foot of snow.
Amanda’s head bobs just beneath the water, her hair floating like wild honey rippling the surface.
Her arm waves up, but like a wilting plant, falls.
I hurl myself forward and sprawl my body out, spearing my hand through the lake before hers is gulped back down.
Freezing water pricks through my pants and covers my thighs as it seeps through the front of my jacket.
I clutch her wrist and yank her up, and her body hits the edge.
The surface creaks underneath us. I grasp her inner thigh and haul her over the lip and drag us backward towards the path we came.
We are about fifteen feet away from the rupture when I lean back and wrap my arms around her torso.
Her hair spreads across her cheek like seaweed, and her eyes are closed.
She’s motionless. I clasp my fist with my opposite hand and thrust up and into her diaphragm.
Amanda coughs, and I roll her to her side and support her head as a stream of water tumbles from her mouth, and her body shudders, but her eyes remain shut.
She’s unconscious and going into hypothermic shock.
I feel like there is a hand squeezing my throat, and I can’t breathe.
Panic zaps my heart, and it beats into overdrive.
This is where I shine. On an operating table or a gurney.
The faster my patients slip away, the quicker I bring them back.
Adrenaline kicks in, and my mind and body tap into another level of clarity and ability.
One where my mind and hands are steady and in control—but I’m shaking and can barely breathe.
This is Amanda. She’s not my patient. I don’t know what she is, but I can’t lose her.
I will not lose her. I scoop up her lifeless body in my arms and trace our previous steps as her head hangs back and her arms dangle.
“Not you,” I choke out. Amanda—drowning.
“Oh, God!” I scream in desperation as I carry her back up the mountain.
We haven’t seen the wolves in a while. Even though I’m defenseless now, that’s the least of my concerns.
My calves and lungs burn as I slip and stumble with her in my arms. I push through the pain and quicken my pace.
Every second is accounted for as she fights for her life.
Warm tears flow down my face and frost my cheeks with each step.
I stagger through the cave, dragging my barely working legs, and lay her in her makeshift bed.
The fire is out, and I quickly throw more kindling and wood onto it.
My hands are stiff and numb, wet from the lake.
I need to heat her body temperature back up, but if done too quickly, it will kill her.
I’m worried about frostbite for both of us.
I peel off all our wet clothes, including our gloves and boots, and carry her over to the hot spring as the fire builds.
If I dunk her body, she could go into further shock from the sudden heat, but I can submerge our hands and feet while the fire builds.
I step into a shallow area while holding her again in my arms. My teeth chatter violently as the warm water burns my toes in contrast. I squat down and dangle her hands and feet into it.
Her bare skin is flush against my own, but it’s cold and clammy.
The steam from the hot spring engulfs and warms us, but it’s not enough.
The fire builds and the flames twist up towards the ceiling and cast a glow up the walls.
I step out of the water and use a blanket to dry us as I lay her back down on the cushions next to the fire.
I pull both of our sleeping bags and the covers over us and wrap her body tightly against mine.
I drape my shaking arms and legs over her as our bare skin meets for the first time.
I rest her cheek on my chest and wince and shudder.
Her pulse is steady and strong. “Don’t you die on me, not you.
You are a fucking fighter,” I whisper and squeeze my eyes together, tightening my arms and legs around her.
The minutes pass, and her clammy skin begins to warm against mine.
Both our hypothermic bodies start to regulate, and I close my eyes as I drift in and out of consciousness.
I see a wolf, the one I freed from the fallen rock, with a rabbit hanging from its mouth.
He lowers his white snout and lays it in the opening of the cave before vanishing like a ghost. Visions of clouds dancing through the wind fill my head, as well as a blossoming red rose.
It was closed, but as the sun warmed each petal, they opened.
Like it had been in a cold, frozen dream, and its life was restored.
My life, by Amanda. My eyes flutter as I drift in and out of this unconscious state.
I feel the soft satin roses against my stomach and chest, but they’re hot, and it’s not those velvety petals.
It’s Amanda. Her smooth, very much alive skin warms against my own.