Chapter 18 #2
“I sent her a text too,” Storee says. They must have me on speakerphone as well. “But it’s not saying delivered. Does yours say delivered?”
I glance down at the text and then answer, “No.”
“Let me try calling her,” Storee says.
I reach for another log and then poke the fire with the fire poker to get the log deeper into the embers.
“The phone went directly to voicemail. I think her phone is off,” Storee says.
“Do you think she’s with Dwight?” I ask.
“I have no idea. Things kind of blew up after the coffee shop,” Storee answers. “I tried talking to her, but she didn’t reply. She could be with Dwight.”
I tug on my hair and look out the window at the blizzard-like conditions. “What if . . . what if she turned her phone off to save power? Do you think she’s in her cottage all alone?” My stomach churns at the thought of it.
“I don’t know,” Storee says.
“If she is, does she have heat?” Cole asks.
“I have no fucking clue,” I answer. “Fuck, do you think I should go over there and check on her?”
“Have you looked outside?” Cole says. “It’s nasty, man. And now that it’s dark, it will only get harder to get to her.”
“But what if she doesn’t have heat? It’s going to be really fucking cold tonight, man. If she doesn’t have heat, she could freeze.”
“If you think you can make the trek, I think you should check on her,” Storee says. “But if you can’t make it, if it seems too hard, then just turn around. Maybe send some crews out there to check on her.”
I let out a sigh. “Yeah, let me, uh, let me bundle up and at least try.”
“Okay, let us know how it goes.”
I say my goodbyes and then hang up.
Christ.
The last thing I want to do is go outside with the wind whipping around like it is, but I also can’t sit here and wonder if Betty is in her cottage without any heat. I know it won’t settle well with me. So I suit up, slip my boots and my reindeer hat on, and grab a flashlight.
This is going to fucking suck.
I open the back door to the house, and I’m immediately whipped in the face with snow.
Fuck.
Me.
Tilting my head down and pulling my hood up and over my head, I turn on my flashlight and head out, immediately regretting my decision when my leg sinks into at least half a foot of snow already.
This is going to be hell.
I trudge through the snow, getting smacked in the face with cold, frozen flakes, the wind a constant irritant and villain during the trek.
Limbs of trees are weighed down by the fresh snow, clearing a better path for me as I make my way through the woods, trying to create the most direct route possible.
It’s moments like these that I’m glad I know my land so well, as each familiar-shaped tree is keeping me heading in the right direction. Snowstorms can be so dangerous, because it’s easy to fall and lose your sense of direction.
“Fuck, I have to be close. I’ve been going for about five minutes, so—” There. Her car. And behind that? Her cabin . . . without any lights.
Fuck.
I hurry as quickly as I can, and when I reach her porch, I shake off the snow before knocking on the door.
“Betty. You in there?”
I don’t hear anything, so I knock again.
“Betty.”
Nothing.
In case she possibly left the door open, I twist the handle, and to my surprise, it is unlocked, so I push the door open and flash the light inside, only to find a lump on the couch, covered in blankets.
I rush over to her and squat down.
“Betty . . . hey, you in there? It’s Atlas.”
I pull down the blanket to see her scared face look up at me, her teeth chattering.
“Fuck,” I whisper.
I need to get her out of here.
Betty
I can’t feel my body.
My toes are numb.
My hands are numb.
I know my heart rate is low as I try to still my body, but it’s useless.
I need to call for help. I need to . . .
Bang, bang.
My heart startles from the knocking on my door.
“Betty. You in there?”
Atlas?
Bang, bang.
“Betty.”
After a few seconds, the door opens, and a rush of cold air flows into the house, eliminating any heat that I might have had left.
Heavy footsteps approach, followed by a body nearing me.
“Betty . . . hey, you in there? It’s Atlas.”
Blankets are pulled away from my face, and his eyes come into view.
“Fuck,” he whispers, taking me in. “We have to get you out of here.”
“C-can’t m-move,” I say, my teeth chattering so much that I can barely get the words out.
“I got you. Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”
He removes the blankets, but I protest. “C-cold.”
“I know,” he says softly. “You have winter gear on, good.”
Yeah, I put it on when I realized the blankets weren’t doing the job.
“I need you to climb on my back, okay?”
“W-what?” I ask.
“Betty, climb on my back.”
“I . . . I can’t.”
He turns to look at me and then sighs. “Okay.” He then wraps me up in a blanket and picks me up himself, holding me like a baby.
“Come on.”
“M-my B-B-Buzz.”
“Huh?” he asks.
“B-blankets. P-put blankets.” I gesture to Buzz’s tank, and he glances over at it. He sets me down for a moment, lifts up the blankets, and then nods.
“Okay.” He puts more blankets on the terrarium and then scoops me up again. “It’s going to be rough, okay? Put your hood up, and bury your face in my chest. I’ll be as quick as I can.”
Max
I clutch Betty close to my chest as I follow my tracks back to the house, my flashlight barely dangling from my hand, lighting the way.
The only thing propelling me forward through the snow and my aching back is pure adrenaline, because the moment I saw her under those blankets, I went into protection mode. Why didn’t she call someone? Why didn’t she ask for help? Was she just going to stay there and freeze to fucking death?
Jesus Christ.
And why isn’t fucking Dwight checking up on her?
Why didn’t he give her a backup power option?
Because he’s a dick, that’s why.
I make it back onto my property and thankfully use the light on the back porch to guide me. I move up the stairs, open the door, and then bring her inside the den, where I gently set her down, only for her to crumple to the floor.
“Fuck.” I quickly shed my jacket and boots and then do the same for her, pulling her out of the snow-covered clothes.
She’s practically lifeless as I carry her into the living room, where the fire is still going.
Her body is freezing. Her legs, her arms, even though she’s wearing long sleeves, are freezing.
I set her down on the couch and then bring one of the wingback chairs close to the fireplace.
I pick her up and put her in the chair and then start covering her with blankets.
Then I squat in front of her and run my finger over her cheek.
“Betty, you okay?”
Her eyes lightly open, and it takes her a second, but she nods.
“Okay.” I put another log on the fire to increase the heat and then say, “I’ll be back. Don’t move, understood?”
She just nods and closes her eyes. I wait a moment and watch her breathe, making sure she’s okay, and when I think that she’ll be fine, I go to the back of the house again, suit up, and then trek back out to her place.
Betty
The heat of the fire blazes in front of me, but I feel completely lifeless under the blankets.
My head is fuzzy, and I’m not quite sure how I really got from my house to here other than Atlas. But the in-between, the trek he made, not quite sure how that went.
All I can remember is him breathing hard, muttering curse words, and then reassuring me that we were almost where we needed to be.
And now I’m sitting in front of a fire, covered in blankets that smell like him, wondering where the hell he is.
After what feels like an hour, I hear the back door shut and then a muttered, “Fuck me.”
Where was he?
Zippers are undone, boots are clunked to the floor, and then I hear him approach, only to see him come up beside me and squat down again.
His nose and cheeks are bright red, his eyelashes and eyebrows have droplets of moisture clinging to them, and his hair is wet and curled in the cutest way.
“How are you?”
“O-okay,” I say, still shaking.
“I’ll make you some tea.” He stands again and then moves off toward the kitchen, where I hear him move around, opening cabinets and shutting them.
Why . . . why is he doing this?
Why is he being so kind? I shift in my seat, not wanting to ruin my cocoon, but I want to be more comfortable, and that’s when I see Buzz’s terrarium on the hearth.
Wait . . . did he . . . did he go back for Buzz?
I mean, of course he did. I don’t remember much from my cottage to his house, but I can tell you right now, he didn’t carry that terrarium and me together.
But why?
After everything that happened this morning . . . why?