Chapter Twenty-four
Abby fell asleep before Whit even finished her story.
She’d fought it for a while, wanting to hear more about Whit’s grandmother, but her fatigue had finally taken hold, and she dozed off in Whit’s arms, snoring ever so slightly.
Whit didn’t budge, enjoying the feel of her warm body against her own and the way her thick hair smelled of pine needles.
She could get used to this. Abby in her arms on dark, cold nights, just the two of them.
“Don’t get your hopes up,” she whispered.
She was very much aware that once this trek was over, she’d probably never see Abby again.
They’d both go their separate ways and Abby would return to the Lower Forty-eight, most likely never to venture to Alaska again.
The thought was depressing, one she didn’t want to let fester.
So she eased Abby off her and pushed out the door.
Dawn had broken and the sky was a deep pewter, the snow having stopped.
There was a bit more than a dusting, with about an inch on the ground.
And the temperature felt like it was just below freezing.
She bounced on her toes for a few seconds to try to get her blood flowing before trying to restart the fire.
She wanted it to be nice and hot for Abby when she woke, which needed to be sometime soon if they wanted to get a move on.
She knelt at the fire pit and agitated the coals before tossing on more wood.
Then she went to where she’d hung the pot of food the night before.
The fresh snow was crunchy under her boots and she walked about halfway before she spotted someone else’s tracks.
It looked as though they’d come to check on the campsite, halting about halfway and then turning to head back the way they’d come.
She wished she could follow the footprints and see where they led, but she knew she couldn’t leave Abby.
And she didn’t really know what she’d do when she came upon Boyd anyway.
Other than give him a piece of her mind.
The real question was, what would he do if she surprised him? Kill her?
It was best if she didn’t find out. Because some questions were best unanswered.
“Good morning.”
Whit turned. Abby stood close to the fire, stretching. Her fiery hair was mussed and she looked like death warmed over, but Whit still thought she was damned beautiful.
If only I could wake up to her every morning.
She shook the thought away, displeased. Where were all these thoughts of wanting to get with Abby coming from?
True, she hadn’t been with a woman in some time, but these desires were about more than just sex.
These were real yearnings, deep desires.
She wanted Abby, yes. But more than that she really wanted her.
To be with her. For an extended period of time. Maybe even forever.
Whoa.
What the fuck?
She trudged back to the fire, more than just displeased with herself. Now she was downright unsettled.
“You okay?” Abby asked, retrieving the water bottle from the shelter to take a few sips. She passed it to Whit, who waved it away. “You look upset.”
“I’m fine.” She stabbed a log until it broke into pieces.
“Bullshit. Something’s wrong. Is it Boyd? Did he come back?”
“He did. But he didn’t come close. His tracks end back a ways.”
“What does he want?” Abby asked, looking disturbed. “Hasn’t he done enough? Jesus.”
Whit kept poking at the fire. “Just be glad he chose to leave us alone.”
“Yeah, after he chose to take our food and our pot. He really screwed us this time.”
“But we’re alive. And we have water.”
Abby was about to take another sip, but then thought better of it. “Yeah, lucky us,” she said.
Whit threw the stick she’d been using into the flames. “You ready to get going?”
“Can I pee first?”
Abby disappeared behind some brush and Whit quickly did the same.
When they finished, they stood around the fire for a few more minutes before extinguishing it.
Abby didn’t ask her any more questions and Whit was thankful.
She wasn’t sure how she’d respond to her if she did.
What would she say? I’m pissed because I’m fantasizing about spending forever with you?
That was sure to go over real well.
“Ready?” Whit said as she stomped out the last of the flames.
Abby followed her quietly and they set off through the white coated forest. As the morning progressed, the snow began to melt, and icy rain began to fall. Whit paused beneath the protection of a tree. They were already soaked to the skin.
“We should stop,” she said. They should’ve reached the other X by now, whatever it was, but as far as she could tell, they must’ve missed it.
“We haven’t gone far enough yet,” Abby said. But she’d been limping already, and badly. Not to mention shivering.
“Abby, we’ll freeze.”
“What do you propose we do?”
“We stop here and shelter up. Wait out the rain.”
“I think we should go on. Then stop and shelter up. What’s the difference if we do it now or later?”
“Hypothermia,” Whit said. She was already worried about Abby. Her jacket wasn’t as good as Whit’s, which was made specifically for inclement weather. Nor was it as warm.
Abby sighed. “Shit, I hate it when you’re right.
” She set down the water bottle and pulled the hood up on her jacket.
“I have to pee again.” She walked off into the brush and Whit slid out of her jacket to give to Abby.
Then she started looking around for dry timber to make a fire with.
She was exhausted, and freezing, but she had to get them warm and into adequate shelter.
It was hard telling how bad or how long this storm was going to be.
Abby returned with a fury, nearly bumping into Whit. She was gasping with excitement. “Whit, you were right! There’s a cabin!”
“Where?”
Abby dragged her into the brush and they walked until they came upon a clearing. Abby pointed to the tree-covered hills beyond. “See it?”
It was an A-frame cabin, nestled atop the nearest hill. Whit exhaled and nearly collapsed with relief.
“Can you make it?” she asked Abby.
“Damn right I can. I’ll drag myself up that hill if I have to.”
Whit grabbed her jacket, insisted on Abby wearing it, and they headed off toward the hilltop cabin.
Whit led the way and Abby kept up well at first, but by the time they reached higher ground, she was breathless and really struggling with her knee.
She was better protected from the sleet, which was slamming down on them at an angle, smacking them in the face.
Whit though, was completely soaked, her sweater now weighted and cold, hanging from her body.
She was shivering along with Abby, and fatigue and delirium were settling in.
“Hold on to me,” Whit said, hooking her arm into Abby’s. Though really it was Whit who needed the support. Her body was beginning to fail her. They needed to reach the cabin and soon.
They began to ascend, and Abby cried out in pain.
“Come on, Ab-by, you can—do it,” Whit stammered.
“Whit, I can’t. It’s too much. The angle of the hill is killing me.”
“P-put all your weight on me. All your weight, Ab-by. Come on, now. Use me as lev-e-rage.” She shook her head, as if that would help with the stuttering. Her limbs were stiff and they ached from the cold. And she was using all her strength to virtually carry Abby up the hillside.
“I’m too heavy,” Abby said. “You’ll never be able to help me. Just leave me here.”
“Not a chance.”
“I’m serious, Whit. Just leave me.”
Whit pivoted and held her face. Her skin was glacial and slick with rain, her lips pale and quivering.
“I’m n-not leaving you. Got it?”
Abby blinked up at her and nodded.
“Let’s go.” Whit pulled her closer and she felt Abby shift her weight.
They took one slow step at a time, climbing the hill, grabbing onto branches and bushes as they went.
Whit’s breathing felt slow and shallow, as she tried her best to propel them upward.
Abby’s weight was crushing and she realized that while she might have been able to easily help her on level ground, trying to go uphill was a far greater challenge.
She wasn’t sure if they were going to make it.
She paused, struggling for breath. She coughed up rain, a sizable amount having streamed into her mouth.
“Whit,” Abby said. “You’re too cold and I’m too heavy.”
“Don’t,” Whit said. “Just stop it.” She tried to walk again, but she slipped on the slick ground.
“Whit!” Abby clenched her by the sweater and helped her to her feet.
Whit struggled to remain upright, the urge to collapse overwhelming. “Come—on. We—have to keep going.”
“No, we’re done for. We should go back down.”
“Just—a f—few more yards.” Whit linked their arms again and started walking the incline. Abby followed suit, but the trek was trying and treacherous, with heavy brush. Whit searched for the trail. They’d just been on it, where did it go? Why were they clawing through all this brush?
“The trail,” she said. “Where is it?”
“There is no trail,” Abby said.
“But there is. We were—just on it.” She couldn’t locate it, regardless of how hard she scanned the area against the slanting sleet.
“Whit, there’s no trail.”
They forced onward and Whit fell again, losing her footing. She slid back a few feet, leaving Abby to clamor after her.
“We’re going back down,” she said when she had her by the sweater.
“No, we have to find the trail. It leads to—there! There he is. Dad!”
Abby stared at her, mouth agape, obviously opposed to them making their way to her father. He was standing right there, just in front of the cabin. They couldn’t turn back now. No fucking way.
Whit regained her traction and continued on. She heard Abby follow, but she stayed behind her. “Whit, we’re going to die.”
“My dad will—save us,” Whit said. “Just you wait and—see. He’s just up there. Just a ways away.” She pushed on, but her eyelids were growing heavy and everything was getting fuzzy. Like the torn edges of a page.
If she could reach her father, he’d be so proud. They’d celebrate and get warm and he’d share tales of expeditions over warm sips of whiskey. If only—
“Oh, thank God,” Abby said as they crested the hill. She rested her hands on her knees and tried to catch her breath. Whit lunged forward, trying to run toward her father who stood waving at them.
“Come on,” she said. She reached the stairway to the cabin, but he vanished.
Somehow, she knew he was inside. She climbed the steps and shoved open the door.
It was dry inside but not considerably warmer.
That didn’t matter though. All that mattered was her father.
And there he was, standing by the stove, waiting.
She turned and smiled as Abby entered behind her.
Then, as she turned back to face her father, to tell him how much she’d missed him, the world suddenly faded to black.