Chapter 25 #2
From here, it looks like a simple rustic wooden structure, but to me, it is the best landmark ever constructed by humanity. Better than the Taj Mahal. Better than the Eiffel Tower.
I come to stand next to him. “Do you think we should try to make it down to it?”
Harry licks his lips. He looks behind us at the meager rocky outcrop, then up at the sky.
“I think we have to try,” he says.
“All right,” I agree.
But I’ve only taken two steps down the hill when I stumble and hear the most awful sound in the world.
The tearing of my survival blanket.
Fuck no. Not now.
Without the waterproof layer to keep the driving sleet off me, I’ll be soaked in seconds.
I stare at the jagged tear, my heart sinking as the wind catches the edges. The icy rain seeps through, the chill immediately penetrating my clothes.
Suddenly, Harry is next to me, whipping off his survival blanket and thrusting it at me.
“You need to use my survival blanket. My coat is more waterproof than yours.”
“Harry…” I say.
“Toby,” he replies. “Do you want to stand here arguing, or do you want to reach that cabin?”
I know Harry is stubborn enough to stand there and argue in the sleet just to make a point.
“Fine.”
I take the survival blanket from him, my fingers numb.
He takes the remnants of my blanket in return, wrapping part around his shoulder, the other around his middle, and we both set off down the slope, our steps cautious and measured.
The sleet quickly turns to snow. I normally like snow. It doesn’t snow much in London, but when it does, it transforms the city into something from a fairytale.
This is no fairytale.
By the time we’ve descended the hill, the snow is coming thick and fast, reducing our visibility to only a few feet in front of us.
Fuck. How are we going to find the cabin in this?
We should have stayed at the rocky outcrop. At least there was some shelter there. But when I turn to look back, I can’t even see what direction the rocks are in. The snowstorm obscures everything.
I squint into the swirling white, trying to make out any landmarks, any clues that might guide us to safety.
The snow stings my eyes, the flakes so thick and heavy they seem to swallow the world whole.
I take a tentative step forward, my foot sinking into the rapidly accumulating drift, and panic surges inside me.
How can we possibly find our way in this?
There’s a glint of gray just ahead of me, and I blink at it.
The lake. We’re at the lake. The cabin is on the shore of the lake.
But which way?
I scan the shoreline, trying to make out any sign of the cabin, but the snow has turned the world into a blank, featureless canvas.
Fuck. Surely we can’t have come all this way, survived this long out here, only to die lost in a snowstorm?
I turn to Harry, desperation clawing at my throat, but the words die on my lips as I see him sway, his knees buckling.
Oh, holy hell. If Harry falls over, what the hell do I do? I can’t leave him here. I won’t leave him here.
“I can’t feel my feet,” he says.
His words send a jolt of fear through me.
I grab his arm, trying to keep him upright, but his weight drags me down, and we both stumble, nearly losing our balance on the treacherous ground.
I grit my teeth, my heart pounding, and I summon every ounce of strength I have left, determined to keep us both moving.
He sinks to his knees.
I drop beside him, my own legs shaking with exhaustion and cold.
I wrap my arms around Harry, trying to shield him from the worst of the wind, my teeth chattering so violently I can barely form words.
But I force them out, a desperate, pleading litany as if I can will him back to his feet through the power of my voice alone.
“Come on, Harry, you’re the most stubborn prick I’ve ever met,” I say. “You’re going to be the next prime minister, remember? Think of all those Conservative policies you’ve got to force onto the nation. You can’t give up now.”
Harry doesn’t react to my words.
I grab hold of Harry’s coat, my fingers numb and clumsy as I try to get a grip under his arms. He’s heavy, his body limp and unresponsive, but I grit my teeth and heave, putting every ounce of my remaining strength into the effort.
The snow is getting deep now, the drifts reaching up to my knees, and each step is a battle, a brutal, exhausting slog.
But I don’t stop. I can’t stop. The cabin is out there somewhere, a promise of warmth and safety, and I cling to that thought like a lifeline, using it to keep me moving even when every instinct screams at me to lie down, to rest, to surrender to the cold.
I squint into the swirling whiteness, trying to make out any sign of the cabin, but there’s nothing, just an endless expanse of snow and bitter, biting wind. Panic that I’m going the wrong way grips me, that I’m dragging us both deeper into the wilderness, into a frozen, lonely grave.
Who will find our bodies? A sob chokes in my throat.
But I push the panic away, refusing to let it take hold. In every life-threatening situation we’ve been in so far, Harry has done everything to keep me calm. But he can’t do that right now.
Today, it’s all up to me.
I have to believe that each step is bringing us nearer to salvation. I talk to Harry as I drag him, a constant stream of encouragement, promises, and desperate, pleading words I’m not even sure he can hear.
“We’re almost there, Harry. Just a little further. You have to hold on. You have to fight.”
The wind howls around us, a mournful, desolate sound that seems to echo my despair. My lungs burn with each ragged breath, my muscles screaming in protest, but I keep going, keep putting one foot in front of the other, keep dragging Harry through the bitter, unrelenting cold.
And then, suddenly, miraculously, a dark shape looms up out of the swirling whiteness, a solid, rectangular form that can only be one thing.
The cabin. A sob of relief tears from my throat, and I stumble forward, my legs shaking, my heart pounding.
I half-drag, half-carry Harry up the steps, my fingers fumbling with the doorknob, my eyes blurring with tears.
And then we’re inside, the door slamming shut behind us, the howling of the wind fading to a muffled roar. I lower Harry gently to the floor, my arms aching with the effort.
But I can’t collapse like I desperately want to.
Instead, I force my numb fingers to work, making them frantically remove Harry’s wet coat, then his suit jacket and trousers.
It scares me how pale his skin is, like bleached bone.
“It’s okay. We’re in a shelter now. We’ve got this, Harry.
I’ll get you warmed up soon, I promise.” I find myself babbling.
“I’ll light the fire. It’s easy now without the wind.
And there’s some firewood here. Thank God whoever owns this cabin left a whole pile.
They even chopped some kindling, which will make a nice change from pine needles.
“You’re not going to sleep, Harry. Stay awake, okay? Tell me about the Conservative tax policies. Although, on second thought, that might make you fall asleep even faster.”
I’m trying the tactic he uses on me, baiting him into responding, but his eyes don’t open.
“Harry.” I give the side of his face a small slap.
“I’ve always wanted to do that, but not quite in these circumstances.” I give a choked laugh. “Come on, Harry, wake up.”
He still doesn’t open his eyes, so I lean forward and give him a desperate kiss.
Blue eyes fly open. But his eyes look hazy, out of focus.
“You can’t go to sleep quite yet, okay? You’ve got to stay with me, Harry, all right?” I say.
“All right,” he mumbles.
I race to the fireplace, almost sobbing again when I find matches and a fire starter.
Within seconds, I’ve thrown some kindling into the grate, and I have the fire lit and am back at Harry’s side, frantically stripping off my clothes with bumbling fingers so I can get skin-to-skin with him.
“If you wanted to get naked with me, you just needed to ask. You know that, right?” I’m pressed against his body now, rubbing him frantically, trying to get the circulation back into his limbs.
The small fire is starting to crackle, and there has never been a more beautiful sound.
I leave Harry momentarily to throw more wood on the fire, but then I’m back to him.
I notice the bed is covered with a heavy quilt, so I yank that off, hauling it across the floor to Harry by the fire. I spread it over his slumped-over form, then crawl in next to him.
“It’s like making a hut, isn’t it?” I rub his body vigorously with my hands. “Did you ever make a hut when you were a kid? I’m guessing that’s something you never did at boarding school, right?”
Harry’s shivering violently now, his body wracked with violent tremors that seem to go on forever. I pull him more into a sitting position, wrapping myself around him, as I rub his back, his arms, his chest, trying to infuse him with my own warmth.
“Okay, so this isn’t quite as much fun as I usually have rubbing you, but I’ll take what I can get right now.”
There’s a small sound from Harry’s lips, which I take as a laugh. Without thinking, I find myself leaning forward to deposit a kiss on his shoulder.
“That’s it. We’ll get you warmed up a bit more, and then I’ll work out how to heat up some water, and I’ll make you something hot to warm you from the inside.”
I crane my neck around to survey the cabin. I’m inside a shelter for the first time in two weeks. But I don’t notice anything about the cabin besides what I can use to warm Harry up.
Because nothing matters but Harry.