Chapter 5
Gina
After two hours of their unplanned stay at the abandoned hotel, Gina started to understand why solitary confinement was considered torture. The storm showed no signs of abating, and the group dynamics were fraying under the stress of forced proximity and uncertainty.
Brooke had claimed a spot near the hallway where she sat huddled under a blanket from Joe’s truck. She’d finally stopped checking her GPS watch and muttering about her ruined training schedule. Now she stared blankly into the distance, barely participating in anything happening around her.
Gina moved to her side. “You need anything?”
“I need this storm to stop so I can get back out there. Start the trail again and finish it this time.”
“Brooke,” Gina said softly, moving closer to her friend. “The race is still five weeks away. Missing one training run isn’t going to make or break your preparation.”
“You don’t understand.” Brooke’s voice carried an edge of desperation that worried Gina. “Last year, I missed three training runs because of the weather. Three. And I DNF’d at Rendevous. If I’m not perfectly prepared this time, if I don’t hit every single benchmark in my plan, I’ll fail again.”
“That’s not how ultrarunning works,” Joe said from his spot just inside the unzipped tent, where he’d been lying with his eyes closed for the past hour. “Weather happens. Life happens. The best runners are the ones who adapt.”
“Easy for you to say. You’ve never DNF’d in front of everyone you know. Besides, what do you know about ultras? What’s your max distance? A half-marathon? We are not the same.” She lifted her chin and looked away.
“Well, la di da. I may have never gone past a half, but I know plenty about running and runners. I’ve watched the interviews on YouTube and— ”
“Oh, puh-leeze.” Brooke waved her hand. “Watching people talk about the pain cave is not the same as actually being in it. You have no idea what it is like to run a hundred miles.”
“Neither do you. You have said yourself, more than once, that you DNF’d. What is your max distance? Forty-eight miles up to Rendevous, or have you ever gone farther?”
“Listen, you . . . you . . . ”
“That’s enough,” Gina interrupted, putting a hand on Brooke’s arm. Brooke pulled it away.
Gina exchanged a concerned glance with Nick, who sat near the camp stove. Brooke’s fixation on her training had always been intense, but this level of rigidity was over the top. At least Brooke had gone quiet, even if it was obvious she was angry.
Kelsey, on the other hand, couldn’t stay still. She made a restless circuit of the room, checking boarded-up windows and pacing with a nervous energy that seemed out of proportion to their situation.
Every few minutes, she paused at one of the windows facing the road and peered through the cracks as if sheer willpower might clear the storm.
“Expecting someone?” Nick asked mildly as she passed by.
“What? No.” Kelsey’s response was defensive. “Just wondering how long this weather will last.”
Gina filed away the odd exchange as she glanced at Joe. His head was near the open door of the tent as he stretched out on Nick’s sleeping bag. His face was still flushed and his breathing uneven after hours of rest.
The altitude was hitting him hard, and the stress of their situation wasn’t helping.
Poking at Brooke wasn’t like him either.
Not that she knew him well, but he’d always been the type to watch what was happening, to observe the dynamics of the others but not insert himself into an argument.
She suspected his ability to detach was what made him a good reporter.
Joe had moved to Irma to work on the local paper, but it folded only a couple of months later. He liked their small Wyoming town enough to stick around and now took various online assignments and earned his living freelancing while he started up his own online newspaper.
She knew he was also working on writing a novel, but he’d laughed and said it was common among journalists. He’d already been working on the same book for five years and doubted he’d ever finish.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, settling near him.
“Like I got hit by a truck,” he admitted. “I thought I was in better shape than this. Back in California, I could run a 10K without breaking a sweat. Here, three miles up a hill, and I’m ready to collapse.”
“Altitude affects everyone differently,” Gina said. “And it was closer to four miles of technical trail, elevation gain, and worsening conditions. Plus, we did the miles back in a blizzard. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
Joe managed a weak smile. “Thanks for defending me earlier, when the others were getting suspicious about who belonged here and who didn’t.”
Gina frowned. “No one said you didn’t belong.”
“They didn’t have to. I could see them thinking it. New guy, struggling with the conditions, maybe I’m not really part of the group.”
“You are part of the group,” Gina said firmly. “You’ve been running with us for a while now. That makes you one of us.”
It was true, and she meant it. But Joe’s comment made her notice how the stress of their situation was twisting everyone’s perceptions. When people felt vulnerable, they started looking for threats and blaming others.
Knowing Brooke, she was probably aiming some of her frustration at Joe. Blaming him for slowing them down and for not finishing before the weather turned would be an easy outlet.
She glanced at Nick as he stood near the camp stove, melting snow. When he noticed their water situation was less than ideal, he’d gone out and scraped snow off the hoods of the cars and the tops of tree stumps.
He set out a tarp to gather more snow while attempting to keep it clean. He knew, as well as she did, it’d take a lot of snow to result in a small amount of water. Probably at least eight cups of snow to get one cup of water. Still, it was better than nothing.
What she most admired about Nick was how everything he did was without fanfare or requests for recognition. He simply did what was needed while being there for her. For all of them.
Despite her reservations about his unsettled lifestyle, Gina was impressed. There was something appealing about someone who solved problems instead of creating them.
Watching Nick systematically address their needs, Gina felt a small crack in the walls she had spent years building.
Maybe there was more to his story than just another guy who couldn’t commit to anything. Maybe his extensive camping gear and useful skills meant he was actually better prepared for life’s uncertainties than people who relied on permanent structures and steady paychecks.
The thought was dangerous and unwelcome.
She’d learned to trust actions over time, not actions in crisis.
Anyone could step up for a day or two when circumstances demanded it.
The real test was whether someone showed up consistently, day after day, when things were ordinary and boring and difficult.
“Thanks for getting us organized,” she said quietly when Nick finished adjusting their camp setup.
“No problem. Better to be comfortable if we’re going to be here awhile.”
He moved to check on the group, offering water and one of the energy bars from his seemingly endless supply. Then he quietly suggested that Brooke move away from the doorway, where the cold was worse. “Come over here. There’s less of a draft.”
Gina was nothing short of surprised by Brooke’s nod, followed by a tired sigh. “Okay. But if something freaky happens, you’d better step in.”
“I’ve got you.” Nick smiled.
Small gestures, but thoughtful ones. The kind of attention to group welfare that spoke of experience managing people in difficult situations.
“You’ve done this before,” Gina observed. “Managed groups in crisis situations.”
Nick shrugged. “Construction crews. Something goes wrong, you learn to keep everyone calm and focused until help arrives or conditions improve.”
The storm continued its assault on the old building, and their small group settled into an uneasy routine of waiting.
Brooke relaxed into the spot Nick created for her and dozed near the makeshift camp. Joe’s color improved as he rested and hydrated. Kelsey’s nervous energy gradually subsided into watchful alertness, though she still went to the windows more often than Gina felt was needed.
She kept stealing glances at Nick, wondering if her careful boundaries around unreliable people were harder to follow than she thought.
Outside, the Wyoming weather raged on, trapping them together for who knew how long. Inside, the dynamics of five very different people slowly shifted and evolved under the pressure of shared vulnerability.
Maybe some good could come from this unplanned adventure after all.
The wind had died down to sporadic gusts, but the temperature continued dropping.
Gina checked on Joe one more time. His color was better, and he was breathing more normally. Kelsey sat near the window, still fidgeting with her phone even though there was no service. Brooke slept while leaning against the wall.
Nick stood and stretched, reaching for his jacket. “I’m going to go out and start the rigs. It’s not super cold, but we don’t want to risk the batteries being affected.”
“I’ll come with you,” Gina said, the words out before she could second-guess them.
Surprise flickered across his face. “You don’t have to. It’s cold out there.”
“I know.” She grabbed her own jacket. “But if one of them doesn’t start, you might need help doing the jump. Besides, I could use the air.”
What she didn’t say was that she wanted some space away from the others. Brooke may have settled down, but her weird energy seemed to permeate the building. And Kelsey was still acting strange.
She wanted a few minutes with someone who wasn’t falling apart or being suspicious. And she wanted to be near Nick without having to justify it to herself.