Chapter 19
The snow clears just before dawn when they begin the journey to the wildlife center. They follow the beacon, still visible even though the wind, as strong gusts fight to push them back.
Nora’s lungs ache with every breath, the air sharp like glass.
Each inhale carves her throat raw, and the exhale fogs out in wisps, even through her thin scarf covering her face.
She focuses on the stubborn light cutting through the storm, the one thread holding her determination together.
Without it, she isn’t sure she’d have the strength to keep moving.
The hope of finding Gwen and Oliver alive and waiting blossoms with every step through the calf-deep powder.
Right now, they are stuck in Schrodinger’s Wildlife Center.
Both alive and not. A part of Nora doesn’t want to find out for sure if it means avoiding the worst outcome.
Maybe blissful denial is the kindest way forward.
Five miles may as well be twenty with the frigid temperatures plummeting in ways they haven’t felt yet.
Last night had been the worst of it, cuddled up in that cell, shivering with no heat.
It had been too damn cold to start generating their own with other more x-rated activities.
She wants to climb Theo like a tree twenty-four-seven, so to feel those desires muted and frosted over was more than a little concerning.
Her thighs burn with the effort of trudging, and the wind stings her cheeks, snowflakes leaving tracks like salty, frozen over tears. Each gust threatens to shove her off course, but Theo’s steady weight beside her as she holds onto his arm is the anchor that keeps her upright.
They couldn’t get out of the Sheriff’s office fast enough once the first rays of sunlight started to break through the blizzard, only now she worries they might be hiking into an even worse situation, if only because their track record when it comes to luck isn’t exactly leaning in their favor these days.
Well, maybe that’s not true, she thinks briefly, leaning into the wind that breaks against her face and chest, one arm curling tighter around Theo’s bicep for balance.
Maybe she’s luckier than she gives the universe credit for.
“You good? You squeezed my arm. Is something wrong?”
He is hyper vigilant as they get closer to the building and the weather intensifies, noticing every small thing she does as if he’s as afraid as she is that they’re about to get kicked in the teeth.
“I was just thinking about how lucky I am,” she says through her scarf.
He chuckles. “Oh yeah. We’re batting a thousand over here.”
“I’m serious. I found you. That’s more than enough luck as far as I’m concerned.”
“Don’t go getting sentimental yet. Save that for when we’re safe and warm and no one’s trying to tear our throats out.
Otherwise, we’re tempting fate.” He’s right.
Speaking these things out loud is dangerous, but his dismissive reply turns soft a moment later, his words hitting all the right spots in her heart.
“But, ditto. For the record. I feel pretty damn lucky, too.”
“Stop,” she groans in a teasing whine. “My teeth hurt from all that sugar. I never took you for someone so sentimental.”
“Alright, alright,” he huffs. “You started it.”
“I dunno what you’re talking about. I’ve never been sentimental a day in my life.” The words are a playful cover for the fear that hums beneath them, as if she admits how much he means to her, he’ll be snatched away.
Poking at each other serves as a decent distraction from the cold, at least at first but soon all their teasing falls quiet as their target comes into view.
“Wait.” He holds up a hand, stopping them both. “Hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“The snow…it’s cracking….run!”
The slope they’re on starts to tremble and give way, sliding down in a mini avalanche that chases them both as he grabs her hand and pulls her off to the side and further toward the structure ahead, narrowly missing the brunt of the impact.
Carefully and with grunting curses, they rip themselves from the lightly compacted powder.
“How did you know it would do that?” she asks.
“Spent a winter in Montana alone with my brother, trying to cross a particularly hostile terrain. Sometimes you can hear the snow shifting right before an avalanche.”
Nora shakes the snow off her arms with a shiver. “Did you get caught in one?”
“No. Almost. It was fine, there were dogs ready to locate us if it happened.”
She bristles, her nose scrunching up like he’s said something insane. “None of that sounds fine to me. Cruel and deranged to put your children in that situation? Yes. Fine? No. I am grateful you knew what an avalanche sounds like, though.”
It’s funny sometimes how even though he is fully aware of how fucked up his childhood actually was, it’s easier to make excuses for it even now, until someone points out the absurdity of the situation.
“It was a long time ago. I’m just glad I remembered.
There are no search dogs on standby for us now.
You still have the code, right? We’re almost there. ”
She nods as a swift gust shoves them backward a few steps.
The only thing keeping them both upright now is each other.
The paper holding the entry code to the wildlife center burns a hole in her pocket as they trudge the last short distance, and she fishes it out.
From the outside, it looks vacant, and her hope begins to plummet.
She tells herself that Gwen could still be inside, unaware that they’re steps away and it doesn’t mean a damn thing that no one is flinging open that door to rush out and greet them.
The relief of seeing her friend again, and smothering her in a hug she’s been waiting for since she got on that plane, is within reach.
Her pulse pounds faster the closer they get.
The complex is larger than she expected.
The first building connects to the others by an interior walkway, yet it offers no door, so they start to walk the perimeter, struggling to find the entrance for far longer than their skin can handle the cold.
By the time they stand in front of a metal door with a lockbox, her hand shakes as she punches in the numbers.
The ocean behind them shoves mountains of ice onto its shore with every wave.
They may as well be at the edge of the world up here, she thinks, as the heat from the interior lures them in.
Their greeting on the other side is swift but smaller than expected. A penguin runs toward them in a chattering flutter of excitement. One of his flippers is missing, but his happiness to see them is clear as he cuddles up to Theo’s boot with the most adorable cooing sounds.
“Hey, buddy.” Theo smiles, unzipping his coat while she does the same. “Who’s looking after you?”
“Gwen? Oliver?” Nora calls out. They need to be careful, but they’re armed, and there’s not a chance she can keep quiet while being so close to salvation.
There is no response. The silence that follows is louder than any storm.
Theo calls out after her, giving the penguin a pat on the back before standing to lead them further into the center.
It’s warm in here compared to outside, and they shed their outer layers one by one in favor of soaking up the heat.
Her stomach drops further with every step that yields no long-awaited reunion.
What they do find are rows of animals eager to see a human face, all lined up in little kennels near the back of the structure.
Seals and penguins, an owl, and one fox.
Nora takes down a chart from a crate holding a plump seal and reads off the report.
“Injured due to a polar bear attack but escaped. There’s a list of medications and a care record.
Some of the crates are empty…someone has to be looking after them.
Gwen wouldn’t just leave them locked up in their cages like this for a slow death.
They’d be better off set loose if she had to leave. At least then they’d have a chance.”
The animals watch them with hopeful eyes.
The fox presses its paws to the bars, yipping softly, and the sound cuts her chest open.
None of this is how it’s supposed to be, and it’s not like they have any other goal awaiting them.
This was it. This place at the top of the earth was their last hope. Now it’s looking more like a tomb.
Theo doesn’t reply, and she knows why. He would only be stating the obvious. Neither of them wants to face that right now. Instead, they wander the rest of the area, locating a generator room and a greenhouse that holds the first bit of good news they’ve found so far, enough produce to sink a ship.
Then she sees it, the piece of paper held to a desk in a bedroom by a small fox statue.
“No…” She breathes, grabbing Theo’s arm with a hard grip.
It’s a long moment before either of them moves forward, as if they can prevent the inevitable by simply ignoring it.
Her lungs stall and her eyes prickle hot.
There wouldn’t be a note unless something awful happened.
All at once, she wants to turn away and pretend she never saw it.
Her heart thunders, begging her to run because denial has always been her oldest friend, but there is nowhere left to run anymore.
“I’ll do it,” he says quietly.
She only nods. Watching him move the fox to the side and carefully pick up the answers to their most burning questions. The paper is folded in half, with the words “For Oliver and Nora” written in large but shaky letters.
As Theo reads, his voice wavers. Gwen’s handwriting looks frantic, ink smeared as though the page had been clutched too tightly and the pen pushed too hard.
* * *