Where the Hurricane Meets a Blizzard

Chapter 11

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         “You hanging in there?” Jack asks, twisting his neck so he can sort of see me out of his peripheral vision as he continues trekking on, carrying me piggyback style once again. I nod and then remember that he can’t really see me.

         “I’m okay. Are you sure you don’t want a break?” I question warily, feeling guilty for being the source of his high reduction in energy.

         “I’m okay, don’t worry about me.”

         I rest my chin on his shoulder, the soft texture of his curly dark hair brushing against the side of my face. I study his profile closer and notice a faint hint of stubble that’s beginning to line his jaw, something I haven’t noticed before. It makes me wonder how many days we’ve been missing now. Three? Four?

         Who ever would have thought that I, Opal Finnegan, would last four days in the snow-infiltrated wilderness? The same Opal who previously thought that anything sixty degrees or lower was unbearable.

         I guess when you think about it that way, I’ve come a long way.

         A cough tickles at the back of my throat, causing me to have to turn my head away from Jack long enough to relieve the scratching sensation. My eyes still feel raw from crying so hard after killing that man earlier, and it occurs to me that I have no idea what his name is. I know virtually nothing about him. But he’s still dead.

         And it’s still my fault.

         I’ve had time to calm down now, and I’m much more at peace with the irrefutable fact that no amount of grief can bring that man back to life. Besides, he was going to kill us. It’s not like I did a bad thing.

         But it still feels wrong.

         A bone-chilling breeze flutters right through the fibers in my clothes and I shiver lethargically, tightening my grip around Jack’s neck. He’s still making me go without my coat, though now I’m allotted to wear my sweatshirt, which I guess is an improvement. But I’m still absolutely freezing.

         I close my eyes as he continues bumbling onward to remove the dizzying sensation that seems to enrapture my head with each movement, making my stomach feel queasy. Although I can’t deny that I’m beginning to relish my time with Jack, I want to get back so I can get better. I haven’t felt this sick in a long, long time, and the capricious nature of my intensifying illness is doing nothing to comfort me.

         “Jack? Do you think we’ll find our way back soon, or—”

         My mouth snaps shut when we all of a sudden topple over and collapse on the ground in a tangled heap, taking me completely off guard and making whatever I had previously been thinking about slip my mind.

         “Jack, what just happened?” I ask in shock, staring at him with wide eyes.

         A split second later, he hisses in pain, facing scrunching up into a look of sheer agony. I quickly push myself off of him and move back to survey the sight before me, throwing the backpack to the side. Everything seems normal, until I see it.

         His foot seems to be caught in some intricate-looking metal trap, no doubt meant to catch animals. It’s slightly rusted and I wonder how many years ago someone planted it there, only to be forgotten about.