The Will To Live✔️

Chapter 10: Whiteout

It took two hours for Izzy's anger to win out over her physical exhaustion.

She slept for about an hour, then tried to get out of bed, but was still too weakened from the effects of the poison. She didn't go back to sleep, but she drifted in and out, drinking water every now and then. Figuring he could use the opportunity, Greg went out and melted and boiled some more snow, filling up both canteens and all the bottles of water they'd collected so far. He did this more than once, taking the opportunity to drink his fill, and get a fair amount of it for Izzy. Finally, as the second hour had passed, she'd emerged from the bedroom.

"Let's go," she said.

She looked awful. Her skin was still pale, she had deep bags under her bloodshot eyes. He hesitated. "We should wait longer," he said. "You look terrible."

"Thanks," she muttered. "We've wasted enough time. I'm not laying around like a lazy piece of crap any longer. We're going."

"Izzy, you were poisoned, you almost died-"

"We're. Going," she growled.

He stared at her for several seconds. Greg wondered suddenly if this was a side effect of the poison, but slowly surmised that no, this was just a side effect of her personality. She was very stubborn. And, honestly, he got it. He understood what she was feeling. When you based your self-worth on your ability to perform, which a lot of people did, it was hell when you were waylaid by physical illness or injury.

It was roughly a thousand times worse as a Marine.

He glanced out the window. The skies were noticeably darker now, but save for that and a bit of wind, he couldn't see any sign of a storm. Finally, given that he had rested, eaten, drank, and even dozed for a bit while waiting for her, he determined that if they ran into anything, he could handle it. And who knew, maybe he was just being paranoid. Maybe she looked worse than she was. Izzy was a tough and competent individual, after all.

"Fine," he said, standing up and pulling on his pack. He'd made sure to have everything ready to go at a moment's notice. "We'll head out. I want to check out that structure, whatever it is."

"Fine," Izzy replied quietly.

He checked out his pistol and shotgun quickly, then led the way out of the apartment. As they started making their way down the stairwells though, he began to get a bit more worried. Izzy was moving slow. But the determined, pissed off look on her face told him all he needed to know. She was going to keep going, no matter what. Crap. On the one hand, he really did understand, on the other hand...they couldn't afford to take risks right now. Then again, he'd been taking risks ever since waking up last night.

So he pressed on, leading the way with his pistol out.

They reached the front entrance and made their way out into the cold light of day once more. It was definitely grayer, darker, and colder. It hadn't been this cold when he'd come out to melt the snow for their water. Greg hesitated, his instincts warning him of something, though he wasn't entirely sure what. Unfortunately, a survey of the area told him nothing. Even when he moved up to the edge of the switchbacks and looked down, he could see nothing. With a soft sigh, he began heading down, and Izzy followed him silently.

Although he'd never doubted her toughness and the natural grit she seemed to carry around with her, he was impressed. He had the idea that she'd been pretty much near death from that poison. He'd only experienced a bit of it, and it freaking hurt. It was miserable. He could only imagine how gut-wrenching she was feeling, even though it was in remission right now. The pair of them moved silently down the switchbacks, one by one, until they hit the ground once more. He could see the narrow gravel road that led away from them, in between the dead trees and the side of the mountain. This was their path, the way yet gone.