Hypothermia & Lethargy

Chapter 2: The Makeshift Hospital

hos•pi•tal•i•ty
noun
the friendly and generous reception and entertainment of guests, visitors, or strangers.

Peridot was freaking out. Sort of.

The moment she kicked the cabin door shut behind her, she felt all the fizzy energy in her body dissipate. Something must have been harvesting Peridot's life force.

She fought to keep her knees from buckling underneath her. She had resorted to trembling, and every step felt like a thousand miles. Peridot was sure that what she was doing was good. So why did it feel like she had just made a major mistake?

Peridot shook her head when she came close to crying. Closer and closer, she inched toward the couch opposite her TV. She would not destroy her pride by crying over trying to carry a stranger. Why was she doing this again? Peridot blames the antennae.

When she finally arrived at the foot of her couch, Peridot practically tossed the figure onto the couch; along with herself in the process.

She couldn't help but let out an exasperated sigh of relief, to the expense of the part of her mind that thought she was invincible. Peridot could melt into this couch right now.

Then, the gears clicked in her head. Peridot's eyes widened a little. 'Oh. I just did that.' A dumb smile blossomed across her face.

She was a little too preoccupied with the snowstorm and thoughts about the latest episode of Camp Pining Hearts to fully grasp the consequences of her actions. It was like realizing a piece of foreshadowing earlier in a film, or remembering a crucial step of math during a test. Peridot felt woozy and lightheaded, but she still managed a small 'woo' to the ceiling.

When she came down from her exhaustion, Peridot took a glance at the figure to her left. They had, annoyingly, passed out, but they weren't dead. Normally, Peridot would be rooting for this outcome, but she was instead left with the bitter discomfort of having to wonder: 'Who is this person? Why were they lying face down in the snow, next to my house, during a snowstorm? What kind of buffoon would do such a thing? Why are they so tan? Why are they wearing a-'

Peridot felt the puzzle pieces scatter around in her brain, before coming together to form a complete picture. When it came, Peridot had to remove her goggles and pinch herself to make sure if she was dreaming. She yelped in pain, then rubbed the delicate skin on her arm. Nope, not a dream. Peridot turned her head again, and there, the picture was complete.

It was a she, and they were way too tan to be local. They had hazelnut hair that was coated in icy droplets of snow, and Peridot could make out bluish highlights at the bottom of their hair. They had no gloves and a pair of dress shoes. The only thing keeping this person from turning into a complete popsicle was the gargantuan jacket that shielded their body from neck to ankles, and an oxygen mask.

The oxygen mask & the gigantic jacket completed the puzzle in Peridot's mind. When the pieces fell into place, she felt her mind go numb.

This is a pilot.

Or, mused Peridot, a survivor of a crash that gathered what they could and ventured out to try and find civilization. That would explain the lack of proper headgear and the completely mismatched dress code. She cursed this stranger for being knocked out, because Peridot had too many questions on her mind.

"How did you get here?" Peridot murmured, more to herself than the knocked out visitor lying on the side of the couch. "Was it a plane crash? I probably would've heard about it if it was a big one. Then again, no cable," Peridot pulled her phone out of her pocket, spiteful of the symbol on the top-left. "..and no signal."

Peridot heaved a big sigh, before slumping back into the couch. She averted her gaze from the ceiling to the stranger lying next to her.

Peridot slipped off her gloves and, with meticulous delicacy, touched the side of their face with her hand. Peridot recoiled when it nearly froze her finger to the touch.

She needed to get this person warm. Now.

Peridot jolted up from the couch, instantly got a headache, and then immediately decided she should do a little less jolting. Rubbing her head, she marched over to her fireplace and inspected her stock of wood. Three logs sat to the left of the fizzed-out fireplace.

Using the amazing tool of Peridots mind called 'guesstimation', she'd deducted a verdict: All three of these logs combined would burn to an upwards of nine hours. It was barely enough for a full nights sleep, but Peridot shrugged in mere mild exasperation. It would have to do.

~

It took near seven minutes to get that fire burning. Peridot was not exactly on the patient side of things, either. She almost tossed the lighter into the fireplace and called it quits more times than she'd care to admit. What can she say? She blames it on being tired.

When an entire log was finally enveloped in flame, Peridot threw a small parade in her victory. The long part was over, now it's time for the hard part.

Peridot laid a towel out in front of the fireplace, accompanied by one of her pillows she didn't need to sleep with. She pondered sacrificing her bed blanket, but she pushed away the thought almost immediately. Peridot needed good sleep tonight. This chain of events would certainly be alarming in the morning.

"Okay, you absolute gargantuan," Peridot spoke to the dead-asleep figure on her coach. "I'm going to be moving you now. Don't get any funny ideas." She made her way to the front of the couch.

Truth is, Peridot is pretty short. She was annoyingly only two inches from being five-foot-zero, and is usually towered over by the locals in her city. This stranger had to be at least a foot taller than her, which, to Peridot, is gigantic. And inconvenient.

Peridot resorted to half-dragging them, half-carrying them. She lifted them up from behind, hooking her hands underneath their arms. It turned out to be much easier than she expected, the dragging only made it all the more simpler. Peridot stole a few glances to see if they woke up from the movement; nothing. She pulled them across her floorboards, then rolled them onto the makeshift blanket and pillow that Peridot had set up.

With the flame of the fireplace, the strangers' features were illuminated in a much brighter contrast; exposing the intricate linings of their facial features. It would be a serene scene, had the context of the scenario not been this dire.

Peridot also took advantage of the moment by warming up next to the fireplace. Her head was woozy, and she felt weightless. Peridot laid onto her back, stared at the ceiling, and tried to comprehend everything that unfolded within the past two hours. Despite the fact that she felt her body fall into the crevices of sleep, Peridot did nothing to stop it. She drifted off into the limelight, before letting the darkness of unconsciousness consume her.