“Son of a bitch!” you scream as your car comes to a stop. You hit your hands on the wheel in anger, though you know it won’t improve your situation. Your car had run out of gas and you knew it wouldn’t be long before you froze to death. To make matters worse, there could’ve been shelter just down the road, but the blizzard makes sure you can’t see more than five feet in front of your windshield.
You were alone. All you had left in the world was this car, your gun, a few snacks, a bottle of water, and the clothes on your back. No one would find you in this weather, not that you’d seen anyone you’d want to find you in the past few months. You definitely didn’t want any saviors catching you.
With a sigh, you crawl into the back seat and curl up, hoping to stay warm enough to make it until morning. If you could wait out the storm, maybe you could find a shelter and a way to survive. Pulling your jacket tight around you, settle in, desperate to stay warm.
***
You wake with a gasp, your breath visible. Light shines through a clear spot in the car’s window, a hand continuing to brush away the snow. You inhale sharply, sitting as still as you can, though your shivering body betrays you, and holding your breath as there’s a knock on the window.
“Hello?” the man asks. You don’t answer. “Are you alright?” he continues, “I can help you.” The thought of letting him in crosses your mind. You were freezing and you knew you couldn’t make it out of this alive, not alone. “My name is Jesus,” he tells you, “What’s yours?”
“What’s your real name?” you ask in return. He may look like he could play Jesus in a movie, but there was no way in Hell that was his real name.
“You got me,” he laughs, “My real name is Paul Rovia. I’m not here to hurt you. Please let me in? It’s pretty cold.”
“How did you find me?” you ask him.
“I was on a run when I came across your car and realized the snow wasn’t as built up on it as it would’ve been if it were sitting in this spot through the whole storm. Plus there are tire tracks in the snow. They’re hard to see, but they’re there,” he explains, “I thought maybe someone was stranded so I decided to investigate. Then I found you. I want to help you, but I can only do that if you let me.”
“Why do you even care?” you ask.
“This is the apocalypse,” he shrugs, “Every life is important.” He wraps his arms around himself and shivers. “Could you please let me in?” he requests, “I’m freezing out here.”
You hesitate, deciding whether or not you can trust this man. It was a miracle the weather hadn’t killed you already, so it was either accept this man’s help or continue to suffer. Reluctantly, you crawl across the seat and unlock the door before pulling the handle and pushing the door open. The snow and cold invades the car, making you shiver.
“Thanks,” Jesus says, “Do you mind?” He points to the seat and you scoot across it to the other side. Jesus smiles at you as he gets into the car, pulling the door shut behind him. “Damn, it’s cold out there,” he continues, “How long have you been stuck?”
“Not sure,” you answer, “Hours I guess.” Jesus nods as he rubs his hands together for warmth. He cups them and blows warm air into his hands, trying to speed up the process.
“You must be freezing,” he says, “Here, put these on.” He pulls off his gloves and hat and holds them out to you. “I don’t bite,” he tells you, “I really am just trying to help.”
“Thanks,” you reply, cautiously reaching out to take the clothing from him. You pull the beanie onto your head before pulling on the gloves.
“Where are your people?” he asks, “Shouldn’t they be out looking for you?”
