Up on my feet.Reach for her.Pick her up by the back of her collar and the seat of her pants.Throw her as far as I can, hoping she hits solid ground.And then I swing around, dive, tuck, and roll.
Just as the entire ice sheet disintegrates.
I don’t have time to feel relief.This girl is going to die if she’s not dead already.I grab her collar and haul her up the bank.
I flip her over.
My heart clenches.
It’s Phoebe.
CHAPTER 15
Evander
No time.No time.
I run to the ATV, Phoebe in my arms.She’s breathing, but her breath is coming shallow and fast.I know exactly what to do and I’ll do it all while driving off-road through a blinding blizzard.
Because that’s what’s required.
I move fast.Every movement precise.No wasted effort.There’s no need to think creatively—this is a time to rely on what I know, what I’ve been trained to do, and how I’ve been trained to do it.
It’s automatic.
Emergency space blanket grabbed from the trunk locker.
Instant heat packet smacked against the handlebar and activated.
I hold Phoebe in my lap.I have just minutes before she’s gone.Minutes to find shelter while I actively do whatever I can to begin to increase her core body temperature, at least a little bit.
Step one: slowly raise body temperature.
Step two: acquire shelter.
Step three: strip off every inch of wet clothes.
In that order.And fast.
She’s limp and her eyes are half closed.Her lips are blue.I turn on the ignition and lean her against the handlebars while I unzip my insulated coveralls, yank them down off my torso, and pull off the three layers I’m wearing underneath—thick wool sweater, cotton hoodie, moisture-wicking, long-sleeve T-shirt.
I shove these items down the front of my pants to keep everything out of the way for a moment.
The snow is coming down in sheets.If I don’t move fast enough, I’ll get too wet for this to work.If I get too wet, my body temperature will drop.And that’s the only thing that will keep Phoebe alive.
It's got to be below zero out here with winds near forty knots.That’s fucking crazy.
I drape the Mylar blanket over both of us, then take off her helmet, goggles, and gloves.I unzip her coverall and rip off everything that's under it—sweater, cotton sweatshirt, cotton T-shirt, silk thermal underwear top, bra.I ball everything up into the helmet and shove it in the attached side saddlebag.I’ll strip off the bottom half once we find shelter.
Her head, neck, and trunk are what matters now.Brain and vital organs.Extremities come later—if she’s still alive.
I use my moisture-wicking base layer to quickly dry her hair, then I wrap the fabric tight around her head.I wrap my T-shirt and wool sweater over her back and shoulders.The heat pack gets shoved down into my waistband.It can’t directly make contact with her skin, but whatever heat it radiates upward between our bodies will help.
And that’s it.
It's all I have to offer her.
My body heat.
