All in silence.
After that, we laid down one tarp as a layer of insulation, then the rug, and then the couch cushions and blankets.
Not a word.
As a final touch, Evander hung the other tarp in the arched entrance, as a way to block some of the wind and cold.
And now the sun is setting.We’re sitting in our snow hole while the storm rages on.Evander’s built a small fire, and I’m trying to convince myself I feel heat coming from it.
We’ve done all we can.The only thing left to do is wait for rescue.I know it’s coming.It has to be.This storm has to end.
Because I really don’t want to die out here.
Our snowbank shelter is about five feet by five feet, and about four feet high.And I’m in here with a pissed-off Evander MacLaine, aware that his standard version can take up every square inch of space in a hospital lobby.
Evander plus Evander’s anger makes this tiny indentation in the snow feel microscopic.
But maybe the flames shooting out of his ears will help heat the air.
I wrap my arms around my bent knees and look up at him.He’s glaring at me.We stare at each other.
It’s a very odd experience.Our eyes are the only exposed parts of our bodies at this point.But we know each other well enough now that we can get the message across.
Our chat’s going something like this:
You didn’t do what I told you to, Phoebe.
And we’re damn lucky that I didn’t, Evan.
But you could have been killed.
I wasn’t, and you need to get over it, because I’m really scared that there’s still plenty of opportunity for us both to die and I don’t want to do that knowing you’re angry with me.
Evander’s sleeve was cut by glass.I see how the sliced nylon of his coveralls melted, then shrank and curled away.This allowed the heat to penetrate whatever was left of the layers of wool, polyester, and cotton to contact his skin.His arm was burned.
He won’t let me look at his injury.He just slapped a gauze bandage over it and kept digging, but even as the darkness moves in, I can see his bandage is soaked with blood.
The burn needs to be cleaned.I worry the gauze will stick to his dermis if he doesn’t let me help him.
We’re both drinking the water Evander melted in the pan.I think I’m a bit dehydrated.But I also know that the more I drink the more I’ll have to pee.
I can’t even wrap my head around how awfulthat’sgoing to be in the darkness.Evander shoveled out a small area near the ATV and built a raised platform with a hole.I’ve already used it once, having no choice but to yank everything down to my boots and then put it all on again while some of my favorite body parts turned into popsicles.
I miss the shack’s cold, dark back room with the curtain and the wash bowl.
And I’m hungry.My eyes go to the pitiful stack of food against the snow wall.Two cans of Beefaroni.One can of green beans.One packet of electrolytes and two protein bars.
I’m about to make an executive decision and grab a can of Beefaroni, when the repeating sound ofpop-pop-pop-pop-pop!cuts through the wail of the wind.
Evander hurls his body toward me, pushes me off the cushion, and pins me flat.He lies on top of me until the sound stops.I think I know what that was.
We didn’t have time to grab everything from inside, and among the items we left behind was Evander’s shotgun and ammo, which I guess has just exploded from the heat.
I feel him breathing hard.But he’s not moving, and I’m squished under the weight of his body.Terror slices through me.
“Are you hurt, Evander?”
“No.”
