Walking through foot-deep snow while carrying another person isn’t the easiest thing I’ve ever done, but I move faster than I probably should. We don’t have long to get her warm.
“Where are you going to put her?” Creed asks. “In your bed?”
Sure, why not. Life got weird already. Let’s make it weirder. “Yes. Remove all the pillows and blankets.”
“I remember.”
“Good. What’s next?”
“We take her clothes off to make sure nothing is wet. Then we put warm, but not hot, towels or blankets on the center of her body. I could put some towels in the dryer.”
“Perfect. Let’s get to it.”
“Dad, is she going to die?”
“Not if we can help it.” I pull the blankets off carefully. Nothing can be done quickly. I need to avoid damaging her skin. Three layers of clothes were a good idea, after it was cold. She put them all on while it was hot. Now they’re damp from sweat and actually making all of this worse.
If she lives through this, I’m going to teach her how to stay alive when it’s cold.
“The towels are in the dryer. I’ll grab the first one in just a minute or two. I got a thermometer.” Creed holds it out.
“Go ahead and take her temperature. While you do that, what are the next steps?”
“We keep her extremities uncovered. The heat from the house is enough to warm them at this point, because we don’t want cold blood from her fingers or toes rushing back to her heart and making her even colder. We focus on her core. The key to her survival is to go slow. Her temperature is ninety-one degrees. That’s not as dangerous, right?”
“No. She isn’t critical, but with the baby…”
“Should we call Leech?”
“Phones are out. He might die trying to get here. The conditions aren’t safe to travel. As soon as it’s safe, we’ll get him here or her there.”
“Should she be awake? She isn’t that cold.”
“Greer went to sleep before she got cold, which also makes you sleepy. Her body just needs to get warm enough to wake her up.” I hope. I’m not a doctor…
***
“Dad!”
My eyes pop open. We’ve been swapping out her towels every five to ten minutes all night.
“Greer’s waking up. Her eyes are open.”
She’s alive. I kneel by the side of the bed. “How are you feeling? Can you talk?”
“Cold.” She starts shivering.
“Is that bad, Dad?”
No. “It’s very good. Her body is trying to regulate her temperature.” The fact that she can speak probably rules out brain damage. That still leaves a few organs that could have suffered damage, but she didn’t get that cool, so it’s unlikely.
“Cold,” her teeth click together as she speaks.
“Do you think you’re up to drinking some hot tea?”
A smile lights up her face. “Yes.”
I grab the thermal cup from next to the bed and help her into a sitting position. “Sip it slowly. It’s hot.”
