For a single, disorienting moment, he thought he was seeing himself, and he started to dismiss the crackle of surprise.And then the differences registered: darker hair, no beard, different coat.
In the glass, Stephen’s eyes met Jem’s.
They both started to move.
Jem turned.Stephen charged.
Stephen was faster, and he had the advantage—that single second of confusion had cost Jem, and he was off balance, figuratively and literally, as Stephen closed the distance between them.Jem was only halfway through the turn when Stephen crashed into him.Stephen drove his shoulder into Jem, and the impact threw Jem backward.One of the rolling bags caught him at the knee, and Jem’s momentum carried him off his feet into a somersault.He landed hard on his back, and his breath whooshed out of him.His vision snowed.Went black.Snowed in again.
Get up, Jem told himself.
He rolled onto all fours.
Tean shouting.
Cold air snapping at him.
He still couldn’t get his lungs to work, but he got to one knee, grabbed the bed, pushed off.The hallway was made out of Laffy Taffy—stretching out, then squishing back in on itself.He had to keep one hand on the wall.Something relaxed in his chest.He sucked in air.
At the door, Tean was grappling with Stephen.Snow whipped in around them, melting instantly on carpet into drops of water that glistened in the lamplight.
“Hey!”Jem tried.But it came out weak.
With a grunt that sounded frustrated more than anything else, Stephen snapped Tean’s grip on his arm.Tean tried to grab him again, but Stephen was already moving.He grabbed Tean’s collar, yanked the doc sideways, and swept Tean’s feet out from under him.Tean crashed to the floor.
Stephen darted out into the storm.
Jem started to drop down next to Tean, but Tean was already sitting up, straightening his glasses, shouting, “Go!Go!Go!”
The cold helped.
Air in his lungs helped.
Everything sharpened, like Jem was waking up again.
He ran.
As soon as he left the shelter of the chalet, the wind cut at him, slicing bare skin—his nose, his cheeks, his ears.Snow spun through the air, thick and fast.It didn’t feel like fluffy snowflakes.It was gritty, like sand, and it stung worse than the wind.
Stephen was a shadow, already rounding the corner of the chalet and disappearing into the darkness beyond.
Jem went after him.
He left the yellow glow of the emergency lights behind and plunged into the gray of the blizzard.It couldn’t have been later than early afternoon, but the clouds and the whirling snow made the day dim and colorless, impossible to see for more than a few yards in any direction.Jem used the outlines of chalets on either side of him as guideposts, but almost immediately he left them behind.After that, all he could do was chase after the blurred form ahead of him.
Snow crunching underfoot.Spilling into his ROOS.
Snow stinging his face, his cheeks hot, his eyes watering so badly he had to blink constantly to keep them from freezing shut.
This is stupid.
This is how people get themselves killed.
Tean is going to be so mad.
He crushed the thoughts and kept running.
A curtain of snow rippled between him and Stephen.For a moment, everything was white.When the snow shifted, and the air cleared—or at least, got clearer—Stephen was gone.
