White Out

Why didn’t I leave Tuesday? What am I going to do? She paced the cabin and watched as the blizzard became a white out. “If I’d heeded the warning, I wouldn’t be stuck now.” She called Liz and said, “I’m not going to make it to Thanksgiving. I can’t see passed the deck.” The signal wavered and then went dead, stopping all communications into Estes Park. Then, the cabin lost power and she was plunged into darkness. Clutched with fear, she made her way to the door. Something jounced her back.

*****

He stopped at the entrance to calculate just how he should attack the steep, snow-covered hill. He gunned the snowmobile’s engine, moved up the lane, and stopped near the deck. He slid off the transport and started up the iced-over steps.

Then he saw her, splayed on her back, unconscious. Blood seeped from a gash at the back of her head. It was turning from crimson to rust and the smell of iodine entered his nostrils.

He eased along the icy deck toward the front door. Inside, he found a blanket and a dishtowel to wrap around her head in an attempt to stem the blood flow. Back on the deck, he wrapped her in the blanket and began to carry her down the steps, attempting to make it to the snowmobile. It wasn’t more than a nudge, but it was enough to send them off the steps and a flow of crimson pooled around his punctured head.