In an Instant(16)
My mom and Uncle Bob and Kyle work valiantly to close off the camper from the storm—an arctic tantrum so violent it makes me think of stories I’ve read of ocean squalls that swallow great ships whole. The force of it makes me cry out for Chloe as I think of her stuck in its fury, and suddenly I am beside her, my breath catching as I realize the trouble she’s in.
Vance and Chloe made a mistake, a terrible mistake. Already they are so lost it is impossible for them to know which way to continue. The darkness is absolute, the wind and cold pounding them as they blunder blindly on, stumbling across the uneven tundra, sinking in spots up to their knees, then tripping and sliding on slicks of granite and ice. Vance tries to divine up from down, but it is impossible, as up becomes down quickly or becomes too steep and impassible.
Logic should tell them to stop, to find shelter behind a tree and wait out the night, but desperation and cold have frozen all reason from Vance’s thoughts, and so he forges forward, checking on Chloe often, helping her when she stumbles and assuring her they will be okay.
She is not doing well. Her cut no longer bleeds, but there is something wrong. Her balance is off, and she wobbles as she walks like she is drunk. “Go on,” she says at one point when her foot sticks in a drift and Vance returns to help her.
There’s a beat of hesitation that chills me to my core before he says, “No, I’m not leaving you.”
She whimpers and nods, and they continue on, trudging forward, Chloe staggering behind and trying to keep up as Vance stubbornly and bravely blazes a trail, still believing he will be a hero and somehow save them all.
10
My mom, Uncle Bob, and Kyle are shaking badly when they climb back into the camper through the door that is now on the ceiling. Kyle lowers himself through first, moving with the grace of an athlete. My mom climbs in next, wincing when Kyle grabs her waist to help her down. Together they help Uncle Bob, who awkwardly lowers himself, then stumbles when they set him on his feet, his left ankle giving out and sending him to the ground.
Aunt Karen jumps up, helps him stand, then guides him to the back to sit between her and Natalie. She rubs his hands between hers and wraps her scarf over his red ears.
My mom collapses beside my dad, her body quivering so violently she looks like she’s having a seizure.
Kyle finds a spot in the corner, pulls his knees to his chest, and trembles alone.
It’s eight o’clock.
“People will come looking for us,” Aunt Karen says after a few minutes have passed and true misery has set in.
All eyes turn with hope to Kyle and Mo, the disenfranchised orphans of the group with families at home to worry about them.
Kyle shakes his head. “My roommates will assume I went to my girlfriend’s. My girlfriend will think I went home.”
Mo’s bottom lip trembles as she confesses, “I made my mom swear not to call, and I told her I wasn’t going to call her. We got into a huge fight about it.”
The hope deflates. No one will be looking for them: not tonight, not tomorrow. They won’t be discovered missing for at least two days. My mom squeezes her eyes shut, and I know she is thinking of Chloe. I watch her jaw lock as she grits her teeth to hold it together. Mo doesn’t bother to hide her emotions, tears leaking as she buries her face against her knees.
The minutes tick by slow as hours, the cold and wind rattling through the camper. In the beginning, each deals with it differently. Natalie complains and cries against Aunt Karen, who shushes her and tells her to hang in there. Uncle Bob fidgets and moves constantly in an attempt to keep warm. My mom and Mo form a sandwich against my dad, one on each side of him, silent tears escaping as they think of me and worry about my dad and Chloe and Vance. My dad mercifully remains unconscious, his wheezing breath and occasional groans confirming he is still with them. Kyle burrows deep into his parka and, though shivering, seems to be doing better than the others, with the exception of Oz, who sleeps with Bingo on his lap, seemingly immune to the cold and the drama around him.
I watch from above, feeling their suffering and desperate to help but unable.
For the first few hours this is how we remain, until, near midnight, the world gets impossibly colder, and the differences of how each suffers diminish until they all endure it in a uniform state of survival. No one fidgets or complains or cries anymore. All have their eyes closed, their chins tucked, their bodies balled tight as they pray for morning and for the endurance to bear the misery until then.
When I can’t watch their suffering a moment longer, I return to Chloe, offering a prayer of my own that some sort of divine guidance has intervened and miraculously led her and Vance to salvation and that help for the others will be arriving soon.
11
God is cruel, or God is not listening.
Chloe and Vance continue to trudge through the freezing, vast darkness, which is completely indistinguishable from the freezing, vast darkness they’ve traveled through for the past six hours. The distance between them has grown wide, Chloe losing ground with each step and Vance looking back less often.
I stay with Chloe as she staggers forward, her strength nearly gone and her body wavering dangerously. We step into a drift, and she stumbles, falls to her knees, doesn’t get up.
Get up, Chloe.
Her hands are in her pockets and her face dropped so her chin is bent to her chest. Vance looks back, sees her, takes a step, sinks to his calf. With enormous effort he pulls his foot free and steps back to solid ground. For a long moment he stands there, looking at her through the veil of snow, and I feel the conflict within him, his hesitation and his fear. A hundred feet separate them: a virtual ocean for the amount of effort it would take to cross.