Supernatural Fresh Meat

FORTY-ONE




Dean and Grace slowly worked their way toward the ski resort through the driving snow. At least, Dean hoped that’s where they were going. He estimated they’d walked four of the six miles and made about half of the one thousand foot elevation gain.

He could certainly feel the five hundred feet they’d climbed. While that was nothing to him on a regular hike, slogging in the snow took a lot more energy.

They reached a large meadow, and Grace stopped, checking her map. She pointed out a meadow that ran alongside a slope. “This is Seven Boulder Meadow. Once we cross this, it’ll be up a rockslide on the far side, and then we’ll be within range of the resort.”

Dean looked up from her map. The visibility was so poor, he couldn’t even see the edge of the meadow. It just looked like a flat expanse of deep snow ending in a sky of white.

She followed his gaze. “If it were clear and sunny, we’d be able to see the ski runs of the resort by now.” She stared out over the field. “We’re close.”

On the map, she pointed out the resort in relation to the meadow, and she was right. They were close.

She started across the flat expanse of snow. The wind created a hypnotic effect on the ground, like snow snakes winding in and out of each other.

Dean followed in Grace’s trail, keeping an eye on their six. But he hadn’t seen their pursuer since he shot him.

Grace reached the center of the expanse. Dean didn’t like being so out in the open, but he did appreciate finally moving on a level surface, and felt some of his energy returning. He hadn’t eaten anything but a few strips ofjerky in over twenty-four hours.

He slowed, getting his water bottle out of his pack and taking a long drink. The cold dry air sucked the moisture right out of him, making him constantly thirsty. As he paused to put the bottle back, he heard a loud cracking noise.

At first, he glanced upward, afraid it was another avalanche. Then Grace cried out. He turned just in time to see her apparently fall into the snow. There was another tremendous cracking sound, and suddenly the ground around her tipped upward. Water sprayed up and she disappeared.

“Grace!” Dean yelled, hurrying in her direction.

Then he saw their terrible mistake. They weren’t on a meadow, but on a frozen lake. He dropped to his stomach and crawled forward to the hole where she’d gone in. He didn’t see her at all, just a dark hole in the ice, sloshing with turbulent water.

He felt something thump under him, and realized she’d been sucked under the ice sheet. She was pounding on the ice beneath him, trying to find her way out.

Dean knew the icy water would almost instantly paralyze her lungs and body. He had seconds to get her out. He pulled his glove off, slid to the edge of the hole, and thrust his hand into the water.

He waved it around, thrashing it so she’d see the movement. Too many seconds passed. Suddenly, something brushed his fingers. It was her pack. Dean grabbed it, heaving upward with all his strength. For a second the pack caught on the edge of the ice, and he worried she’d slip out of it. Then he saw her head emerge, sagging forward. He pulled hard, slithering backward on the ice. His snowshoes dug in and he managed to pull her partially out, then grab her shoulders and tug her all the way out of the water. She collapsed on the ice next to him, shuddering. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and Dean knew he had to get her warm and dry as quickly as possible.

Continuing to lie on the ice, he elbowed his way to the edge of the hidden lake, dragging Grace along with him.

When they entered the trees again, he stood up and threw her over his shoulder. After carrying her a few feet to safety, he set her down against a tree and shucked off her wet pack. Her teeth chattered, her lips already blue. He shrugged his own pack off and left it next to her.

Dean replaced his glove and looked around for kindling that wasn’t soaked through with snow. Quickly, he moved through the denser undergrowth. He found a few logs that didn’t look too bad and carried them back to her. She remained silent, shuddering, teeth chattering.

Good. As long as she kept shivering, she wasn’t going hypothermic. But she wasn’t cognizant, either.

Dean clustered some pine needles and kindling around the logs and pulled out his Zippo. But when he tried to light them, they wouldn’t catch. He tried again and again, but everything was just too wet. Some of the pine needles caught, but it wasn’t enough heat to even catch the kindling on fire. He tried for a few more minutes, then knew it was futile.

He had to get Grace out of her wet clothes.

Dean rummaged through his pack, pulling out his tent and sleeping bag. He set the tent up in the snow, efficiently snapping the poles together and sliding them through the nylon sleeves. When it was up, he tossed his sleeping bag inside and unrolled it.

Grace hadn’t moved or said anything. He picked her up and slid her into the tent, laying her next to the bag. He grabbed a pair of pants and a flannel shirt from his pack and laid them out.

Then he quickly stripped her out of her wet clothes and dressed her in the dry ones. Crawling into the tent with her, he zipped up the tent fly, blocking out the wind. He folded her inside the sleeping bag and then got in himself. Wrapping his arms around her, he warmed her with his body heat. She continued to shiver, and pressed in close to him. Even her breath on his neck was icy cold, and he pulled the sleeping bag tightly around her.

“You’re going to be okay, Grace.”

She shuddered against him, her wet hair cold against his face, and muttered unintelligibly.

Dean stared up at the tent ceiling, feeling a tinge of fear in his gut. One thing was clear. They’d somehow gone off course. There was no lake on the map where they thought they were. They could be miles from the resort.

Dean listened to the wind as it made the tent flutter and quake.

They were lost, and Grace could die out there.