freezing point - chapter 3

I washed the blood out of my eyes as soon as the creature left. 

My mind was still reeling, but the adrenaline was pooling in my legs and seeping out of my feet. A sluggish exhaustion took its place, and when my legs started to shake it was a wonder I didn’t collapse.

Thankfully, we had the good sense to bring a couple first aid kits with us, so as soon as I could see again, I toppled onto the couch.

Equipped with tweezers, gauze and some brandy, I began to dig into my legs. It was a tortuous process, and the couch was soaked through with blood when I was done, but all of the splinters were out and my ankles and lower legs were wrapped. Nothing had broken off when I pulled them out, so I was hopeful the wounds would heal without any major complications, even out here.

My knee settled easily enough, after just an hour or so of rest and being popped back into place. Though it hadn’t regained full function yet, with gentle stretching, it was getting closer.

The worst pain was my left hand, which was covered in burns and blisters. Though it looked to be severely burnt in some places, and likely was since those felt suspiciously numb, the majority of the injury seemed minor enough for me to treat myself. This wasn’t the first time, after all. Being careful not to pop any of the blisters, I applied some gel and wrapped it in some gauze and bandage, and laid to rest.

As I laid shaking and shivering, with a terrible and relentless nausea resting at my cardia, I found myself unable to sleep. Instead I stared up at the ceiling, hardly daring to let my eyes close for longer than a second. If I did, I saw that thing again. Felt its breath on my face.

I wanted to believe it was all some terribly vivid nightmare, but the injuries remained and the whole cabin was covered with blood. Mine or the monster’s, I didn’t know. My door was still broken down and so was Colton’s.

I sat back up again with a start, grimacing as the movement tore at the injuries. “Colton?!” I called out, but my voice was weak and hoarse, and I could barely produce more than a whisper. There was no answer.

Had whatever attacked me gotten to him first. He hadn’t come out of his room during the fight. Did it kill him? Is that why it already reeked of blood, before the thing had ever pierced my skin?

I rolled off the couch as gently as I could, landing on the now crusted carpet with a soft thud and crunch. “Colton?” I crawled over the floor, trying my best not to put weight on my lower legs or injured hand, but it was no easy task. “Colton!”

The thought of what I might find in his room scared me more than the attack. Visions of him, lifeless and torn up, flooded my vision. His maimed face still resting on his pillow, his shredded body under the covers, the mattress drenched in blood…

I gritted my teeth and blinked back tears, forcing my voice to call out louder. “Colton!”

When I finally reached the doorway, I used the wall to stand up. I pushed the door open. It was only clinging to its hinges and whined loudly, but swung open with little effort. The sun was beginning to rise, so I couldn’t blame what I saw on the dark. 

His room was empty.

The blanket was on the floor and the bed was messy, yes, but it was not soaked in blood as I had imagined. I hurried over, throwing myself at it.

There was blood on the mattress, but only thin streaks of it. I ran my fingers over it. There were other stains as well, a sickly yellowish-orange color, but again only a few small ones. Similarly the blanket on the floor was stained, but not as it would have been if my brother had been torn to pieces.

The most horrifying discovery was the pieces of skin on the floor, pale and bloody. They had been torn off, it looked like.

I couldn’t bring myself to touch them.

The creature must have been in there, and gotten at least one strike in. But maybe Colton, largely unhurt, was quicker. I was, before I was maimed. Maybe he got out of the cabin and the monster, instead of following him, moved on to its next victim.

The thought soothed some of my worries, but gave me countless new ones. Where was the damned boy now? I stood up again, though every part of me protested, and shuffled toward the main door. It was ajar before, but freezing winds had blown it open and into the cabin. 

My head was spinning at the exertion, and blood loss was already causing hypothermia, so it was imperative I could start a fire and rest. Besides, if the creature came back I could probably scare it away with the flames. But there were no guarantees, so I needed to be rested and fed in case it decided to finish what it had started.

When I reached the door, I couldn’t see any traces of human footsteps. The only thing that stood out in the whiteout was the bloody trail of the creature leading into the forest. That didn’t necessarily mean Colton wasn’t out there, though, because his tracks would no doubt have been covered by now.

Part of me, a big part, wanted to go after him, to find him before the creature did, but I knew I couldn’t. If I went outside in this state, I’d be dead within the hour, and of no use to anybody, except maybe the monster. My only hope was that I had injured the creature too much for it to attempt another hunt, and that Colton would return on his own while it was licking its wounds.

I closed the door, and got to work on reviving the fire. The warmth was comforting, and my eyelids grew heavier. I wanted to curl up by the hearth and sleep for a little while but I knew any tiredness might be a symptom of the blood loss, so I fought to stay awake.

While the warmth spread through the cabin I limped over to the kitchen, grabbing some of the canned food we had brought and a bottle of whiskey.

The cans I had grabbed were one of baked beans, one beef stew and one canned peaches. I forced myself to savor it, though I could have devoured all three in less than a minute. They wouldn’t help me recover if I immediately threw them back up, and the nausea was still persistent. When I finished I was still ravenous, but took a swig of whiskey from the bottle instead. I’d never been a big drinker, but the soft burn was a pleasant change, and it soothed the pain in my body.

Finally, fed, sedated and warm, the exhaustion was too much to fight. I slumped back on the couch, dropping the bottle on the floor.

Some time later I was woken up by a knocking on the door. My mind immediately went to the creature, was it back? But the knocking was weak. It wouldn’t ever have woken me up, if I hadn’t already been so on edge falling asleep. I sprung up from the couch, only to be reminded of my injuries.

I hurried, as much as I could manage, over to the door. Opening it, the relief was so powerful it nearly knocked me back.

On the other side stood Colton. His blonde hair was matted and his blue eyes were bloodshot, and he was still ghastly, but he was alive. More so, he wasn’t mutilated. Not even a little bit. He had all his limbs still attached and barely a scratch on his face.

I immediately let him in, closing the door behind him. He was silent, and as scared as I had been, I wasn’t in the mood for talking either. Now he was back, and needed rest as much as I did. We could figure everything out later.

I locked the door and eyed the fire. It was still burning but I threw in another log to be on the safe side.

Colton collapsed onto the couch, just as I had. If he noticed the blood coating everything in sight he didn’t seem bothered by it. He just stared blankly at the ceiling, his head thrown back and body limp against the cushions.

I prepared some beef stew for him as well. When I served it to him, I realized his shoes were missing and both feet and hands were subsequently frostbitten. It took a bit of coaxing, but I got him to eat, and when he did I skulked off to the bathroom. I filled a little basin with lukewarm water, and carried it back to him on the couch.

Kicking the now emptied whiskey bottle out of the way, I set it down and placed both of his feet in it to thaw. His whole body twitched in one pained flinch, but he didn’t fight me.

“I’d give you some beer for the pain,” I chuckled, voice still hoarse and dry but slightly smoother after the whiskey, “but I wouldn’t want to worsen your condition.” I coughed.

Colton’s lips twitched into a little smile and his gaze met mine. “Beer? I don’t drink stale bread water. There’s whiskey,” he slowly lifted a waxy, white finger toward one of the kitchen cabinets, “there.”

“I know, idiot. I unpacked it. But you’re not getting any.”

He eyed the empty bottle on the floor longingly for a second, then rolled his eyes. “Hypocrite.”

I left him on the couch to eat and rest, hoping he would have the sense to remove his feet from the water once it cooled down, and retired to my bedroom. The rug and floor was stained, but my bed had gotten away unscathed.

I flopped down on it, falling asleep again.