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My mom and Emery’s dad rented this cabin up in the mountains for a week, and my mom asked me to bring up some food, so we’re covered on that front. We have cereal, granola bars, water bottles, apples, some bread, and peanut butter. We definitely won’t starve. And each of us should have warm clothes in our duffel bags that we can layer.
I’m fairly risk-averse, so I also have a small shovel, a flashlight, an emergency blanket, and a sleeping bag. I’d packed those for a just-in-case scenario, and I’m so glad I did.
Shit. Imagine if I hadn’t. We’d be dead.
Then a thought jars me, and I whip my face to Emery’s.
“Please tell me you have enough insulin?”
Emery is still fiddling with the cord but freezes at my words.
“Yeah, I do,” he replies quickly. “I think.”
“Jesus, check, please.”
Emery leans over and fumbles with the glovebox, and a black pack falls onto the floor. He curses, knocking his head against the dashboard and its then that I realize his entire body is shaking.
“Hey,” I say gently. I lean over, and pull the pack up, handing it to him. My hand wraps around his, and his breath stutters. “You’re okay. We’ll be fine.”
I’m lying. If he doesn’t have enough insulin, we’re fucked, but I don’t say that.
He unzips his pack, takes in the inventory, and then sags. “Yeah, I’m good. I’m all good. I knew I was, but I just panicked.”
“Good, that’s good,” I repeat, wiping a hand down my face. At least he won’t die out here from low blood sugar. Jesus, even thinking of that makes my stomach cramp uncomfortably.
“What do we need to do?” Emery asks tentatively, like he’s afraid I’ll lash out at him. “Tell me what to do?”
I can’t stand that look of fear on his face, so I grab onto his chin lightly and run my thumb across his jaw. “Hey, look at me. In the eyes.”
His brown eyes move to meet mine, and they flutter slightly. “I’m not mad. I’m not going to yell. Please stop acting like I’m going to hurt you. I’d never do that, Em. That’s not me.”
He rolls his lips into his mouth and nods once, blinking furiously.
I let him go and then glance outside.
“Shit, it’s snowing,” I say and then glance back at Emery, who is swiping at his damp eyes.
“We’re going to die out here, aren’t we?” he whispers.
“No, we’re not going to die, but we will be very, very cold,” I reply. “And it will be very dark.”
“Fuck, I hate the cold,” he mutters and wraps his arms around himself. “And the dark.”
“I know. It’s not ideal, but before we start to panic, I’m going to go clear the tailpipe, and then we’re going to put the back seats down to make room for us to spread out. And then, if for some reason, we’re here tomorrow, I’m digging us a snow cave.”
“What the fuck is a snow cave?” Emery asks, but his voice is drowned out by the wind as I shoulder the door open. I trudge to the back of the SUV and clear the tailpipe. The icy snow bites at my exposed flesh, and I flinch at the sting. When I’m done, I move back inside, slamming the door shut and placing my hands over the heating vents. They prickle from the cold as they thaw.
“There. Now we won’t die of carbon monoxide poisoning.”
Emery just gapes at me. “Oh my god. How do you know all this stuff?”
“I was a Boy Scout.”
“Of course you were.” His eyes slide across me. “Makes total sense.”
“Actually, I’m an Eagle Scout if we’re being technical.”
“What the fuck is that?”
