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With the wind pushing them back almost as much as they made any headway and stopping again to swap who carried the girl, since the going was so slow and arduous, a walk that normally would have taken maybe ten minutes, took almost forty-five.
Forty-five God-forsaken, frozen minutes where they battled the elements to the point of exhaustion.
In the end, they likely would have missed the cabin completely if they hadn’t had the GPS tag, because there was such a white-out that they actually walked within ten meters of it and didn’t realize they’d missed it until the alarm beeped again.
They turned as a group and facing this way the wind was almost worse, since it was coming from behind them and threatened to bowl them over like ninepins.
Dante, who now carried the woman, almost stumbled, front heavy as he was, with her in his arms.
Lazarus stepped in behind him to try and deflect some of the force.
A few minutes later, a shadow, grey against the half-light caused by the blizzard, emerged in front of them and as they got closer the sidings of what was no more than a wooden shack became visible.
They walked around until they found a door. It wasn’t big, by any means, but it appeared to have been built sturdily enough to withstand the elements.
Jeri tried the door. It gave a little but was stiff, as if the dampness had swollen the wood and jammed it into place, rather than it being locked.
He grabbed the handle, then angled his shoulder against the opening side and gave it an almighty heave.
The door flew open and banged back on its hinges as the wind took it. Jeri cursed and grabbed at it before it was damaged. A cabin without a door would be next to useless in this weather.
He held it carefully as Dante brought the woman in out of the cold and loitered on the threshold as he looked around.
Lazarus pushed past him and took stock of things.
The cabin was small, like they knew it would be. Probably only twelve feet square.
There was a rough kitchen area set up on one wall and on the opposite wall, to his immense relief, there was a log burner.
Dante stood to one side while Jeri wrestled the door closed and Lazarus stepped in to help him.
They were making puddles all over the rough plank floor, he realized when they were done. “Shit, this place is going to be soaked if we’re not careful.” he pointed out to his brothers. “We need to get out of these wet clothes and try and keep it to a minimum, or it will be a nightmare.”
Jeri shrugged out of his coat, boots, and thermal-lined, waterproof trousers. Then, dressed in just a long-sleeved, thermal top, boxer shorts and socks, he made his way across the room. “Let me check if there’s kindling before we all strip off,” he tossed over his shoulder. “Not that I’m sure where we’ll find any out there if there’s not any here,” he added, wryly.
For once, luck was with them. The log burner was laid out ready and there was more kindling in a hidden, metal chest. And what looked like a decorative feature, proved to be a wall of usable logs.
As long as they had a fire, they could cope with pretty much anything else.
While Jeri searched for matches or something to light the tinder, Lazarus turned to Dante and started stripping the woman’s boots off. Although the professional hiking footwear was mostly dry, her socks were sodden and had formed a wick that sucked wetness down onto her feet.
“There’s a plastic bowl over in the kitchen area,” Dante pointed out, as Lazarus looked at the sopping wet sock in his hand and wondered what to do with it. He was about to test his aim and lob it over there, so he didn’t trail water over the floor, when Dante called to Jeri. “Hey bro, can you grab that bowl for the wet clothes, please?”
Jeri grunted and went to grab it, then continued to search the kitchen while the two of them continued.
When Lazarus took her other ankle in his hand to undo her laces, the woman, though still unconscious, moaned with pain and he gentled his touch, pulling down her sock and peering at her leg until he found the cause.
“Looks like she injured her foot where she got it caught.” He eased the boot off as gently as he could and Dante braced himself against the door to help him take her weight, but she still made painful little whimpers in her oblivion. In a way, though, even that was a relief, since it proved the motionless woman was still alive, at least.
Her skin was icy to the touch, but her ankle was swollen, despite the compression of her boot and the cold of her socks, which meant it would probably balloon when her circulation got going again and cause even more pain.
After lining her boots up by the door next to Jeri’s, he unzipped her jacket. She was a lot wetter underneath than he’d expected. “Shit, the snow has gotten up inside her coat, so her inner layer is wet,” he muttered to Dante. “And her jeans feel like she took a bath in them.”
He made to unbutton them, but Dante stopped him. “Do you think that’s a good idea Laz?” he asked, a troubled frown creasing his brow.
Lazarus looked up at him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean stripping her off like this. We’re three guys and she’s one small woman.”
