Deep Freeze
Page 5
***
The doctors verified that Zach had frostbite and started to warm up his hands and feet. As he regained circulation his skin turned pink and then white as angry, white blisters started to appear all over his left foot. The doctors drained the fluid from the blisters and wrapped up Zach’s injuries. He would have to be on antibiotics to be sure he didn’t get an infection, but given all that he had been through, Zach considered himself lucky. Besides, he was impatient to go see how his dad was.
While they stitched up his thumb, Zach was practically bouncing out of his seat. But when it was time to finally go to his dad’s room, Zach was so scared he could barely move. He hobbled down the hallway on crutches and paused at his dad’s door.
Zach took a deep breath and slowly entered the room. His dad looked horrible lying there in the hospital bed with an IV drip hanging from a rack at his side. His eyes were closed, but a large square bandage was taped to his forehead. Stubble dotted his chin. A sling covered his arm. Zach pulled up a chair that was against one wall and sat down next to the bed.
The doctor came in and reviewed a clipboard. “Are you the son?”
“Yes.” Zach looked up. “Is he alright?”
“Your dad should be fine,” the doctor said.
Zach breathed a sigh of relief.
“He was pretty banged up from that car accident, but it looks like we’ve got everything under control,” the doctor said.
“Is he going to recover?”
“He should. His leg was infected, so we set the bone and have started him on antibiotics. He also has a broken collarbone. Probably hit the steering wheel. We gave him something for the pain. He needed a few stitches on his forehead and other than that we treated him for some mild hypothermia and frostbite.” The doctor placed a hand on Zach’s shoulder. “You saved his life, kid. You’re a hero. Ever thought of being a paramedic?”
“Thanks,” Zach said, suddenly embarrassed. “Uh, no. I want to study environmental science.”
“Fair enough. Your survival skills will come in handy.” The doctor folded his arms and looked at Zach. “Someone said you made a stretcher from some branches?”
“I’d call it more of a sled,” Zach dipped his head in acknowledgement and chewed his bottom lip. “Where’s Skye?”
“Who?” the doctor asked.
“Skye. Our dog.”
“Oh, the dog. She’s at the ranger station. Your dad will need to stay here for a few days, but the rangers said they could watch Skye till you can pick her up.”
Zach breathed a sigh of relief.
“She had some pretty deep scratches on her face and back, they said.”
“That was from a bear.”
The doctor’s eyebrows shot up. “A bear? Well, you had quite an adventure. You’re lucky to be alive.”
“I know,” Zach said. “I know.”
His dad’s eyes fluttered open. Zach leaned over him. “Dad?”
“Zach? Zach, is that you?”
“Yeah, Dad. I’m here.”
His dad seemed to give a half smile before his eyes closed again.
“He’ll be in and out of consciousness for a while. The pain meds are going to make him groggy. He may not remember much of the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. But you’re welcome to wait in here if you’d like.”
Zach had nowhere else to go. He had no car. Both cars were stuck out in the snow.
“I think we need a tow truck,” he said. “Or two.”
***
Zach slept most of the afternoon curled up in the hospital chair waiting. The doctor said his dad would be fine, but until Zach heard it from his own dad’s mouth he wouldn’t be satisfied.
Around five o’clock, Zach’s dad woke up.
“Hey,” Zach said.
His dad scanned the room. “Where am I?”
“The hospital, up north.”
Zach’s dad looked and groaned, “Ugh. So that wasn’t a dream?”
“Unfortunately, no. You’re pretty banged up. The doctor said you need to stay here for a few days.”
“Oh, Zach. What about your spring break? I’m sorry. This was supposed to be our last hurrah.”
Zach waved it off. “We’re all safe. And we’ll have a story to tell.”
“Where’s Skye?”
Zach exhaled. “She’s at the ranger station. They’re watching her until we go home. She saved us from the bear.”
His dad squinted. “She did?”
“Yep. She scared off the bear.”
“Wow.”
“Yep.”
“And to think I thought we shouldn’t bring her.”
“I know,” Zach said, laughing for the first time in what seemed like forever.
They both sat in silence for a few minutes, not sure what to say next.
“That storm was worse than they predicted,” his dad said.
“The snowdrifts were this big,” Zach held his hand a foot off the ground.
“No,” his dad said. “This big!” His dad held his hand two feet off the ground.
“Actually,” Zach said. “They were huge! They were this big!” Zach indicated snowdrifts that were almost up to his waist. “Enormous. The blizzard of the century.”
“And we made it through.” Then his dad turned serious. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
Zach felt himself smile. He had been scared, but they made it through. And now they had a great story to tell, no exaggeration necessary.
About the Author
Kristin F. Johnson lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota, and teaches writing at a local college. She spent two years as a media specialist and children’s librarian in Minneapolis Public Schools. In 2013 and again in 2015, she won Minnesota State Arts Board Artist Initiative grants for her writing. She loves dogs and has a chocolate Labrador retriever.