Cabin Fever

by Annabelle Costa

  “Someone will come along,” he says. Ah, there’s Confident Chase again—reassuring but ultimately useless. “There are cabins out here. It’s not deserted.”

  “Cabins? I don’t see any cabins.”

  “Just relax, Natalie.”

  “Relax!” I want to shake him. “You realize we’re almost out of gas, right? We’re probably going to freeze to death before someone finds us out here.”

  “We’re not going to freeze to death.”

  “Not to mention we have no food.”

  There’s nothing he can say to that. If he’s feeling anything like me, he’s probably starving.

  “Look,” Chase says, “I’m sure someone will come by eventually. Let’s just sit tight.”

  I have a horrible feeling about this, but what can I do? There are no alternatives other than to pray he’s right.

  Chapter 3

  We spend the next hour in silence.

  Well, relative silence. Billy Joel is still blasting from the speakers, except instead of entertaining us, it feels like he’s mocking us when he sings about only the good dying young. Silence would be preferable, but Chase won’t let me shut it off.

  I keep my eyes pinned on the gas tank gauge, which is dropping steadily. Soon the tank will be empty, and then we’ll be in big trouble. We don’t even have enough gas to get through the night.

  If only Chase had listened to me when I told him to fill up the goddamn tank.

  “I think we should turn off the engine,” he says suddenly.

  My heart thuds in my chest. “What? Why?”

  “I just…” He chews on his lip. I can tell he’s nervous because there’s a trace of a Southern accent in his voice that I only hear when he’s stressed out—which is almost never. Confident Chase is gone, and that is the scariest thing of all. “I’d like to know how cold it’ll get without the heat.”

  “I’m guessing pretty cold.”

  “Right, but the car insulates us. It might not be so bad.”

  Chase grew up in a place that never got snow, and since he’s moved here, he always parks his car in garages where it’s protected from the elements… so he has no idea how cold a car can be when it’s parked outside for a long stretch of time. This car is about to get very, very cold.

  He turns the key and the car goes silent as the engine shuts down.

  At first, it’s not so bad because there’s still heat trapped in the car. I stupidly feel a spark of hope that maybe we can make it through the night and longer—until someone finds us here. But after about twenty minutes, it becomes clear that’s not the case. The car is quickly becoming extremely cold. I alternate burying my hands under my armpits and blowing warm air on them. I put on my Inverni cashmere beret knit hat, cursing the fact that it’s more fashionable than warm.

  I packed really poorly for this trip. But to be fair, I did think I was going to be in a heated cabin.

  “It’s pretty c-cold,” Chase comments. His teeth are chattering—actually chattering. And his lips are turning a bit blue.

  “Yeah,” I mumble.

  I look down at the gas tank gauge. Oh God, we are almost out of gas. We are really and truly screwed. What are we going to do?

  I hug my arms to my chest, although it does little to make me feel warmer. What I wouldn’t give for one of my Burberry throw blankets right now—I didn’t bring them because I already had so much stuff and I assumed the cabin would be equipped. The car protects us from wind, but otherwise it’s little insulation from the freezing cold outside. Worse, the snow is continuing to pile up to the point where I’m scared we might not be able to open the doors soon. By morning, the Porsche could be completely buried.

  There is a real chance we could die here. No, not just a chance. A very good chance. After all, there’s nobody looking for us. We won’t be missed until Monday, since our friends and family expect us to be “off the grid” for the weekend. We could easily freeze to death by Monday.

  Oh God.

  I don’t want to die here. There’s so much more in my life I want to do. Yes, I had trouble coming up with one new thing to do before age thirty, but I love my life. I love my catering business. I love my friends and family. I want to get married someday and start a family of my own. I can’t believe it could end right here in this Porsche on a dirt road in Vermont.

  I look at Chase, who seems to be experiencing a similar revelation from the look in his eyes. All that confidence has vanished.

  “What are we going to do?” I whisper.

  “We have to try to get help,” he says, that southern drawl as pronounced as I’ve ever heard it.

  “How?” My phone is useless. We have no other means to communicate with the outside world.

  “Maybe…” Chase looks through the windshield at the falling flakes of snow, just barely visible in the blackness, and the growing film of snow on the windshield. Unlike in Boston, there are no streetlights or headlights illuminating the night. The only possible light comes from the stars and the moon, which means there’s no light at all. “We could try to look for help?”

  I shake my head. “How? The car won’t budge.”

  He chews on his lip. “By foot.”

  I look doubtfully out the window. “Are you serious? We’ve got to be miles from the main road.”

  “I don’t think it’s that far.” He shivers, which I assume is from the cold. “And you don’t actually need to find anyone. You just need to make it to a place where we could get a phone signal.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “Why do you keep saying ‘you’?”

  “Well…” Chase shifts in his leather seat. “Like I said before, you’ve got the warmer clothes.”

  He has got to be kidding me. Whoever said chivalry was dead clearly had dated Chase Hollister.

  “It’s probably not even that much colder outside than inside,” he adds.

  “I’m not leaving this car, Chase,” I say firmly.

  “Don’t be selfish, Natalie.”

  My mouth falls open. I had been thinking more and more that after we got back, I was going to end this relationship. But considering I’m not sure I’ll make it out of this alive, I don’t want to spend one more second living a lie.

  “You know what, Chase?” I say. “We’re done.”

  Now it’s turn to look shocked. The color drains out of his tanned face. “You’re breaking up with me?”

  “You got that right.”

  “Now?”

  I give him a hard look. “No time like the present.”

  A look of sheer fury passes over his face, and for a moment, I seriously regret my decision to do this right now. If Chase attacked me in this car, what would I do? I couldn’t make a run for it. I quickly review what I learned in my self-defense course from college, but none of it applied to being in a car.

  Just when my heart is thudding nearly out of my chest, Chase’s shoulders drop. He looks out the window at the falling snow, then back at me. “Fine.” He shakes his head. “Maybe I’ll go out and look for help myself then.”

  Now that the fear of Chase attacking me has passed, the gravity of what he’s saying hits me. There’s a blizzard outside. How far could this rich kid from Virginia possibly make it in a blizzard?

  “I don’t think you should go,” I say. “I think we should stay put. It’s our best chance.”

  “You mean stay in the car and do nothing?” He snorts. “Hollisters are doers. I’m not just going to sit here to die, Natalie.”

  I peer out the window again. The outdoors looks like a deathtrap right now. “At least wait until morning, when the blizzard has stopped.”

  “We could have frostbite by morning.”

  His statement reminds me of my frozen feet, which got drenched when I left the car. I hadn’t even been thinking about them, but now I realize I can’t feel my toes. How did I not notice that? I try to wiggle them and… well, I think they move. But I’m not entirely sure.

  Oh my God, what if I’m getting frostb
ite? What if they have to amputate my toes? This is a nightmare.

  “This is our only chance, Natalie.”

  That confident look is back on Chase’s face. Confident Chase really thinks he can save us. And maybe he can. Anything is possible, right?

  “Besides,” he adds, “it’s better than being stuck here with you.”

  If I ever had any doubts about my decision to end this relationship, they have vanished.

  In spite of everything, I don’t want Chase to die out there, so I give him the scarf I brought, which he briefly balks at, considering the scarf is red and very feminine. But I guess he’s more worried about freezing to death than he is about being a fashion disaster, because he eventually wraps the scarf around his neck. I also give him my cashmere beret, which I’m very reluctant to part with, but I know he needs it more.

  I can barely make out the whites of Chase’s eyes as he stares at me from the driver’s seat. He’s bundled up in my hat and scarf, paired with his impractical coat and loafers. This could be the last time I ever see him. My anger from earlier dissipates. Chase is not a terrible guy—just a little spoiled. He’s not the right guy for me, but I’m sure there’s another woman out there for him. He’s going out in the snow to save us—he’s almost a hero. I hope he’s okay.

  “So I’m going,” he says.

  I nod. I want to beg him to stay in the car where it’s safe, but he’s right—this is our only hope.

  “Are you sure you can’t go?” Chase says. “Your coat is a lot warmer than mine.”

  Okay, maybe he’s not such a hero.

  “Chase,” I growl.

  “Okay, okay.” He looks doubtfully at the blizzard raging outside the window. He lets out a sigh, then struggles to get the car door open. As he steps out into the night, I get a sick feeling in my stomach. There’s no way this man, who has never worked a day in his life, is going to make it to civilization… or even to a place where there’s phone reception. He is going to his death. I know it with absolute certainty.

  “Chase,” I say in a hoarse voice. “Don’t do this. It’s not safe. Stay, okay? Please.”

  But of course, when Confident Chase is in charge, there’s no telling him what to do. He straightens up best he can with the wind blasting against him and squares his shoulders. “Don’t worry, Natalie. It will be fine.”

  As I watch him disappear into the dark blizzard, I have a terrible feeling those will be the last words I ever hear him say.

  Chapter 4

  Chase has been gone for twenty minutes.

  I know it’s unreasonable to think that he’d have found help by now and brought them back to me—in fact, it’s just about impossible. But at the same time, I can’t help but wonder how Chase is doing out there. It’s got be close to zero degrees with the wind, and he isn’t dressed for cold weather. The idea of him actually finding help is beginning to feel more and more remote.

  I should never have let him go. Not that I had the power to stop him.

  My stomach growls. Chase had this romantic meal planned at the cabin—one I will probably never see. I’m thirsty too. I guess I could drink the snow-water, but I don’t have anything to collect it in. I don’t have a water bottle or even a cup. We came so ridiculously unprepared. The only positive thing I can say is I don’t need to use the bathroom—I’m not sure how I’ll handle that particular need when it arises.

  Why didn’t I order Chase to turn back when the snow started? Why did I let him drag me out here? Confident Chase got the better of my good judgment.

  I can’t feel my toes at all anymore. I try to wiggle them, but I’m not sure I’m doing it. This is not a good sign. How long does it take for a person to get frostbite? Is that what’s happening to me? I reach into my purse to get my phone to Google it, but remember as I’m pulling it out that I have no signal and no way to Google anything.

  Except when I’m rifling through my purse, I feel something wrapped in paper.

  My biscuits from KFC! I forgot all about those! Oh my God, I have food. I have something to eat in the car! Two biscuits! It’s a miracle!

  Before I can even think about rationing the food, I’ve stuffed the first biscuit in my mouth—I practically swallow it whole. It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my entire life—I’m licking my lips, wanting more. The second biscuit is in the bottom of the bag, taunting me. I want it so badly, but I know I should save it. I’ll be grateful I have it when it’s morning and I’m still in this goddamn car.

  Unless I’m too hypothermic too think straight by then.

  I slide the bag down onto the driver’s seat and place my Hermes Birkin on top of it, just to keep me from being tempted to eat it. I remember when my biggest problem was that the Hermes color-bloc special order horseshoe bag was “unavailable.” I wanted it so badly.

  It all seems so stupid now.

  It’s so dark in the car, between the night sky and the snow now coating the windows, I can’t even see my purse over there. I can’t see anything. As I’m straightening up, my elbow bumps against the steering wheel and the horn sounds.

  The horn…

  Is it possible if I honk the horn enough times, someone out there could hear it and rescue us? It seems… well, considering we’re on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere, it seems unlikely. But it’s not like there are any better options.

  I lean the ball of my fist against the steering wheel and the horn sounds within the car. In the car, it’s loud enough, but I can’t imagine the sound won’t be lost in the howling wind outside. What’s that saying again—if a tree falls in the woods and nobody hears it, does it make a sound? (Also, what is the sound of one hand clapping? I always was confused by that one.)

  I honk about two dozen times. After the twenty-somethingth honk, I lean back in my seat. I can’t see anything out the window because it’s now coated with snow. I hear nothing but the wind.

  Well, that was pointless.

  Chase left the car keys in the ignition. I had planned to conserve gas, but it’s so cold in this car, I can’t stand it anymore. Before I had my hat and my scarf, but now that I’ve handed those over to Chase on his rescue mission, the cold has become unbearable—the tips of my ears are getting numb. I’ve been keeping my gloveless hands tucked into my armpits, which helps a little, but I can’t stop shivering. I am freezing down to the core. I need some heat, if only for a few minutes.

  I reach for the keys and turn on the engine.

  Of course, the air that blasts from the vents is freezing cold. It will probably take a minute or two to warm up. I wait for the air to warm up, but as the minutes pass, I notice something disturbing:

  A gas smell.

  The exhaust pipe. It must be buried by the snow. Which means even if I had a full tank of gas, I’d suffocate while the engine was running.

  I’ve got to try to clean it out. Of course, if I leave this car, it will be even colder and I’ll get drenched by the snow. And for what? Forty minutes of gas, if that? Maybe it isn’t worth it to clean out the exhaust pipe.

  I turn on the windshield wipers, trying to get a glimpse of how bad it is out there. The wipers swipe at the glass, pushing away flakes of snow. I blink a few times, staring into the blackness. Except…

  Is that a light in the distance?

  My heart skips in my chest. I see something! It’s a light. No, two lights! Headlights! Someone is here! I’m saved!

  I roll down the passenger side window so the snow will clear off, although I have to quickly roll it back up again because the cold wind is too unbearable. I peer through the smudged glass at what appears to be a green pickup truck about twenty feet in the distance. With its engine running.

  I flash my lights and the truck comes to a halt. It’s very hard to see, but the door to the truck swings open. And a figure emerges.

  The driver is wearing a thick parka, but even so, it’s clear he is a very imposing figure. Tall and… just… big. He lurches forward in the snow, although he moves quickly given the
wind and the depth of snow he has to walk through. There’s something about the way he walks that frightens me. If someone told me Big Foot was under that parka, I would believe it.

  As relieved as I was to see other signs of life in this blizzard, my heart starts to pound as the figure approaches the car.

  Maybe there are worse things out here than cold and hunger. A man can kill me much faster than cold or hunger can.

  A gloved hand pounds on the passenger’s side window and I nearly jump out of my skin. I blink a few times, cowering in my seat, and peer through the window. The man’s thick coat conceals his body, a hat and hood cover his hair, and the lower part of the hat covers his lips as well. All I can see staring out at me are his eyes.

  Well, his eye. Because his right one is covered by a black patch.

  Oh Jesus. This guy is really scary-looking. And here I am, all alone in my car in the middle of nowhere. Why did I have to honk my damn horn?

  He bangs on the window again. I can barely hear him shouting: “You okay in there?”

  This creature—well, it appears to be a man and not Big Foot, although the jury is still out—is here to rescue me. But I have a horrible feeling that I may subsequently need to be rescued from him.

  “Hey!” he yells again. “Can you hear me?”

  What do I do? I can’t stay in this car and freeze to death. Let’s face it—Chase is never going to find help. But I don’t have a good feeling about this man. He’s really frightening. The eyepatch is freaking me out big time. I heard this campfire story before and it doesn’t end well for the girl in the car.

  The man straightens up, gesturing at me to open the window. I don’t know what to do. I’m safe from him in this car if he means me any harm. But I’ll die if I stay in this car. Also, he could be Chase’s only hope if he’s out there somewhere in the snow.

  I slowly roll down the window a few inches, and immediately, the wind hits me in the face. The man squints at me with his good eye.

  “You stuck?” he asks.

  I nod. “Can you tow my car?”