Stranded

by Nicole Dykes

  “How long before hypothermia gets us?”

  He stops walking and turns to me. “You’re in shock. You’re talking nonstop, but I’m not going to think about what could happen. I’m going to get us out of this.”

  I scoff, angry and so damn numb because all I want is to go back in time to when all four of us were alive in that car. I stop talking, though, as we continue our hopeless descent into the snow-covered wasteland.

  “Everly.”

  “What?” I barely croak out.

  “I see a house.”

  I look ahead, squinting through the darkness as if that will help. “I don’t see anything.”

  “I do. Come on.”

  He picks up his pace, but my body is close to giving out. I’m so damn cold. “No.”

  He stops but doesn’t waste energy by backtracking to get me. “Everly. Now. I see a house. You’re not giving up now.”

  “There’s no house. You’re delirious and seeing things. I’m done. I just want to go back with them.”

  He’s pissed as he approaches me, leaning down to get in my face and putting one hand on my shoulder. “My shoulder is fucked. It’s dislocated, so I really don’t want to carry your ass there,” he points behind him through thick trees, “where there is a house. It’s our only hope and they,” he points in the direction of the wreckage, “would hate us both if we gave up.”

  For whatever reason, I ignore everything else, and my eyes drop to his other shoulder. “You hurt your shoulder?”

  He huffs, looking at me like I’ve gone insane. “Come on.”

  It takes all my energy and so much effort to follow after him, but I think about Liam and Aria. Aria would never give up. She believed in the good. There’s no way she’d give up. I push through, following him, and as soon as we get through the cluster of trees, my eyes widen at the site.

  “Oh my God.”

  Surprisingly, Cooper doesn’t say I told you so. We both keep walking toward the old-looking white house in the middle of nowhere. The house is covered in snow and shines in the dark even with the snow continuing to fall.

  We make it up to the front porch and make our way up the stairs. I’m shivering but try to keep it together as Cooper knocks on the door.

  Please answer.

  He knocks again, pounding on the old door.

  “Fuck.”

  “Give them a minute.”

  He looks through the window next to the door. “There are no lights on.”

  I channel Aria and try to keep hope alive. “The blizzard probably knocked out the power.”

  He turns and looks next to the house. “No car.”

  “Maybe it’s parked somewhere else.”

  He looks annoyed and then pounds on the door again. We can’t see much of the house. It’s too dark and too covered in snow, but it appears to be abandoned. He pounds again, and then, I do too, pleading with the imaginary homeowners to answer the damn door.

  “Please.” I don’t recognize my own voice. I sound weak, near death, and I have to fight to continue to stand and not sink to my knees.

  He turns the knob, trying to push it open, but it doesn’t budge. “Fuck.”

  “Cooper, what are we going to do?”

  He looks around, his eyes searching the nothingness. “We’re going to hope the window breaks easily.”

  “What?” I gape at him in shock. “We’re not breaking in.”

  “Yes, we are.” He starts looking around on the porch that’s luckily covered by an awning so it’s not covered in snow. He finds a large rock with a painted “H” on the front.

  “Coop,” I warn, but it’s too late. Using the rock, he breaks the window near the lock, reaching his hand in and unlocking it. I guess people around here don’t worry too much about intruders.

  He lifts the window and turns to me. “Climb in.”

  “Fuck no.” I fold my arms over my chest. “I’m not breaking and entering.”

  “You’d rather freeze to death?”

  “What if they’re home but weren’t answering?”

  He tosses in our bags before he climbs inside, quickly standing and turning to look at me. “Then we’ll ask them for help. We need help.”

  I take a deep breath and toss the bags I was carrying inside before climbing in awkwardly after him. He uses one hand to help me and groans when we both tumble and he falls into the wall.

  He takes a deep breath and is holding his shoulder. I find my footing and actually feel bad for hurting him. “Sorry.”

  He shrugs. “It’s fine.”

  I look around the dim room we’re in. I think it’s a living room because I can make out an old sofa and maybe a table.

  “Hello?” Coop calls out as we stay near the front door.

  “What if they’re a family of serial killers?”

  He ignores me, finding a switch and flicking it up, but nothing happens, which isn’t surprising.

  No electricity.

  He reaches for his cellphone and turns on the flashlight, shining it around. Yup. One dusty old couch and an end table is all that’s in this living room. The floor is old but seems to have been kept up.

  There’s a fireplace with a mantle, but it doesn’t have any pictures on it. “It doesn’t look like anyone lives here,” he says as he shines the light around.

  We leave the bags by the door but walk around the house and into the kitchen that has only counters but no appliances. He tries that light switch and nothing. The house is definitely abandoned.

  “This isn’t good,” I say again, not recognizing my own voice.

  We explore the rest of the house that turns out to have one bedroom and bathroom on the main floor and two bedrooms and another bathroom upstairs. All empty.

  We go back downstairs. I see the distress on Coop’s face even if he hasn’t voiced how hopeless this is. “Okay.” He takes a deep breath, and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him so serious. “It’s an abandoned house in the middle of nowhere.”

  I want to point out how he just stated the obvious, but I’m too tired to bicker. “It’s cold.”

  He nods to the fireplace. “We can start a fire. It’ll keep us alive.”

  “I doubt there’s firewood.” He angles the camera down to a small pile of wood.

  “Tomorrow when it’s light out, I’ll try to find some more and bring it in to dry it out.

  I nod my head solemnly, not feeling anymore hopeful than I did before we found the house. But at least I’m not waist deep in snow.

  “We need to get out of our clothes.”

  My eyebrows pinch together in a glare. “No way.”

  He rolls his eyes at me and grabs his bag. “Fine. Die of hypothermia, but I’m fucking changing. Staying in wet clothes is stupid.”

  I hate him. I unzip my coat and toss it on the couch, turning to him as he does the same with his coat and gloves before stripping out of his long-sleeved Henley, wincing as he pulls his arm out of the shirt.

  I need to look away.

  He puts his cellphone down on the couch, casting the light upward, but I can make out his chiseled and tattooed torso from here.

  I’ve seen him without his shirt before. It’s not a big deal. I know he has a well-defined eight-pack and a tattoo over his ribs of a stethoscope and a pumping human heart. I know his biceps and his right pec have tattoos. Maybe it’s the shock, but I can’t seem to look away.

  He must feel it because his eyes meet mine. “Ev?”

  I look up at his face and expect him to make a lame joke about me checking him out, but it’s only concern I see on his face. “What?”

  “Please change.”

  He sounds desperate and in a fog. I remove my shirt, leaving me in a black lacy bra, one I wore specifically for Liam. I turn my back to him. “Don’t watch.”

  He grumbles something, but I don’t care. I kick off my shoes and walk over to the bags. I unzip my jeans and push the wet heavy fabric down over my ass and thighs. Finally getting them off, I kick them awa
y and drop to my knees, unzipping the black duffle in front of me.

  I let out a sob when I pull out the first thing. It’s a weathered gray t-shirt I gave Liam so much shit about, telling him he should throw it away because it was practically see-through. I pull it out of his bag and bring it up to my nose, sniffing it and sobbing again when I breathe him in.

  This can’t be happening.

  Keep it together.

  I pull on a pair of sweats, ridding myself of all my wet clothes and trying like hell to get warm. I find a pair of socks and tug them on, trying and failing not to watch Everly, kneeling down by Liam’s bag, nearly naked and holding his shirt.

  I don’t want to notice the curve of her hips or her round ass not covered by the lacy black thong that matches her bra.

  She wore it for him.

  And now he’s dead.

  Your best friend.

  We’re both most definitely in shock from the wreck and losing Liam and Aria, but she can’t sit there like that for long. “Get. Dressed.” My voice is a gruff growl. I know I should soften my tone, but I’m barely hanging on by a thread.

  Her arms, still holding his t-shirt, fall forward, and I try not to notice the ink peeking out from under her bra. I wonder what it is but then force my eyes up to her face. “Don’t you care? At all?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Her eyes blaze into me. “They’re dead. Don’t you care?”

  “Of course, I fucking care. I can’t do anything about it. Now cover your ass up.”

  My chest aches with how much I care. I can’t close my eyes because every time I do, I see Aria laying lifeless in the snow and Liam—the life fading away from his body. And I couldn’t do a goddamn thing.

  She yanks his shirt on over her torso and then finds a pair of his sweats, pulling them up and cinching the waist tight. They swallow her, but at least she’s covered up.

  I look at the fireplace and toss her a pair of my socks as I walk to it. She catches them with a huff, but thankfully doesn’t fight me. She pulls them on and walks to stand next to me, looking down at the meager wood pile. “Will that even last a night?”

  “I think it should be enough for two.”

  “Two.” She’s staring at it, her eyes lifeless and empty. It’s scary how that look has stayed on her face this evening, not even a flicker of hope.

  I look at her face, allowing myself to take a good look at her. She has Liam’s blood all over her hands and arms, which is why I thought her face also had so much blood. But now I see a deep gash. “Fuck, Everly. You didn’t think to tell me about that?” I point above her right eye.

  She looks confused and then touches the spot, wincing. “I . . . I didn’t know.”

  She’s gone completely numb. I try a gentler approach and walk to my bag, grabbing a t-shirt and placing it over her wound. “We need to stop the bleeding.”

  “I’m fine.” Her voice is quiet. Everly is not quiet.

  “You’re not. You probably need stitches.”

  She swats my hand away but holds the cloth to her head. “I’ll get right on that.”

  “You’re with a pre-med student, you know.”

  She snorts, and it doesn’t surprise me at all that she doesn’t take me seriously. I don’t really give off a serious vibe. Unless I’m acing tests or labs in class.

  But she wouldn’t know about that.

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  “With bleeding to death?”

  She glares at me. Ah, the fiery stare of Everly. I never quite got used to it. “I’m not letting you near me with a needle.” She shrugs her small shoulders. “Not that we could even find a needle.”

  “If I can, we’re stitching it up if it needs it. Or maybe I can find some super glue.”

  That really gets her glaring, but I don’t care. I’m onto the next task, looking for matches or a lighter.

  “We need something to start the fire.”

  “Surely you have a lighter.”

  I grin and walk over to my bag, thankful she felt the need to give me a hard time about having weed on hand most of the time. I grab a lighter from the side pocket of my duffle and then grab some newspaper I spotted near the door.

  I quickly build a fire while Everly stands close by, unmoving and holding my shirt to her head. I try to subtly monitor how much blood is seeping through the material as I finish lighting the fire. It blazes, casting more light into the room and, thankfully, heat. For the first time tonight, I feel a slight bit of relief and plop down on the floor next to the fireplace.

  Everly joins me, and risking her wrath, I remove her hand and take a better look at her wound. It’s deep, and although it’s not gushing blood, it’s definitely still bleeding. How did we not notice that when we were wondering around outside? And it’s not good that it hasn’t stopped.

  “Are you dizzy?”

  Her eyes roll, and I bite back my own attitude even though she drives me crazy. She’s in pain, and she lost her boyfriend and sister tonight.

  I keep reminding myself of this as I stand up, grabbing my cellphone. “I’m looking for a needle and thread.”

  “No.” She stands but is wobbly, catching herself on the wall. “You’re not stitching me up.”

  I return the shirt over her wound again and bend down to look into her eyes. “Apply pressure. I’ll be back.”

  She huffs, but it doesn’t bother me. I’m used to her haughty attitude. I head up the stairs to the bathroom, hoping I’ll find something to help. There’s got to be something.

  I open the medicine cabinet and find it’s completely bare. I check all the upstairs bedrooms and then go down to what I’m assuming is the master. In that bathroom, I find two Band-Aids and some gauze but no needle.

  This is going to have to do for now.

  I go back to the living room and find Everly leaning against the wall next to the fireplace with her eyes closed.

  For a moment, I panic, not liking that I can’t see her eyes. “Everly.” I hold my breath until her eyes open, meeting mine first and then looking down at the stuff in my hands. “Thank fuck.”

  I kneel next to her, my shoulder throbbing, but I try to ignore it as I remove the cloth. “I couldn’t find any antiseptic.”

  “Look at you, playing doctor.”

  “I’m very good at playing doctor.” I wiggle my eyebrows at her, and she rolls her eyes at the innuendo but actually smiles.

  I try my best to clean the blood off her and then wrap her head in the gauze, hoping it will be enough to stop the bleeding. I tie it and then look at her, almost laughing at the white gauze I wrapped around her head as many times as I could.

  “Are you actually laughing at my pain?”

  Oh, fuck. I guess I did kind of laugh.

  “You look like a character straight out of a horror movie.”

  “You don’t look so hot yourself.” She nods toward my shoulder. “How bad is it?”

  “It’s just out of socket. It’ll be fine.” I need to pop it back in place but can’t stomach the thought right now. I’m worried about her though.

  I raise my good arm, and with my hand, I keep her face in place as I look into her eyes. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  She doesn’t pull away, so I wouldn’t say she’s that annoyed. “I’m evaluating you for a concussion.” She huffs but still doesn’t push me away. After assessing her pupils, I flop next to her against the wall. “I think you’re okay.”

  “I know.” She folds her arms over her chest, still only covered by Liam’s t-shirt. “All that, and all I got was a cut.”

  “Well, you could be bleeding internally,” I try to joke, but it only fills me with horror.

  She, however, doesn’t disappoint. “Fingers crossed it’s you and not me.”

  Her face looks like she’s almost surprised that came out of her mouth, and I can’t help but bark out a laugh, “That’s dark, Ev.”

  She grins and shakes her head. “Sorry. I don’t rea
lly wish that.”

  “Yeah, I know. You’ve secretly been pining after me this whole time.”

  Now her eyes roll, and she turns to me. “Sure. Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

  I laugh again but stop because it hurts my shoulder. “We should check our supplies.”

  “It’s too dark. And cold. And this house is kind of creepy.”

  “Jesus. I knew you were a pain in the ass, but I didn’t think you were a baby.”

  More glaring from Everly. “I’m not a baby.”

  I force myself to get up and drag the bags over by the fire. “I meant our supplies. We can look through the house when it’s light.”

  She nods. “I didn’t bring much, other than clothes and makeup. A bikini that I doubt I’ll use.”

  “Right.” Do not picture her in a bikini. She’s your dead best friend’s girl and your dead girlfriend’s sister. Christ, I’m losing it here.

  Not that I haven’t seen her in a bikini a lot over the years. And it’s not the first time I’ve had to rebuke myself for picturing it over and over.

  She unzips her bag and shuffles through it, finding a sweatshirt and pulling it on over Liam’s shirt. “Yeah. I don’t have anything but clothes and makeup.”

  We both stare at Aria’s suitcases. She has two big, heavy suitcases I have no idea how I managed to drag through the snow, but when Everly opens them, I’m glad I did. The girl was prepared. She packed lots of snacks, cards, and a first aid kit.

  “Jesus, was she a Girl Scout?”

  Everly shakes her head, still going through clothes but doing it slowly, stopping to look at each piece of clothing. I hate the pain I see in her eyes. They were sisters, and they were close. This is killing her.

  She grabs a large box of condoms and holds it up, glaring at me. Well, shit. “What?”

  “What? Ugh.” She tosses them at me, and I catch them with my good arm. “How much sex were you guys planning to have?”

  “I didn’t know she was bringing any.” Not that it’s any of her business. And for some reason, I feel guilty.

  She stops when she finds some lacy lingerie and pushes the bag away. I don’t dare look at it. I don’t need her to cut my balls off for almost having sex with her little sister.