considering the steepness of the slope she was having to negotiate. The smallest misstep or stumble could send her tumbling down the mountain, and in this rugged terrain that would almost guarantee a broken leg or arm, at the least. The only bright spot she could see was that while her headache was nonstop, it didn’t seem to be intensifying. Some bright spot; it wasn’t exactly giving her hope.
Both of their lives depended on her, so she’d have to be extremely cautious. Caution took time, though, and time was almost as limited as her strength. The temperature, which she doubted had been above thirty degrees all day, would plummet like a rock even before the sun completely set. As soon as the sun slipped below the summit of the mountains looming over them, and that could happen a couple of hours before sunset, the temperature would begin falling. She had to have water for them before then, and she had to have at least a rudimentary shelter rigged.
Seizing the empty mouthwash bottle, she crouched and began packing snow into the bottle’s narrow mouth. The process wasn’t a fast one, precisely because the mouth was so narrow. Her hands were cold even before she began; within a minute, the pain in her fingers was agonizing. She had to stop and tuck her hands in her armpits, closing her eyes and rocking back and forth as the pain slowly ebbed and warmth seeped into her flesh. She needed something to cover her hands, and she needed it fast.
Automatically she began running through her options. She had brought two pairs of waterproof gloves for handling oars, but they had no fingertips, so while they’d be good for preventing blisters they wouldn’t help keep her fingers warm. She could put socks on her hands as makeshift mittens, but they would be clumsy and they’d get wet, which would make her fingers even colder. The socks would come in handy later.
Forget gloves; she needed a fairly efficient method of getting snow into the bottle that didn’t involve getting her hands in it. What could she use as a makeshift rake, or a scoop?
Leaving the bottle lying in the snow—it wasn’t as if the snow already inside would melt and pour out—she moved over to the trash bags that now contained the remainder of her clothing and supplies, sat down on one bag, and began methodically removing from the others everything that wasn’t clothing. She considered each item, trying to think of a use other than its intended one.
Her stick deodorant was pretty useless for anything other than keeping her underarms from getting smelly. She supposed if she needed anything waxy the deodorant would do, but right now no possible reason for that sprang to mind. Hairbrush, basic makeup—mascara, sunscreen, lip gloss—the books and magazines she’d brought to read could be used in a variety of ways, but none of those ways would help her get snow into a mouthwash bottle. She had her book light—again, handy to have, but not right now. She had a couple of pens, a small notebook, a roll of duct tape that she set aside because she’d definitely need it when working on their shelter, a deck of cards, insect repellent, a poncho that she also set aside, tissues and tush wipes—also set aside—as well as four microfiber towels and a bunch of the little sponge disposable toothbrushes.
Damn it, she thought fretfully. Why hadn’t she packed something useful, like a box of matches? Her teeth might be clean and her mouth fresh when her frozen body was found, but what good was that?
She looked over the motley collection of things she’d thought would be good to have on a two-week rafting trip, sighed in disappointment…then looked again at the deck of cards. They were brand-new cards; the box was still sealed in plastic. She picked up the cards, caught an edge of the plastic with her teeth, and began tearing it open. Then she opened the box and took out a card. It was plastic coated, so it would stand up to a lot of use.
Good enough, she thought
Both of their lives depended on her, so she’d have to be extremely cautious. Caution took time, though, and time was almost as limited as her strength. The temperature, which she doubted had been above thirty degrees all day, would plummet like a rock even before the sun completely set. As soon as the sun slipped below the summit of the mountains looming over them, and that could happen a couple of hours before sunset, the temperature would begin falling. She had to have water for them before then, and she had to have at least a rudimentary shelter rigged.
Seizing the empty mouthwash bottle, she crouched and began packing snow into the bottle’s narrow mouth. The process wasn’t a fast one, precisely because the mouth was so narrow. Her hands were cold even before she began; within a minute, the pain in her fingers was agonizing. She had to stop and tuck her hands in her armpits, closing her eyes and rocking back and forth as the pain slowly ebbed and warmth seeped into her flesh. She needed something to cover her hands, and she needed it fast.
Automatically she began running through her options. She had brought two pairs of waterproof gloves for handling oars, but they had no fingertips, so while they’d be good for preventing blisters they wouldn’t help keep her fingers warm. She could put socks on her hands as makeshift mittens, but they would be clumsy and they’d get wet, which would make her fingers even colder. The socks would come in handy later.
Forget gloves; she needed a fairly efficient method of getting snow into the bottle that didn’t involve getting her hands in it. What could she use as a makeshift rake, or a scoop?
Leaving the bottle lying in the snow—it wasn’t as if the snow already inside would melt and pour out—she moved over to the trash bags that now contained the remainder of her clothing and supplies, sat down on one bag, and began methodically removing from the others everything that wasn’t clothing. She considered each item, trying to think of a use other than its intended one.
Her stick deodorant was pretty useless for anything other than keeping her underarms from getting smelly. She supposed if she needed anything waxy the deodorant would do, but right now no possible reason for that sprang to mind. Hairbrush, basic makeup—mascara, sunscreen, lip gloss—the books and magazines she’d brought to read could be used in a variety of ways, but none of those ways would help her get snow into a mouthwash bottle. She had her book light—again, handy to have, but not right now. She had a couple of pens, a small notebook, a roll of duct tape that she set aside because she’d definitely need it when working on their shelter, a deck of cards, insect repellent, a poncho that she also set aside, tissues and tush wipes—also set aside—as well as four microfiber towels and a bunch of the little sponge disposable toothbrushes.
Damn it, she thought fretfully. Why hadn’t she packed something useful, like a box of matches? Her teeth might be clean and her mouth fresh when her frozen body was found, but what good was that?
She looked over the motley collection of things she’d thought would be good to have on a two-week rafting trip, sighed in disappointment…then looked again at the deck of cards. They were brand-new cards; the box was still sealed in plastic. She picked up the cards, caught an edge of the plastic with her teeth, and began tearing it open. Then she opened the box and took out a card. It was plastic coated, so it would stand up to a lot of use.
Good enough, she thought
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