Winter Rescue (I'll Be Home for Christmas) by Dawn Kimberly Johnson Page B

bones. He rubbed his arms vigorously and began to
    wonder about the temperature. The only thing he could
    remember from the radio report was that the storm was
    expected to end before morning. Then they can begin digging
    out my dead body . Merry Christmas, Ma!
    An idea stuck him, and he turned in his seat to grab his
    duffel. He switched on the flashlight again and held it
    against his chest with his chin so he could see what he was
    looking for. He unzipped the bag and sifted through the
    contents: jeans, socks, slippers, sleep pants, two flannel
    shirts, underwear… ah ha! He removed a pair of canary-
    yellow boxers with handprints stamped on the seat—a
    birthday gift from Bobby. He went digging again, and from
    deeper in the duffel he retrieved a toiletry bag containing a
    shaving kit, hair gel, toothbrush and paste, dental floss,
    and—ever optimistic—condoms and lube. He took out the
    dental floss.
    Then Curt opened a small zippered compartment in the
    duffel and fumbled through several pens until his hand
    closed around a black Sharpie. Success! He sealed the duffel
    and tossed it over his shoulder and into the backseat before
    spreading the boxers flat on the passenger seat and carefully
    writing SOS in big, obnoxious letters across them. Curt
    smiled as he imagined Bobby’s face when he informed him
    that these shorts had saved his life.
    He capped and dropped the pen before grabbing the
    shorts, getting his knees under him, and shoving for all he
    was worth against his door. At first the wind buffeted the
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    Winter Rescue • Dawn Kimberly Johnson

    door back at him, but he was determined and successfully
    shoved the door all the way open.
    Blinking rapidly as snowflakes gathered on his
    eyelashes, Curt practically stood on his car seat and grabbed
    the antenna. He scraped off the snow, gasping at the
    temperature and finding it actually painful to breathe.
    Working quickly, he used the dental floss to tie the shorts to
    the antenna, making sure they would be secure even in the
    face of that murderous Minnesota wind. The car shifted
    suddenly beneath him, throwing him back inside, where he
    bruised his side on the center panel. What the fuck?
    It hadn’t entered his mind that the car wasn’t stable,
    and he shuddered to think how precariously he might be
    perched and what exactly lay beneath him. The door had
    shut out the wind, but the temperature in the car was a hell
    of a lot colder than before he’d initiated his rescue plan. It
    was worth it , he thought. It’ll get me home to Ma’s cocoa .
    Now conscious of his uncertain perch, Curt carefully
    reached for his duffel, bringing it into his lap and emptying it
    to slip on more layers of clothing. After that he picked up his
    cell and checked the time: 11:47 p.m. It was going to be a
    long night.

    urt grinned and honked his horn as he drove up the
    long driveway to the family home. Coated in pristine
    C white snow that sparkled in the sunshine, the
    farmhouse looked pretty as a picture postcard. The
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    Winter Rescue • Dawn Kimberly Johnson

    front door opened, and his mother stepped out, followed
    closely by his father, brothers, sisters, and their respective
    families. The porch quickly filled with a motley collection of
    tall, formidable-looking Scandinavian blonds and shorter
    tanned brunets—the Italian half, his mother’s, asserting
    itself. Curt climbed out of the car, and several little children
    came running toward him. He wasn’t sure how many or who
    exactly they belonged to, but they were beautiful and happy
    to see him. Everyone was happy to see him, and it warmed
    his heart. He couldn’t stop smiling. He hurried over and
    shook his father’s hand and hugged his mother.
    “Ah, it’s so good to be home,” Curt said. But when his
    mother opened her mouth to speak, a horrific screech came
    out. Curt stepped back, startled, but his mother pointed at
    him, screeching even louder, an inhuman sound. “M-Mom?”
    Curt grimaced and