Monty opened his eyes. The icy wind whistled through his beard and hair, striking tiny pellets of snow against his face. He squinted through the onslaught. A blinding whiteness coated his vision, and his head felt groggy.
What happened? He tasted blood in his mouth, and a searing pain in his stomach. He got to his knees and tried to remember.
The crash.
Oh yes. The crash. He groaned. Hold on there, Monty. Take it step-by-step. I am Monty Sullivan, I live on six Westley road, Whitehorse, Canada.
Testing his strength, he got to his feet.
Yes. I can do this. Little baby steps.
I am Monty Sullivan, I live on six Westley road, Whitehorse, Canada. I am somewhere in the Northern Yukon, a victim of a train wreck.
Speaking of which, where was the train?
Then he turned around.
Oh. There.
The giant steamer was crumpled like a soda can, the engine lying on it's side whilst the carriages lay like discarded matchboxes. Littered around the train were shards of metal, bright against the white glare.
Oh, no this can't be happening.
He looked around, the wind blowing snow across his vision, barley letting him see a meter in front of him. In desperation, he called.
"Hello?"
No answer came, his voice torn away by the swirling white, as the wind and snow battered him with everything it had.
Gritting his teeth, he sunk to his knees, burying himself in the snow. He may as well give up.
No. Will not die here. Not here.
Surprised by his own motivation, he stood again. Scavenge, yes, that's what he would do. He would scavenge, and then look for shelter. Like the movies.
A backpack lay, open, just a few meters away, and Monty stumbled towards it. Fumbling with his numb hands, he dully gave it a tug. It was sunk into the snow, and it didn't budge. He pulled with all his strength, harder, and finally, with a great surge of strength, he tore it out of the snow, spraying frost everywhere.
He screamed.
A body had come up with the backpack, the body of a young girl, maybe 20 years old. He stared for a moment. She was pretty. That was odd. Most people in the cold for this long would have waxy skin, and dead eyes, and while her skin was white from the frost, her hair was still a healthy brown shade, swirling around her in the wind.
She was so young. She didn't deserve to die. Not like this. In a moment of remembrance, he placed a numb hand on the girl's jacket, for her family.
And then she moved.
Monty jerked back in alarm. She was alive. Grasping the seriousness of the situation quickly, he figured he needed to make a choice, and fast. He could remain here, by the train, and hope the storm calmed down soon.
Or...
He gritted his teeth. I can't believe I'm doing this
He scooped up the girl, throwing her limp body over his shoulder, with a grunt.
Carrying her, and the backpack, he walked out, into the forest, and the blinding white.
- 30 Minutes - 200 Calories burned -
The walk was a sluggish nightmare of placing one foot in front of the other, while the wind sucked at him, and the cold bit him, hard.
Monty sunk deeper into the snow with every step, and his every breath jarred the feeling out his lungs. God, there must be someplace sheltered. He stumbled, and almost fell, the weight of the girl dragging him down. Giving an almighty heave, he stood upright again, and slowly but surely, he sloughed onwards.
When he was at the end of his strength, he gave a final heave, and sunk to his knees. Delirious from the cold, and terrified, he looked off into the forest. One black spot stood in the center of his vision.
Must be going mad. He told himself, but when he moved his head, the black spot looked as though it was stationary. He stood again, and now dragging the girl, he tripped, and stumbled his way to the black spot.
It grew bigger as he got close, and he could soon see that it was a cave, and a well sheltered one, too. He quickly uttered a silent thank you to every god in existence, and walked the last few steps before collapsing inside. What looked like the remains of a fire smoldered near the back of the cave, along with someone's bedroll.
Oh yes. Yes. YES!
He walked to the back of the cave, and after dropping the backpack, and setting girl down by the fire, he collapsed upon the cave floor. The rock felt wonderfully warm, and as the swirling storm continued outside, he brought his face to the ice coating it. He'd just have a nap. Five minutes.
Within seconds, he was asleep.
