That cold ain't the weather; that's death approaching
- 30 days of night
BAYHOLM FIELDS
3:35 P.M.
She is freezing cold, so she starts walking faster in hopes her body heat will increase. Well, she tries to walk faster because her feet sink into the snow and just the effort and time it takes to get one foot out and then the other scares the hell out of her. It shouldn't be this foggy, there shouldn't be this much snow. She can't see a single thing in front of her and she realizes she could be literally anywhere right now. Her sense of direction is good, but she usually has her vision to help her out. Now all she can see is a multitude of white. She shouldn't have left in such a hurry, she wasn't thinking, but facing a snowstorm seemed preferable than stay and face the fact that her lifelong boyfriend was fucking someone else in her own living room.
She hugs herself in an attempt to feel warmer. The wind feels colder, and the snow seems to be falling heavier than it was just a second ago. She has never regretted all her life choices as much as she does now. She has to reach her mom's before it gets really bad. Not that anything could get any worse, now that she thinks of it.
Or maybe she is wrong.
The first thing she feels is the chill down her spine, a chill that comes with the feeling that she is not alone. There is someone watching her, she is sure.
"Where the fuck is mom's house?" She says quietly. She doesn't know why she said it aloud. Maybe in hopes that whoever is watching knows that she is expected somewhere and will leave her alone.
The sound of her own voice gives her confidence to keep on walking.
That's it, Sally, keep going. Just five more minutes and you're there.
She knows she is lying to herself because it is a five-minute walk on a regular-weather day. With this much snow, it will take her at least three times that.
She remembers now that no one in the news said anything about a snowstorm today. How is it possible that she has suddenly found herself in the middle of one?
You can't even trust the weather forecast anymore.
She curses aloud but what she really wants to do is cry.
She shouldn't panic, she knows it, but her mind is already focusing on the chills down her spine again, chills that only seem to grow by the second. She remembers the coping mechanisms she used to hold on to when she was just a kid and everything seemed too much for her to handle. She would start concentrating on her own sounds, on her heart beating, on her breath, on the sound of her own footsteps, until she calmed down. She thinks it is a good idea to start doing that just now, so she starts paying attention to her every sound, especially the sound of her feet propelling her forward, making sure everything is alright.
It is then that she realizes there is another sound of feet sinking into the snow, and this sound seems to be a little louder than what her 100-pound figure would make. This sound is coming from right behind her.
She tries to think fast, tries to find a solution. The only one she can find she is absolutely sure is useless, but she tries anyway.
She starts to run.
In the beginning it actually works, and for five seconds she thinks she is going to escape. She doesn't dare turn around, but she feels that whoever is after her has started running too.
She has a moment of clarity where she considers the obvious: it is John. He probably came after her to apologize. Not that she will accept any apologies but thinking it's her ex-boyfriend behind her is better than thinking it's someone trying to kill her or worse. Yes, there are worse things than being killed.
"John, is that you?"
She asks, her voice shaking with fear.
There is no answer.
She tries to run faster, but she instantly feels her left foot twist and the next thing she knows, she's falling hard onto the snow.
It is then that the feet behind her catch up. She sees the blood before she feels the pain and then… and then nothing.
