Sorry for the short chapter, especially after having to wait so long for it. Anyway, enjoy and keep your eye open for a new chapter of Holly Golightly either today or tomorrow (most likely today)
They've been lucky so far with the weather, after descending the mountains it wasn't so much unbearably cold, windy and treacherous as bitter, damp and inconvenient. There have been only a couple of instances of light snowfall in the 30 or so days they've been traveling, but all along they've anticipated the worst. The wind and snow becoming insurmountable was a constantly looming threat that they both prayed would never come to pass while all the while knowing enough about East Coast winters to realize that their prayers would be fruitless. It always seems to start with a single flake of snow, on the nose or the back of the hand, followed by a strong gust of wind whistling through the trees like a warning to get inside immediately. The problem was they were in the middle of nowhere and inside could be miles off for all they knew. Their only option was to pick up speed, keep walking, almost running, no time to rest, only to find a safe place before the blizzard hit. They have to abandon their cart, it won't make it as the snow collects, and the bags are heavy but they have to hold on to them for as long as they can, a lot of the supplies and food inside could very well be irreplaceable.
They pull their caps tight over their ears and pull their coats securely around their bodies as they make their way down the road. The wind is picking up quickly and the snowfall is multiplying by the second and pretty soon they wont be able to see right in front of them.
"What do we do Finn?" Rachel cries, the wind so loud she has to yell it.
"Just keep moving, whatever happens don't stop moving," he yells back, and she obliges, and they run. His fingers and his toes are growing numb and the chill is already radiating through his body, there isn't enough fat on them to protect them and he knows that the only thing that will keep them alive long enough to find shelter is to keep their bodies in motion, even if it feels like it will kill them faster than stopping to rest would. They're close now, at least halfway through Jersey. Now is no time to die.
They've been running for at least fifteen minutes, at least a mile, the snow and wind becoming steadily worse all along but it seems to be doing the trick, he's frozen down to his bones, but it's easy not to focus on it too hard while they so frantically move toward some form of safety.
"Finn," she yells, her voice labored. "I think I see something."
He thinks she's right, it's hard to tell through the heavy snow but he sees shapes up ahead, it looks like some kind of large building, a plant or maybe a farm, definitely not a house, it doesn't matter, it's close, no more than five minutes away if they keep running. He read something once about the body conserving adrenaline for extreme circumstances, that's what he thinks must be happening now. Rachel seems to have it too, she's keeping up in spite of all the strength she's lost over time and he knows they'll probably both collapse in exhaustion once they stop, but they'll be alive.
They reach their destination, upon closer inspection it's an old factory, and as they slow down long enough to find some sort of entrance they know that the cold will catch up to them if they don't find it soon. His hands are already starting to feel warm, hot even, he can't trust it, the heat he's feeling is a sign of the first stages of hypothermia, they have to get inside. The wind continues to whip and it stings his partially exposed face and makes it difficult to see, but he finds it, a door. He digs through his bag, finding his pocket knife after a bit of struggle and takes it to the locked door, but his hands are too frozen to be effective, and he ends up dropping it before he can get it open.
"Stand back Finn," she says, her voice coming out shaking, and she aims her gun at the lock, her hands shaking too, usually he'd tell her to hold off on shooting the lock, since they'd need to lock it themselves to keep out intruders, but the situation has become desperate so he allows it. She shoots the lock once, making only a dent in it, then again, causing the casing to fly off, it's still pretty tightly locked though, he notices as he tries to open the door, but with one more shot the lock explodes and they rush their way in. They aren't sure what the room used to be before, but its stacked to nearly the ceiling with big crates. They can't imagine the contents of them are still in tact, if they are they must not have been particularly useful, otherwise they would have been taken long ago, but now isn't the time to worry about supplies, now is the time to get warm or die. Finn gets behind one of the crates, it's almost as tall as he is, which is saying a lot, with the last remaining bit of adrenaline he pushes the heavy thing against the door, grunting loudly as he slides it. He completes his task, securing the door and wilts against the crate, breathing hard.
"Finn," she says weakly. She doesn't look good, he notices, she's shaking so hard and her lips are turning blue, and before he gets too comfortable he has to remember his one purpose in this world, keep Rachel alive. There are vents in the ceiling and an aluminum trashcan against the corner, he goes for it, hoping to god there's still trash inside, luckily its filled to about halfway with paper and cardboard, he grabs a couple of logs out of his bag, taken from their last stop, an old tavern in Jersey where they spent the night and burned wood in the firepit. He throws the logs in and lights it with his matches, taking a few strikes to light it effectively. The cold is catching up to him fast, too fast, and he knows that he won't be able to stay on his feet for very long. He's right, he collapses just then as Rachel runs to his side in a panic.
"Finn!" She shrieks, hovering over him.
"I'm alright," he says weakly. At that she reaches into her bag and pulls out their blankets, and she begins to unbutton her coat, she takes it off, and takes off her layers underneath too until she's down to her bra, and she gets to work on him next, sitting him up and removing his clothes until he's bare chested. She lays her body on top of his and pulls the blankets over them as the fire burns steadily. They remove the rest of their clothes slowly under the covers and allow their bodies to warm each other as their exhaustion consumes them.
When he wakes up he's still under Rachel, all those nights spent warming her, she's returning the favor. He feels better now, his hands and feet are still cold but at least he can feel them, he looks at his fingers, no frost bite. He looks down at Rachel next, her head on his chest, he can feel her warm breath on him and her arms wrapped around him. He wraps his arms around her and kisses the top of her head, so grateful for her, and he falls asleep again, needing the rest even more than he needs food, when they wake up they'll have beefaroni warmed over the fire, he's been saving it for the right time, he thinks that time is now.
They don't know how long they'll be here, the wind and snow is still going strong, they may have to dig their way out, and even then they aren't sure how they'll manage to walk in the deep snow, they'll figure out something, they always do. They eat, savoring the cherished childhood treat, at this point it tastes like a thick steak and sweet, buttery lobster, and they warm their cold hands on the fire and sing to keep themselves busy. Rachel reads one of the books they found at the Walgreens, it's about a middle aged woman who leaves her husband and ventures to a magical hotel inhabited by fairy tale creatures. She seems to like it. They check the crates, they are filled with sporting goods, they may be able to use the tennis rackets for snow shoes, otherwise it's not much to get excited about, if only there were skis and parkas inside. They sleep some more, Finn starts reading a book about a man who has a breakdown after his wife dies under mysterious circumstances and tries to teach his dog, the only witness to her death, how to talk. It's good, but sad. She flips through a beaten up magazine with the cover missing and she closes it once she gets to an article about her, she looks beautiful in the classy black and white picture alongside it, she's all decked out in a couture ballgown with her thick hair loose and flowing, and she's barefoot on a beach and laughing heartily about something. She doesn't even remember doing that photoshoot, she says, but he remembers, it was her first magazine cover ever and he remembers how excited she was bringing it home, he remembers her showing him the picture and wondering to himself who the hell wears a ballgown on a beach? That life seems so long ago. They sleep again, eat cans of corn and beans, make love by the still burning fire until their cold bodies become sweaty, and fall asleep again.
Two days have passed, or what feels like two days anyway and it has finally gone quiet, the blizzard is over, it's time to continue their journey. He uses a scoop ball racket and a makeshift torch to build a tunnel through the snow and pushes their bags up out of it, both tasks requiring more effort than he would like, but he succeeds and they emerge from the snow, greeting the sun and clear blue sky for the first time in days. He fashions snow shoes out of tennis rackets and twine, a pair for Rachel, a pair for him, and they continue down the road. The next state is Maryland, then DC, they've almost made it, they're almost home.
Two chapters plus an epilogue to go. Stay tuned folks!