///The National Weather Service has issued a blizzard warning for the area for the next 48 hours. Heavy snow, high winds and drifting are predicted. Visibility will be limited with near to full white out conditions possible. Please seek adequate shelter until the storm has passed. Under NO circumstances should travel be attempted. Remain indoors, as disorientation is likely.///
The bulletin droned on for another minute or so, then repeated.
Not the best start to the day, but when you live in the foothills of the Rockies, it's the price you pay for solitude. I had everything I needed to weather the storm, Hell, if I'm being honest, I could probably hole up for months before having to leave. I liked being alone, venturing to the nearest town, about a 40 minute drive, only when I absolutely had to.
I did move a substantial amount of firewood closer to the cabin. They aren't kidding when they say you can get lost easily. When the world is solid white and swirling, you can freeze to death in a matter of minutes if you can't find your way back.
By early afternoon, the wind had picked up, the temp was dropping and snow had started to fall. It wasn't serious yet, but it was coming, you could feel it. I made one last check around the property, stowed my truck in the barn and shut myself in the cabin awaiting the inevitable.
By dinnertime, the wind was howling and snow was falling at a rate of several inches an hour. Updated reports called for 2-3 feet by the time the storm passed. Nothing I hadn't seen before. After I ate, I settled into my favorite chair next to the fireplace and read a book. Something I did frequently since I had no TV or internet, not that I wanted either. Television, on a good day, was idiotic and other than porn, the internet was just as useless.
Later, after finishing the book I was working on, I went to bed. The storm continued its assault, my cabin groaning and popping against the added stress.
**Wade, wake up.**
**Why Brain?**
**Don't you hear that?**
At some point, I became aware of an unusual sound, something not attributable to the storm, a...horn, a car horn. It was barely audible, sometimes completely washed away by the howling wind, but it was there. As the fog in my head cleared, it hit me. There's someone out there! I sat up in bed and listened, making sure I hadn't imagined it. Nope, there it was again. Somebody's really out there. They must be relatively close, no more than a few hundred yards, or I'd never have heard them, but in this mess, they might as well be on the moon.
I threw on some clothes and grabbed my coat, stepping outside onto my porch. It was sheltered from the worst of the wind, I was somewhat protected. Switching on my flashlight was met with a white wall of blowing snow. That won't work. Visibility was literally zero. If I stepped off the porch, I'd be lost in a few steps. I ducked back in the cabin and quickly dressed in my survival suit, grabbed my night vision gear and a compass. The only road for miles was about a hundred yards south of my cabin, more of a fire trail than a road, but it was the only place a vehicle could be, I hoped.
Again the horn sounded. It seemed to be coming from the direction of the road, but in the belly of the storm, I couldn't be completely certain.
**Wade, this is Brain. I know what you're thinking. I would like to register a strong complaint about this decision. Remember, if you die, so do I.**
**Shut up Brain. I may not like people much, but I'm no ogre either. I am terrified to venture out into that, but I can't stand by and allow someone, no matter how stupid I feel they are, to die a slow painful death, besides, aren't you the one that woke me up.**
**Just so you know, if you die, I'm never speaking to you again... Brain out.**
Compass in hand, I stepped off the porch into knee deep snow. The night vision didn't provide any discernible distance, just a mass of swirling snow, but I could at least see my heading. Proceeding due south, I waded through the drifts, counting my strides trying to estimate where the road was. I stopped at what seemed to be a reasonable guess and pulled an emergency whistle from my pocket and blew into it.
"Shit that things loud." I groaned, ears ringing. I waited a few seconds and whistled again. Off to my left I heard the horn, they'd heard me! From the volume, they were close, a couple hundred feet at most, almost due east. I again counted steps as I proceeded east, then stopped. I whistled again and was relieved when I not only heard the horn again, very close, but the snow illuminated, they'd turned on the headlights. I still couldn't see the vehicle, but I was maybe 20-30 feet from them.
Closing the distance, I found the car, a Range Rover. That explains how they got this far. They were plenty capable, even in the hands of idiots. I slogged over to the drivers side and pounded on the window. It lowered almost immediately and the face of a terrified woman appeared.
"Are you OK, can you walk?" I screamed in order to be heard over the wind.
She didn't respond.
I checked the rear door and it was unlocked. I scrambled into the back seat and closed the door. "Close the window." I bellowed, frightening her into action. Once closed, the environment became much quieter.
"Miss, are you OK?" I asked again. "We need to get to shelter before my tracks are blown over. It might already be too late. If you can move, we need to go."
She nodded, still unable to speak. She was cold, her teeth chattering.
Peering over the seat, I had a look at her clothing. Jeans and tennis shoes, a coat, not a great one, but at least it was something. It wouldn't take long to get to the cabin, if everything went well, so it would have to do.
"Ready?" I asked, trying to remain calm. "It's going to get worse before it gets better."
Again she nodded.
I jumped out, jerked her door open and pulled her from the vehicle, slamming both doors closed. With a death grip on her hand and my compass in the other, I towed her through the mounting snow, following my trail, counting steps as I went. I lost the trail before it was time to turn north. I had tried to remain calm and maintain my stride length as best I could, difficult under the circumstances. Turning towards where I hoped the cabin was, we continued, again with me counting steps and watching my compass. I felt the wind change as the steps ran down and realized I'd come up short and the cabin was off to our left. A few heart stopping steps later, we found the porch and I shoved her inside, closing the door behind us.
She collapsed on the floor, sobbing while I removed my goggles and stoked the fire. I carried her over and laid her in front of the hearth, then stripped out of my gear, sitting on the floor next to her in boxers and a t-shirt. I removed her shoes and socks, both totally soaked, then started to pull off her wet jeans as well. Her eyes flew open and she started pushing me away.
"You have to get out of these wet clothes." I explained. "They'll suck out what little heat you have left in you. You're very near hypothermic shock."
Again she nodded, her cold fingers fumbling with the button and zipper. I ran to my bed and pulled off the blankets, returning to wrap her up as soon as the jeans were gone. "Sit tight." I instructed. I returned a few minutes later with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate. She needed the warmth and I'm sure the calories couldn't hurt either.
Taking the mug in both hands, she brought it carefully to her lips, sipping the contents as her hands and face slowly thawed. She emptied the mug in short order, then held it out.
"More?" I asked.
"P-p-please." She stuttered, teeth still chattering.
I produced a quick refill and placed it in her hands. She smiled and nodded, eagerly consuming the warm liquid.
After about an hour, she could speak without stuttering. "Thank you." She said. "I was sure I was..."
"Not the greatest night for a drive." I answered.
"You must think I'm stupid?" She observed. "Hell, I think I'm stupid."
"Why were you out in this?" I asked.
"I was on my way to a video shoot." She answered. "My idiot producer didn't bother to tell me about the weather until I was already in it."
"Video shoot?" I inquired. "You're an actress?"
"I'm Fiora Fury." She said. "Maybe you've heard of me?"
"Sorry." I shrugged. "I don't get out much and I don't care for TV."