Written by Gabi, Kimmy, and Queeny
Edited by Daniel
It was 21:59, and the December moon glimpsed through the thick clouds, a faint pearly glow amongst the smoky grey. The path ahead wound through the lofty pine trees like a serpent, covered in freshly-fallen snow.
My friend Jeffrey slept in the passenger's seat next to me, wrapped in a large, thick, bright red quilt. Meanwhile, Gabry Ponte's "Depends on You" played softly on the radio as our dark green Sedan drove down the road.
"Don't worry, Jeff," I said to him softly. "We'll be home soon."
It was warm enough inside the car, but I turned the heater up a few degrees more—I knew how much Jeffrey hated the cold. And I switched the radio off so as not to disturb his sleep.
Jeffrey turned over in the chair and pulled the quilt closer; I fixed my gaze ahead and noticed a large green road sign not too far away. It had a white arrow pointing towards the right, and above this was
TORINO
30 MILES
A shortcut, I thought. We really weren't in that much of a hurry, but still: the sooner we arrived home, the sooner we would be out of this chilly weather.
We neared the sign, and I turned and drove in the direction of the arrow. No other cars followed or preceded us; we were completely alone on our journey down the road.
At first the drive went very smoothly. Then, I heard a loud noise, a muffled thud, and Jeffrey and I were suddenly jerked forward in our seats—the car had hit something. Luckily our safety belts kept us from being thrown through the front window.
Jeffrey awoke. "Wh-what is it, Maury?" he yawned.
"I don't know," I answered. I pressed my foot hard against the gas pedal—the tires screeched and squealed loudly, as though they were in terrible agony.
But the car still wouldn't budge.
"****," I muttered. I got out of the car to see what the problem was.
The cold air stung my cheeks the moment I stepped outside. I pulled the hood of my parka up over my head and went to examine the front of the vehicle.
We had driven straight into a fallen tree.
"G0dd@mmit," I muttered again, and I returned to the driver's seat. Since the shortcut was blocked, we had to turn back to the main road and take the long way home. I stepped on the gas pedal and moved the lever of the gear shift up to R, for Reverse.
Looking back, I saw that the car hadn't moved any closer to the main road.
"G0dd@mmit!" I shouted again, and in my frustration I hit my fist against the steering wheel. A short, sudden blast from the horn startled a flock of snowbirds out of the pine trees that surrounded us.
"Maury?" Jeffrey said quietly, "Maury, please, just calm down for a moment—"
"I AM CALM!!!" I roared, and I raised my hand to throw my cell phone at him.
The cell phone...
I calmed myself down, lowered my arm, flipped open the cell phone, dialed 113, and held it to my ear. But my temper flared up once more when the operator answered.
"I'm sorry. Your call cannot be completed due to—"
I tried calling for help four times, and kept getting the same reply; finally, I pressed the "off" button so hard I nearly broke the phone in half, and shrieked a curse to the sky. More startled snowbirds flew out of the trees; from the corner of my eye, I could see Jeffrey shaking with cold and fear. We were trapped.
The next morning, Jeffrey and I went to look around for help. For hours on end we trudged through ankle-deep snow, but no luck. We couldn't find anybody.
As we made our way back through the forest, a light snow began to fall. I glanced over at Jeffrey and saw that he was starting to pale.
"Jeffrey?" I asked him gently, "Jeffrey, are you all right? You look sick."
"I'm OK," he answered, rubbing his arms. "Just a little c-cold...."
We reached the car and got inside, Jeffrey with some difficulty—he was shaking and shivering so much.
"Here you go, pal, I'll turn the heat up for you," I said, reaching for the dial. A gust of warm air flowed from the heater; Jeffrey held his frozen palms up to it and sighed with relief. Oh God, he looked so ill. It seemed as though he would collapse at any moment. I suddenly remembered from my days in the army that those were the first signs of hypothermia. I took the blankets out of the back seat and placed them over him—I knew they wouldn't help very much, but it was still better than nothing.
I also remembered that bright colors could attract aircrafts flying overhead.
"I'm sorry, Jeff, but I really need this," I said. "It's the only way we can signal for help."
Jeffrey nodded. I waited for the snow to stop, then took the red quilt and placed it over the roof of the car. Then I went back inside, and the moment I shut the door, I heard a loud fizzling sound, followed by a crack! White steam spouted from the heater.
"Oh great," I muttered. Now we were in big trouble, and I alone would be able to solve it. I glanced around one more time, in a desperate attempt to spot anyone who could help us, but my efforts were all in vain.
Feeling for the very first time an odd sensation in my stomach, like a nervous emptiness, I checked again how Jeffrey was feeling. He was still breathing calmly, but his eyes seemed to stare off into space, as though he were dazed. "Are you sure you're OK?" I asked him again.
It took him a few seconds to react to my words. "Yes, yes..." he said weakly. I didn't quite believe him, though—something about his tone of voice told me that he had answered without really thinking about the question.
I took out my cell phone and tried calling 113 again.
Please work this time, I pleaded silently.
"I'm sorry. Your call cannot—"
I sighed and turned the phone off. Now what were we going to do?
Another morning came. I felt the first rays of the bright lemon sun on my face; I blinked, rubbed my eyes, and stretched my cramped muscles.
While twisting around to loosen my stiff back, I noticed how much worse Jeffrey had become. His skin had gotten paler—he looked like a ghost. I held his hand and examined it; it was icy to the touch, and his nails were blue.
I wanted to go outside and gather some wood for a fire, but I was afraid to leave Jeffrey alone—what if something happened to him while I was gone?
I tapped him gently on the shoulder. "Jeffrey?" I whispered. "Jeffrey?"
A moment passed, and then he stirred. His eyes fluttered open. "Huh?" he said.
"I'm going out. I'm going to go get wood for a fire, OK?" I said gently.
Jeffrey nodded and pulled the blankets closer. "OK, OK."
I left the car and headed into the woods.
It wasn't long before I returned with part of a tree trunk and a pocketful of
dry leaves. I couldn't use the tree into which we had driven, since it was moist with snow. I placed the log next to the passenger's side of the car, so that the flame's warmth would reach Jeffrey, and on top of that I piled the leaves.
But how was I going to light the fire? I had no matches or flint, and rubbing two sticks together would use up too much time and energy.
And then it occurred to me.
I remembered having read somewhere that one could start a fire using the cables of a car. I opened the Sedan's hood and immediately found what I was looking for: two long cables—one black, one red—going from the accumulator to the engine. I took them and placed their metal tips on the pile of dry leaves. After four tries, bright orange sparks flew from the cords and ignited the firewood.
"Yes!" I shouted as the flame grew larger before my eyes. I went over to Jeffrey's window and tapped on it to wake him up.
"Jeffrey!" I called. "Jeffrey!"
At first he only lay there in the chair, staring at the car's ceiling. I tapped harder on the glass, and he turned his face away like a scared fish.
"Aw, don't be afraid," I pleaded. "It's just me."
He didn't come out of the car. Instead, he began to sob very loudly. I guessed it was because he was suffering so much. I opened the door to see what was wrong, and to try and coax him out.
"I'm not going to hurt you," I said gently. "Please come out. I've got a fire ready—"
I cut myself off. That sounded as though I were planning to burn him alive.
"Please? There's no need to be scared. It's just me, your friend Maury."
Jeffrey stopped crying. "Ehhh?" he said, slurring his speech. A thin thread of saliva dangled from the corner of his mouth. "M-M-Maury?"
He sounded as though he were drunk, and I knew that his hypothermia was getting worse. I helped him sit up and get out of the car. "Come on," I said. "Let's get you nice and warm."
Three days went by, and still no help came.
Jeffrey and I sat by the fire, warming ourselves. He looked even worse than before; his face and hands were so pale I could barely see them against the snow. He also seemed thinner, but I hoped that it was only an illusion.
Perhaps he's hungry, I thought. I'll make him something to eat.
I went to the back of the car and looked in the trunk; there was nothing left except for a few slices of bread and two bottles of mineral water.
I swore under my breath, then made up my mind to go into the forest and hunt for more food.
While taking a gun and a flashlight out of the trunk, I told Jeffrey of my intentions. "Just stay here and keep warm," I added.
Jeffrey, who still had the blankets wrapped around himself, let out a soft moan; I supposed that meant OK. With the gun in hand, I entered the dark forest once more.
After an hour of searching, I found nothing. My legs ached from walking so much; I wanted go back and rest for a while before trying again.
As I weaved my way back through the woods, I noticed from the corner of my eye something shiny; I walked over to it for a closer look.
It was a small, frozen pond. Its icy surface gleamed in the moonlight like a polished mirror.
Why didn't I see it before? I thought.
It all seemed so strange, but I decided not to waste this chance. I pulled a long branch from a nearby tree to make a fishing rod and hurried back to the car for some string.
Wait, said a voice in my head. Where are you going when it's so dark? All the fish are asleep now...And besides, what if something happens to Jeffrey while you're gone?
True...I guess I'll have to go tomorrow.
And so I returned to the car.
"Oh no!" I exclaimed when I arrived, "Jeffrey!"
He was lying face-down in the snow. The fire had died down. I rushed over to him and turned him over.
"Jeffrey? Jeffrey! Are you all right?"
I did everything I could to wake him up—calling his name, lightly slapping his face, shaking him— but nothing worked.
"Jeffrey, quit playing around," I scolded. "Get up now."
But still nothing happened. His eyes remained shut.
My anger melted away to be replaced by fear and concern. "Oh no," I whispered.
"No, it can't be..."
I placed my ear against his chest and listened hard.
Nothing.
I couldn't believe it.
"No," I said, shaking Jeffrey, "No, please, don't be dead..."
Tears stung my eyes as I looked at him. He seemed so quiet and peaceful. He couldn't be gone, he just couldn't be...
A freezing wind began to blow, carrying along with it a swirling flurry of snow. One snowflake got caught in Jeffrey's eyelashes and remained there, glittering like a night star. Deep in my heart I felt—I knew—that he was still alive. I placed him in the back seat of the car and put the blankets over him; I also gave him our red signal blanket, so that it wouldn't blow away.
I'll stay here with him until he wakes up, I vowed. And so I remained in the car with him all night, with his head resting on my lap.
How could I have left him alone like that? I kept blaming myself. It's all my fault...How could I have been so stupid?
Four more days had passed, and Jeffrey was still unconscious; his pallid skin had become tinged with blue. To make matters worse, our meager supply of food had run out. We still had water, though—we melted and boiled the snow so it would be fit to drink, but it tasted awful, like rusted metal. I wanted very much to go back to that pond and try to fish, but I remembered my promise to stay by Jeffrey's side until he awoke—I refused to make the same foolish mistake again. And so I had to fill my stomach with nothing but water. This wasn't enough, though. The water did its job, but minutes later I was left feeling even hungrier than before. And at night I tried hard to fall asleep, but couldn't—my discomfort kept me awake.
This is the absolute worst night of my life, I thought. It's freezing outside, we're miles away from home, Jeffrey's in really bad shape, I'm so hungry, and I can't sleep...
"Oh God, my head!" I burst out. "Oh, if only I had gone fishing earlier, before all this **** happened...We'd be OK now, and Jeffrey would be OK, too...We'd have more food now, so tasty..."
Another cramp wrenched my insides; I clamped my hands on my empty stomach as it growled noisily.
"But it's too late now...I have to forget about it—I need to rest..."
It took almost the whole night for me to fall asleep; finally, with my throbbing head resting against the cool window, I fell into a dreamless slumber. But a loud rustling noise from the woods broke the silence and startled me awake.
"Huh?! What was that?" I said.
I gazed out of the window, searching for whatever had made the noise, but nothing was there. The forest remained silent.
"Probably just some squirrels," I muttered. "Nothing important. But now I can't sleep again...It's almost morning and I haven't slept for even one stupid minute...
"Ughhhhh, why the hell did I ever decide to take this shortcut in the first place?! If I had just taken the long way home, none of this would have happened! But no, I had to go, I just had to, and now we're stuck in this g0dd@mn snowdrift, freezing and starving to death!"
At this point I put my face in my hands and burst into quiet tears. I cried because I was so hungry and tired and sore. I cried for poor Jeffrey. And I cried because all of this was entirely my fault.
"There, there," a woman's voice murmured gently. "It's all right. Everything will be just fine."
My vision was blurred with tears, so I couldn't see who had spoken. And everything slowly went black as I passed out, overcome by hunger and fatigue.
When I reopened my eyes, I found myself lying on a soft mattress, my head resting on a fluffy pillow, my body layered with thick, white sheets.
Was this real, or only a dream? I wondered. Was I dead? Had I gone to heaven?
Turning my head to the left, I noticed someone in the next bed; I hoisted myself up on one elbow for a better look. His blankets were pulled up over his head, but I could still tell that that someone was—
"Jeffrey..." I whispered.
Was he dead, too? Or were we both still alive? What was going on? Where were we? So many questions ran through my mind—I needed an explanation for all this.
"Ah," said a female voice—I recognized it as the same one from last night. "I see you're awake at last, Signor Lobina."
I blinked twice, and as my vision slowly cleared, I saw a beautiful brown-haired lady standing before me, dressed all in white. An angel? I wondered.
I looked around. Everything in the room was so white and clean: the walls, the floor, the curtains, the furniture... I noticed the bright red cross on the front of the lady's cap and realized that I wasn't in heaven—I was in a hospital, and she was a nurse.
"I'm alive!" I said to myself joyfully. "I'm alive!"
But another thought came like a black storm cloud, obscuring my happiness.
"But what about Jeffrey? Is he all right? Is he really—?
"You and Signor Randone were very lucky we arrived when we did," the nurse told me as she fluffed my pillows. "If we had come later you both could have died—especially Signor Randone."
"So Jeffrey's OK!"
"Yes," she replied with a smile. "He's just sleeping right now. He'll be hungry when he wakes, because of the treatment we gave him, but I daresay he'll be fine."
My worries disappeared when I heard that news. Jeffrey was alive! For the first time in days I felt my face break into a smile; the black storm cloud faded away as quickly as it had come, and my happiness and relief shone brightly once more.
"Oh dear—I need to go assist Dr. Gonzales," said the nurse. "I'll leave a tray of biscuits here for the both of you. If you need anything else, call me, OK?"
And with that she left the room. Still smiling, still feeling happy and peaceful, I lay back and closed my eyes.
Much later, I woke up due to some loud crunching noises—I hadn't realized that I'd fallen asleep. I opened my eyes and saw that Jeffrey was finally awake; he was sitting up in bed, his back against the pillow, devouring a biscuit. His skin had returned to its original rosy hue.
"Hey, Jeff," I said softly as tears of bliss filled my eyes—it was nice to see him alive and well after all that had happened. "I'm glad you're OK."
"Oh, hi Maury," Jeffrey responded through a mouthful of food. He swallowed. "I'm glad you're OK, too. Man, I am famished..."
I nodded as I watched him take another bite. "And no wonder you are, you haven't had anything to eat for nearly four days..." And as I said that, I was reminded of my own hunger; I took a biscuit from the large plastic blue tray and ate. The biscuit was a little dry, but I was too ravenous to care. "And what's more the nurse said that you would be hungry because of the treatment they gave you...
"What's wrong? What is it?" I asked, for Jeffrey had put down his biscuit, looking thoughtful. "What are you thinking about?"
"Huh? What?" he replied, as though waking suddenly from a trance. I asked him my question again.
"Oh, I was thinking about what happened to me just before I passed out on that day," he responded as he rearranged his covers. "I remember that I felt cold, so terribly cold, even with the blankets on. And I couldn't see anything but darkness—I thought I was going to die. I was, like all death-experienced people say, inside this long black tunnel with a bright light at the end... it was all so confusing—I kept thinking, 'What am I going to do now? Should I stay here in the tunnel or go to the light?'
"And as I was trying to choose, all of a sudden I remembered my life; all the good moments...I saw my family, my friends, our concerts and, most of all, our fans. They all looked so happy...I could see my whole life passing in front of me, many fast flashes, and then I realized that I had to try and survive for all of you, for all the people who are important to me... I don't know how, but soon afterwards I felt peaceful and safe."
He gave a deep sigh, and I realized that he had finished speaking.
"Wow..." I said with amazement. "Wow, Jeffrey, that's so beautiful...So beautiful...It'd be great material for a song."
"Really, Maury?" Jeffrey asked. "You—you think so?"
"Yes, I do. It's a brilliant idea. In fact, why don't we work on it now?"
Jeffrey had seemed a bit gloomy while he was telling his story. But he brightened almost immediately when I suggested that idea.
"You're right. It is a good idea. Let's work on it now! Nurse?" he added, for she had just returned to leave some more food, "Nurse, do you have a pen and paper we could borrow, please?"
The nurse handed him the blue pen which she had placed behind her ear for safekeeping.
"Here you go," she said kindly. "And is this enough paper?" She removed some sheets of lined paper from her clipboard and held them out to him.
"That'll do," Jeffrey answered. "Thank you."
The nurse nodded in reply, and after setting two bowls of soup, two large bottles of Dasani, and another heaping tray of biscuits on the small table between our beds, she left.
"Excellent," said Jeffrey, helping himself to some more biscuits. Eagerly I reached for my bowl; my mouth watered as I breathed the delicious aroma of steaming chicken soup. And while we ate, and while the yellow-gold sun peeped in at us through our window, my friend and I worked contentedly on our song.
The End
Short story by Toasted Crackers 06
Read 636 times
Written on 2006-12-14 at 01:05
Tags Bloom06 Fanfic
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Edited by Daniel
Survive--A Bloom 06 Fanfiction
DISCLAIMER: We'll keep our disclaimer short and to the point: None of us own the band Bloom 06.It was 21:59, and the December moon glimpsed through the thick clouds, a faint pearly glow amongst the smoky grey. The path ahead wound through the lofty pine trees like a serpent, covered in freshly-fallen snow.
My friend Jeffrey slept in the passenger's seat next to me, wrapped in a large, thick, bright red quilt. Meanwhile, Gabry Ponte's "Depends on You" played softly on the radio as our dark green Sedan drove down the road.
"Don't worry, Jeff," I said to him softly. "We'll be home soon."
It was warm enough inside the car, but I turned the heater up a few degrees more—I knew how much Jeffrey hated the cold. And I switched the radio off so as not to disturb his sleep.
Jeffrey turned over in the chair and pulled the quilt closer; I fixed my gaze ahead and noticed a large green road sign not too far away. It had a white arrow pointing towards the right, and above this was
TORINO
30 MILES
A shortcut, I thought. We really weren't in that much of a hurry, but still: the sooner we arrived home, the sooner we would be out of this chilly weather.
We neared the sign, and I turned and drove in the direction of the arrow. No other cars followed or preceded us; we were completely alone on our journey down the road.
At first the drive went very smoothly. Then, I heard a loud noise, a muffled thud, and Jeffrey and I were suddenly jerked forward in our seats—the car had hit something. Luckily our safety belts kept us from being thrown through the front window.
Jeffrey awoke. "Wh-what is it, Maury?" he yawned.
"I don't know," I answered. I pressed my foot hard against the gas pedal—the tires screeched and squealed loudly, as though they were in terrible agony.
But the car still wouldn't budge.
"****," I muttered. I got out of the car to see what the problem was.
The cold air stung my cheeks the moment I stepped outside. I pulled the hood of my parka up over my head and went to examine the front of the vehicle.
We had driven straight into a fallen tree.
"G0dd@mmit," I muttered again, and I returned to the driver's seat. Since the shortcut was blocked, we had to turn back to the main road and take the long way home. I stepped on the gas pedal and moved the lever of the gear shift up to R, for Reverse.
Looking back, I saw that the car hadn't moved any closer to the main road.
"G0dd@mmit!" I shouted again, and in my frustration I hit my fist against the steering wheel. A short, sudden blast from the horn startled a flock of snowbirds out of the pine trees that surrounded us.
"Maury?" Jeffrey said quietly, "Maury, please, just calm down for a moment—"
"I AM CALM!!!" I roared, and I raised my hand to throw my cell phone at him.
The cell phone...
I calmed myself down, lowered my arm, flipped open the cell phone, dialed 113, and held it to my ear. But my temper flared up once more when the operator answered.
"I'm sorry. Your call cannot be completed due to—"
I tried calling for help four times, and kept getting the same reply; finally, I pressed the "off" button so hard I nearly broke the phone in half, and shrieked a curse to the sky. More startled snowbirds flew out of the trees; from the corner of my eye, I could see Jeffrey shaking with cold and fear. We were trapped.
The next morning, Jeffrey and I went to look around for help. For hours on end we trudged through ankle-deep snow, but no luck. We couldn't find anybody.
As we made our way back through the forest, a light snow began to fall. I glanced over at Jeffrey and saw that he was starting to pale.
"Jeffrey?" I asked him gently, "Jeffrey, are you all right? You look sick."
"I'm OK," he answered, rubbing his arms. "Just a little c-cold...."
We reached the car and got inside, Jeffrey with some difficulty—he was shaking and shivering so much.
"Here you go, pal, I'll turn the heat up for you," I said, reaching for the dial. A gust of warm air flowed from the heater; Jeffrey held his frozen palms up to it and sighed with relief. Oh God, he looked so ill. It seemed as though he would collapse at any moment. I suddenly remembered from my days in the army that those were the first signs of hypothermia. I took the blankets out of the back seat and placed them over him—I knew they wouldn't help very much, but it was still better than nothing.
I also remembered that bright colors could attract aircrafts flying overhead.
"I'm sorry, Jeff, but I really need this," I said. "It's the only way we can signal for help."
Jeffrey nodded. I waited for the snow to stop, then took the red quilt and placed it over the roof of the car. Then I went back inside, and the moment I shut the door, I heard a loud fizzling sound, followed by a crack! White steam spouted from the heater.
"Oh great," I muttered. Now we were in big trouble, and I alone would be able to solve it. I glanced around one more time, in a desperate attempt to spot anyone who could help us, but my efforts were all in vain.
Feeling for the very first time an odd sensation in my stomach, like a nervous emptiness, I checked again how Jeffrey was feeling. He was still breathing calmly, but his eyes seemed to stare off into space, as though he were dazed. "Are you sure you're OK?" I asked him again.
It took him a few seconds to react to my words. "Yes, yes..." he said weakly. I didn't quite believe him, though—something about his tone of voice told me that he had answered without really thinking about the question.
I took out my cell phone and tried calling 113 again.
Please work this time, I pleaded silently.
"I'm sorry. Your call cannot—"
I sighed and turned the phone off. Now what were we going to do?
Another morning came. I felt the first rays of the bright lemon sun on my face; I blinked, rubbed my eyes, and stretched my cramped muscles.
While twisting around to loosen my stiff back, I noticed how much worse Jeffrey had become. His skin had gotten paler—he looked like a ghost. I held his hand and examined it; it was icy to the touch, and his nails were blue.
I wanted to go outside and gather some wood for a fire, but I was afraid to leave Jeffrey alone—what if something happened to him while I was gone?
I tapped him gently on the shoulder. "Jeffrey?" I whispered. "Jeffrey?"
A moment passed, and then he stirred. His eyes fluttered open. "Huh?" he said.
"I'm going out. I'm going to go get wood for a fire, OK?" I said gently.
Jeffrey nodded and pulled the blankets closer. "OK, OK."
I left the car and headed into the woods.
It wasn't long before I returned with part of a tree trunk and a pocketful of
dry leaves. I couldn't use the tree into which we had driven, since it was moist with snow. I placed the log next to the passenger's side of the car, so that the flame's warmth would reach Jeffrey, and on top of that I piled the leaves.
But how was I going to light the fire? I had no matches or flint, and rubbing two sticks together would use up too much time and energy.
And then it occurred to me.
I remembered having read somewhere that one could start a fire using the cables of a car. I opened the Sedan's hood and immediately found what I was looking for: two long cables—one black, one red—going from the accumulator to the engine. I took them and placed their metal tips on the pile of dry leaves. After four tries, bright orange sparks flew from the cords and ignited the firewood.
"Yes!" I shouted as the flame grew larger before my eyes. I went over to Jeffrey's window and tapped on it to wake him up.
"Jeffrey!" I called. "Jeffrey!"
At first he only lay there in the chair, staring at the car's ceiling. I tapped harder on the glass, and he turned his face away like a scared fish.
"Aw, don't be afraid," I pleaded. "It's just me."
He didn't come out of the car. Instead, he began to sob very loudly. I guessed it was because he was suffering so much. I opened the door to see what was wrong, and to try and coax him out.
"I'm not going to hurt you," I said gently. "Please come out. I've got a fire ready—"
I cut myself off. That sounded as though I were planning to burn him alive.
"Please? There's no need to be scared. It's just me, your friend Maury."
Jeffrey stopped crying. "Ehhh?" he said, slurring his speech. A thin thread of saliva dangled from the corner of his mouth. "M-M-Maury?"
He sounded as though he were drunk, and I knew that his hypothermia was getting worse. I helped him sit up and get out of the car. "Come on," I said. "Let's get you nice and warm."
Three days went by, and still no help came.
Jeffrey and I sat by the fire, warming ourselves. He looked even worse than before; his face and hands were so pale I could barely see them against the snow. He also seemed thinner, but I hoped that it was only an illusion.
Perhaps he's hungry, I thought. I'll make him something to eat.
I went to the back of the car and looked in the trunk; there was nothing left except for a few slices of bread and two bottles of mineral water.
I swore under my breath, then made up my mind to go into the forest and hunt for more food.
While taking a gun and a flashlight out of the trunk, I told Jeffrey of my intentions. "Just stay here and keep warm," I added.
Jeffrey, who still had the blankets wrapped around himself, let out a soft moan; I supposed that meant OK. With the gun in hand, I entered the dark forest once more.
After an hour of searching, I found nothing. My legs ached from walking so much; I wanted go back and rest for a while before trying again.
As I weaved my way back through the woods, I noticed from the corner of my eye something shiny; I walked over to it for a closer look.
It was a small, frozen pond. Its icy surface gleamed in the moonlight like a polished mirror.
Why didn't I see it before? I thought.
It all seemed so strange, but I decided not to waste this chance. I pulled a long branch from a nearby tree to make a fishing rod and hurried back to the car for some string.
Wait, said a voice in my head. Where are you going when it's so dark? All the fish are asleep now...And besides, what if something happens to Jeffrey while you're gone?
True...I guess I'll have to go tomorrow.
And so I returned to the car.
"Oh no!" I exclaimed when I arrived, "Jeffrey!"
He was lying face-down in the snow. The fire had died down. I rushed over to him and turned him over.
"Jeffrey? Jeffrey! Are you all right?"
I did everything I could to wake him up—calling his name, lightly slapping his face, shaking him— but nothing worked.
"Jeffrey, quit playing around," I scolded. "Get up now."
But still nothing happened. His eyes remained shut.
My anger melted away to be replaced by fear and concern. "Oh no," I whispered.
"No, it can't be..."
I placed my ear against his chest and listened hard.
Nothing.
I couldn't believe it.
"No," I said, shaking Jeffrey, "No, please, don't be dead..."
Tears stung my eyes as I looked at him. He seemed so quiet and peaceful. He couldn't be gone, he just couldn't be...
A freezing wind began to blow, carrying along with it a swirling flurry of snow. One snowflake got caught in Jeffrey's eyelashes and remained there, glittering like a night star. Deep in my heart I felt—I knew—that he was still alive. I placed him in the back seat of the car and put the blankets over him; I also gave him our red signal blanket, so that it wouldn't blow away.
I'll stay here with him until he wakes up, I vowed. And so I remained in the car with him all night, with his head resting on my lap.
How could I have left him alone like that? I kept blaming myself. It's all my fault...How could I have been so stupid?
Four more days had passed, and Jeffrey was still unconscious; his pallid skin had become tinged with blue. To make matters worse, our meager supply of food had run out. We still had water, though—we melted and boiled the snow so it would be fit to drink, but it tasted awful, like rusted metal. I wanted very much to go back to that pond and try to fish, but I remembered my promise to stay by Jeffrey's side until he awoke—I refused to make the same foolish mistake again. And so I had to fill my stomach with nothing but water. This wasn't enough, though. The water did its job, but minutes later I was left feeling even hungrier than before. And at night I tried hard to fall asleep, but couldn't—my discomfort kept me awake.
This is the absolute worst night of my life, I thought. It's freezing outside, we're miles away from home, Jeffrey's in really bad shape, I'm so hungry, and I can't sleep...
"Oh God, my head!" I burst out. "Oh, if only I had gone fishing earlier, before all this **** happened...We'd be OK now, and Jeffrey would be OK, too...We'd have more food now, so tasty..."
Another cramp wrenched my insides; I clamped my hands on my empty stomach as it growled noisily.
"But it's too late now...I have to forget about it—I need to rest..."
It took almost the whole night for me to fall asleep; finally, with my throbbing head resting against the cool window, I fell into a dreamless slumber. But a loud rustling noise from the woods broke the silence and startled me awake.
"Huh?! What was that?" I said.
I gazed out of the window, searching for whatever had made the noise, but nothing was there. The forest remained silent.
"Probably just some squirrels," I muttered. "Nothing important. But now I can't sleep again...It's almost morning and I haven't slept for even one stupid minute...
"Ughhhhh, why the hell did I ever decide to take this shortcut in the first place?! If I had just taken the long way home, none of this would have happened! But no, I had to go, I just had to, and now we're stuck in this g0dd@mn snowdrift, freezing and starving to death!"
At this point I put my face in my hands and burst into quiet tears. I cried because I was so hungry and tired and sore. I cried for poor Jeffrey. And I cried because all of this was entirely my fault.
"There, there," a woman's voice murmured gently. "It's all right. Everything will be just fine."
My vision was blurred with tears, so I couldn't see who had spoken. And everything slowly went black as I passed out, overcome by hunger and fatigue.
When I reopened my eyes, I found myself lying on a soft mattress, my head resting on a fluffy pillow, my body layered with thick, white sheets.
Was this real, or only a dream? I wondered. Was I dead? Had I gone to heaven?
Turning my head to the left, I noticed someone in the next bed; I hoisted myself up on one elbow for a better look. His blankets were pulled up over his head, but I could still tell that that someone was—
"Jeffrey..." I whispered.
Was he dead, too? Or were we both still alive? What was going on? Where were we? So many questions ran through my mind—I needed an explanation for all this.
"Ah," said a female voice—I recognized it as the same one from last night. "I see you're awake at last, Signor Lobina."
I blinked twice, and as my vision slowly cleared, I saw a beautiful brown-haired lady standing before me, dressed all in white. An angel? I wondered.
I looked around. Everything in the room was so white and clean: the walls, the floor, the curtains, the furniture... I noticed the bright red cross on the front of the lady's cap and realized that I wasn't in heaven—I was in a hospital, and she was a nurse.
"I'm alive!" I said to myself joyfully. "I'm alive!"
But another thought came like a black storm cloud, obscuring my happiness.
"But what about Jeffrey? Is he all right? Is he really—?
"You and Signor Randone were very lucky we arrived when we did," the nurse told me as she fluffed my pillows. "If we had come later you both could have died—especially Signor Randone."
"So Jeffrey's OK!"
"Yes," she replied with a smile. "He's just sleeping right now. He'll be hungry when he wakes, because of the treatment we gave him, but I daresay he'll be fine."
My worries disappeared when I heard that news. Jeffrey was alive! For the first time in days I felt my face break into a smile; the black storm cloud faded away as quickly as it had come, and my happiness and relief shone brightly once more.
"Oh dear—I need to go assist Dr. Gonzales," said the nurse. "I'll leave a tray of biscuits here for the both of you. If you need anything else, call me, OK?"
And with that she left the room. Still smiling, still feeling happy and peaceful, I lay back and closed my eyes.
Much later, I woke up due to some loud crunching noises—I hadn't realized that I'd fallen asleep. I opened my eyes and saw that Jeffrey was finally awake; he was sitting up in bed, his back against the pillow, devouring a biscuit. His skin had returned to its original rosy hue.
"Hey, Jeff," I said softly as tears of bliss filled my eyes—it was nice to see him alive and well after all that had happened. "I'm glad you're OK."
"Oh, hi Maury," Jeffrey responded through a mouthful of food. He swallowed. "I'm glad you're OK, too. Man, I am famished..."
I nodded as I watched him take another bite. "And no wonder you are, you haven't had anything to eat for nearly four days..." And as I said that, I was reminded of my own hunger; I took a biscuit from the large plastic blue tray and ate. The biscuit was a little dry, but I was too ravenous to care. "And what's more the nurse said that you would be hungry because of the treatment they gave you...
"What's wrong? What is it?" I asked, for Jeffrey had put down his biscuit, looking thoughtful. "What are you thinking about?"
"Huh? What?" he replied, as though waking suddenly from a trance. I asked him my question again.
"Oh, I was thinking about what happened to me just before I passed out on that day," he responded as he rearranged his covers. "I remember that I felt cold, so terribly cold, even with the blankets on. And I couldn't see anything but darkness—I thought I was going to die. I was, like all death-experienced people say, inside this long black tunnel with a bright light at the end... it was all so confusing—I kept thinking, 'What am I going to do now? Should I stay here in the tunnel or go to the light?'
"And as I was trying to choose, all of a sudden I remembered my life; all the good moments...I saw my family, my friends, our concerts and, most of all, our fans. They all looked so happy...I could see my whole life passing in front of me, many fast flashes, and then I realized that I had to try and survive for all of you, for all the people who are important to me... I don't know how, but soon afterwards I felt peaceful and safe."
He gave a deep sigh, and I realized that he had finished speaking.
"Wow..." I said with amazement. "Wow, Jeffrey, that's so beautiful...So beautiful...It'd be great material for a song."
"Really, Maury?" Jeffrey asked. "You—you think so?"
"Yes, I do. It's a brilliant idea. In fact, why don't we work on it now?"
Jeffrey had seemed a bit gloomy while he was telling his story. But he brightened almost immediately when I suggested that idea.
"You're right. It is a good idea. Let's work on it now! Nurse?" he added, for she had just returned to leave some more food, "Nurse, do you have a pen and paper we could borrow, please?"
The nurse handed him the blue pen which she had placed behind her ear for safekeeping.
"Here you go," she said kindly. "And is this enough paper?" She removed some sheets of lined paper from her clipboard and held them out to him.
"That'll do," Jeffrey answered. "Thank you."
The nurse nodded in reply, and after setting two bowls of soup, two large bottles of Dasani, and another heaping tray of biscuits on the small table between our beds, she left.
"Excellent," said Jeffrey, helping himself to some more biscuits. Eagerly I reached for my bowl; my mouth watered as I breathed the delicious aroma of steaming chicken soup. And while we ate, and while the yellow-gold sun peeped in at us through our window, my friend and I worked contentedly on our song.
The End
Short story by Toasted Crackers 06
Read 636 times
Written on 2006-12-14 at 01:05
Tags Bloom06 Fanfic
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