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When she awoke, Valerie found that the wind was still insistently pushing on the house, nothing to be seen outside the window. Martha was awake, and when she looked over at her, Martha said, “I was hoping we could wait out the storm, but I really need to check the animals. They’ll be in their barns for sure, but they need feed to really stay warm.”
Valerie had tucked the blanket up to her chin.
“Guess it’s time to gear up.” Valerie missed the cozy blanket the instant she got up, but it wasn’t fair for them to enjoy warmth and full bellies while the animals were cold and hungry.
The wind still roared, and the whipping snow left little visibility, but it was clear that the sun was out there somewhere and blackness didn’t cover everything.
They both went to get their gear on in the arctic entryway. It was much colder in there than in the house, a testament to how beneficial this extra room enclosing the door to the house was.
Snow pants, heavy coat, behemoth boots, face mask, gloves, hat, goggles.
“No wonder people think they’ve seen a yeti. It’s probably a tourist catching sight of someone dressed for this abominable weather.” Her voice came out so muffled through the layers of the insulated face mask that she wasn’t sure Martha had heard her.
She couldn’t see Martha’s face with the goggles and mask on, but her aunt sounded amused when she replied, “You think tourists are up here during this season?”
“Masochistic tourists.”
They headed out into the snow. The wind tore the outer door from Martha’s hands and it took both of them pushing on it to get it closed. Martha hadn’t had rope inside to tie them to the house, so they stayed close to each other and Valerie followed Martha’s lead.
The wind battered at her, and the snow was nearly past her knees already. Clomping through it and against the wind had her gasping for air and sweating, muscles tight as she struggled forward. Martha continued to lead and, thankfully, it wasn’t a total whiteout and visibility was about five feet.
Martha turned around, her face nearly against Valerie’s ear so she could hear her words. “Let’s split up so we can get this done quickly. I’ll go take care of the animals on this side of the main barn, you go to that side”—she motioned as she spoke—“and then we should meet at the main barn.”
“Sounds like a good idea,” she shouted, knowing her voice was barely heard over the wind.
They separated, going in opposite directions. Valerie desperately wanted to be done with this task. The power of nature was wearing her down, and she felt exhausted. The wind tore her breath from her, and her heart raced as she plowed through the ever-increasing snow.
Rattling, the sound enough to be heard over the wind, caught her attention. Diagonal to her on the right, the storage shed was being torn apart by the storm. Already she could see where boards and roof shingles had been ripped away.
Several wooden boards from the old shed tore loose and flew past her, barely missing her face as she stumbled back, landing on her backside in the snow. Wrenching herself up, she whirled to warn her aunt, but even as she screamed out a warning, she was too late. The big wooden boards slammed into Martha’s skull and back and she toppled forward.
“Aunt Martha!” Valerie cried out, the words and breath torn from her lips by the vicious wind. Valerie stumbled forward against it, the snow nearly to her thighs now, inhibiting her movements as she tried to get to Martha’s still, prone form as quickly as she could. Cold terror clutched her heart as she struggled with each step to reach Martha. She hadn’t moved since being struck, and Valerie could see red staining the pure white of the snow around her.
“No, no, no,” Valerie moaned, throwing herself forward until she reached her aunt. Ripping off her gloves, she put her hands around her aunt’s face and checked her head. She was bleeding from her scalp through her hat where one of the boards had connected, but she was breathing. Valerie looked back at the house. She feared moving her aunt, knowing it wasn’t good to move an injured person without the approval of medical personnel, but there was no way she could leave her here to be buried by snow.
Fighting against the wind as it bit her face and numbed her exposed hands, she crawled on the snow until she was behind Martha, grabbing her around the armpits and pulling her against her chest. Maybe she would wake up soon, but Valerie knew that blood loss and hypothermia—cause by both the elements and the loss of blood—could easily kill her and she couldn’t wait.
Struggling with each pull, she tugged her aunt toward the house. The wind battled her, throwing snow into her face with such ferocity, she began to lose sight of the house, which now stood only a mere few yards away. Gasping in exhaustion, sweat from the work and her thick outer layer dripping down her temples and back, Valerie gritted her teeth and got her aunt to the threshold, where she pulled her inside.
Gasping and wheezing, she hauled the outer door closed. Martha was still unconscious, blood staining her hat in a large circle, and Valerie crawled on hands and knees through the next door to find bandages and the landline. Gus flew past her out into the entryway and started whining.
In the bathroom, she pushed herself to her feet and dug around the medicine cabinet and another white cabinet in the corner. Hadn’t Martha mentioned that the first aid kit was in the bathroom? Frustration and fear welled in Valerie. Every second she couldn’t find the kit felt like a second that Martha was slipping away from her. Finally, she found a small but well-stocked first aid kit under the sink. Relief brought tears to her eyes as she saw a package of QuikClot gauze.
As she ran back, her snow pants and jacket making swishing noises as she moved, she grabbed the landline, thankful that it wasn’t connected to a circular cord like those big old white ones had been that she remembered Martha having years ago.
Martha was blinking unfocused eyes as Valerie knelt by her, and it only took a moment for the closest 9-1-1 operator—probably someone stationed hours away—answered.
Valerie spewed out the message of her aunt’s injury, trying not to let emotions get the best of her. As she spoke, she eased off Martha’s hat and brushed aside blood-matted hair so she could apply gauze directly to the injury.
After a couple of questions, the operator told her that a helicopter was on its way, but that the storm in the area may mean it couldn’t get there anytime soon. They would be in touch with information as the helicopter neared and they watched the weather. The conversation nearly sent Valerie into a fit of sobs, but she held herself together. Barely.
“What’s going on?” The words were mumbled, almost slurred, and Martha squinted her eyes before shutting them, her brows furrowed.
“I’m here, Martha. I’m here, and you’re going to be okay. Help is coming.” Valerie’s voice broke on the last word, anguish creeping into her heart. How could such an awful thing happen to such a good person? What if Martha...Valerie shook her head vehemently. She couldn’t allow her mind to go there or she would fall apart completely.
“Are the animals alright?” It was hard to understand the slurred words, but Valerie got the gist and squeezed Martha’s hand before gently caressing her cheek, wiping away a trickle of blood.
“Yes, they’re safe in their barns. I’ll take care of them, I promise. I promise.”
Minutes ticked by, and Valerie couldn’t keep Martha awake, even as she told her stories and squeezed her hand, rubbed her face, and begged her to stay awake.
Gus lay with his head on Martha’s chest, staring at her face almost without blinking, as if he could wake her up with his love.
Valerie felt more alone than she ever had starting college by herself in a completely unfamiliar environment or living by herself with no friends or family around after she’d accepted her job. Damon. His face, eyes kind as they gazed at her, formed in her mind, and she picked up the phone. But she didn’t know his number. Maybe it was saved. Scrolling through the handheld landline’s contacts—there were three—she found the Durst ranch. She dialed it without hesitation.
“Hello,” a female voice answered. Patti.
“Can I talk to Damon? This is Valerie.” Her voice hitched more than once.
“Of course. Honey, are you alright?”
“No.” She was so close to crying, but she couldn’t lose it, not yet.
“I’ve got Damon here. We’ll help you, whatever you need,” Patti said.
“Valerie?” Damon’s voice was concerned.
Trying not to burble or let loose the sobs that threatened to take over, she told him what had happened. Before she could request he come, he said, “I’m on my way.” Somehow, that gave her strength.