Read Online Frozen Stiff by Sherry Shahan - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sherry Shahan
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pain sometimes killed.
Dreams pelted her from all sides.
Her father boxing up his
World’s Greatest Dad
mug, a Father’s Day gift. Even in her dream she wanted to throw it, smash it until the ceramic was nothing but powder.
• • •
The night and the following day slipped away, broken by nightmares and pain. She wanted to rip her eyes from their sockets. Drop them into a bucket of ice water.
If she dared open her swollen lids she saw only white. She’d always thought people who couldn’t see lived in a world of darkness!
Derek dipped the cloth in water and bathed her eyes. Another cloth. This one on her forehead. Mopping sweat. Was he reading to her? Impossible. Somehow she figured it out: He was writing in his head and reciting aloud everything that had happened since they’d left Yakutat.
Finally the fever broke and she awakened to the sound of rain splattering the tent. She tried opening her eyes, slowly. Her lids were still puffy, but the intense burning had died to a dull sting.
She turned toward the soft snoring. Even in the early-morning light Derek had a shape, although she couldn’t pick out his features.
I can see!
she exclaimed to herself.
Then she whispered to the sun gods, “Thank you.”
A thank-you for letting her off the hook. They could have kept her sight forever.
She felt around for the damp cloth and pressed it against her eyelids. Her face felt as tight as if it were ready to split open like a barbecued sausage.
How long was I out?
she wondered. It couldn’t have been too long because she wasn’t hungry. She shouldhave been ravenous, near starvation. Except for the egg she’d thrown up, she didn’t think she’d eaten since their macaroni and cheese casserole—whenever that was.
“You’re back,” Derek said from his bag. “Are you okay?”
“Better, much better.” She kept her eyes closed, bathing them with the cloth. “It must have been that glare off the water and ice. Without shades. Thank God for No Fear. It could have been so much worse if I didn’t have a cap.”
“You could have worn my shades,” he said, handing her a pot of water.
“Then I’d be taking care of you.” Cody drank slowly, rinsing away the rotten taste in her mouth. “You fed me, huh?”
“Yeah. For two days.”
“I was out of it for two days?” Suddenly she had to pee. She got up and went outside. When she returned she said, “Did I eat something?”
“Some kind of jerky,” he said. “Salmon, I think. I ripped it into small pieces and soaked it in water to soften it up. That and crushed pine nuts.”
Derek handed her a strip of jerky, watching her tear off a tough bite. After swallowing she felt bloated, as if she’d just eaten a Thanksgiving dinner. Had her stomach shrunk? Then a more important question came to mind.
Salmon jerky in the tent?
She felt for the bear horn, relaxing when she located the handle next to herboots. For a moment she tried to wonder where the food had come from. The cabin, maybe?
Then she lay back down, exhausted, and slept.
The next time she woke up it was night. Moonlight filtered ever so faintly through the tent. It was still raining. Now she needed to
see
the rain. She wanted to
taste
it and dance around in it, rejoicing,
I can see!
Cody crawled across the floor and unzipped the tent. She stuck her hand out, disappointed not to feel raindrops. Below their camp, granite boulders glistened under a cloudless moonlit sky. Although everything was a blur, she could still make out edges. She waited while her eyes focused on the fjord; a mass of icebergs clogged the inlet.
The sound she had thought to be pelting rain was air being released from melting ice; air that could have been trapped inside a glacier for thousands of years. It sounded like a bowl of rice cereal.
Snap. Crackle. Pop
.
“Wow,” she whispered.
Derek scooted next to her and gave her a pouch of pine nuts. She fingered the deerskin. The leather wasn’t scarred or rotten as she’d
Dreams pelted her from all sides.
Her father boxing up his
World’s Greatest Dad
mug, a Father’s Day gift. Even in her dream she wanted to throw it, smash it until the ceramic was nothing but powder.
• • •
The night and the following day slipped away, broken by nightmares and pain. She wanted to rip her eyes from their sockets. Drop them into a bucket of ice water.
If she dared open her swollen lids she saw only white. She’d always thought people who couldn’t see lived in a world of darkness!
Derek dipped the cloth in water and bathed her eyes. Another cloth. This one on her forehead. Mopping sweat. Was he reading to her? Impossible. Somehow she figured it out: He was writing in his head and reciting aloud everything that had happened since they’d left Yakutat.
Finally the fever broke and she awakened to the sound of rain splattering the tent. She tried opening her eyes, slowly. Her lids were still puffy, but the intense burning had died to a dull sting.
She turned toward the soft snoring. Even in the early-morning light Derek had a shape, although she couldn’t pick out his features.
I can see!
she exclaimed to herself.
Then she whispered to the sun gods, “Thank you.”
A thank-you for letting her off the hook. They could have kept her sight forever.
She felt around for the damp cloth and pressed it against her eyelids. Her face felt as tight as if it were ready to split open like a barbecued sausage.
How long was I out?
she wondered. It couldn’t have been too long because she wasn’t hungry. She shouldhave been ravenous, near starvation. Except for the egg she’d thrown up, she didn’t think she’d eaten since their macaroni and cheese casserole—whenever that was.
“You’re back,” Derek said from his bag. “Are you okay?”
“Better, much better.” She kept her eyes closed, bathing them with the cloth. “It must have been that glare off the water and ice. Without shades. Thank God for No Fear. It could have been so much worse if I didn’t have a cap.”
“You could have worn my shades,” he said, handing her a pot of water.
“Then I’d be taking care of you.” Cody drank slowly, rinsing away the rotten taste in her mouth. “You fed me, huh?”
“Yeah. For two days.”
“I was out of it for two days?” Suddenly she had to pee. She got up and went outside. When she returned she said, “Did I eat something?”
“Some kind of jerky,” he said. “Salmon, I think. I ripped it into small pieces and soaked it in water to soften it up. That and crushed pine nuts.”
Derek handed her a strip of jerky, watching her tear off a tough bite. After swallowing she felt bloated, as if she’d just eaten a Thanksgiving dinner. Had her stomach shrunk? Then a more important question came to mind.
Salmon jerky in the tent?
She felt for the bear horn, relaxing when she located the handle next to herboots. For a moment she tried to wonder where the food had come from. The cabin, maybe?
Then she lay back down, exhausted, and slept.
The next time she woke up it was night. Moonlight filtered ever so faintly through the tent. It was still raining. Now she needed to
see
the rain. She wanted to
taste
it and dance around in it, rejoicing,
I can see!
Cody crawled across the floor and unzipped the tent. She stuck her hand out, disappointed not to feel raindrops. Below their camp, granite boulders glistened under a cloudless moonlit sky. Although everything was a blur, she could still make out edges. She waited while her eyes focused on the fjord; a mass of icebergs clogged the inlet.
The sound she had thought to be pelting rain was air being released from melting ice; air that could have been trapped inside a glacier for thousands of years. It sounded like a bowl of rice cereal.
Snap. Crackle. Pop
.
“Wow,” she whispered.
Derek scooted next to her and gave her a pouch of pine nuts. She fingered the deerskin. The leather wasn’t scarred or rotten as she’d
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