Frozen Night

Chapter One

Addie

I’m going crazy. The madness takes over my body inch by inch. I can feel it, yet I’m powerless to stop it. There’s something about utterly freezing that makes you lose your mind. I thought I’d been cold before, but I’ve never experienced this kind of cold. I’d venture to say that very few people, pre-zombie world, had. 

The winter storm blows violently outside these walls. The freezing wind and snow hits the windows, and the rattling echoes angrily throughout the barren house. We huddle against the leather sofa even though it provides no warmth. The once supple material is stiff and hard from the bitter temperature. We’ve barricaded the sofa with the mattresses dragged from the bedrooms in hopes of blocking out some of the cold. The house was void of sheets, blankets, clothes, and basically anything that could provide comfort, which is probably my fault. 

The only fabric remaining were the curtains, which we’ve enveloped our bodies in as we huddle together around Blue, trying to use our collective body heat—what little there is left—to stay alive. 

Minutes pass by as hours. The freezing temperature makes it impossible to sleep or do anything other than will my lungs to keep breathing. 

This won’t last forever, I remind myself. Just a little longer.

I give myself an internal pep talk to get me through the next minute. Survive. One moment at a time. Thinking about a night of this torture is too much, but a small increment of time is more manageable.  

No one says a word. The wrathful wind and eerie creaks of the house are the only noises. I want to cry, and scream, and curse the universe for everything it’s putting us through, but I don’t have the energy to do anything but breathe and pray for some relief. 

I’m stubborn and a fighter. And still, a part of me wants to give up. Throw in the towel. Put a stop to the endless suffering. There has to be a limit to what the human body can take. 

We’ve all lost so much, our families and friends—some right before our eyes. Hugo still cries at night and wakes from terrifying nightmares where his sister dies before him again and again. It’s been two months since we lost Brynnley, yet because of his grief, it feels like yesterday. 

Brooklyn, Nevaeh, Nova, and I are the only ones who don’t have confirmation of our parents’ death, and I hold out so much hope that our families are alive somewhere out there. Yet the reality of this dark world steals a little bit of that hope each day. Sometimes it feels as if no one will survive this. There’s too much evil, too much suffering. It feels impossible, especially at this moment.

I lost all feeling in my extremities hours ago. I’ve crossed my arms over my chest with my fists tucked under my arms in hopes of protecting them from frostbite. My bones ache, and my skin burns as it slowly freezes and dies. 

Hugo’s voice cracks. “Do you think the zombies will eat us if we’re already dead, like vultures do with roadkill?”

It takes my brain a moment to process his question. Even words don’t come easily in our current reality. Hunger, dehydration, and the fact that we’re freezing—quite possibly to death—leaves my mind in a fog. 

“We’re not going to die, Hugo.” I try my best to reassure him.

He shakes his head, his teeth rattling beneath his cracked lips. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better, but you don’t believe it.”

“We’re going to make it through this, buddy,” Brooklyn chimes in.

“The pitch in people’s voices gets higher when they’re lying or unsure. I know I’m only eight, but you don’t have to placate me. I can handle the truth.” His words aren’t angry but simply resigned.  

“What the heck does placate mean?” Iris asks.

Hugo answers, “To pacify, appease, soothe…to try to make one feel better.”

I’d laugh if I could. A small smile stretches across my chapped lips. “Bud, if your brain is still working well enough to come up with three synonyms to a word most eight-year-olds don’t even know, you’re not even close to dying. Believe me, we’re going to be fine. We just have to get through the night. As soon as the sun comes up, we can figure out a plan. Okay?” I work to keep the pitch of my voice even so Hugo will believe me, even if I don’t completely believe myself. “But to answer your question, I don’t think so. I think the dead only bite living people.”

The truth is, I don’t know, but the last thing Hugo needs to imagine is a zombie gnawing on his dead flesh. In fact, it’s the last thing any of us needs to think about right now. It’s also true that we can’t do anything until we have some light. 

We’re not alone. The dead amble outside these walls, desperate for their next meal. We could very well freeze to death tonight, and there’s not a lot we can do about that. But I refuse to be taken down by walking decayed flesh. I will not go out that way. Turning into one of them isn’t an option. 

“Here.” I uncross my arms, the motion painful. Taking Hugo’s hands, I slide them under Blue. “He can keep your hands warm.” I place my hands under Blue’s fur, too. 

He’s not as warm as usual, but surely his dense coat holds in more heat than our clothes and a few measly curtains. I know my big dog would prefer to be home in the pre-zombie days, snuggled up on the couch with us as we watched a movie. We all would. But I’m glad he’s here. His body heat and fur coat just may save us tonight. 

“You could lie next to him and snuggle a bit. He’d keep you warm, and maybe you could get some sleep,” I offer.

Hugo shakes his head. “The floor is too cold.”

He’s right there. I look around at the makeshift shelter we constructed from the mattresses. It’s not doing us any good. We need a new plan because this one is awful.

Pulling my hands from beneath Blue, I slowly stand. The motion takes effort. My entire body screams in protest as if my bones and muscles have already given in to the deathly temperatures. “New plan.” The words crack as they leave my mouth. 

“No,” Karlie protests. “It’s too cold to do anything right now.”

I ignore her. There are many things I want to say to her and Carter, but none of them would be helpful right now. 

“This isn’t working,” I say.

“It’s the worst,” Brooklyn agrees, her teeth chattering.

Nova clears her throat. “This sofa feels like frozen concrete.”

“And the mattresses aren’t doing anything,” Logan adds. 

“Exactly.” I stretch my arms over my head in an attempt to warm my muscles and prepare them for movement. 

With a grunt of effort, Iris stands. “What’d you have in mind?”

“I think we should drag these two mattress upstairs to the smallest room. We can lay together on them, around Blue. Snuggle in real close with the curtains over us. Maybe we’ll be warmer in the small space and be able to use our body heat to keep warm. The living room is”—I motion to the large empty room around us—“too open and drafty. This sofa isn’t doing us any favors, nor is the hardwood floor.”

“Works for me.” Logan stands beside me. “Plus, I need to move my body to warm up my muscles. I think they’re half frozen.”

“Seriously. Do you know how often I’ve said the phrase, ‘freezing to death’ in my life?” Brooklyn extends a hand to Hugo and helps him off the floor. “Now that saying holds a whole new meaning.”

“I’d try anything at this point,” Nevaeh whispers with a sigh, her tone void of its usual feistiness. The temperatures have frozen her fire, and the truth is, I miss it. Nevaeh’s attitude on her worst day would be better than our current state. 

“It’s too cold to relocate. I can’t move,” Karlie whines, leaning her face against Carter’s arm. 

“That’s exactly why we need to,” Nova says, twisting to the side and causing her back to crack. “We need to get our blood pumping a bit, or we’ll freeze.” She turns toward me. “There’s a room upstairs that was an office. I remember moving out a desk. I think it’s just big enough for the two mattresses.”

“Perfect.” I nod and take hold of the corner of a mattress. “Hugo, can you grab all the curtains? Everyone else, help with a mattress.”

With great effort, we manage to pull the mattresses upstairs and into the room that was once an office. 

The only good thing about this winter storm and all this snow is that it provides light where we normally wouldn’t have any. The moon's light bounces off our snow-covered surroundings, allowing us to navigate through the house. We situate the mattresses on the floor and close the door. 

Blue quickly finds his spot in the center of a mattress. He’s never been one to shy away from comfort. Even now, he doesn’t hesitate to curl up on the softest spot available in the icy pits of misery. 

I direct Hugo to lie next to him and snuggle up behind the little boy. The rest of the group follows suit until all nine of us and Blue spoon one another, covered in the worthless curtains. Maybe it’s the exhaustive effort it took to pull the mattress up the stairs or our body heat in this small room, but I do feel a little warmer. Still freezing but maybe not as close to death.

“We should move south,” Logan says, his arm wrapped around my waist.

A round of agreement sounds. 

Moving somewhere warmer wouldn’t be the worst idea if we make it through this winter. I think back to the dangers we faced traveling from Coach Brad’s lake house to Chelsea. What should’ve been less than a three-hour trip took days, and not everyone who started that trip finished it. It scares me to think what dangers we’d face heading south to the unknown. It’s surreal to think that there’s a whole world out there, and we have no idea what’s happening in other areas. I would give anything for some communication. 

“Back in our other life, this would’ve been a cold day for sure. We would’ve actually cheered for this weather to get a day off school. What do you think it is…negative twenty degrees wind chill?” Brooklyn asks.

She’s right, I would’ve loved this weather before. Michigan called off school when there was too much snow or ice on the roads, or if it was so cold that the kids riding the bus would be in danger standing at their bus stops in negative degree temperatures. Nothing was better than a surprise day off from school. I’d give back every snow day I’ve ever had to have a few more degrees of warmth right about now. 

“At least. It’s unbearably cold,” Iris answers.

“I sure hope the storm ends soon so we can get out of here,” Nova states. “I don’t know how much longer we can take this.”

“We can make it until morning, and then we’ll leave, no matter what,” I reassure myself as much as anyone else. Because we have to. We have no choice. 

We have nothing here—no food, water, or weapons—and very little shelter from the elements. 

After a few more minutes of small talk, the enormity of the cold falls over us again, and we descend into silence. 

I’m terrified of falling asleep and not waking up. 

With very little sleep over the past forty-eight hours, every cell in my body weeps with exhaustion, and my eyelids close. Lying on my side, I concentrate on Logan’s warmth behind me and Hugo and Blue’s at my front. My arm stretches over Hugo, and my hand rests on Blue’s fur. He breathes steadily, sound asleep. He reminds me of home, and love, and better days. Having him here gives me hope. He survived against all odds, and we will, too. 

As the frosty night pulls me under, I pray to see the light of day again. Even now, immersed in this much discomfort and helplessness, I’d give anything to live another day. 

It’s true that everything hurts. My mind, body, and soul ache. But pain means I’m still here, so I’ll take it.