Rescued by the Captain (Winter Rescue)

2. Bria

2

brIA

Snow is falling like crazy. I thought that I could handle the walk, that I could make it out of these woods before I get too weak.

But I’ve started to dread that my fight will be for nothing.

I stumble past countless trees before I glimpse a plume of smoke in the distance. My eyes light up. Maybe there’s a bonfire— a ranger station, possibly.

Whatever lays ahead, I know that it’ll bring me one step closer towards an escape.

An escape from what, exactly, thrashes my skull as I navigate the forest. My memories are still locked within a haze. I don’t know my name, my history. I’m like a dandelion drifting to the wind’s course, except I sense something —a subtle fire inside of me— that urges me to keep going. It tells me that there is a reason I should endure this.

Thump. Thump Thump.

I freeze on the spot. My heart is pounding, but it's not the noise that I’m picking up.

THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!

Footsteps. Someone is following me. I brace like a fortress, shoulders hunched and hands balled into fists.

Suddenly, they reveal themselves.

“Fuck!!!” I shriek. My heart jumps up my throat as I see a silhouette pass the trunk in front of me.

It takes me a moment to realize that the “someone” is no larger than myself– in fact, they are so small that I could cup them in my two palms.

Grabbing the collar of my coat in one hand, I release the longest breath.

“Just a bunny,” I exhale, watching the furry critter run in the opposite direction.

The world starts to spin, a flashback consuming my vision. I’m in a car, and there is a big black truck in my rearview mirror.

“Crap.” Vertigo sets in. I blink in and out of consciousness, and reach for a tree to steady myself, only to gasp for air. My knees buckle like jello.

I’m falling, sinking into the earth…

And the world goes black.

Donte

The first 48 hours are the most important when looking for someone.

My boots slam the snow as I burst forward. Icy puffs of air blow out of my mouth, breaths that match the beat of my heart.

I need to move fast. You don’t have much time to solve an investigation when a victim is involved. And when I found the blood stains, I knew that something went wrong. Terribly wrong

I’ve got to make quick ground. Droplets of blood lead deep into the forest — the person has to have made it far, but judging by their footprints, they're not in the best mental state. They shuffle to-and-fro like they’re toppling into every other tree.

My heart stops when I hear a scream.

“Fuck!”

I’ve just rounded a bend, and a woman lets out a deafening cry. My legs surge before a plan does. I start sprinting, blood pumping through my veins to the point I’m numb to the cold.

I’ll save you. You won’t die alone.

As I dash, my eyes race my surroundings for any signs of life. There’s trees, more naked trees, and then I see her.

I stop when we’re mere feet apart. She doesn’t appear to recognize me— her stumbling comes to a halt, and her body sways before she crashes to the ground. I immediately swoop down to her side.

“Oh God,” I hiss as I take her cheek in my palm. Propping up her head on my lap, I notice that the woman is hauntingly cold. Like a corpse that has risen from underground. Her lips, curved like a seagull's wings, are drained of color— I can see that she is beautiful, curvaceous with voluminous hair and thick eyelashes. But she’s been through it. There’s no question her blood pressure is dangerously low.

Clenching my jaw, I press two fingers on her neck to check for a pulse. Her skin squishes underneath the pressure of my fingertips. Listening for a rhythm, I bring my ear down to her mouth.

Her breaths tickle my skin. Thank God, she hasn’t given up just yet. I begin to widen the inches between us, when I see her eyelashes flutter.

“Black… truck…” she murmurs, her lips parting ever so slightly. She squirms as if wanting to say more, but nothing comes.

I gently shake her shoulders. It’s of no use, she’s fully knocked out. I have two choices at this point— either wait for another miracle, hoping she’ll awaken again so we can escape the storm together, or carry her to someplace that won’t risk both of us freezing to death.

My gaze darts to my wristwatch. Fifteen minutes have passed since I reached the scene. With what I’ve learned in the military about hypothermia, I doubt that a girl laying in the snow will last much longer with the limited clothing she has on.

I scoop her up in my arms. The frailness of her condition becomes even starker in my hold. She takes shallow breaths, and her eyebrows twitch as if she’s struggling to stay conscious.

All the more reason to get her out of here fast . Her brown waves fall over my shoulders as I trudge forward, sliding one hand to the intercom to radio the sheriff.

I shout to be heard over the pouring snow. “Found victim but can’t make it back to the truck. Going to find shelter.”

The radio crackles as Colt releases a frustrated exhale. “You’re never going to make the force with this bullshit.”

“I’ll let you know when we’re safe, but thanks for being a dick.” I shouldn’t talk to my hopefully future boss.

I hold the woman closer to my chest. Keeping her vital organs warm is top priority. A beautiful iridescent owl necklace falls from her shirt and I jostle it back into place, hoping not to lose anything more than what she already has.

Yeah, the sheriff may be pissed off. He’ll have to deal with it. Losing a shot at a job weighs less than losing a shot at saving someone’s life. If I didn’t disobey this honcho’s orders, who knows when the next person would’ve found the woman’s body.

Colton answers through gritted teeth. "There’s a cabin about a mile from you, Winchester’s property, I’ll call them and let ‘em know you’re going to use it.”

“Understood.”

I switch off the intercom.

Out of the blue, the woman begins rambling. “I didn’t do it,” she moans.

I can only return a blank stare. Do what?

“Did they get it?” she asks. Her eyes flutter open and shut. She’s probably blurting whatever in her sleep, because I can’t piece together a lick of what she’s trying to say.

I’m guessing she realizes she’s hoisted six feet above the ground in a stranger’s arms, because she begins to thrash from side to side.

“Who are you?” She demands. “I need to go back to the car!”

My hands curl protectively around her waist. If she shifts too much, she’ll slip to the ground.

“My name is Donte Rogers. I’m a first responder, here to rescue you.”

“Donte?” The woman repeats. Her voice is raspy, oddly soothing my ears.

“You must be very confused right now, but I promise that I’m only trying to help you. Please bear with me for now. There’s a bad storm going on, so we’re headed for a cabin nearby.”

The woman barely nods before her head flops to the side.

Twenty minutes pass. I think I’m hallucinating when I glimpse a metal roof in the distance. Squinting, I rush forward to see if there has indeed been a break in the trees on the horizon, that we’ve reached our first hope of shelter.

As I get closer, a chimney comes into view.

“We’re here,” I sigh in relief.

I glance at the woman, who's still unconscious. At least she won’t feel the cold, but that’s probably not a good thing. When we get to the cabin’s doorstep, I carefully rest her on a porch chair so that I can open the door. It won’t budge.

“Damn it,” I grumble. The wooden entrance is bolted shut, and any key, if there is one outside, has to have been snowed over.

Looks like I’ll need to use sheer force.

On the count of one, two, three…

Bam!

I ram into the door, muscling it wide open. Might’ve gone too hard— the door flings with such momentum I hear the hinges crack the frame. Thankfully, our only means of keeping the cold out doesn’t give in, and I pick up the woman to carry her inside.

The cabin is small. It’s clearly pretty old, considering the sagging panels on the roof. I ignore the obvious signs of disrepair as I rest the woman on the couch, then wrap her in a wool blanket.

Rubbing my hands for warmth, I figure that the cabin could afford some more heat. I get down by the fireplace and light the logs aflame.

“That should help her temperature go up,” I say to no one but myself, circling back to the couch. I press a palm on her forehead. She’s still cold, but her cheeks are starting to flush.

“It wasn’t my fault,” she mumbles. I brush her hair out of her face, my eyebrows knit sympathetically. The cycle repeats with her— the droplets of cryptic messages, before she goes unconscious. I know that she isn’t doing this to spook me, that this is a fault of her weakened state. Yet, I can’t help recalling my own unwanted memories.

When I found out about my wife’s death, I felt like her blood was on my hands. That if I’d been with her, the tragedy would’ve never happened. War stole so much from me.

Drip. Drip.

Huh. This place has a working faucet.

It’s funny how a chance encounter can trigger painful flashbacks. I boil water on the stove, training my thoughts to not wander to the past. I have a woman to care for right now. Searching the cabinets, I grasp cocoa powder, powdered milk, and sugar that I use to prepare hot chocolate. I bring the steaming drink over to the woman.

“Mmmm,” she says as I crouch by her side. I place the mug on the counter, then take her hand to wrap it in gauze. She doesn’t fade out of consciousness as quickly. This time, she gathers enough energy that our gazes meet— and I’m given a pause as she examines me and I do the same to her.

Her hazel eyes remind me of Nina’s. They’re speckled with gold, like dots of sunshine reside in her irises.

I harden my jaw and look away.

I’m not here to do anything but my job.

Only to rescue this woman…