Page 108 of Merry Christmas, You Filthy Animal
“Do you think she’s with Dwight?” I ask.
“I have no idea. Things kind of blew up after the coffee shop,” Storee answers. “I tried talking to her, but she didn’t reply. She could be with Dwight.”
I tug on my hair and look out the window at the blizzard-like conditions. “What if... what if she turned her phone off to save power? Do you think she’s in her cottage all alone?” My stomach churns at the thought of it.
“I don’t know,” Storee says.
“If she is, does she have heat?” Cole asks.
“I have no fucking clue,” I answer. “Fuck, do you think I should go over there and check on her?”
“Have you looked outside?” Cole says. “It’s nasty, man. And now that it’s dark, it will only get harder to get to her.”
“But what if she doesn’t have heat? It’s going to be really fucking cold tonight, man. If she doesn’t have heat, she could freeze.”
“If you think you can make the trek, I think you should check on her,” Storee says. “But if you can’t make it, if it seems too hard, then just turn around. Maybe send some crews out there to check on her.”
I let out a sigh. “Yeah, let me, uh, let me bundle up and at least try.”
“Okay, let us know how it goes.”
I say my goodbyes and then hang up.
Christ.
The last thing I want to do is go outside with the wind whipping around like it is, but I also can’t sit here and wonderif Betty is in her cottage without any heat. I know it won’t settle well with me. So I suit up, slip my boots and my reindeer hat on, and grab a flashlight.
This is going to fucking suck.
I open the back door to the house, and I’m immediately whipped in the face with snow.
Fuck.
Me.
Tilting my head down and pulling my hood up and over my head, I turn on my flashlight and head out, immediately regretting my decision when my leg sinks into at least half a foot of snow already.
This is going to be hell.
I trudge through the snow, getting smacked in the face with cold, frozen flakes, the wind a constant irritant and villain during the trek. Limbs of trees are weighed down by the fresh snow, clearing a better path for me as I make my way through the woods, trying to create the most direct route possible.
It’s moments like these that I’m glad I know my land so well, as each familiar-shaped tree is keeping me heading in the right direction. Snowstorms can be so dangerous, because it’s easy to fall and lose your sense of direction.
“Fuck, I have to be close. I’ve been going for about five minutes, so—”There.Her car. And behind that? Her cabin... without any lights.
Fuck.
I hurry as quickly as I can, and when I reach her porch, I shake off the snow before knocking on the door.
“Betty. You in there?”
I don’t hear anything, so I knock again.
“Betty.”
Nothing.
In case she possibly left the door open, I twist the handle, and to my surprise, it is unlocked, so I push the door open and flash the light inside, only to find a lump on the couch, covered in blankets.
