The Reality of the Situation

Part 1

Crisp and clean, fresh fallen snow crunches underfoot and the breeze that dances atop the ice now forming on his jacket whispers promises of the fate that befalls those who would stay in this desolate place. Sleep seeks to trap him forever in the ever lasting embrace of death. He stumbles on down the hillside, too fast, a misstep lands him on the ground and a thrust of pain bisects his body. He cannot will himself to stand further, the tears on his face chill him as they run down his face. Never again to be free, how he envy's the birds that float of pillars of air, that he could do so would be true freedom. Vision blurs as the snow slowly begins to encase his body, well preserved, he laughs to himself. Snow filters through his open mouth and produces a trickle down his throat and he notices the pain from his side seeping away. Peaceful and without pain, there are worse ways to die, he thought.
Pain, again and again, his body moved to defend himself. Attempted to move were the more appropriate words. Then thin arms slid under him and handled him onto dry wood, he couldn't see who had him before sleep claimed him.

Many stories are written about boy meets girl, boy falls in love with girl, and girl plays hard to get then falls for him, then marriage and whatnot. This is not one of those stories, reality doesn't often make good stories, though I'll let you decide. The year is whatever suits you; there is no historical account of this man, except for vague mentions by passersby. Please feel free to picture what he might look like since I will never provide an accurate photograph. I have none.

Warmth surged through my body as I sat up, I felt frantically for my pockets before realizing I was naked. I chuckled to myself, "Not again..." Although this situation seemed infinitely better than the others, well, some of the others. Normally I would have studied the room, noting windows, the location of any obvious weapons, and food. This was not normally though I was hungry, famished, and starved is another possibility. Then I turned around to find the first indication I was not alone. It's really quite amazing the things you notice at times like these. Firstly, the gun barrel was completely spotless. Next after I had the gun as nearly meaningless, I found the young woman who held the gun to my forehead had absolutely no food about her person. I sighed, many women think men's only focus is sexual, and I will have you know that is a lie. When starved and tired a woman's appearance means next to nothing. In this case she would have been a goddess if she had had any type of food. She might have spoken, saying, "Stand up now!" but I cannot say precisely because the gun barrel spoke for her. The thought that I was naked never even crossed my mind. I stood then fell, I was still naked. She fell too, before this I had never seen a woman faint. 

I realize that this is not the best way to meet women, though if you find yourself truly desperate, I heartily recommend it. Though try to make as much noise as possible and fall near a remote house with a beautiful girl inside whose parents just happen to be visiting town for supplies. I just got lucky to have this happen to me. 

Clarity was returning to me, face down on the floor, wooden floor if you will believe that, I turned my head to look at my captor, she was on the floor too. Asleep, snoring softly. My first thoughts were, "Oh great, if she ever wakes up I get accused of something and get shot." Hah, but I already deserved that fate. My second thoughts were to lay there and go back to sleep until she woke up and realized I was still unconscious then slowly wake up, but hunger got the best of me. I got up, and then fell. I said a word that no person should ever say, yet I found myself saying it as somewhat of a reflex. Struggling to my knees I found a refrigerator, my mouth salivated involuntarily, opening the door I gasped. The problem with reality is that there are very few times where mountain cabins are fully stocked with ready-to-eat food. I contented myself with raiding the fridge of anything I found edible, some of which I was wrong about. 

What I ended up with may shock and amaze those who have never experienced true hunger, a combination of tomatoes, pickles, relish, catsup, bread (slightly moldy), more pickles, a half eaten sandwich, and a piece of what I thought was bell pepper. Later I found that it had been a tomato. I regret eating that.

Now that I was partially sated I began a cursory search of the room. It help a single window, already made unusable due to snow, the walls were an attempt at stucco, and the floor, which I had already studied at length looked to be many years old. Two passages lead away from the kitchen area, they first from which I had come, contained two serviceable beds, various articles of furniture and one still unconscious girl. Then it occurred to me that I should find some clothing. Returning to the first room I found my clothes in one of the drawers of the dresser. They were not washed and perfectly comfortable, but they were dry and I naked. We made up our differences.

I contemplated what to due with my would-be captor. In all fairness she had saved my life, so I owed her that. I contented myself with placing her on the bed I had previously occupied. She was still fully clothed even though I knew it was bad to let her sleep so. As a final touch I placed the gun into her unconscious palm after, of course, removing the bullets. Upon waking she would find herself unharmed and presumably armed. As she slept I laughed at her.

Returning to the kitchen I ate some more food, this time able to take more care with its preparation. As I had suspected the place was nearly empty of food except for emergency provisions. I remembered that there had been stories of cannibalism in situations like this, but I had already resolved to never eat another human or even chew on them, not even a nibble.

I hadn't had much time to enjoy my food when once again a gun barrel was pressed to my head. In my defense I knew she was coming, the floorboards gave her away. "Alright," she acted strong, "What did you do to me!? Who are you?"
"You're still clothed and have a gun, what makes you think I did anything to you?" She remained silent for a time then, "There's not enough food for the both of us." Then she pulled the trigger.

It amazes me how much her logic closely followed my own and after a few clicks from the gun I stood up and turned around, leaning back on the table. "I don't appreciate you trying to kill me." She slunk to the floor and started crying. I was trying to be polite I really was, but I was pissed. "What's wrong now!?" I let out in exasperation. She let out another sob, "You're going to rape me aren't you! Rape and kill me."

This is exactly what I was trying to avoid, but there is no helping some people. I blame authors who are only looking for shock value.

"No, I have no intention of raping or killing you. Why do assume that?" She sat back, obviously surprised by this turn of events, "But that's what all male strangers do." I rolled my eyes, "Really! Wow, I never knew. And all this time I've been looking for my purpose in this world and now someone hands it to me on a silver platter. Thanks!" She started crying again. I overdid it. Oh well, some people just can't take a joke. Albeit it was a bad one. "Come on, I was joking. I won't do anything at all to you. You saved my life I'm grateful." She froze like a deer in headlights. I inwardly moaned at where my own logic might have taken me in my younger years. "By the way, why did you save me if you thought I was going to rape and kill you?" She mumbled something. "Didn't quite catch that." I said. Our eyes met, "I was hungry."

That was how we met.
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Part 2

The cottage wrapped in pristine snow wallows in the shadow of the mountain top. Frigid air howls through the trees, warning off scavengers from its prey. In that thin shell lived two seemingly unorthodox creatures unsuitable to their habitat, wrapped in fake skins of woven plants they believe themselves masters of this place. Nature rebels and snaps at this thin cocoon. Smash! Crash! Scream! Silence ensues.

What caused the roof to collapse I will never know, although it is possible due to years of deterioration and the sheer amount of snow that it could have collapsed. Strange enough the incident went by without and ensuing pack of wolves or bear attack, I was always been lead to believe, growing up, that these situations had to result in the attack of wild animals. What a fool I am!

The crash was not instantly labeled an attempt to kill her. Though after five minutes, "You rigged the roof so it would fall on me didn't you!" Predictable, though it was getting old fast, "Why in the name of some deity do you think I want kill you! I wouldn't have collapsed the roof in any case." She started crying, and then abruptly collapsed. I once again said a word that should never be said. This was becoming a habit of hers and mine. "I guess I overdid it again." I said to no one in particular.

Her accusations were not valid but they were sensible. To be suspicious of someone foreign is what got me through a lot of incidents. I hope to get through more.

I glanced back at the bedroom, snow covered a lot of the room and when I finally manhandled the bed out of the room it enveloped everything. The door shut firmly but cold blasts of air forced their way through spaces around the door. Finding material to stuff door cracks with is hard work, wood would work its way free and cloth could cover but couldn't contain, I contented myself with a combination of the two by wrapping cloth around the wood and jamming it into the frame.

Mundane tasks seem to take the most effort, so I salute all those people who have worked behind the scenes, moping, running messages, and above all those people who take good ideas and turn them into reality.

I laid her on the bed, whisking strands of hair out of her face, she really was pretty. That's when she woke up. Curse my obsession with cleanliness! I fear nothing I ever did scared her so much as that and for once I had no explanation. "What are you doing?" my mouth opened slightly as I pondered my excuse, "Umm... you fainted again so I was putting you on the bed and you had hair on your face so I cleaned it off." She peered up at me intently searching my eyes for some truth. "Ok."

Thank all Deities! Misunderstandings can be avoided if you simply tell the truth to a reasonable person that can see the sense in it. I'm glad I met someone so understanding.

"Why is the bed in the kitchen?" she ventured. Finally the question to all my answers! "Snow!" I answered stupidly, Deities help me. An awkward silence ensued for several seconds and we just stared at each other. I think that slip might have established some sort of friendship between us. She laughed and laughed, so hard she couldn't breath then she fell off the bed. Then I laughed too and we spent several minutes laughing, getting over the frustration of whatever was tensing us up.

Saying that was the beginning of a beautiful friendship is going way too far and I have never really thought about what such a ‘beautiful' relationship would entail, probably lots of photography. I have never been a fan of photography.

She smiled across the table at me and I returned it whole-heartedly, "I never had the chance to ask before, why are you up here alone? With very little food." She blinked. Whether from shock or the sudden change of topic I will never know. "My parents went into town for supplies and haven't returned yet. They should have been back days ago, but the snow must have kept them in town." I mused over this before deciding on my next course of action. While a mused I cleared the table of the mess I had made of it. "We need food," I said rather dumbly "We need to go to town ourselves. The door cannot keep the snow back forever." I rolled my eyes innocently, "And resorting to cannibalism is out of the question." She sat silently on the bed, arms resting on the table, and lowered her head. I've gone too far again. "Forgive me, I didn't mean to... No I guess I did mean to rebuke you, but I'm sorry in any case. We all do things in desperate situations that defy logic and bring us out of normal reasoning."

There is great truth to this. If you wish a hard fight back someone into a corner and they will fight without restraint, however, if you give them a way out they will flee. Desperation may be the final gate into the true abilities of the mind.

She nodded, again. Whether she actually believed me I do know, "Thanks." Feeling slightly exhilarated I ventured a query towards our escape. "Do you have another way to get off this god forsaken rock?" Truly he has forsaken it. "There is the sled I pulled you in with; we could ride it into town." Taking a deep breath I considered it. It wasn't practical; we would hit many obstacles and take injuries there by. "Let's try it." I was desperate to get off that god forsaken rock.

The feeling of hitting a tree in such a sled is a pain no one should opt to experience.

Pain wretched through me as we passed closely by another tree, tearing holes in my outer layers, blood soaked the insulation of my jacket. When hitting a tree not only did I fly but I was accompanied by my friend who more often than not would land atop me. She didn't weigh that much but speed and gravity adds toward impact. Climbing onto the sled was always hard for me, she had passed out again. I strapped her to me and then pushed off again. This particular instance I mark because we hit no trees for a long ways. At first I was overjoyed and then my face paled, we were going quite fast. This particular impact I remember because it is the last one I remember. Curse fallen trees! I remember flying, twisting so that I would absorb most of the impact. I did and it hurt.

Sledding is dangerous. I heartily recommend it.

I awoke, I did not open my eyes, feeling and flexing different parts of my body I confirmed they were there, sore, but there nonetheless. Also I seemed to have gained some weights around my neck and part of my chest, very warm and breathing weights. 
I opened my eyes and there she was, wrapped around me. Her glossy black covered my shoulder; I pushed it away from her face to find tears streaming down her face. She cried in her dreams as well.

There are situations where to be perfectly still and quiet is the correct choice. Regardless of what may happen remember that.

It was some time before she woke up and I found myself studying her face as she studied mine. This lasted for some time, my mind was blank and I could not tell what emotions ran through her. Finally, "Up." I said tapping her stomach lightly. This caused a sudden burst of tears and she clung tighter to my neck. Severely confused I whispered into her ear, "What's wrong?"

This question when applied to the correct situation will release a plethora of information, much of it superfluous. It is to be used in only desperate situations.

"They're dead." My heart sunk into my stomach, I knew what was happening. "Ok." I hugged her back and we lay there, her covered in tears and I slowly contemplating my options. "Do you have family or friends you could stay with in town?" She shook her head against my chest. I contemplated this for some time, no one these days was so well off that they could afford another mouth to feed let alone one not of their blood. I saw the choices I had before me so I pried further, "Who do the people in the town think I am?" Mumbles rumbled through me, quietly and gently I asked, "What did you say?" She propped her head up and spoke, barely translatable, "They did not ask about you, they were just alarmed at your condition. They weren't going to let me see you, but since I brought you in..."

After some time I proceeded in attempting to nudge her off, but she held on tightly. How could I blame her after the loss of her parents? I gave her a brief hug back, why I do not know. Perhaps impulse prompted me or the realization that the two of us would be spending an inordinate amount of time together. "There is a choice you need to make, and I cannot make it for you. Even if it is hard I need you to be strong for a moment longer."

         Swollen eyes looked back at me and she brushed the hair from her face as she sat up. I followed suit and brought my self up, steadying myself on the bed. "What is it?" She spoke clearly and I replied smoothly, "What will you do now?" She appeared to contemplate this for some time, "Well what choices do I have?" "You could stay here and repair your home," A lost cause I knew, "or you can travel around with me, it is a hard life, but I think that your alternative is worse." Eyes traveled downward, "Why are you doing this?" I thought that would be a difficult question, but I said what I believed to be the truth, "I don't know."

The truth is not always what is preferable, but it will always remain my choice.

"You don't know?"
"Not a clue."
She brightened considerably, "Then when do we leave?"

That was how she became my companion.
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Part 3

Rubble strewn roadways cut through the dying landscape. The sky is filled with burnt ash clouds that meander by on there circumnavigation of the globe. Two figures are silhouetted against the black canopy as lighting flashes and thunder whimpers. They walk huddled against the downpour, the plastic roof they hold to themselves keeps them from the drenching deluge. An arm protrudes from the apparatus gesturing towards the bulwark of the stone that lays to the right of the road. Off the road they trek until they find shelter under an overhanging rock ledge. They lay down together shaking, the cold bites at them, nipping the neck and hands, then running.

"Bit cold I suppose." Rolling her eyes she looked at me beneath the tarp we had erected over around ourselves. We had decided to sleep together for warmth seeing as we had no money for individual bedding. I had lost mine that previous month in the mountains. There had been considerable blushing from her as she suggested it. Saying she had read about it in a book and thought it was best. I wholeheartedly agreed, knowing it was better than the frozen, sleepless nights we had endured while on our own. It worked very well the first few times considering she fainted almost automatically. Though those that followed were more interesting and involved heated discussions about hand placement.

This practice is actually very practical. Though it is a measure of how cold you are measured against decency. Decency rarely wins.

Traveling with her had been tiring at first, but it began to have its advantages. When passing through towns we were most likely to be received based on what ever fictitious relationship we happened to concoct when inquiring for a place to stay the night. She did have the most interesting stories to tell from all those books she had read growing up. I have been her husband, boyfriend, cousin, father, brother, and on one occasion gardener with whom she had eloped with. I never could tell you where this girl got her imagination.

Adlibbing is a very useful skill to cultivate. Be flexible, lie with a smile.

This entire experienced was offset by the number of men I've had to fight to keep off this seventeen year old girl who has no sense for danger. There was one place in a larger city near the foothills of the mountains that boasted a women's refuge that seems at first glance to be what I had been looking for, a safe place for her. However, little things like the amount of post dusk traffic and the general state of the men entering and leaving told me this was simply a house of negotiable affection. Martial law is a nasty thing.

Several days of walking in this freezing deluge had begun to take there toll on both of us and by the third day both of us were considerably fatigued. By the fifth day she collapsed twice, her breath becoming increasingly labored and hoarse. I gave her what water I had and refilled it with the rain and let her drink her fill. Drip. Drip. Drip.

On the morning of the sixth day I awoke to the rain once again. I had no accurate account of the distance to the next town. Twenty, thirty miles tops I told myself, but the truth of it was we had been going progressively slower recently, and now I feared for her health. She felt fevered as she slept in my arms, her breathing hoarse and slowed, her heart less fervent. "Sam, don't leave me." She was still asleep and so, I whispered softly into her hair, "Rest easy I'll be here when you wake."

To be honest, Sam is not my name; I never wanted to use my real name. I told her once that a name is something important so she asked mine and I told her, "Who knows, I don't." Since then my name has been Sam, perhaps the name came from a man from her books, but I have never been bothered enough to ask.

When I left the huddle of tarp and clothes to try to find something that wasn't incredibly rotten to wear I tucked the bedding back around her. I had soaked a piece of torn cloth in the icy rain and placed it across her feverish brow. She left out a gasp and another whenever I soaked it again. Flushed cheeks were not uncommon for such situations. Sometime before, I had come down with something after falling into a freezing river. I had no knowledge of the river, the natives called it the ‘Rime' and I haven't gone back that direction since.

I had only a rudimentary knowledge of medicine from my time in military, I had been drafted too young and without much preparation or regard to my feelings about the matter. "Here's your rifle, here's your boots, here's your ammunition. It'd be a waste to spend good money on meat shields so you'll have to get it off the field hospital. Goodbye meat shield you poor bastard." Every word said without eye contact. It must have been hard for him too. I knew what to do with bullet wounds, a clean death or maybe a bandage it wasn't horrible, but with this I was useless. I also knew I couldn't make the trip with her on my back; it is one thing to be boastful, but know your limitations.

I helped her dress and got ready to go, we ate what little we had. Dried meat and crackers were not a filling meal but the deities know it keeps for a long while. The food we had acquired at the last town had lasted till yesterday. It had been hard to regulate the food with such fatigue setting in. Crunch. Crunch.

Prolonged periods of activity induce increased bouts of hunger. Eat up.

What little we had was in waterproof duffel bags we had acquired some time ago. Before I met her I had not resorted to theft except in dire need, but now I had to find someway to feed both of us. It was never much from any one place, everyone had their troubles and never from those who gave us hospitality. In some places I had insisted we look for plant life and other sources of food. It was something necessary for my conscience.

Conscience can weigh down on us; I thought I had gotten rid of all traces of humanity. I guess some still remain.

For some time she looked confused, I had given her most of the food we had left, packed the bags and strapped them around my shoulder and back. Each bag should have been equal and they were, to begin with. As time passed I had slowly, piece by piece, lightened her weight till there was a considerable difference in the two bags. I don't know if she could have made the trip in the rain if I hadn't. I hardly made it.

Now I had both bags strapped on and she stood, slightly swaying, looking confused. She mumbled something and I pretended I didn't hear it. "Come on, we have a ways to go before reaching town." She nodded.

Some might say I should have went for help alone, but in her condition I couldn't have left her, this was not a safe place and she was not as accustom to this life as I was, and to defend herself as she was. Leaving the bags was also not an option for us; they contained what little we owned including food and other supplies we had. The smell of food had been on them and we could not afford to have them ripped apart and much of the contents lost when we returned. I made the choice as I saw it, tough though it may have been.

She walked behind me, leaning against me as she walked; the plastic I had placed over head kept her from the rain. As for me, most of the front of my body was soaked.

There are decisions that must be made. The choice to protect someone does not only apply protection against those of flesh and blood.

Time is difficult to tell by the sun if there is no sun. I do not know how far we walked when she began to hug lower and lower on my back, her grip on me waning. I announced I was tired and needed a break. I just caught her before I hit the ground. Her condition was worsening rapidly, I don't know if I could have walked as far in her condition. This couldn't continue for long. "Alice, stay with me, please stay with me."

She never told me her real name, or perhaps she did and I was too preoccupied to hear it. From then on she only responded to Alice and always introduced herself as such. It may sound weird for someone reading this to hear that we only had just called each other by these names, aliases though they may be. What is a name? It is far better, in my mind, to call them by their true names rather than those that slave them to society.

The rain softened, as if by miracle of a deity, conveniently. Some might think this odd, but for some reason I was willing to accept it being conveniently odd. I held onto the plastic still, for this was no place for such a person.

With the deluge gone the visibility increased tremendously, I scoured the horizon and was not disappointed; I took her up in my arms with renewed vigor. Though as I got closer I found myself wondering what I was going to do exactly. I am troubled to say I never had the opportunity to ponder that question. Burned buildings perforated with the tokens of war stood within sight of mine eyes.

That was how we learned each other's true names.
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Part 4

Shambles, a blood torn wasteland, personified the scene, the peacefully sleeping denizens that lay prostrate in the street let forth neither snore nor shudder, only there glassy eyes marked the entry of the destitute travelers. Buildings torn and razed, burned and gutted, edged the killing ground converging toward the center plaza. Smoke still billowed into the rapidly darkening clouds. Tranquility marked the vista, though only in its silence, punctuated by the tramping of boots and hoarse cries of an overburdened man.

"Alice! Alice!" adjusting her in my arms, "Stay awake! No, no sleeping here. Come on." I shivered though my body felt warm. I had no wish to let her go in such a place. Frantically I scanned the area till I found a house with relatively no damage done to the exterior. As I entered I winced at the scent of blood wafting from the kitchen, I closed the door. I had no wish to witness the scene.

The conscious mind may forget things we have seen, but everything we have ever experienced is store forever in the subconscious. Choose Wisely.

I found the room furthest from the kitchen and dragged a bed from another room into it. I had no wish to smell the acrid scent of rotting flesh that permeated the other rooms. I laid her on the bed piling as many blankets as possible on top of her trying to keep her warm. I remembered my mother, deities rest her soul, talking to herself when taking care of me, "Drown a cold, sweat a fever." So that is what I did. I don't know what drove me to such panic over a girl I had met only a month before, somehow I knew that if she died something in me would break. The piece that made me human and not what I truly was.

Supernatural phenomenon are not present in this story, unless you count the rain and snow, deities knows it must have been a curse upon us.

After sometime spent with a bucket I managed to collect the rainwater that had accumulated in various parts of the house and surrounding area, it was still chilled even as the weather turned bleak against us and telltale signs of snow began to set in. I kept her forehead cold with a compress and after a time her breathing became less labored and she slept.

Frost bit at me as I wandered the streets ducking into houses, raiding cabinets and cellars, in an attempt to find provisions for our stay. Little was left that had not already been cleaned out, though hidden stores were my savior in that they contained precious nutrients that Alice would surely need in the days to come.

The sick need to be well fed and cared for. Don't forget it.

That night I did not sleep but gazed into the snow drifting lazily down onto the hard packed streets that were now the abode of the dead. Winter was beginning to settle into the country and travel would become more difficult. I wondered aloud, "Is it time to find a place to wait out the winter?" I shifted my gaze to the sleeping figure laying to my left. What should I do about her? Do I continue to keep her with me? Would it be better to just find a home for her with my family or should I keep her with me? I gazed off into the distance, meeting the eyes of a corpse across the street and lost consciousness.

No one can out stare a dead man. Don't even try, you'll just fail.

It was still dark when I awoke to the sound of dull thuds in the distance; I jumped up from my chair, almost broke my leg over a small stool, and rushed towards the window. Jarring it open I was greeted by increasingly loud crashes and bursts of flame. "Bombs, Oh shit."

Why planes flew that night I shall never know.

Pushing off the wall I gathered Alice in my arms and rushed to the bathroom, kicking the copper tub over I slid under, pulling it over me. The bombs were getting continuously closer as she woke up, "Wha..." Then it began, the tub would not have saved us from a direct hit, but this small town would not bear the brunt of a large bombing so my chances of living were larger than normal. I pulled myself over her, reflex I suppose. Then we awaited the descending of hell.

I cannot say what the bombing looked like because I would have died if I had ventured out of my bathtub.

I could not bring myself to move, it was not particularly comfortable, but my arms refused to release my hold on her. I suppose death frightens even me, or my body. Eventually she poked me in the side and I snapped back to relative normality. "Are you ok?" we asked simultaneously. We both nodded, but only I spoke, "See it only took a bombing strafe to make you feel better." I grinned. She rolled her eyes. She did that quite often.

"What does it look like on the outside?" I thought her question was rather badly thought out but I didn't hold it against her seeing as what had just happened.  I made a show of peeking out from under the tub and found utter chaos, "It's dark." I wondered if those people have finally received a decent cremation. "Sam?" came from beneath me, "It's not like I'm uncomfortable but is this time for this?" I hadn't noticed where I had been clutching and stammered, "Ah sorry." I removed my hands.

Awkward? Yes.

For a time I lay there with her honestly I had no idea where to put my head. It was some time before we considered it safe to leave the shelter of the tub. As I pushed up on the tub in attempt to dislodge it from its position, I noticed that I was not making any headway. She noticed this too. "Are we stuck?" I thought about this. "Yes."

That was how we began our quality time together.
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Final Part [5]

Freezing figures floated past the clouds down into the abyss, joining their comrades in an assault against the world below. Newly extinguished fires dotted the landscape, and the smell of burned flesh wafted carelessly on the midnight breeze, drawing the stench towards the heavens. Snow clad houses gathered below, huddling for warmth, many now with serious wounds. Roofs torn away they stand firm against the frigid chill and in one particular house's inners under an oval shell lay two prostrate figures wrapped in each other.

In our situation "close quarters" was more than an expression. Our home was cozy, by some standards small, miniscule might even be suggested and always the critic who cries indecent. Though I must say that in the situation we were in there were limited placed we could put our hands and heads. I suggested we put our heads together and think of a way out, "We should put our heads together and think of a way out." and then she kissed me. She thought I was flirting... "Not what I meant." She apologized, "Ah sorry." "Don't worry about it." I got the unique sense she was going to worry about it.

"Switch with me.", I suggested.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean let me on the bottom; I can't fall asleep if I'm worried about crushing you."
"Crush me? You're not that much bigger."
"Please?"
"Fine."

We turned so that she lay atop me.

"Better?" She asked.
"Yes"
"Good, that cold floor was getting to me."
She was right, it was freezing; the cold radiated from beneath me.
"So what happens now?" She queried while idly toying with my hair.
"Well I really don't know. I guess hope we hear someone and they can help us."
"And, hypothetically, say we don't get that lucky."
"We'll either freeze or starve to death."
"Aren't you a bit too fatalistic about this whole thing?"
"Is there a better way?"
"Prayer? I don't know. Just a thought."
"Not a huge fan of it. I mean I've slept in churches but I never wanted the whole deity thing."
"Why do you say deity instead of god?"
"Don't really know, guess it always sounded more respectful. Always thought the deities were better off not playing in our world, but it never hurt to be respectful to a being that could kill you instantly."
"God made us all and therefore he has the right to do so.", her voice was heavy, morose and pragmatic. This idea had indeed crossed my mind before, yet I had dismissed it as my own pessimistic thinking, until now.

"Ah, is that so?" I was at a loss for words. My companion had become something I had never seen. No, I never took notice. She had always been this way; I had mistaken well versed quotations with experiences. This was something from a book she had read, a trace of those days alone immersed in her self.

Life cannot be gleaned from the folds of a book. To see with one's own eyes breaks romance and fantasy into reality. Reality is the shattering of Illusion.

A final nail in our coffin, I despised the word "our". Why had I mixed myself in with this girl? As the silence of the snow filled the gaps in our conversation, I found myself wondering whether she believed we would be saved. Reality is never so kind. We were trapped under a bathtub somewhere between here and nowhere with only the dead to keep company with.

"Sam?"
"Yes?" I replied more coldly than I had anticipated.
"What is your real name?" The words hung above us.
"Call me Thomas Highgate." I cringed at the bitter humor.
"Really?"
"No, call me Harry Farr or Eric Poole. Call me Peter Goggins. They are more honorable than I am. I have no name worth giving you."
She began to shake before I realized I was yelling. Then I laughed at it all, to hell with propriety. To hell with Reality, Deities be damned.

That was how we spent the rest of our lives together.
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