Soon

They are coming soon. I must not forget. Just have to hold out a little longer. 

I wake up, shivering and burning. It is dark out. In Alaska this time of year, it’s dark always, day and night blending into an endless black. My watch broke yesterday, or last week maybe, I can’t remember. I now have not the slightest idea of time. 

I look out the window by my bed, at a never-ending stretch of pure white snow that engulfs every tree, contrasted with a vast dark sky above. It makes my stomach churn, the largeness of it all. I feel small, and singular. I am aware of the sickening reality that this cabin is the only piece of humanity for hundreds of miles. I am alone. A dull pain in every movement, I slowly make my way out of bed and across the room to the dying fire. My skin pricks with fever, hands shaking as I feebly add logs to the fireplace. My firewood is running out… soon I will have to venture into the deep snow for more. If I make it till then. 

I should be sad, I think. Or scared. I will probably die. 

They are coming soon.

I carve another mark into the wall with my pocket knife. There are twenty or so there now, though I can’t be sure if my count is accurate when one day bleeds into the next with no sign of change. Everything is a little blurry. I think my fever is getting worse. I will probably die. 

I must not forget. 

I sit and stare into the fire for a minute, or an hour. I watch the motion of the fire, small tongues of red and white licking the wood and leaving it blackened. The flames are entrancing, bringing memories and visions. I see the red fox bouncing in and out of my crosshairs as it runs, evading my trigger. I see the reds and oranges of a sunset on the beach, so long ago, so distant. I see her fiery eyes, her dancing auburn hair. I shake with tears. 

Just have to hold out a little longer. 

There is a ringing in my ears. I do not know when it began but it will not go away. It is there as I toss on my bed, shivering and sweating, unable to find rest. It is there as I crawl across the room to the pantry and retrieve another packet of crackers from my dwindling rations. If I make it out of here, I will never eat crackers again. Not that it matters. I will probably die. 

They are coming not soon forget. 

The crackers are dry, sticking to the inside of my throat and making me cough. I need more water. That means opening the door. Grunting, I stumble to the sole entrance of the cabin, brace myself, and crack it open. Snow and biting cold air flood into the room, almost blowing me over. I brace myself against the door to keep it from giving way fully, and reach with my bare hand out into the snowdrift, scooping snow into a cup. Gritting my teeth against the cold and the stinging pain, I pack the cup full, then, mustering all my strength, shove the door shut again. I collapse to the floor, panting and clutching my icy hand. The ringing in my ears is gone now. I laugh. 

Just have to longer a little forget coming.

I am sweating all over. The fever has made it near impossible to move, or to sleep, or to think. I lay in my bed, rolling from side to side, and she is there. I cannot see her, quite, but she is with me. I hear her voice, faintly, and I can smell her next to me. My hands flail around the bed, searching for her touch, and I can feel her, almost. Maybe. She is laughing. For a moment, I am sure I can see her there, in the green blouse I always liked, smiling at me. But my hands pass through her, and she is gone.

“Sarahsarahsarahsarah…” My voice is weak and cracking. I must make her hear me. “SarahsarahsarahSARAHSARAH!” I can hear myself yelling now, my hoarse voice echoing around the cabin walls. Must find her. I will probably die. 

Just longer not soon coming they are forget. 

This time, when the fire begins to die, there are no logs left to keep it alive. I am too weak to move. Sarah can get firewood, maybe. I call for her. Where is she? I know she’s here, but where is she? I hear her laugh, her voice nearby. I can see her figure step across the room toward me. She is saying my name. 

“Darling, come with me.” She beckons. I can see her more clearly now. She holds out her hand, the engagement ring I gave her on her finger. Then I blink, and she seems to fade. For a moment, clarity rushes back to me. I am alone. They are coming soon. I must not forget. Just have to hold out a little longer. 

Not coming soon just forget hold out longer. 

I am thirsty, and dizzy, and so, so cold. Even the embers of the fire have faded from burnt orange to dead black. I can no longer feel my fingers and my toes, and worse - I am slipping in and out of reason, delirium beginning to overtake me. When I have coherence, I miss Sarah bitterly, but when it slips away, as I know it soon will again, I begin to see her. She is always just out of reach, and never can I embrace her, only hear her voice on the edge of delirium. It gives me hope, and haunts me. I just have to hold out a little longer.

Not hold out longer soon.

I can see Sarah, plain as day. She stands in the snow out of my bedside window, calling me to join her. She is wearing a summer dress, her bare feet dancing lightly atop the snow. She looks happy. “Sarah…” Finally, for the first time in days, I find myself able to rise from my sickbed. There is still a quaking in every step, but one foot in front of the other, I stumble to the door. This time, I throw it open, letting the snow and cold wash over me. I am blown back, but I catch my balance. A new strength has entered my body, and I scramble up the snowdrift and out into the open. There she is, several feet away, giggling at me, her eyes playful. 

“Sarah!”

She beckons for me to follow her, then turns and begins to walk further away. Without snowshoes I struggle to stay afloat on the sea of snow, but I do my best, scrambling frantically toward her. Every few moments, she looks back, a twinkle in her eye as she sees me following.

“Wait! Sarah!”

She does not respond, but keeps walking onward slowly. I scramble after her, snow finding its way inside my clothing, slipping into sleeves and boots. Finally, up ahead, I see her stop, and turn. She is smiling faintly, holding her arms out to me. I make one last effort and collapse into her arms, sending us both tumbling into the snow. Sarah is laughing. I wrap my arms around her, pulling her close. 

“Together.” I whisper. “Together at last.” 

“Soon,” she says. “Soon.”

***

They find the body at the end of the footprints, about a hundred yards from the cabin. Fresh snowfall has already begun to cover him, and his tracks. A little later and they may not have found him at all. Later, autopsy confirms that time of death was just hours before the rescue team arrived. 

“Damn shame.” The man grunts as he stands over the corpse. “Guy have any relatives?”

“Nope, seems his wife Sarah passed a couple years back. No kids or anything.”

“Well, maybe they’re back together now, somewhere up there.”

“That’s a nice sentiment chief, a real nice sentiment.”