Snowed In: Matt and Jens

Chapter 2: Recovery-1

Chapter 2: Recovery

When I rose to consciousness again, I was lying on my back, feeling warm, and aware of the mask over my eyes. And then came the pain. I groaned.

Footsteps approached.

“Pain?”

I nodded.

“Less? The same?”

I considered, and chuckled. “Not sure.”

“Bad enough for another Demerol shot?”

I considered. The idea of floating away again was very attractive, but I was also a bit uneasy. And I had questions.

“Not right now,” I said. “Thanks for…uh, everything.”

“No problem.” A silence followed, which I found a bit uncomfortable.

“I’m…glad you were here,” I said, trying again to start the conversation. “I didn’t know this station was manned. The airport is listed as closed.”

There was no response for a while.

“Why did you land then?” came the reply, and the voice sounded somewhat aggrieved.

“Oh, I had to. I was running out of fuel. A…leak in the fuel line.”

“Huh.”

I bit my lip and then hazarded a question. “So, how many people are here?”

Another pause. “One. Me.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that was company policy.”

This time the pause was longer, and I began to have the sense that this guy was hiding something.

“It’s not, I guess. I’m…well, I guess I’m Robinson Crusoe. Or Ben Gunn, if you prefer Robert Louis Stevenson.”

I blinked beneath the mask, which stung my eyes. “What? You’re a castaway?”

“Something like that. Or a hermit.”

“Oh.”

The conversation wasn’t making me feel any easier. Scary thoughts, that I had encountered a solitary madman, rose up in my mind, and I had to work somewhat to reassure myself. There was more likely a reasonable explanation.

Finally, the man spoke again. His voice sounded even more gravelly than usual, as though he was coming right from a sense of personal pain. “I like being alone.”

Strangely, it struck me that it didn’t sound like he was completely sure of that. More like he was trying to convince himself of it. I decided to change the subject.

“Uh, do you have any fuel here, for my plane?”

“Oh…yes.” This answer came easier. “But you’ll have to keep that blind on for forty-eight hours or so. At least that’s what’s your supposed to do for snow blindness.”

I nodded and sighed.

“I got lots of food,” he said incongruously. “And water. And power. So, lots of hot water.”

I wondered at this remark, but now the pain in my eyes was getting worse.

“Thanks,” I grunted. “Could I take that shot now?”

“Sure.” And in another minute, I was drifting away again.