Snowed in with the Enemy

Storm Rations

❄ Camille ❄

When Sebastian came out of Margaret’s bathroom, clean-shaven except for the shadow on his jaw and dressed in the sweatpants and hoodie I had shoved at him, I kept my eyes on the desk calendar like it was fascinating. My cheeks still felt hot from the incident, even though the office was cold enough to sting.

“You look warmer,” he noted, and I nodded.

“So do you,” I replied, keeping my voice flat.

“Let’s finish the search,” and that is exactly what we did. The lights flickered in short pulses, as if the building couldn’t decide whether to wake up. A row of ceiling panels flashed on, buzzed, and died again. Somewhere, a computer made a weak startup sound and went silent. We checked the small meeting room first. The cabinet held a half box of tea bags, some stirrers, and two sealed bottles of water. I grabbed them like treasure. “Add it to the pile,” Sebastian murmured. The next office belonged to Finance, but it was locked. Sebastian tried a key ring from reception. No luck.

“Margaret has master keys,” I pointed out.

“She isn’t here,” he answered, and his tone carried an edge that made me look at him. In the conference room, we found more client snacks shoved into a drawer. Another packet of pretzels, a small tin of fancy sweets, and one lonely granola bar. I set them with the rest in my arms, and I tried not to think about how fast two adults could demolish this.

“Anything useful?” I asked.

“Nothing useful,” he replied. The wind slammed the front of the building again, and the windows groaned in answer. My shoulders jumped as I realized the storm hadn’t stopped.

“Still going,” I muttered.

“Harder than last night,” he agreed. Back in the kitchenette, I checked the cupboards again, like food might appear if I looked with enough determination. Nothing. Just coffee, sugar, and empty shelves where someone had clearly restocked recently for a client visit. I set everything on the lounge table and stared at our supplies. Biscuits. Crisps. Pretzels. A few energy bars. The sweets. Two bottles of water. Tea. Coffee.

“That’s…pathetic,” I whispered.

“It’s a travel office,” Sebastian replied, sitting on the edge of the couch. “Not a supermarket,” my stomach growled at the word supermarket, like it had been waiting for permission to complain. I pressed a hand to my middle and tried to ignore it. Sebastian leaned back, elbows on his knees, and looked at the candles. “We ration,” he lined the snacks into two rows and tore a scrap of paper from the printer tray. He wrote DAY ONE, then split the biscuits in half. Watching him calmed me even though my stomach twisted. I should have moved to the other couch like before. I should have kept the distance. Instead, I walked over and sat beside him without thinking, tucking myself against his side like it was normal. Warmth spread into me immediately. My body didn’t hesitate. My pride did, but it was too late to care about that. Sebastian’s head turned slightly, as if he had noticed the automatic choice. He didn’t comment. He just pulled one blanket over both our laps, as steady and silent as he had been through the night. I swallowed, staring at the snacks.

“I didn’t even think,” I couldn’t help but whisper.

“I noticed,” he murmured, and even though his comment wasn’t harsh, I still blushed.

“Just...don’t make it weird,”

“I wasn’t,” he replied. “We need to stay warm. This helps,” I hated that I liked hearing that. I hated that my shivering had eased. My hunger sharpened as the morning dragged on. The cold made everything worse. Even breathing felt like an effort sometimes, and the storm kept roaring like it had no plans to stop. I tapped my phone screen. Still no bars.

“What’s going to happen?” my question came out before I could polish it into something tougher. Sebastian didn’t answer right away. He stared at the blocked glass doors, then back at me.

“We are stuck until someone clears the entrance,”

“Someone will come,” I insisted. “Margaret will notice we are missing…right?”

“Maybe. But Margaret isn’t the kind of boss who sends people out in a blizzard,”

“What does that mean?”

“It means she will close operations,” he explained. “She will tell everyone to stay home until the storm passes. She will assume the last two people in the building left when they should have,” my throat went dry.

“But we didn’t,”

“No,” he agreed softly. “And because the phones are down, she can’t reach us. If the roads are closed, she won’t drive here. She will wait,” a coldness spread through me that had nothing to do with the weather.

“So we could be here for days,” Sebastian’s gaze held mine.

“That’s what I’m worried about,”

“This is all my fault,” I whispered. “If I had just finished earlier...if I hadn’t waited…”

“It’s not your fault,” I glanced at him in surprise.

“Of course, it is, and the only reason you stayed was because you were waiting for me,”

“Camille…” he said slowly. “I stayed because it is my job to lock up. Because Johansen matters to the company,” I shot him a look, and he looked away. “I stayed for you,” the lights flickered again, brighter this time. For three full seconds, the lounge ceiling panels glowed. Somewhere in the office, a computer beeped. Sebastian stood at once. “Now. Try your phone!” I lifted mine. One bar appeared, weak and blinking. My heart kicked. I hit Lucinda’s number with shaking fingers. The call tried to connect, then dropped. The bar vanished as if it had never existed.

“No,” I breathed. Sebastian swore under his breath and checked his phone too. Nothing.

“The network’s unstable…” his voice trailed off, and anger mixed with fear rushed through me.

“We are invisible,”

“No, we aren’t,” he countered. “We are here. We have a plan, ok? We conserve our phone’s battery. We eat small, and we keep the candles going,”

“And if the storm lasts?” I asked, voice thin. His arm tightened around me, solid and warm.

“Then we last too,” I wanted to believe him. I wanted to fight him. Instead, I leaned into his side and listened to the wind, realizing with sick clarity that no one was coming for us today.

❄❄❄