Page 212 of Keeping Kasey
No signal.
Putting my phone away again takes several tries. I can’t see my fingers to know if they’re turning purple, but I imagine they have. My toes aren’t any better off. I try to move all my extremities to get blood flowing through them, but it doesn’t help.
Thirty minutes later, I see the faint outline of a road sign in front of me. When I reach it, I can barely see that it’s a warning for deer crossing. Not much help to me, but it might mean I’m close enough to civilization to have a signal.
It’s physically painful to pull my hands out of my jacket. Commanding my fingers to get the phone out takes several minutes, and the burning has started to subside—which I do not take as a good sign. I’m going to be facing some severe nerve damage if I can’t find help soon.
Finally—finally—I pull the phone free.
And it falls through my numb fingers into the snow.
I don’t even have it in me to curse in frustration. I have half a mind to leave it there and take my chances walking, but that isn’t a feasible option.
I picture Kasey lying in that cabin all alone, waiting for me to come back with help. I have to do whatever it takes to save her.
Leaning over, I force my hand into the snow to dig it out. It takes several minutes, since my fingers can’t actuallyfeelanything, but eventually I notice an added weight when lifting my hand and realize I’ve found it. I clutch the phone in both hands and pull it up.
No signal.
Five percent battery.
With no remaining feeling in my hands and feet, I only have two options.
I can use the energy I have left to return to the cabin and spend my last hours with Kasey.
Or, I can keep going and use the last of my energy in search of a signal, knowing that if I can’t find it, I will die on the side of the road.
In the end, it’s the thought of three grainy, black-and-white pictures that decides for me.
The child who should’ve been.
I’ve already missed out on four months with Kasey. I can’t give up now, not when an entirelifetimeis at stake. If risking my life can get us the future we deserve, then I will gladly hand it over as collateral.
I don’t bother putting the phone back in my pants pocket. It takes up most of the jacket pocket, but my hands are already numb, so I barely notice.
My face and neck stop burning, and once again, I take it as the bad sign that it is.
It isn’t long before my thoughts narrow to two little words.
Keep going. Keep going.Keep going.
It’s all I can think.
Nothing else matters right now—not when putting one foot in front of the other is a feat I can barely manage.
When the phone’s battery drops to three percent and the signal status never changes, I stop checking. I have no idea how far I’ve come or how long it’s been since I left the cabin, but it doesn’t really matter.
All that matters is that I keep going.
Keep going.
Keep going.
But my legs can only function for so long.
My brain can only process so much pain before it starts to shut down, and when my vision goes dark around the edges, I realize that’s exactly what’s happening.
It starts slow.
