No Cognitive Defect XVII

He put the bottle down, closed his eyes a second, and when he opened them again he was on his back staring up at the sky. There was a small patch of stars showing through a break in the clouds. The wind was blowing, and snow and ice stung his cheek.


It was Anita.

He took a moment to get his bearings and slowly sat up. He looked back up the hill toward the house. It would be a long, hard crawl. He wasn't sure he wanted to do it. It would be so much easier to just lie back down.

Wilson! Please, don't die out there Wilson!

He sighed, and shouted: "I'm coming, Anita. I'm coming! Close the damned door and stay by the fire. I'm coming!"

He started to crawl, cursing the storm, cursing his useless body, and cursing himself for so very nearly just cashing it in right there on his front lawn. He refused to look up for several minutes, but when he did he was noticeably closer to the house. The urge to sleep was coming again but he fought it off. Anita needed him. He just had to keep moving another five or ten minutes. One small bit a time and he'd get there. He couldn't let her down. There was nothing he could have done to save Erica, but he'd be damned if Anita would die on his watch. He looked up again, and could see the edge of the back porch. The snow was falling hard again, and the wind picked up as well, but he wouldn't be stopped. He lowered his head and made his way forward, ever forward.

Back into the storm...

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