The Shuddering

his back. And then he grabbed the end of the large branch he’d just conquered, turned to pull it toward the supply board, only to stop short.
    The snow hadn’t just gotten the back of his neck.
    It had gotten his torch as well.
    Jane tried to feed Sawyer another cracker, but he shook his head faintly and ducked farther beneath his blanket. “I just want to sleep,” he croaked dryly. Eventually, she let him rest, turning her back to him to peek her head out from beneath the tarp and watch her brother from a distance.
    The white landscape had settled into a cold, pale blue—the only spots of brightness the torch that burned next to her, and the torch that burned three hundred feet away. She coiled her arms around herself and listened to the whap of metal against wood, each strike echoing around them like the gunshots she’d heard that very morning. She never understood why snow seemed to make the world go silent. It was haunting, the way all sound seemed to be erased from the world.
    Jane imagined Lauren sitting next to her right then, assuring her that things were going to be all right, that they would be more than all right, because after they made it out of this they’d get millions for their story. They’d be on TV. They’d write a book. And then, of course, there would be a movie. Both she and Jane would attend the premiere wearing gowns worth more than Lauren’s car while mingling with the likes of Brad Pitt and George Clooney—Lauren’s two favorite actors. “George Clooney,” she had once said. “Now there’s a man who’s money I wouldn’t mind spending.” Jane smiled to herself as Lauren planned her phantom future inside her head. Lauren always had a way of looking at the positive side of things, always had a wayof reaching out and grabbing life by the horns. She had been full of life and passion; funny and gorgeous and smart, so much that she had caught Ryan’s attention. His laughter had been a little freer around her, his smile a little more soulful.
    Rocked by the memory of her best friend—a face she’d never see again—Jane pressed her gloved hand onto the scarf that was covering her mouth and nose, trying to stifle the sob that inevitably tore itself from her chest. This can’t get worse , she thought. With Lauren and April gone and Sawyer injured, things couldn’t possibly get more grim. She attempted to squelch her tears, reminding herself that Ryan needed her to keep it together. Wiping at her eyes, she looked up just as Ryan took his final swing.
    And then the snow fell.
    Ryan’s torch went out.
    She saw a shadow shift, and suddenly she couldn’t swallow or breathe.
    She clawed the scarf away from her face, opening her mouth to scream, scrambling out of the snow shelter before stumbling toward him. Despite their distance, she saw the very moment realization dawned on him. He caught sight of her and stared. She blinked when she realized that in her panic, she had left her source of fire behind with Sawyer. Her torch burned just beyond the bloodied blue tarp, stabbed into the snow.
    “Go back!” he screamed, tossing the ax into the basket before snatching his torch up off the ground. He had left the gas can with Jane, but he had April’s hair spray somewhere beneath those boughs. Tearing his right glove off with his teeth, he shoved his hand into his pocket, his fingers curling around Sawyer’s old lighter. His eyes darted to the tree line as he jammed his armelbow-deep into the sappy needles atop Jane’s snowboard, feeling around the basket’s bottom for the can he knew was there.
    Jane screamed.
    He whirled around, his head throbbing with the whoosh of his own pulse. He was sure he was about to see his worst nightmare come to fruition, that Jane’s scream was attached to a scene that he’d never forget—whether he lived fifty years or fifty seconds—but when he spotted her in the distance, he blinked in bewilderment. Thank god , he thought, because she was safe in the clearing. Nothing was coming at her, nothing was about to cut her down. But she continued to scream anyway, her words indiscernible, her arms waving every which way. Ryan veered around to look ahead.
    The beast towered over him, standing on its hind legs, its impossibly wide jaws pulled back in what looked like a nefarious smile. To Ryan’s horror, he found himself staring at an oozing lesion just above those massive teeth, one of its eyes all but burned away.
    Ryan jammed his arm into the basket