The Shuddering

nerves. He had kept it from her on purpose, knowing that if he hadmentioned it earlier, she would have demanded to stay in the cabin rather than fight to survive.
    Jane’s expression flitted between fear and anger. But without saying anything, she silently turned away from him, unstrapped the leash supply board she had taken over from her belt loop, and grabbed the lead to Sawyer’s gurney from Ryan’s hand, beginning her indignant march away from the group. She lumbered along for a few feet, the black smoke of her torch spiraling into the gray clouds overhead, releasing a frustrated cry of exertion as she tried to pull Sawyer and Oona along. But they hardly budged. Oona whined from Sawyer’s lap as she watched Jane struggle back in the direction from which they had come.
    “Jane.” Ryan sighed. “Come on, stop it.”
    “I’m going back!” She continued to push through the snow, stumbling once before regaining her footing, Sawyer’s sled sliding ever so slowly behind her.
    “Why?” he asked. “We’re halfway there. Go forward if you’re going to go anywhere.”
    Jane stopped where she was, as though considering it. Then she whipped around and began to trek forward, deciding that the highway was a better option. But by the time she reached her brother again, she was too winded to go any farther.
    “Will you please calm down?” he asked her. “We’re going to make a shelter, okay?” Ryan leaned down and swiped the supply board’s leash up in his hand, holding it out for Jane to reattach. Then he looked around, evaluating their position, took a few steps away from Sawyer and Oona, dropped to his knees, and started to dig.
    Jane turned her face up to the darkening sky, shook her head after a moment, and whispered, “Goddamnit,” before dropping to her knees next to him, burying her gloves in the snow.



CHAPTER FOURTEEN
    T hirty minutes before sundown, they completed digging and packing their shelter in the snow. With the tarp secured over it, Ryan could only hope it would be enough to shelter them from the cold. He’d watched enough survival shows to know how to navigate down a snowy mountain, and he knew the best way to live through an avalanche, but he’d be damned if he could recall an episode that taught him how to fend off man-eating hellions in knee-deep powder.
    Those things continued to prowl just beyond the tree line, their shadows seemingly more active as the daylight bled dark. It made him nervous, because in this worst-case scenario, there couldn’t be anything more disastrous than those creatures sneaking up on them after dark. The possibility of an ambush made his hair follicles tingle.
    Jane sat on top of a tightly packed lump of snow she had created for herself—a lookout, of sorts. Sawyer and Oona were next to her, Sawyer not having spoken in the past few hours. Jane tried to get Sawyer to drink some Diet Coke from their inadequate stash of food. She fumbled with a cellophane pack of stale saltines, trying to tear them open with her teeth without pulling off her gloves. Eventually getting the packaging open, she fed Sawyer a cracker while he remained bundled and motionless under the quilt.
    With the sky a pale purple, Ryan unloaded a good amount of gear from the wicker basket atop Jane’s board, dumping sparepool cues and torches into their shelter before turning his attention to his sister and best friend. It was time to move Sawyer into the den.
    Ryan pulled Sawyer as close as possible to the snow shelter before both he and Jane hefted him up, their shoulders beneath his arms. Sawyer tried to brave the movement without a sound, but he couldn’t help crying out when they lowered him into the hole in the hard-packed snow. Oona and Jane followed him inside a moment later.
    “Stay here with him,” Ryan told her, tying the leash of the supply board around his belt loop. If they were going to make it through the night, they needed fire.
    “Where are you going?” As soon as she saw him preparing for another trek, Jane instinctively crawled out of the shelter and back into the snow. It crunched beneath her. The sun, however slight, had melted it enough so that it refroze into a brittle glittering crust. Ryan motioned toward the trees as he plucked up his torch.
    “Wood,” he said. “Stay in there.” He nodded at their makeshift shelter. “The more people inside, the warmer it’ll be.”
    “But what about you?” she asked. “You can’t go out there alone. What if