The Cold Embrace

by Shubhangi Sengupta

It was a bad idea to go solo. That’s all Desmond could think about as he huddled deeper into the crevasse. A stupid mistake for an experienced explorer like him. The wind was cutting through his clothes and biting at his exposed skin like icy needles. Desmond’s breaths came out ragged and shallow. 

The ice was too thin and had given way, not being able to support his weight. The fall had been sudden, and now Desmond found himself deep inside the crevasse, so far in that he was certain no human had ever been there before. He’d tried to hold on to the edges in a desperate attempt when the ice under him had cracked, but he’d had no gripping, plunging him straight into this glacier cave. 

His first thought was to call Penny. She would know what to do. They’d trained for situations like this. Except his phone lay dead at his side, cracked on impact. It was an irony it had landed next to him, as if to emphasize how truly helpless he was. Puffs of cold air escaped his mouth, blowing away into clouds. He wished he could dissipate into thin air too. 

As he pressed against the icy wall, he could feel the cold seeping into his bones. Panic started settling in, but he pushed it away, focusing on the immediate need to find a way out.

His knee felt funny. Through his snow pants, he felt around, and a yelp escaped him when he touched the tender bruise. He could feel a bone protruding. It must have broken on impact, but he hadn’t even felt the pain. The numbness was overwhelming. 

A single tear escaped, freezing on his cheek before it could fall. 

His limb was twisted at a grotesque angle, and he couldn’t move even if he wanted to. Everything hurt more at these temperatures. It could never heal like this. The cold would make it ache and throb more by the passing hour, until the pain became unbearable. 

It had already been a few hours since he’d fallen in, and if someone was looking for him, their only hope was to find him before dark. After that, it would be too late. The weather forecast had predicted a storm later that night. He would be caved in. He’d studied the effects of hypothermia in great detail and knew the process. He’d spent too many nights curled up with Penny on the lumpy living room couch, as they watched documentaries about explorers lost in the wilderness. First, there was the shivering, then the threat of frostbite. As the oxygen in his body dwindled, hallucinations would set in, and soon… death. 

All he had to rely on was his own body heat, but it surely wasn’t enough. Memories and mentions of his failed past dates calling him cold-blooded ran through his mind. They were right. He couldn’t keep Alexis warm on that picnic in college, he sure as hell wouldn’t be able to keep himself warm in this ice cave. His lips were frozen together, his mouth parched. He tried to lick the ice off the wall, even though it was a terrible idea. It just made his throat feel like sandpaper. 

“Stupid… Stupid…” He muttered to himself, the words echoing off the cave walls. He tried to focus and think of a way out, but his thoughts slipped away, fragmented and broken, like him. He had to get out. Get warm. 

When he got out of there, it would just be another funny anecdote to tell Penny and a cool story to break the ice with at parties. 

He could see faint lights flickering in the distance, but it was just a glint of ice reflecting the fading sunlight. The hours slipped away, each minute feeling like an eternity as his hope disappeared. Each second was bringing him closer to his inevitable demise. 

Desmond flexed his fingers, an ache radiating through his hand. He tried to clench his fist, but it wouldn’t give. Panic surged through him. With a frustrated groan, he ripped open his gloves. The ice had cut right through them. A dark, sluggish liquid oozed from his palms. With a sad chuckle, he was thankful to realize that at least it was too cold to bleed to death. 

Sunlight had stopped trickling in. His shivering grew violent, teeth chattering uncontrollably. He crouched into a ball, hoping and praying his heart would hold on till morning. 

He couldn’t feel his fingers anymore, or his toes, or his nose. He wondered if he had ever been able to feel his nose before, or even appreciated that sensation while he could, but now was not the time to delve. At this rate, he only had a few hours left to live. He had been hoping to see flashlights shine through the crevasse, coming to his rescue, but to no avail. He tried to think happy thoughts, of his friends, of his girlfriend, of how warm Penny’s bed would be right now — even if he had always complained about her cheap mattress and how much it hurt his back. He’d take that any day over this. 

The ice kept cracking, a constant sound as if the roof would give way and collapse on him. The cold was crushing him, pressing on his ribs like they were nothing. 

Shadows moved across the walls, but there was nothing there. The wind sounded a lot like rescue, eerily enough, but Desmond knew he was hearing things. His brain wasn’t getting enough oxygen anymore. How could he tell dreams from reality? 

His vision had faded, and he could barely see the edges of the crevasse. Panic coiled in his gut. He couldn’t even see his hand in front of his face, just blackened fingers from the frostbite. 

He was going to be buried alive in this frozen, ice-cold tomb. 

As he huddled against the ice wall, his limbs started to burn. It was searing hot, overwhelmingly intense. Desmond ripped his parka and his jacket off, discarding it to the side. Then he closed his eyes, hoping to preserve his breath. 

A familiar, sweet voice woke him. Saccharine sweet, like his girlfriend’s. She was halfway across the world. Or had she heard his prayers and come to rescue him somehow miraculously? It wasn’t possible. Desmond struggled to open his eyes, the frost clinging to his lashes. Through the blur and haze of his fading consciousness, in the pitch-black night, he could hear Penny call out his name.