Finding Floyd

"Come on, Colby-Jack. Come on inside kitty."
Diane coaxed. "Here, kitty kitty. Come on Colby. You don't want to
be out there in the rain and sleet, do you? Please come
inside."

Lying along the porch rail, the big yellow
and white tomcat stared at the girl suspiciously, his tail
swishing. His large green eyes closed gradually to tiny slits, then
opened wide reflecting the light spilling from the open kitchen
door. Behind him was a curtain of inky black night, where a
persistent pelting sleet coated the ground with an ice crust.

It was one of those early spring storms
referred to as a wintery mix. It had started earlier in the day,
with a steady rain that turned to ice as the temperature dropped.
The cold sleet rattled on, unseen in the dark, ominously increasing
in its intensity by the minute.

The cat didn't budge from his perch. Diane
sighed and shivered at the back door. The cold was already finding
its way beneath her skimpy pajamas and robe. I can't stand out here
all night freezing to death, pleading like an idiot with a stupid
cat. She took one tentative step onto the porch, feeling the cold
through her thin slippers.

Glancing back longingly into the brightly lit
warm house, she debated going back inside for her shoes and a coat.
Flames flickered comfortingly on the hearth where Bella, the
collie, was sleeping curled up in her bed near the fire. Smart
dog!

Turning back to the stubborn cat, she stepped
towards him, beckoning with the food bowl. "Colby, I've got stinky
cat food for you," she cooed. "Come on in out of the rain, silly
kitty."

Colby-Jack tensed his muscles, shifting his
bulk away from her. Irritated, Diane took two more steps, to the
top of the stairs and reached for him, but he leapt down and
planted himself on the second step as ice rained down, clinging to
his thick coat.

She felt the sting of sleet on her cheek. It
was coming down fast, hard as buckshot, rattling on the frozen
ground. The stupid cat was going to freeze to death. Shivering with
cold, she reached out hoping to grab him by the scruff of his neck.
Her foot made contact with the icy step and she went down hard,
sliding down the porch steps onto the back yard, cat food flying
everywhere.

"Damn! I knew I should have gone back in for
my coat and shoes. I'm soaked already!" Miserably she tried to lift
her wet robe out from under her. "I'm going to murder you; you
stupid cat!" She grabbed angrily for Colby-Jack, but he leapt
gracefully away from her and onto the porch where he turned his
back and began grooming himself.

"Ouch!" She wasn't on the soft dried grass of
winter, but on hard smooth ice. Reaching for the bottom step, she
tried to dig her fingers in and climb back up, but slipped again,
sliding even farther from the porch.

The lawn sloped gently away from the house.
Screaming in frustration, she struggled to get up, but slid slowly
down the slope. The cat watched curiously from above, framed in the
rectangle of light from the open door. As she watched helplessly,
Colby-Jack turned and walked regally into the house treating her to
one last view of his furry backside and quivering tail.

Her downward progress was checked by a large
woodpile stacked at the bottom of the hill. Annoyed with herself
and the cat, she got to hands and knees and carefully began to
crawl. Encouraged, she advanced a few yards toward the light, but
with nothing to hold on to, she lost her grip. Whimpering in
frustration, she slipped back to the wood pile.

Now she was miserable and angry. Her robe and
pajamas were soaked through. Where her warm body came in contact
with the ice, it melted just enough to wet everything. Pellets fell
on her head, melting and dripping into her ears and eyes. Her hands
and feet were growing numb.

Lights shone from the windows and the open
back door. For a few yards around the house the lights revealed the
glistening ice field. Far off down the road she could just barely
make out pinpoints of light from neighboring houses. She looked
over her shoulder to the gravel road that wound up the ridge to
where that nice Mr. Evans lived. There was nothing in that
direction but impenetrable darkness.

If I yell as loud as I can, will he hear me?
Oh my god, I'm all alone. No one knows I'm out here. Suddenly, she
was frantic with fear. This was such a big mistake. Why did I ever
agree to come to this miserable place?

It was supposed to be so simple. All I had to
do was to come down and house-sit Sandy's B & B. It's closed,
so there are no guests to deal with. All I have to do is hang out
and take care of the dog and that stupid cat while Sandy takes her
mother on a two week cruise. It seemed like such a good idea to get
away for a while and have some time to myself. Now, I wish I'd
never left Pippin's Grove.

The nearest neighbor, Mr. Evans, had come by
yesterday with homemade blackberry jam and a frozen lump of his
own, as he called it, whole hog sausage. "Don't hesitate to call me
if you need anything at all while Sandy's gone," he'd said,
slapping a post-it note with his phone number on the refrigerator.
A lot of good that's doing me now. Will he think to come down and
check on me in the storm? Oh my god. No one knows I'm out here; I'm
going to freeze to death and there's no one to come and help
me.

Desperately, she tried to crawl again. As
before, she made some progress toward the house and safety before
sliding backwards coming up hard against the wood pile. By now she
was shivering uncontrollably and her teeth were chattering. Crying
softly, her tears mingled with the icy rivulets coursing down her
cheeks. Oh God, I'm going to die. They say freezing to death isn't
too bad. It's just like going to sleep.

With renewed strength born of fear, she made
a third attempt to claw her way up the slope getting a little
farther this time. Come on Diane. You can do this. She dug into the
ice with her fingernails and tried to make careful indentations
with her knees to gain traction. Inch by painful inch, she crawled
closer to the light streaming from the house. If they weren't
already numb from the cold, she knew her hands and knees would be
aching. Almost there! Only a few more yards to go.

"Oh no! Oh my god no!" she wailed, as she
felt herself slipping backwards. In a few seconds she was back
where she'd started, up against the wood pile, sobbing with fear
and frustration. I can't believe this. I'm going to freeze to death
out here. I'll be covered in ice. They won't even find me until
spring.

Then she heard something that wasn't her
chattering teeth or the hissing sleet. It was an engine. Slowly, it
was coming this way. Yes, a car or a truck was coming slowly down
the Christiansburg Pike. The road must be treacherous with the ice.
Yes, there it was. She saw the gleam of headlights.

"Help!" Crazy with fear, she screamed at the
top of her lungs. "I'm out here! I need help! Please, oh please,
help!" To her amazement, the headlights turned and the car pulled
carefully into the driveway next to the B & B, slowing to a
stop. The lights flicked out and she heard a car door slam.

"Help me! I'm down here!" she yelled.

Moments later, a figure appeared, framed in
the light of the doorway. "Hey, is anyone here? You left the door
wide open."

"Yes!" she called in a quavering voice.
"Please help me. I'm stuck out here and I'm freezing!"

"What happened? Sandy, are you hurt?"

"Please hurry!" she screamed shaking with
cold. Her wet hair was ice encrusted and her knees, hands and feet
felt like they were burning.

"I can't see you. Where are you?"

"Here, by the woodpile," she stammered,
weakly. "I slipped on the ice and can't get back up. Please hurry,
I'm freezing."

The figure on the porch moved away from the
light. As she watched, the man tentatively tried the steps and
slipped himself, grabbing for the porch railing.

"Holy shit," he growled. "Man, this is slick.
I've never seen anything like it."

"Be careful!" Diane whimpered again,
despairing. The guy wasn't going to be able to save her in
time.

"Stay put. I'll find a way to get to
you."

"Hurry!" Diane said, through chattering
teeth. "I'm going numb. C-c-can't feel anything." She looked up at
the warm inviting lights of the house and suddenly everything went
black. She screamed, sure that she was dying.

"Looks like the power went out. Must be
because of the storm. I'll be right back."

Diane heard his footfalls on the porch again,
then crunching on the ice beyond. She heard a heavy thud and he
swore angrily. A car door opened and slammed shut a moment later.
She saw the dancing beam of a flashlight coming around the house.
From the porch, the beam played over her.

"Okay, I see you. Now listen carefully.
Here's what we're going to do. I'm going to get down there somehow
and bring you back up. Do you understand?"

"Yes, please hurry!"

"All right, stay put."

She heard him rooting around on the porch.
The flashlight beam danced crazily and she heard a dull chunking
sound as something bit into the ice.

"Hold on. I'm cutting footholds with an axe.
Be there in a minute," he called, but she didn't answer.

She heard grunting and thudding. What was he
doing? Digging with an axe? The sounds seemed far away and time
slowed. The sleet continued pelting down. She was thoroughly
soaked, her hair, robe, and pajamas were slick with a crust of ice.
When he finally reached her, she was vaguely aware of the
flashlight beam playing over her face.

She started when the ax slammed into the
woodpile over her head; and then she was lifted onto his back with
one swift movement. His powerful muscles moved smoothly and she
felt light as a feather as he carried her inside.

She was barely aware as he stripped the
sodden clothes from her body. Grabbing a quilt from the couch, he
wrapped it around her, and dumped her shivering into a chair.

“I’ll get some towels.”

Then he was back, rubbing her with dry
towels. She watched mutely as he went to the hearth and tossed wood
onto the fire, building it to a roaring blaze that lit up the room.
The heat from the fire felt wonderful.

"Diane? What the hell? What are you doing
here?"

She knew that voice. With an effort she
opened her eyes and saw, in the light from the flickering flames,
the handsome face of Christopher Owen.

The sleet continued so furiously he could
hardly see. It landed in his hair and on his collar, melting
against his warm skin and dripping under his jacket, but he didn't
dare stop slicing his way down the slope. The girl had stopped
calling to him and she wasn't moving anymore. What if I don't reach
her in time? The ice was thick, but the axe blade broke through as
stroke by stroke, he worked his way toward her. When Chris reached
the girl, he shone his flashlight over her and saw she was covered
with ice. I've got to get her inside fast!