Clear to Lift by Anne A. Wilson

Author:Anne A. Wilson
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780765386212
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates

22

Will carries me.… At least, I think it’s Will. A balaclava covers his face, no skin exposed. The hood of a yellow ski jacket is cinched tight over his head. I peer into goggle lenses tinted gold, comforted by the familiar blue eyes behind them. He is speaking; I see the lips moving behind his mask. But this dream is soundless. I close my eyes, strangely at peace.

* * *

“Come on, Alison! Talk to me!”

Warm, moist air rushes over my face. My mouth seeks the source, my head turning. I breathe in deeply. Ahhhhh. Like drinking in the sun. I inhale again, the heated air moving over my palate, warming my throat.

“Alison! Hey! You can’t go to sleep on me, Alison! Come on. Wake up!”

My eyelashes are heavy, frozen, but the unknown thermal source works to thaw them. I bring my hand to my eyes, fumbling, pulling, trying to draw them open.

“That’s it, Alison. That’s it.”

The voice is warm, too. Like the air over my face. My left eye springs open, freed from the cold’s frosty hold, followed by the right eye.

I’ve awakened into a dream. Will’s face hovers just above me, his mouth open. I hungrily suck in the precious hot air contained in his exhalations, and my lungs fill with the life-giving warmth.

“Will?”

A strong arm lifts me to a sitting position, hugging me close, but my head lolls backward. I only want to lie down. My body slackens.

“Alison, stay with me! Come on, stay with me!”

A hand—the dream-Will’s hand?—moves across my face, fingers pulling at my eyelids.

I blink, opening my eyes, coming eyelash-to-eyelash with the dream-Will, another rush of warm air across my lips.

“Look, we have a fire,” the dream-Will says. “You’re going to warm up here in just a second. But I need you to wake up.”

“Is it you?” I ask. “Are you real?”

“Yes. It’s Will. It’s me. I’m here, okay?”

“Will…”

I raise my hand to touch his face. The stubble across his chin and jaw confirms it. He’s real. He’s here.

He loosens his hold just briefly, turning and reaching for something.

“Here, you need to drink this.”

He raises a thermos cup to my lips. Warm liquid dribbles into my mouth, spills a bit, drips down my face. Sugar …

“That’s it,” he says. “This’ll work miracles, if we can just get it in you. Keep drinking, Alison.”

I take a sip. And another. Warm sugar water.

“Do you think you can hold it?” he asks.

I wrap my fingers around the cup, bringing it to my lips. Without warning, the shivering starts again, my body racked by a series of uncontrollable spasms. I cough, sputtering, spraying Will’s face.

“Sorry,” I say, as he takes the cup from me.

His mouth spreads into a smile. “Hey, I’d much rather have you awake and spitting up on me than unconscious.”

He brings his hand to my face, wiping the spill.

“This is pathetic,” I say, looking at my trembling hands.

“I’m sure if you could control it, you would. So don’t beat yourself up. Especially not with what you’ve been through today.

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