September 2030

Shelter

It's not worth it. That's what I tell myself as I start walking back up towards the mountain passage. I shouldn't risk my life for someone I barely know. He did help me, but I just can't take the risk. It's probably for the best.

It's still snowing as much as earlier, but at least not more. Not that it really can snow more than it already is. Or at least I think so. The more snow falling, the more I'm proven wrong. I didn't even think that it could snow, yet I'm stumbling forward here in the middle of what needs to be a snowstorm. It's sick. A snowstorm in 2030. That's just as likely as raindrops going upwards. It just doesn't happen.

I know for a fact that it's not a sign of the climate stabilizing and getting cooler. We passed the point of earth doing that years ago, now we're just on the way down. I'm pretty sure that there's nothing we can do to stop anything, so there's no reason to get hopeful. They didn't come up with a way to save us, because they're not able to anymore. Nobody even seemed to do anything before all this, when they at least had a shot at fixing it. They all talked a lot, but they never really did something big. No, they were to preoccupied with ordering new clothes for summer. Arrogant and selfish people. Guess what? Now it's summer all the time. Except from here.

I'm starting to get worried considering my fingers, they're starting to change color again. I don't mean changing color as in "regaining their color", I mean changing their color as in turning even more white. I might not know a lot about this strange weather, but I do know what this means. Lifeless white body parts is equal to dying body parts.

Which means that I'm losing my fingers. Probably my toes as well.

I need to find shelter. The passage might give some protection from the wind, but that's even higher up, and it's not like I want to go somewhere colder than this. But I don't really have a choice. It's that, or going back down and wait for better weather. Not a chance I'm doing that. I slip continuous times on the icy ground, and it must have gone at least two hours before I reach the temporary, and probably pretty bad, shelter. It's already dawn, my surroundings shift from white to gray to dark gray. If I couldn't see before I certainly can't see now. The still as strong wind blows my frozen hair into my face, most likely creating red marks from where the hard hairs hit like whips.

I throw myself to the ground as I finally arrive and at once, the howling wind gets weak and the heavy snowfall almost disappears. It's nothing compared to out in the open. I breath heavily. I can nothing but hope that I went to the right place, since the snow made it impossible to know if I went the right way. I put my frozen hands close to my mouth and blow gently, trying to warm them up. I can't even feel if it's working.

It would be clever to make a wall or something out of snow for even more protection, and I'm not going to act stupid again, so I start building. All of the work takes about an hour. I've made three walls of snow, the fourth being the wall of the passage, with a small entrance. Together they form an uneven room without any kind of roof, but it'll do. I crawl into my new shelter, I intentionally made it small, maybe two arm lengths wide and long, hoping that will make at least some of my body heat stay.

Just as I'm about to fall asleep the thought of Brandon sneaks into my mind.

I hope he's in a better place.