Under Melted Snow

Chapter 1

I looked up the steep, white hill up the side of the toppled bus, streaks drawn down the snow where it slid down, showing brown dirt.

I begrudgingly pulled my frozen out of the sleeves of the oversized jacket to grab at the rough surface of the earth, the ice and dirt feeling like glass against my fingertips as I dragged myself up and onto the road.

The snow had melted off the concrete with tire tracks visible on the patches of snow still left. They seemed fresh enough that I wondered if anyone had called the police about the accident, I assumed not since no one was to be seen and who knows how long I was passed out for since the bus swerved off the road.

But police were on their way, if a bus full of convicted criminals didn't make it to their destination and their driver was MIA, they'd be hysterical.

I wasn't safe and I needed to keep moving, once they see me, it's back to the cells for me and I couldn't go back, I wouldn't.

I wasn't guilty.

I carefully made my way back down the slope, using the crashed bus to stop my momentum with my sleeve covered hands, breathing into them to try and keep my fingers from falling off.

My feet began to walk, but to where? My instinct told me to continue forward but I had no idea where I was, I didn't have a plan and I wasn't Bear Grylls. How was I supposed to survive this harsh condition?

Which did I prefer, a cold cell surrounding by scary and dangerous criminals or out here in the cold, freezing to death? At this point, the rough, flat mattresses and racist neighbours didn't seem so bad. Out here, mind-numbingly cold and wild animals with scarce food, ready to tear any body of flesh apart. It's a thing, I saw it on the internet about bear attacks a couple of years ago.

I walked for what felt like hours, the sun was now high in the sky and my toes were numb, I didn't think they had blood flowing in them anymore. My fingers were turning blue a while ago and I was scared they were going to snap off like dry twigs.

I took my eyes off the darkened parts of my limbs and stopped, a figure in orange stood behind a tree, peeking out to gaze at me. She looked frozen, her long, greasy hair hung in her face with her skin pale and lips turning purple.

"I remember you," she croaked.

Her throat would have been dried by the air, possibly catching a cold as her words were followed by weak coughs, her chest and shoulders flinching slightly before her whole body was in view.

She nudged her chin forward, "nice jacket."

I clutched the thick attire close to my body, my foot loose as I stepped back from the woman, my eyes setting sight on a shotgun she had dangled next to her body.

I assumed she had shot the driver, the dark look in her eyes giving me chills as she shook her head.

"Uh, uh," she sang, pointing the weapon toward me, "come on, chopsticks. Hand it over."

My lips twitched at her words, raising my hands as to show I wasn't a threat, she was the one with the gun after all. I slowly grabbed the zipper and began to peel the jacket off, cold air making its way into it and enveloping my body.

"Hurry the fuck up," she hissed, glaring into me as I nodded and tried to move faster, my body stinging from hyperthermia.

I didn't want to give up the only source of warmth but the other option was to have a gut full of pellets and I would rather take my chances.

She tsked, "fuck sake." She lowered her weapon and stormed over, roughly pulling the jacket off my shoulder with annoyance. I eyed the shotgun as her hand reached over to get the other sleeve, my heart pounding.