Snow Hibernation Broken Ribs

Chapter I

Mac coughed and spat up blood on the snow. The red looked strikingly bright against the vast white landscape.

"That doesn't look good," Jack said, crinkling his nose at the red splatter.

"Yeah, and neither does that graze on your arm. We gotta find shelter," Mac replied.

The two agents were stranded in the middle of a wintry landscape. Only 4 hours earlier, they were cozy and warm, comfortable at a mountain ski resort for the rich and famous hidden deep in the Alps. They'd sipped hot-chocolate from wine glasses, slept in silk bedding, and everything else in between. But then, like every other mission, it went south. The past 2 weeks suddenly turned into a fast paced ski chase, ending in a bullet graze a broken ribs. Not only that, but to add to the chaos was an on-foot getaway through the hip deep snow.

Mac had made snow-shoes from some tree bark and twigs; although they weren't top notch, they definitely made the trek through the snow a whole lot easier. It was only in the past half hour that Mac began to show serious signs of fatigue. Obviously, after the chase, he was bound to be tired. But the way he was panting, coughing and spitting up blood, wasn't normal. Jack knew those signs all too well and they weren't good.

"Any bright ideas? Right now finding shelter seems like finding a needle in a haystack— impossible," Jack said, scanning over the landscape.

"Actually, if you want to find a needle in a haystack, you just set the stack on fire. Poof: you'll have your needle," Mac replied.

Jack gave Mac a long glare. "Oh, so what are you saying? We just set the snow on fire? Great idea! Let me just find my matches."

"Okay, okay. Forget that. Look, there's got to be some sort of hunting shelter out here."

Jack shrugged despondently. "Oh, you know, there might not be."

"Way to be optimistic."

"Just stating the facts." Jack adjusted the bandage around his arm, checking if the bleeding had stopped. Fortunately, it was down to a sluggish standstill. "Why don't we just burrow into the snow? Like an animal or whatever."

"Actually," Mac paused to cough, spitting up more blood. He avoided Jack's eyes once he was done, and instead scanned the wintry landscape. "That's not a bad idea. In theory, if we dig into a deep drift of snow, we can make ourselves a burrow to keep warm and get out of the wind."

Jack stomped down on the snow, watching as some of the flakes were whipped away in the freezing wind. "In theory.. why in theory?"

Mac rubbed his chest. Jack didn't say anything but watched him carefully, taking in the way the blond grimaced. He didn't like how pale Mac was getting. His cheeks were still rosy from the cold, but the rest of his face was almost as white as the snow. His lips were also taking on a bluish tinge—or maybe that was Jack's imagination. He always tended to assume the worst in these scenarios.

Mac cleared his throat. "In theory, because digging into the snow isn't exactly easy. And we don't have any sort of tools with us to do it. We didn't even take our skis with us. I probably could have used those…"

Jack shook his head. "Well, running around with skis wasn't exactly ideal."

Mac nodded, then began to cough again, curling over and spitting out another wad of blood and saliva. He stayed curled around himself for a few extra minutes once he was done.