Into the Cold

Smoke and the smell of cooking meat drifted from the chimney of his cabin, making Caleb curse softly under his breath. The plane had flown away hours ago, but it looked like someone had stayed behind and made themselves at home with his supplies.

There were piles of boxes and crates littering the clearing. Stepping closer, he looked inside one of them and saw, to his increasing ire, the pots, pans and dishes from his house.

“Son of a bitch,” he said under his breath as he dropped the ram and readied his rifle. “This is my fucking house.”

Kicking the door open, Caleb didn’t know what he expected to see, but the tableau he saw was definitely not it.

Amelia sat in front of the stove frozen in fear, her still wet hair hanging loosely down her shoulders.

“Amelia,” he breathed, his gun dropping to his side, unable to believe it was truly her.

“Hi,” she breathed, the shock of him crashing through the door leaving her unable to articulate anything more coherent.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded kicking the door shut behind him.

“I..,” she tried to reply, slowly rising from her seat.

Before she could continue, Caleb dropped everything and crossed the space between them.

He pulled Amelia into a crushing embrace, his lips crushing her’s painfully, his teeth cutting her lips.

“Amelia,” he breathed, holding her painfully by the face. “Is it really you?”

“Yes,” she replied, gently stroking his disheveled hair.

“What happened to you?” she asked, seeing the blood all over his clothes and hands, smelling the alcohol on his breath.

“What do you think?” he replied angrily, stepping away from her.

“You chose him,” he spat, ignoring all of the work she’d done, just looking for his extra ammo.

“But I’m here now,” she said, her heart racing in fear. Why was he acting this way? Hadn’t she come back?

“Why?” he demanded turning on her angrily. “Did you feel like slumming it in the woods until you get tired of it and head back to civilization?”

“Caleb,” she choked, feeling like he’d slapped her.

With a feeling of falling, Amelia pushed past him out into the Alaskan night.

Staggering to the water’s edge she fell to her knees gasping for breath. What was wrong with him?

Their last night together had been so tender, so sensuous. He’d made her feel like she was his everything, but right now she felt like a discarded whore.

Hating himself even more, Caleb swept the table clear of new dishes with his arm, shattering them all.

Walking over the broken pieces he shoved cans of food into his pack along with the extra ammunition.

Stepping outside he saw Amelia kneeling by the water, her body shaking as she cried.

“Don’t be here when I get back,” he called, walking back into the wilderness, back to his limitless slaughter of innocence.

Amelia turned to call him back, but it was too late. Caleb was gone, lost to her forever.

Shivering, not from cold, but from shock she finally managed to drag herself back to the cabin, seeing the wreckage he'd made of her gifts and hard work.

Climbing onto the bed, the bed she'd prepared for her and Caleb to share, she wrapped herself in the new blankets she'd brought and cried herself to sleep.

Caleb rampaged through the brush, drinking from one of the bottles he'd grabbed from his stash at the cabin.

Why had she even bothered to come back? She'd made it clear that she didn't want to stay with him. Hadn't she said the entire time she was stuck with him that she wanted to go home?

Now she was back, cleaning his cabin, throwing away his old things replacing them with new.

Weren't his things good enough?

Stopping in his tracks, Caleb tried to shake the cobwebs out of his alcohol addled mind.

Amelia had come back and brought new dishes, pots and pan. Thinking, he even thought he remembered new blankets on the bed.

"Fuck me," he said aloud, finally realizing the truth.

She had come back for him.

Turning around, he dropped everything and ran back towards his cabin, praying that it wasn't too late.