To Whoevers Listening

Six : Fruit Loops & Storage Rooms

The calls stop and I make it through the night without a wink of sleep.

Obie said he'd return in the morning to relieve me, and considering he's an early riser, I suspect he'll be here by nine o'clock, maybe earlier.

I've shuffled one of Maggie's playlists and left that to boom out of the stations tower to anyone who's listening down below in Goldview while I find myself some breakfast.

I make a bowl of Fruit Loops and pour myself a big glass of orange juice to go with it. I eat my cereal leaning against the kitchen bench and drain my glass within seconds of finishing my Fruit Loops.

I hang out in the station for another two hours, waiting for the big hand to hit nine, while packing away and cleaning up whatever I can. I repeat seven year old Daisy's description for the third time and wait by the phone, wishing that someone would call with the news that they had found the girl and that she was perfectly okay, more than ready to be returned to her worried mother.

But the call never comes and at ten o'clock I still can't spot Obie's old land rover driving up through the ever-falling snow. There is just white land, green branches of pines and the outline of a town far below me, a town I would love to return to.

At midday, I put on my three layers of shirts beneath my parker, pull on my boots that are sitting beside the door and step out into the winter air.

My boots crunch the snow, leaving foot prints in my wake, and walk towards the back of the station where Obie's storage room stands as a small, square brick building. I fish the keys out of my pocket and quickly try to unlock the door before the cold really starts to creep in.

When I swing the door inward, the scent of dust comes pouring out but is quickly whisked away again by the wind chasing across the mountain.

Inside the storage room is just about anything you'd need in the event of a blackout, snow-in, or just a weekend away from home. Dozens of cans of food, two torches (with extra batteries), three packs of tea light candles, thermal gear, clean sheets, a two-man tent, a spare generator pushed into the back corner, two containers of fuel, four massive jugs of water, and a bunch of other things stacked high up on the metal shelves.

I grab a torch, a pack of batteries and a set of sheets. Chances are, Obie won't make it back until later if the snow has blocked off the road, or maybe not until tomorrow, which would suck.

I take the things I collected and lock the storage room door behind me, twirling the keys in my fingers before shoving them into my warm pockets again. I'm walking back to the front door when a figure begins to materialize through the snow, moving slowly up the road towards the station.

It must be Obie. I look around and notice his cars not here. Maybe he got stuck and had to walk the rest of the way up.

“Obie!” I shout, waving a hand as I turn and walk towards him. “Thank god, I thought you weren't coming back!” He only starts to come into better focus when he's just three feet away from me. I smile at him. “How was your sisters?”

And then Obie lunges at me.