Post Olympic

Hypothermia

Oh yeah oh yeah oh yeah. Tomorrow's chapter is my favorite scene in the whole book. 

Music: Say Love - James TW

COMMENT N'STUFF

-rabid

******************

"Ah, and our winners." Greenbean and his group push open the cabin door. It's been an hour and a half.

"We're the first?" He coughs. "God I thought we lost."

"Nope, sit down, get warm."

We wait around, teams enter from all sides. Some people look worse than others. Keegan is covered head to toe in ice. He immediately finds the fireplace and starts to drip water into a puddle on the floor. Greenie tells us that he fell into the water and then into a snow drift, and now he's Elsa. 

"Ten." Hadley says. "Ten teams back, one still gone." I'm starting to get nervous, wringing my hands. "Where's Von Albrecht." He grumbles. I look over at the computer. Their tag says they're a mile out.

"They've been there for two hours, do you think they're okay?" I stare at it.

This is where he gets hurt, isn't it. This is where I mess him up. This is where he becomes like the rest of them. Broken because of me.

Dead because of me.

"I'll call them," Hadley says, pulling up the radio. 

Images of Fenrir drowned in ice slip through my brain. They mesh with Jack laying behind the goal. It becomes the puffy bloated body of Liza. I feel sick to my stomach.

"Team three?" He calls.

Thoughts of Fenrir wandering through the woods. Fenrir collapsed in a field.

Fenrir broken.

Fenrir cold and clammy.

I killed Fen. I had my shot at saving him, I could've went with him. I could've died alongside him. He's probably lost and cold and afraid, blaming it all on me.

It's my fault again.

"We're here,"

Fen's probably dead right now.

"Oh thank god." I'm staring into space. "Nico, they made it." Hadley pokes me. I shake my head and come back to attention.

"It's cold," Fenrir is bundled up to his eyes, Pikachu's yellow bandana is still visible. Blacksmith, their third, seems to be doing okay as well.

"What happened to your GPS?" Hadley asks.

"It got too cold, it's not working." Fenrir coughs. I want to hug him.

"ah, good." Hadley looks relieved.

"Alright team." I get back up on the table, shaking out my arms, shaking that feeling, that dread. "Go, get changed into normal clothes, then meet back here."

Fenrir catches up to me, pulling off his jacket as he does.

"I thought I killed you," I say. He brushes snow out of his hair.

"I thought you killed me too, but we lived." He gives me a warm smile.

"But you lived," I say. "Alright, shoo, go get warm."

"Don't you mean, go change into an outfit that will irritate you?"

"Same thing." I laugh. He gets an uncontrollable grin and runs off.

"What's with you and him?" Hadley is behind me.

"I don't really know." I sigh.

"You have to remember that you're here as a professional. Anything that happens between you and Fenrir jeopardizes both of you." Hadley is right.

"I don't want anything to happen between us. We're good friends and it should stay like that."

"Good. Keep it professional, you're off-limits to each other. I don't need our team established further as a joke, I wouldn't mind, but, everyone else would."

"I understand." I sigh.

Dinner is nothing much, just a massive pot of stew. Most of the guys are shaking off minor hypothermia. What I'm proud of, however, is how the dynamic is different. People use their manners. Ireland doesn't, but who would have expected that to happen.

We play the hand game next. Everyone stands in a circle and grabs two random hands. Then we untie the knot.

We do it multiple times. We do it until I'm confident that there's no more arguing. Just clean teamwork.

After the hand game I force them to play before-game soccer.

To my utter delight, it actually works for once.

I wrap up around eleven, knowing damn well most of the team needs sleep, and also knowing I won't be able to. Hotels are one thing. Whatever bunk situation this is? I hate it.

So I change, and I get into bed.

Just as I thought, I can't fall asleep, so I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling, shivering in my bunk, listening to Hadley snore on the other side of the room. Jorgen is sprawled across the bunk below me, his feet off the end of the bed. Jorgen is the tallest guy on staff, player and employees, and he does not fit in these bunks. Rod, the other assistant coach and PT guy is sleeping above Hadley, out cold, his face pressed into the pillow, sleeping on his stomach. 

It feels like I'm staring at the ceiling for hours. Hours on end. Rod shifts around, Hadley rolls over and starts to snore louder. Jorgen doesn't move, position at all, staying stiff. 

I check my watch at one, then two, then three.

And then something slightly different happens. I hear a light humming from outside the cracked door. It's low and I think I recognize the voice, but if I'm wrong, it would be embarrassing.

Then something sells it. I start to hear low mumbling, not in English or French or Russian or Spanish. Not Norwegian or Swedish or Finnish. 

German.