Asunder Chapter 2

Chapter 1.2 (2)

Earlier Life

Found

“The Blue Stone is pure and childlike. Its creed is life, which it creates for its love of it. It finds beauty in all forms, be it fierce or humble, soaring or swimming, hard or soft, wretched or ornate. It is dangerous only in the bounds of its sanctity.” - 2 Salayah 29:20-22, Book of Remembrance

- 12 years before the present day -

- The year 2284 -

A distant rumbling jolted Jane awake. The young girl’s world suddenly refocused from the haze of her slumber. Her dream faded into a remote image, a fuzzy remembrance. She always held on to the emotion of it rather than the images. This one left her with a sense of worry. Another rumble reverberated deep beneath the ground. At first, she suspected an avalanche in the nearby mountain range, but by this time, she felt the rumble again, more profound and robust than the first few. The concern for an earthquake reached the forefront of her mind again. Still, none were strong enough to wake her siblings, who slept like rocks in the large family sleeping room.

The loft where Jane and her family slept opened into a sizable, triangular-shaped room above the cabin's main floor. Long wooden beams rose into the ceiling to a point. Deep, dark, oil-resined boards lined the roof, creating a shelter from the external elements. Her family and others lived in these aged valley cabins, remaining hidden for generations. From the loft balcony, one viewed the river running through the valley; it lay just beyond the old oak trees and hawthorn bushes. Two prominent mountain ridges flanked the winding river, one east ridge, and one west ridge, with a small valley in between. The fertile ground flowed with wild game, river trout, berry bushes, onion and potato fields, and small fruit orchards. A community of freeborns. Free to live off the land, hidden from the world of the machines.

She stretched her legs and slipped them out of the sheets into the cool cabin air, exiting the side of the bed she shared with her two younger sisters. Careful to remain quiet, she tip-toed to the east window. Until then, she had been the only one who had heard and felt the rumble. Looking out the window, she examined the snow-dusted valley. The angle of the window allowed just enough space between the trees to visualize the entrance to the valley at the southernmost corner of the eastern ridge. The morning sun peeked through the low-hanging, thin white clouds lagging behind, creating an ethereal sparkle glistening along the ground. The rumble reverberated again, this time louder and more ominous. At that moment, she felt an immense, warm hand rest on her neck. Even though Jane was twelve and had grown much that year, her father’s hand still felt enormous. The comfort of his worn and leathered palm warmed the back of her neck, instilling within her peace and strength.

She glanced up at him, noting the concern on his face as he scanned the valley from the window. Jane loved her father dearly. He never once raised his voice in anger. As her mother often reprimanded her for exploring beyond the ridge, he would sit in his chair in the corner of the living room, whittling away at a block of wood, all while grinning to himself and giving her intermittent winks between her mother’s exasperated breaths.

Her father leaned over, kissed her on the top of her head, and beckoned her to lay back in bed. Tip-toeing back as he had requested, she lay under her covers, watching her father turn to his dresser from the window. She impatiently feigned sleep as she peeked at him through squinted eyelids. He quickly buttoned his shirt and tied his boots. He’s concerned, she thought. Glancing over his bed, she noticed her mother remained sound asleep as she cuddled her youngest brother, Ishmael. The soft coos and whistles of her sibling’s breathing assured her that everyone else still slept soundly.

Her father stood and then quietly slipped out the door. Through the western square window, she watched him descend the outside steps. Waiting in anticipation, as soon as she heard the lower porch floorboards creek under the weight of his boots, she leaped from her bed. Hurriedly grabbing her jacket and boots from beside the door, she slipped out the same door just as quietly as he had.

Upon exiting, she stepped over to the balcony ledge extending from the loft door, peeking down the western mountain ridge. No sign of an avalanche appeared along its pine-spattered face. What was the source of the rumbling? Even though she had little experience with earthquakes, she could still remember reading about the phenomena in the family’s ancient encyclopedia collection. The current ground shakes did not fit the part of the explanation from the text.

She buttoned her overcoat and quickly slipped on her oversized boots. Her clothes were hand-me-downs, as most clothes were in this community. Likewise, her shoes were handed down to her by the neighbor boy, Andrew. Her coat, though, was hers, never owned by any other child. The ownership of unused clothing was made possible by the fact that twice a year, her father and other men in the community made the two-day trek over the western pass to an old abandoned ski town, collecting clothes and supplies.

She peeked back into the loft through the window, ensuring everyone was still asleep. Confirming the slumber of her family remained, and taking the opportunity to investigate, she quietly crept down the external stairs from the balcony to the front porch. As she came to the landing, she peered around the corner. Her father stood at the edge of the porch, looking through his binoculars toward the southeast corner of the valley. Maybe he had seen an avalanche in the direction he examined?

Suddenly, another rumble erupted deep from within the earth. This time, it shook immensely more robustly than the first series. It felt as if the depths of the world bubbled to the surface, and the rock they stood on was mere oil on water. The entire cabin began to sway with the ground. The earth shook and continued to shake with a ferocity she had never experienced before. Snowshoes began falling off the external wall. She could hear pots and pans falling out of the cupboards in the kitchen next to her. Her father steadied himself on the porch’s wooden railing and tried to reach the stairs where Jane stood.

Screaming ensued from her younger siblings above as they ran out the loft door, her mother carrying the two youngest. They hurried down the steps, tumbling and tripping on the way down. Her father, grabbing onto the sidewall of the porch to stay steady, had finally reached them all. He lifted one of her sisters, Sarah, into his arms and beckoned the family to leave the porch and onto the solid ground. Half of them still wore pajamas and no shoes or winter coats. She saw her father’s palpable worry as he stared at the creaking cabin. “It’s gonna collapse,” the words escaped his lips with remorse. Their home would likely stand no longer.

In a moment of confusion and terror, she realized if the cabin collapsed, it would take their belongings with it and, in so doing, strand her siblings without proper winter clothing. Without further contemplation, Jane immediately spun around and ran back up the steps to the loft, all while her parents yelled for her to stop.

“Jane! No!!” They both echoed.

The shaking continued. Jane could hear the beams of the cabin creaking and lurching all about her as she ascended the stairs. She burst through the loft door and saw the coats hanging, swaying with the cabin, boots sitting underneath. Grabbing an armful of winter wear, she ran back out the door and tossed them off the side of the balcony to her family below.

She turned to run back in and grab the rest of the coats when suddenly, the west-most beam across the ceiling cracked and snapped, slamming into the loft floor. The sudden impact sent her flying into the air as the floor she stood on shot up under her feet like a catapult. Toppling upside down, she slammed back down on the obtusely skewed floorboards, landing hard on her left shoulder. The awkward landing sent a jolt of pain through her neck and chest. Slumping over and writhing in misery, she suddenly began to slide down the floorboards. In their destruction, they had changed course, angling straight into the first-floor living room. In a state of panic, she scrambled to hold on to something. Shattered glass from the surrounding dining room windows covered the living room floor below, creating a pit of sharp shards, which she now headed straight into. Quickly shooting her right hand out, she grasped onto the nearest object, which happened to be the metal frame of her brother’s bed. Holding tight, the ache in her left shoulder started to fade as the adrenaline coursed through her body. She heaved upward, catching the nearest floorboard with her right foot, and pulled herself upright back into the loft. With this fleeting moment of security, the shaking instantaneously ceased.

Separated from the loft door by a few missing floorboards, she visualized the kitchen directly below her. Taking a deep breath and finding the courage to jump, she quickly hurtled herself across the gap, landing in front of the loft door. At that moment, the shaking reinstated, violently consuming the cabin again. All around her, the wood groaned and cracked. The house could hold itself up no longer. She looked over and grabbed the remaining coats miraculously still hanging by the door, and then sprinted out of the room. To her left, the stairs leading down to the porch were missing, leaving a nearly two-story drop down to the shell rock below the deck. Hastily changing plans, she quickly turned to the balcony's edge and leaned over the waist-high sidewall to view those below. There, she saw her mother screaming her name from the ground and her father attempting to climb one of the beams to reach her.

Without thinking, she looked up, seeing the rope swing attached to the topmost beam extending from the apex of the roof. She rapidly climbed the wooden railing with her good arm, and while cradling her injured shoulder, as it was useless at this point, having likely displaced it from the socket, she made one last look down before jumping. Barely grabbing the braided rope with her forearm and leg, she shot down the rope straight toward the gravel below. Taking notice, her father screamed and jumped from the beam to try and catch her. With the speed of her descent, the rope shredded the skin from her forearm, leaving it raw and exposed. Her father was too late, and she landed harshly and painfully on the shell rock below. With this painful escape, the cabin seemed to take notice and bellowed a deep groan. Suddenly, from the top down, the house collapsed in on itself, spraying splinters wildly. The awe of the scene had taken her focus off the pain consuming her, as well as the shaking from the ground below her.

She tried standing but immediately crumpled back down to the ground. Pain shot up from her right ankle, searing into her calf and settling in her knee. Realizing she likely broke something during her fall, she gripped her ankle and hunched in the fetal position. Her mother had reached her, as well as her father, but in the confusion of the ground shaking and the sounds of an imploding cabin, she could not make out what her parents were yelling at each other about. Her father quickly ran off as her mother attempted to lift her. The shaking of the ground made it difficult for him to keep his footing, and she could see him shuffling around in the snow as he ran.

“Come on, baby, we gotta get you all to safety.” Her mother yelled over the commotion. Lifting her with a strength she had not known her mother to retain, she began to carry her toward the tree line. Her father quickly returned, rounding the rubble-ruined cabin with their three horses in hand.

Suddenly, a gut-wrenching and deafening sound reverberated through the valley as though a thousand blaring horns and sirens released their call into the air to silence all life in its path. The horses lifted onto their hind legs, kicking and pulling their reigns free from her father's grip. Spooked, they ran off into the distance. Her mother dropped to her knees with Jane in her arms but reflexively dropped her child, clenching her ears. The sound erupted within Jane’s eardrums, making them feel like they would explode. Recovering from the sudden drop to the hard ground, she reached up to cover her ears. Her siblings stood at the fence line crying and screaming, but nothing appeared to escape their mouths. All she could hear was the loud, high-pitched ringing in her ears.

Then, as though sent from the Devil himself, the source of the quaking appeared on the horizon. As though an enormous black cloud firing red lightning descended upon the valley, bringing terror in its wake. The Watcher. The mountain-sized four-legged colossal machine. The ultimate fear of every freeborn. With each step, the ground tumbled and tossed its captors about like rice in a pan. The glowing red lights along its belly cast an evil glow along the southern ridge of the eastern mountains. Within the hazy glow of the machine appeared interspersed shadows. As bees to a hive. The Takers.

These were the individual machines she had heard of, created to gather or eliminate humans.

Her mother rose to her feet unsteadily. Stumbling, she regained her composure and lifted Jane again into her arms. Her brother, Abraham, the older of her two brothers, held the toddler Ishmael now. Her two sisters, Eliza and Sarah, hurriedly helped each other slide on their coats she had thrown off the balcony. Discouraged after losing the horses, her father ran over to his children, picked up the two girls, and called her mother to follow him. No sound appeared to come from his mouth as her ears rang profusely. The absence of her father’s voice must have been the case for her mother, too, as she shook her head in misunderstanding. He pointed to the western fence, wanting them all to follow him.

He began to run, trudging through the ankle-deep snow carrying his two youngest daughters in each arm. At reaching the fence, he lifted both daughters and set them on the other side. Next, he took little Ishmael from Abraham’s arms and motioned for Abraham to climb over. For only ten years old, Abraham was agile and quickly scaled the five-foot wood fence. Her father handed the youngest back to Abraham over the barrier. Carefully lifting Jane from her mother’s arms, he embraced her. She looked up at his weathered and whiskered face. Even in extreme fear, he looked down at her as her mother began to climb over the fence, smiling with his eyes. Though she could not hear the words, his lips moved in a way she understood, “Thank you, Janey, you are so brave. Papa loves you.”

Her mother landed roughly in the snow and turned around, ready to take Jane. As her father lifted her over the fence and Jane entered her mother’s arms, a look of horror suddenly crossed her mother’s face. With tears streaming down the woman’s cheeks and looking at her husband in desperation, she mouthed, “I love you too!”

Jane looked back toward her father, who she expected to be scaling the fence. Instead, he ran off toward a pair of oncoming Takers flying toward them. He clearly attempted to distract the machines from his escaping family. Panic-stricken, Jane screamed out for her father. Her mother quickly muffled her mouth and turned, running frantically into the woods behind them.

After moments, they reached her siblings, huddled under an oak tree, waiting deep in the brush. The siren finally faded as her mother set her down next to the others and began wiping back her tears and composing herself. Checking each child’s coat, she ensured her children had adequately buttoned them, and each child wore their boots. Her mother brought her finger to her lips to remind the children to remain quiet. She wiped away the tears from her youngest sister. Sweeping back the hair of her other sister, her mother pointed to the river. They needed to cross it, but this was made difficult by their current location. The river was too deep at this specific point. They needed to push north to the shallow widening of the river, some hundred yards upriver. Her mother pointed to the trees above their heads, indicating they had to remain covered. They would make their way north on the other side of the river and hope to escape the valley over the ridge on the opposite side of the northern lake. There sat a pass beyond the lake leading into the next valley just north of the ski town. It was a plan they had gone over dozens of times.

Lifting Jane into her arms again, she quietly guided her children through the thickets, moving northward with the riverbank. They would stop every few feet, checking above their heads through the breaks in the trees, looking for the Takers. The ringing in Jane’s ears finally dulled to a low hum, and she could now hear the river babbling mixed with the heavy breathing and sniffles of her siblings. Her father must have distracted the Takers, as there appeared to be no sounds coming from behind or above them.

The quaking had stopped, suggesting the Watcher had found its prey.

They finally arrived at the shallow break in the river, where the water level remained only calf-high. Jane’s mother sat her down next to a tree. Jane’s ankle, at this point, transitioned into a deep throb, and she could no longer feel her shoulder. Her mother reached out and picked up her little brother from Abraham’s arms and heaved the five-year-old onto her right hip. Kneeling in the snow, she looked her children in the eyes.

“Listen here, my loves. We need to cross the river. I know it’s cold and wet, but this here is the only place we can do it.” She pointed to the riverbed.

“Jane is hurt pretty bad, so I’ll carry Ishmael and guide you others across first. Janey will stay here ’til I can come back across and get her. You all stay hidden in the bushes when I come back for Janey. You hear me?”

The children whimpered in agreement.

A creaking of heavy metal and hydraulic pistons resounded in the distance. The children’s mother peeked over her shoulder toward the sound. Turning back to her children, she looked more worried but recomposed herself. “I know y’all are scared. But if we stick to the plan, we will be just fine. Now, Sarah and Eliza, you hold each other’s hands as we cross. Don’t let go.” She nodded her head.

It was time.

Jane’s mother looked back at her with a loving but severe face and mouthed, “Stay put.”

Jane weakly nodded in agreement.

The woman and her children quickly reached the water's edge and slowly waded through it. The current flowed fast for the time of year, and the water appeared ice-cold. Abraham made it across first, followed by her mother carrying the toddler. Eliza kept stumbling on the rocks and had trouble keeping her balance against the current. Sarah, grabbing her sister’s arm, stabilized her, and they eventually made it across safely, though rather wet. After the success of the crossing, they all quickly disappeared into the tree line.

The bitter cold nipped at Jane’s nose and ears. Without exerting herself as the others and having been carried by her mother most of the way, the elements began to impose their chilling and harsh effects upon her. Her fingers felt numb and moved dumbly, while her right forearm began aching intensely from the rope burn she received. To top it off, her ankle and shoulder throbbed in unison as though they communicated with each other, pulsating in an excruciating rhythm.

Two minutes passed, and without sign of her family, further panic settled in. What if the machines captured her family? What if they went on without her? What if… As the third thought entered her mind, she caught a glimpse of rustling bushes across the river. Clenching her teeth and holding her breath, she stiffened. Suddenly, the bush gave way, revealing the image of her mother walking low and crouched over. The woman glanced up and down the river. After presuming the coast was clear, she began to tread back across. Midway through the river, a sudden loud humming noise vibrated the surrounding air. Terror instantaneously stretched across her mother’s face as she stopped in her tracks and gasped at something flying overhead. Knowing what had found them, Jane felt the urge to shout, to distract the Taker, but it was too late.

Like a child plucking a dandelion from its stem, the Taker swooped down and snatched her mother by the shoulder, quickly ascending back into the sky. The act happened so rapidly she could barely believe her eyes. Her mind raced. Her heart pounded in her ears. Through the breaks in the branches above her, she watched in terror as the machine climbed into the air. Suddenly, a sound of rustling emerged from the trees across the riverbank. In desperation, her sister, Sarah, ran after her mother, screaming, with Eliza pulling at her arm, trying to coax her back into hiding.

“Sarah! No!” Jane hissed across the way. Taking notice of the noise from below, the machine stopped, hovering in midair. Her mother violently screamed and thrashed about.

“Run girls!” She yelled as she beat against the machine, suspended some fifty feet high.

The Taker, in a moment of pure mathematical deduction, glanced down at her mother with its dull metallic round head and glowing red eyes. Without a hint of remorse or dissuasion, the machine suddenly clamped its fingers together, crushing her mother’s shoulder and chest, quickly silencing the woman’s screams. Then, without compunction, it dropped her into the icy river below. The moment seemed suspended in time as she watched her mother fall the great distance. Then, as though sped into fast-forward, the woman’s body instantly landed with a sickening thud.

“No, no, no, no…” Jane chattered, still hidden, bewildered at the scene unfolding before her.

The machine immediately reverted its attention to her sisters, who were now retreating into the woods. It quickly accelerated after them, melting the snow surrounding its feet as it landed. Its wings contracted and moved, steadying itself. Then, without further calculations, it stretched its palm out, igniting a rush of energy. The machine instantly vaporized the tree enveloping her sisters, into a cloud of red dust. This act of wanton destruction suddenly exposed the young girls, who remained huddled and squatting, embracing each other. The machine bent down, grabbed them both by the upper arm, and rocketed into the sky, leaving a trail of screams in its wake.

Jane sat, trembling, as terror engulfed her. “No, no, no, no…” the words continued to repeat unconsciously under her breath.

Without concern for the machine and its presence or absence, she quickly raised herself onto her good foot and stumbled out from under the oak tree. Slowly reaching for her mother, she made it to where the woman lay. Her lower body floated in the rushing water while the upper half remained sprawled on the riverbank. Collapsing at her mother’s side, Jane sobbed profusely. Her breath shuddered as her mother lifted her hand and opened her eyes, reaching for her daughter.

Jane fastened her hand in a tight grip with her mother’s, whispering sweetly, “It will be okay; you’ll be fine.” Her voice broke within her sobs.

Grabbing her mother by the collar of her jacket, Jane painfully pulled her from the river. The pains within her body became suddenly evident with the exertion. Gingerly, under the weight of her broken ankle, she dragged her mother back beneath the tree where she had taken cover. Slumping down against the trunk of the Hawthorn bush, she pulled her mother into her lap. Her mother’s now frail and fractured body displayed little signs of life. She cradled her mother’s torso, clenching the woman’s jacket. Jane rocked her mother as though she were a newborn, sobbing between gasps of pain.

She glanced across the river with blurry, tearful eyes, scanning the tree line, looking for signs of her brothers. Suddenly, a quiet voice escaped her mother’s lips. Interspersed with coughing, she sputtered, “Jane… I love you, baby girl…” The woman gasped a deep final breath, “Take care of the boys, Jane. Promise me you’ll take care of the boys.”

Jane’s tears streamed faster, soaking her mother’s hair and forehead. Still rocking, she managed to sob a response. “I promise, momma… I promise. Don’t leave me.”

The shallow heaving of her mother’s chest suddenly stopped, and she relinquished her final breath. Her frame sunk further into Jane’s arms. Jane sat quietly, crying. Helpless and alone.

How had this all happened so abruptly? Why did this happen? Why did these machines hate humans so much? Why do they care? We are peaceful.

She had never experienced anything remotely close to the terror and destruction settling upon her now and especially had never even seen a human body like this—without life. She felt nauseous and flushed. Blackness threatened her visual periphery. Lightheadedness consumed her. She couldn’t pass out. She needed to refocus her attention.

Her mother’s lifeless eyes stared up into the branches of the hawthorn bush. The reflection of the white clouded sky pierced through the shadowed silhouettes of branches onto the surface of her mother’s bright-green irises. The image struck her deeply—emblazoned in her mind forever. The same bright-green eyes her mother blessed her with stared back at her. The same bright-green eyes that penetrated her soul at times and seemed to know her very thoughts. Presently, those prophetic eyes spoke of a future of hardships. No mother’s shoulder to cry on. No Father’s hand to hold. No sisters to share intimate secrets with. The machines destroyed all of these things—torn asunder—ripped from her hands in a fury of hate.

She hoped her brothers at least remained alive, out there in the wilderness before her. She hoped they would find the others who escaped and go north to the lake as planned. Composing herself, she understood the necessities lying before her—the present moment required action. To survive to find her brothers, she needed to get as far from the machines as possible.

Suddenly, an unexpected and peculiar visitor broke her stream of thoughts. A brown head with sleek, wet fur and a black nose peered from the water’s edge, looking directly at her. Cocking its neck to one side, it observed her. Chirping a questioning sound from deep within, it waited for a response.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Jane replied in a disheartened tone.

The river otter chirped back a series of squeals and clicks.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I just… she’s gone.” She looked down at her mother’s lifeless body. The reality of the situation settled into her stomach again, like a rock tied to her feet, pulling her deeper into the abyss. An overwhelming flood of tears returned. She looked back to the otter, who was licking her paw now and pruning her ears.

Hoping for some solace in her anguish, she asked between sobs, “I’ve lost my brothers. Have you seen them?”

The otter stopped sweeping her paw over her ears and sat on her hind legs. Chirping another series of sounds, she pointed her nose upriver. Jane looked north and then back at the otter, who exited the water and rapidly swept its tail to create a snow flurry. The otter continued this motion while advancing toward where Jane sat helplessly. At first, confused and bereft, she hurriedly scooted back against the trunk of the tree and clenched tighter to her mother’s torso in fear the animal might attack. Then Jane noticed the snow the animal flung about wildly covered a trail of blood from the river to where Jane sat. Before, she had not seen, but now evident was a bright red streak cast across the snow. The tossed snow now hid her mother’s blood. The animal was helping cover the tracks. The otter reached Jane, bowed its head, and chirped.

Trembling, she responded humbly, the words stumbling to escape her lips. “Thank you.”

The adrenaline had reached a pinnacle, and with the combination of the freezing temperature, Jane shivered furiously. She had to start moving. She had to find her brothers. The otter gazed at her mother’s lifeless body.

“Will you… watch over her?”

The otter gave a nod.

“Thank you, friend.” Jane managed a grateful smile.

The girl carefully slipped her body from under her mother’s head, gently resting it in the snow. She kneeled over and wrapped her palms around her mother’s cheeks, giving her a long kiss on her forehead. She released her lips, leaving a puddle of tears pooled within the recesses of her mother’s eyes. The bright green glistened beneath the clear pools. She gave her final goodbye and whispered, “I love you forever.” Her mother's famous words.

The otter had already started covering her mother’s lower limbs with snow for a winter burial. Hoisting onto her good foot, Jane grabbed a large branch lying nearby. After one final glance at her mother’s body and a farewell to her furry friend, she began shuffling her way north through the trees, away from her loving mother, searching for her living brothers.

§

After what felt like an hour of trudging through the snow and stopping intermittently under breaks in the trees to ensure she was safe, she rested under a large chokecherry tree. There appeared no sign of her brothers. Though she couldn’t see them, she understood she stood on the wrong side of the river, making finding them even more difficult. She had to find another shallow area to cross. Having swam and fished the river her entire life, she knew it like the back of her hand. With this knowledge, she remembered an area just north of the Judge’s farm where the river widened again, making it shallow and easy to cross, especially with a broken ankle. Determined to reach safety and find her brothers, she stood back up and began her trek again.

After a little longer, but with excruciating work, she made it to her destination. Painfully passing through a grove of trees, she finally met the bank of the river. Shallow babbling water traveled over a vast bed of round rocks. She scoured the sky, looking for any trace of a Taker. After confirming their absence, she buoyed up her courage and stepped out of the tree cover, setting her good foot into the water. The cold, snowy run-off immediately burned and then transitioned into a subsequent tingling. A satisfying numbness then followed this sensation. The heavy feeling crept up her calf and froze her knee. With relief from much of her pain, she shifted her injured foot into the water, ensuring to keep her footing in step with the giant tree branch she used as a crutch. Mounting one step after another step and being careful not to rely too heavily on the stick, in fear of it slipping on the rocks, she slowly traversed the river.

Two-thirds of the way across, she experienced the opposite of pensiveness with the walking stick. Having her lower limbs become completely insensate at this point, she overconfidently stepped forward using her broken ankle. In so doing, she suddenly collapsed beneath her weight on the foot—immediately becoming submerged under the water. Instantaneously springing up, she gasped for breath, more from the shock of the cold water upon her chest and face rather than from an actual lack of air. She rapidly lunged forward, soaking wet and shivering, and slammed her body onto the snowy river bank. The shock from the frigid water, superseding the numbness wearing off in her legs, mixed with convulsive shivering, caused sudden darkness to consume her vision. Then, everything went black.