Issue 4: Winter

Wendy Webb, a pale-skinned blue-eyed blonde woman, was at her workplace, back in the kitchen of a local restaurant, when her boss, Amber, shouts back, “...and that's a wrap, we're after hours, and the last customer finally left. Wendy, are you up for locking up? I need to get home before my sitter gets too frustrated with me.”

Wendy checks her watch, a cheap fitness tracker, “Are you gonna trust the number I put on my timecard this time?”

“The security company sends me alert emails now when the system is armed and disarmed,” Amber fires back, “I'll just use that.”

“Long as I'm paid for the hours,” Wendy nods as she shouts back, “I'm cool with it.”

“Great! See you tomorrow.” Amber shouts back as the ‘front door open’ alarm beeps briefly.

Knowing Amber's already gone, Wendy doesn't bother replying. Instead, she gets to the drawn out process Amber called ‘locking up’ - which among other things, involves doing a full inventory of the stock for the corporate overlords.

“Eighty seven unopened boxes of straws, sixty four of napkins…” Wendy mutters to herself as she fills out the electronic checklist on her phone, alone in the restaurant, going through each item: At least it doesn't ask for an inventory of the open boxes of such things that come in packs of more than a hundred. She confirms the dry goods, the disposable items, counts the breakable things, the silverware, and on and on, propping the ancient freezer open when she gets there with a frozen pack of waffles.

The squeak of a rat gives her a fright… but the panic doesn't set in until the rat drags the waffles away, and she hears the door close and latch.

Pounding on the door for a minute, she loses steam after a moment, “There's nobody here…” she checks her phone… no signal. Starting to shiver, she starts pounding on the door again.

Eventually growing tired, she stops shivering, and starts to feel a warm lethargy settle over her. As she starts taking off her sweater, something in the back of her mind keeps shouting, ‘No, this is wrong’, but she can't quite finger what… she's warm, she should take off her sweater, right? As her fingers start to turn purple, she lays down to take a nap… so tired….

The woman dreams of some goth chick whispering in her ear, “It's not your time yet… you still have work to do. The cold won't kill you… it will be your sword and your shield from here on out. Now WAKE UP.”

Wendy wakes with a start just as the freezer door opens up, a very concerned Amber poking her head in, “Oh, hey boss… thanks for getting the door open… I got stuck in here.”

“Come on, I'll call an ambulance, we need to get you checked out,” Amber's frowning.

“I'm fine…” Wendy gets up, “I'm not feeling cold at all, sorry I got stuck.”

“You're in the freezer in just your bra,” Amber shakes her head as she dials on her phone, “I'm pulling rank. You're going to the…” she pauses, “Hi, yes, that's the address. One of my employees was locked overnight in the freezer. She's alive, but…” She pauses, “Three minutes? Okay.” She pauses again, “Yes, we have hot chocolate, I can get her started on it.”

“Seriously, I feel fine, toasty and warm, not shivering at all, we need to get this thing checked,” the blonde objects, gesturing at the freezer itself.

“Confusion and warm feelings are part of stage two hypothermia,” Amber shakes her head, “and I can clearly see frost on your hands. GET OUT HERE.”

Wendy grabs her sweater as she stands up, glancing at her hand… which yes, is coated in a layer of ice. Clenching and unclenching her fingers easily, the woman shrugs, “I feel fine. But sure…” walking out, the woman feels blasted by the warmth of the kitchen, “Maybe check the thermostat in here, too.” She shakes her head.

“We need to get you warmed up,” Amber insists, “Here…” she pours a steaming hot cup of cocoa from the machine, “Drink this, now,” handing it to Wendy.

“Seriously, I'm fine,” Wendy rolls her eyes as she takes the cup in her ice-encrusted hand, the steam stopping as she does, “but I happen to like hot cocoa, so bottoms up,” she drains the cup easily. “Maybe get the hot cocoa and coffee machine checked too? It came out lukewarm.”

Amber frowns, pouring herself a cup, of steaming cocoa and taking a careful sip, “Still hot for me…” they start to hear the sirens, “...but we need to get you out front. Come on…” Amber grabs Wendy's hands and tugs.

The woman doesn't resist her employer, following along to the front as the ambulance arrives and takes the woman - still not having had time to put on her sweater - steps out into the winter air, feeling fine as the snowflakes land on her skin, not melting.

One EMT immediately wraps her in a blanket, and the other points a no-touch thermometer at her head, pulling the trigger. He frowns, shakes it, and does the same thing again, then points it at himself and pulls the trigger; Wendy briefly sees it say “98.8” before he turns it around and checks it himself, then points it at Wendy again, and pulls the trigger. Frowning even more,he puts a hand to the blondes forehead, then yanks his hand back like it'd been burned, “Gurney, now.”

The two EMTs bundle the woman up and strap her in, lifting her up and putting her inside, connecting a cord from the blanket to one of the outlets in the ambulance. “Guys… I feel fine…” Wendy objects as they do.

“You are literally freezing,” the thermometer using EMT replies flatly, “your lips are blue, you weren't shivering in the snow despite only wearing your bra on your chest, and my hand confirms the thermometer wasn't lying to me. As a workplace accident reported by your manager, this isn't going to cost YOU one red cent, so don't worry about the bill. Impossible as it is, you're obviously conscious, so if you clearly state, ‘I am refusing treatment,’ then we're required to respect that until such time as you fall ****… at which point we will then treat you anyway, but it's a lot harder. So please just let us do our jobs now, OK?”

“Fine, fine…” Wendy rolls her eyes as the man takes various vital measurements on the short ride to the hospital.

She watches as he takes notes after each test, scribbling “Unable to detect pulse” over heart rate and blood pressure, “below instrument capabilities” under temperature, “Very lucid,” under mental state, “only when she wants to speak” under breathing, and others.

“Wait… are you saying I'm dead?” Wendy asks her EMT.

“No, of course not,” the man replies calmly as they arrive at the hospital, “I just can't measure your breathing, pulse, temperature, blood pressure, and other vitals. You’re very clearly alive because you're talking. Let's get you warmed up so I can measure just how healthy you are, OK?”

“Fine…” Wendy chuckles as they rush her into the emergency room, where a steaming hot bath of water is already waiting. As they strip her clothes off and dump her in, the water not only stops steaming, but freezes solid….