SNOWBOUND

Sherry walked into her home and stamped her feet, knocking the snow off her shoes. An aroma of chili filled the house, mixed with smoke.

“Babe, did you stir the chili while I was out?” Sherry shouted into the home. Simulated gunfire and the clacking of buttons from a video game controller came from the living room.

“Right there! Shoot him. Okay, now go downstairs and I’ll flank the side,” said Mark.

“Mark! Hi. Did you stir the chili or not? It smells like it’s burning,” said Sherry.

“Oh, hey. No, I completely forgot. I’m sorry,” said Mark. His eyes remained fixated on his game.

Sherry huffed and went into the kitchen. She stirred the pot of chili and scraped a burnt film from the bottom of it.

“Where’s Danny at?” asked Sherry.

“He’s up in his room, I think,” said Mark.

Sherry took out her frustration on the stairs as she ascended. She opened her son’s door but was only greeted with a mess of toys. She went back downstairs to check in the den. Danny often played in the den. She opened the door to the den and an icy draft raised the hair on her arms.

“Mark! Get up here. Now,” she yelled.

Mark told his friends he’d be back and paused his game. He casually walked into the den and was met with Sherry’s glare. His attention shifted to the side of his wife, and he saw what she had seen. The sliding glass door that lead into their backyard was ajar.

“Did Danny say he was going outside?” asked Sherry.

“No, he didn’t say anything.”

“Oh, Jesus. When was the last time you saw him?”

“Maybe thirty minutes ago.”

Sherry flipped on the backyard light and darted outside. Little footprints headed towards their playset, but Danny wasn’t there. She swung her body back in the direction of Mark. “Call the police.”

Mark called the police as he watched his wife scan the perimeter of their fence. Snow rapidly collected on top of his head as he spoke with law enforcement.

Sherry continued to search the poorly lit backyard for footprints. Her hope faded as she looked back to the sliding door where the little footprints had begun. She lifted her head and gazed at the awning that protruded from their home, directly above that door. Any unshielded footprints Danny would have left in the yard would have already been filled in.

“Hey, Sherry. The police said they would try to get someone out here as soon as possible but that it may not be quick because of the conditions. Something about us getting close to a level three snow emergency,” said Mark.

“Damnit, Mark. What do they expect us to do? He isn’t here,” said Sherry.

“We’ll just keep looking until they get here. I don’t know what else to do,” said Mark.

Sherry turned away from Mark and began walking. “Shocker,” she muttered. She unhooked the latch of their fence and went into the front yard.

Mark followed closely behind her. They shouted Danny’s name in tandem. For the first time in a while, the couple had a rhythm and worked together. The wind seared their faces and reddened their flesh. Over the muffled wind, a dog barked.

Sherry took off in a full sprint towards the barking. She continued shouting Danny’s name as she ran. She drew nearer to the barking and came to her neighbor’s fence, several houses away from theirs. The dog was fixated on its own doghouse and barked continuously. Sherry hopped the fence, and the dog backed away. She peered into the doghouse. An orange, puffy jacket and Spider-Man pajama pants rustled around inside.

“Danny!” said Sherry. She scooped up her son and began thoroughly examining him.

“Mommy, I’m cold,” said Danny.

“I know, sweetie, we’re going to get you home and warm. I promise,” said Sherry.

Mark came up to Sherry as she held her son. His lip was bloodied and he breathed heavily. “Sorry, I fell and busted my face. You found him?” asked Mark.

Sherry pushed her way past Mark with Danny in her arms and walked towards their home.

“Hey! I said I was sorry. I just fell. I tried to catch up to you,” said Mark.

“Yes, I found him,” said Sherry.

Sherry brought Danny into their home and took him down to the couch. She grabbed heavy blankets and cuddled her son underneath of them. “Mark, get a washcloth and run it under some warm water. Bring it to me when you’re done,” said Sherry.

“Okay. Where do we keep the washcloths again?” asked Mark.

Sherry’s face flashed with heat. Enough heat to warm up her son, she thought. “Main bathroom. Drawer. Right under the sink.”

Mark brought her the washcloth and sat beside them on the couch. “Hey, buddy, are you okay?” asked Mark.

“Yeah. Just cold, Dad,” said Danny.

“Why did you go outside without me, bud?” asked Mark.

“You were playing your game. I didn’t want to bother you. Maybe next time we can play together,” said Danny.

“Sure. We can play together next time,” said Mark. “Hey, once you’re warmed up, we could play.” Mark reached for his video game controller and Sherry unloaded a full clip of looks straight through him. “Or maybe another time.”

Sherry looked down at her son, nestled against her. Warm tears filled the brim of her eyelids. She looked at a boy that she would give anything for. A boy she would raise to the best of her abilities. She turned her head to another boy. Her husband. A boy she didn’t intend on raising, anymore.

Spenser Myers grew up and remains in Cincinnati, Ohio. He is a full-time student at Full Sail University and works as well. In his free time he enjoys playing guitar, consuming different variations of media, and cooking.