Snowhook by Jo Storm

They started back to the cabin. The snow was getting heavier, falling now thick and wet, not light and fluffy. Hannah thought of the ampoule box skittering across the table and felt her chest constrict. Her mom bent down and picked up two handfuls of snow, then threw them at Bogey, who tried to catch them in his mouth before going back to racing after Sencha.

They got back inside just as the snow began to change to sleet. The sleet turned to a slick, hazy rain for a while, then back to sleet as the afternoon wore on. The trees began to bow under the weight of the accumulated snow and ice, bouncing whenever the wind rose.

Hannah helped Kelli feed the dogs. After struggling out to Nook and Rudy, she came through the door and saw her mother standing by the end of the counter with a wooden spoon in one hand and a boot in the other, as though sh

e were torn between going to the kitchen and going outside. Her face was flattened of emotion. Beside her, the radio was on, an announcer talking.

“What’s wrong?” asked Hannah. They had not spoken about Hannah breaking the ampoules since it happened.

“Another storm. Nothing to worry about, Hannah. We have everything we need.”

Hannah called her sister in and Kelli and their mom emptied out the wood stove’s accumulated ashes. The dogs slept. Kelli put the ashes in a big metal pail and Hannah helped her drag it out to the outer porch. Kelli stood and stared at the sky.

“What kind of clouds?” she asked.

Hannah frowned. “I don’t remember. There’s more than one, anyway.” She pointed at the sky where the clouds looked like iron filings, all piled up and splintery. “I’ve never seen that kind before.”

Kelli pointed at another part of the sky. “Those are snow clouds though, right?”

“Yeah.”

“It looks like they’re fighting in the sky.”

“They’re not fighting,” said Hannah.

“Everyone else is,” said Kelli, still looking up.

“We have to get back to Toronto, Kelli. Mom needs her insulin.”

“We’ll go on Saturday. She said she has enough. That’s what she said.”

“She doesn’t have enough.”

The cabin was prepared, the wood and water secured, candles and lanterns ready. They dug out the car and then Hannah drove it to the end of the driveway to make it easier to get out. Usually being able to drive the car was one of the most fun things she got to do, but today it was just another chore. Already the freezing rain had pushed down the last bit of snow, making the driveway a thin skating rink, and she had to drive very carefully. Above them, the whole sky turned grey, and the sun was a sickly yellow halo through it. Kelli and Hannah stood and watched the sky roil; the downward pressure of the incoming weather and the ugly clouds made Hannah uneasy. They went back inside. Their mother was washing her face at the sink, patting under her eyes to dry them.

“Mom, are you okay?” asked Kelli, hanging up her mittens and grabbing two graham crackers from the big cracked cookie jar by the stove. Cookies were allowed after each chore was completed. The radio announcer continued to talk in the background.

“I’m fine. The phone is down.”

“Well, we still have lights,” said Hannah.

“They’re sending the Reservists back,” her mom said. “I just heard.”

“Why? They don’t need them?”

Mina ran her index and middle fingers under her eyes. “No. The storm has moved.”

“To where?”

“To here, Hannah. It’s here.”

CHAPTER FIVE

“We should go into town,” said Hannah. “That’s what we should do, Mom. We can get more insulin …”

“We don’t need to go anywhere,” her mom replied. “They haven’t plowed the road. We’re safer here.”

“How about Jeb’s place? We could go there. They have a satellite phone.”