Under the Icy Siege

Before their eyes was the frozen ocean, fractured but solidified once more underneath. It seemed like an undulating ballroom floor of some psycho snow queen. Dark shadows the size of humpback whales moved restlessly underneath their feet encased in ice. It's been hours since the

“Atypical weather event” took place. The news and government had a name for it even as it was happening, but the name was a reassuring way of saying no one knew what was happening. Walking on the frozen Gulf of Mexico made that clear.

“Over fifty thousand people remain without power,” the anchor continued, “and even more without water, due to freezing pipes.” Shivering, I picked up my cup of melted snow and took a sip. How long would this last?

I know we've been through this before, but I have a bad feeling that this will be worse, I had to share the cup of ice with Ronnie, Bobby, Ricky and Mike so I asked again...How long would this last?

It had to be over 100 degrees out here, no shade in sight, and thirst would kill us long before hunger would. Fear clenched its fingers around my heart as I sucked slowly on my one small cube and handed the cup to Ronnie. "Go easy, please," I begged. "We need to make this last."

Ronnie snorted. "We're all gonna die out here in a few days anyway. What's the point of suffering more than we have to? YOLO." She raised the cup to her lips and tipped it all the way back.

I couldn’t sign on to Ronnie’s fatalism, though. I had to find us some help, and getting drunk with her wasn’t going to be conducive to that. When she started to pour me a drink, I held up my hands. “No,” I said. “I’m going to head for the top of that hill and try to get a cell

signal.” Before she could hand me the cup, I traipsed out the door. I had to try to reach Marcus- he was the only one who could reason with her outside of a beer bottle-shaped trap. The top of the hill was cold and dark, and the stars above my head were faint. I held up my phone

Dang. No reception. I ran down the road frantically checking my phone, until miraculously the call went through. Marcus arrived soon after, carrying a large suitcase, clanking with glass. “Cheers,” he said, revealing the largest collection of craft beer I’d ever seen. “Cheers.”