CHAPTER 13
THERE. THANK GOD.
Buried beneath several cans of spam and layers of debris was the radio. Kennedy couldn’t believe it was still intact. By the time she pried it out of the wreckage, the tops of both her hands were bleeding. She wasn’t sure if that was from splinters in the wood or if her skin was just cracking away from the cold.
It didn’t matter. They had their radio, their lifeline to rescue.
After finding their coats, she gave a little half-hearted hunt for spare batteries but soon gave up. Her hands hurt so much she realized she couldn’t hold anything else in them anyway.
A bag. That’s what she needed. Or some kind of blanket to use as a knapsack she could sling over her shoulder.
How cold was it out here? Negative what? And how long could she survive in this kind of t
