“Inhale. Exhale.” Ginger observed her breath, puffing out in front of her face. “Inhale. Exhale.” She had to remind herself to keep breathing as she stared around her in wonder. She knew this was to be expected. After all, they had created three different blood symbols in the past two days. But to see it, to actually see it happening first hand; snow falling across the San Kaissa Campus. She stood, slightly shocked. She looked down and realized her hands were cold. She’d never had great circulation in her hands, but the temperature had dropped palpably. “I should go back inside and find a pair of gloves,” she muttered to herself.
Just then her phone vibrated in her cardigan pocket. She pulled the slim device from her pocket to see “HELPO” in capital letters flashing across her notification bar. She opened the message from Kate, but there was nothing else written. She assumed the message was meant to just say HELP. Between the typo and the caps, this seemed to be serious. Kate often sent short, clipped missives, but she had never sent a message in all caps. “Shit,” Ginger grumbled, “I really want my gloves.” But Kate was her friend. She liked Kate. And this was a perfect moment to be more of a hero. And, despite her chilled digits, she could feel the pull of her lingering obsession. The advent of snowfall might be a perfect moment to further test her blood dot hypothesis. “Forget my fingers, they’ll be fine, I’m very tough. I’ll just think warm thoughts. It’s fine.” She mumbled to herself.
Her gear was already in the bag slung over her shoulder. She paused only long enough to watch more of the fat, fluffy flakes making their way down to the ground. Already they were starting to stick in the blades of half-dead grass around the building. “I wonder if this unnatural water will at least be good for the poorly maintained grounds around here,” she mused. She assumed that Kate might have messaged from the source of the thumping bass. She sent back a quick response, “On my way. Please let me know where you are, exactly.” Then, as afterthought, she pulled one of the empty vials out of her bag and trapped some of the fat snowflakes in it. She shook the flakes to the bottom, capped it, and nestled it in her bag next to the still-present, but somewhat thawed piece of Manta Ray football player. “All in a day’s work,” she thought. She wrapped her scarf more tightly around her neck, shoved her hands deep into her large cardigan pockets, and made her way through the collecting flakes towards the commissary, blinking flakes from her eyelashes along the way. “Now Ginger,” she said outloud, “Just play it cool…”