Mobius - Chapter 1

March 3rd, 2028

6:30 PM

“Come on, people!” Fran Smith muttered as she inched her car forward. “This isn’t Texas. We know how to handle a little snowfall.”

But this wasn’t just a snowfall. This was a blizzard.

The kind that swallowed roads, blurred headlights, and turned every breath into a freezing cloud.

Fran gripped the steering wheel harder, her gloves stiff with cold despite the heat blasting in the car. Visibility was nearly zero, and the wind howled through the trees like some unseen force warning her to turn back. But there was no turning back—not with Venture’s pathetic excuse for a police force consisting only of her.

She rounded the bend—then hit the brakes.

Her tires slid. The back end fishtailed, bouncing into the snowbank with a muffled thud.

Something lay in the road.

She was out of the car in seconds, boots crunching through packed ice, heart hammering. The shape in front of her right headlight was twisted, half-buried, almost mistaken for a bundle of discarded janitorial supplies—until she knelt.

A frozen mop. Hair.

And beneath it—a face.

A girl’s face. Too young. Too still.

For a breathless moment, she thought she was too late. The cold had taken her.

Then—a sound. A groan.

Fran sucked in a sharp breath, fingers darting to her throat. A heartbeat. Weak. But there.

She wasn’t leaving her out here.

Fran moved fast, hauling the girl into the passenger seat, throwing the seat back. Her limbs were unnaturally stiff—her fingers waxy white, her lips a cracked blue. Fran turned the car around, flooring it toward home as she fumbled for her phone.

“Trish,” she breathed as soon as her friend picked up.

“What’s going on?”

“I found a kid—she’s frozen solid. Hypothermia. What do I do?”

Trish’s voice sharpened. “Is she shivering?”

Fran risked another glance. No movement.

“No,” she murmured.

“Then it’s bad. You need to warm her up, but slowly. You can’t rush it.”

Fran nodded, her heart pounding as she turned into her driveway.

“You want me to come over?”

“No. The roads are a mess. Stay put.”

She barely got her phone onto speaker before moving. Soaked. The girl was soaked through, clothes clinging in wet patches, useless against the cold. Fran yanked them off layer by layer, fingers shaking—not from hesitation, but from urgency.

She had to get her warm. Had to act fast.

Until she reached the last layer.

Something was wrong.

The hesitation was barely noticeable—just a fraction of a second as Fran stared down at the sodden fabric before pulling it away.

Not a girl.

A boy.

Fran blinked, her breath hitching—but it didn’t matter, not right now.

She grabbed blankets, wrapped them tightly around her—no, him—no, her—Fran wasn’t thinking. She was moving, acting, focusing only on getting warmth back into the child’s body.

“Okay,” Trish said, voice steady through the phone. “This might be uncomfortable, but you need skin-to-skin contact. Chest, groin, neck.”

Fran hesitated for a half-second before muttering, “It’s not a girl. It’s a boy.”

“Does that make a difference?”

Fran swallowed. “No.”

And yet—something about Trish’s wording stuck.

She didn’t linger on it. She stripped down, slid into bed beside her, pressing her hands against her neck, her chest—where the cold felt wrong, like touching stone.

Another groan. A twitch. She was warming up.

“See if she’s awake enough for a warm, sweet drink.”

Fran went and got a cup of warm water with honey in it. Fran lifted the cup, guiding it to her lips, watching carefully as she took a few weak sips before drifting off again.

Relief crashed over Fran, exhaustion dragging behind it. She thanked Trish, hung up, and dragged her recliner into the bedroom. She wasn’t leaving her side.

Settling in, she exhaled—then paused.

The mirror.

She hadn’t meant to look. Hadn’t meant to see.

But she did.

The blanket was loose around her shoulders, her robe in hand. The reflection caught her off-guard—not because she was naked, but because—

Her breath hitched.

A quiet realization settled deep in her gut.

She stared.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t think.

Just sat there, looking at herself, as the blizzard howled outside.