Next to the gear shifter was another small shifter labeled 4-H, N, and 4-L. I thought it safe to assume the 4s meant four-wheel drive, and since I was going up a high mountain, I further assumed H was what I needed.
“Let’s find out if I’m right.” I gripped the shifter and shoved it in the direction 4-H indicated. That was easy, except I couldn’t tell anything had happened.
Pressing the gas pedal, the tires slipped and skidded, spewing snow behind me. When the Jeep slid backwards, I yelped and hit the brake, my heart threatening to burst until the vehicle finally bumped to a halt. “Okay, let’s try 4-L.” Since my car gear had to be in neutral when I ran it through the car wash, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to try shifting it into N before trying for low.
That was better. I was relieved to hear the hum of the engine go deeper, and the tires actually felt like they were more secure to the road as I continued to climb, although I dared not go more than five miles per hour. Visibility wasn’t my friend. I couldn’t see shit.
Inch by inch, I crawled up the mountain, using the wool hat to swipe at the windshield when the defrost couldn’t keep up. The snow had changed, the flakes coming down were nearly as big as my fist. The hood of the Jeep, the road, the trees, the entire world had grown white as I struggled to keep the tires away from the cliff that fell into a vast nothingness on my right.
When I reached the summit, I blew out a shaky breath and stopped the Jeep, squealing a bit as it kept moving forward a few feet on its own. In addition to my jaw and fingers, my sphincter was getting a pretty good workout today too. My entire body would be sore tomorrow, inside and out.
If I lived that long.
I shook off the morbid thought and attempted to look at the positive side of my situation. On the plus side, I was close to the cabin now. Just a couple hundred feet down the mountain, and I would come to the gravel road that would take me to its warm comfort. I looked around, peering at the place another gravel driveway had been before. It was now gone, covered by a thick layer of snow.
Inhaling deeply, I made my decision. I just needed to keep moving forward. I’d made it all the way up. Surely, I could make it a little way down. My fingers death-gripping the steering wheel again, I took my foot off the brake.
Don’t do it.
A snake of fear slithered up my spine as the words filled my head. I realized the words were smart, but what else was I supposed to do? Going back down would be as treacherous as going forward and would take much longer, even if I could turn around on this narrow road.
Tapping the brake again, I looked with longing at the place where my neighbor’s driveway should be. I didn’t even know if anyone actually lived there or how far the house was from this point. If I was able to find it, would I be able to break in and seek shelter if no one was home? I didn’t know. And it seemed too risky to find out.
A third option was to just stay right here and ride it out, but the thought of doing that brought instant panic. I could already imagine the feeling of claustrophobia that would take hold as the snow slowly blanketed the Jeep. How long would it take for me to be buried alive? And how long would I have to stay in my four-wheeled coffin until I could dig my way out? Would I run out of gas and freeze to death? Die of carbon monoxide poisoning long before that?
I shuddered. No.
I had to keep going. I had to try to get home.
Home.
When had I begun thinking of this mountain as home?
“We can do this,” I said to the angel and lifted the tiny four-leaf clover up to my lips, giving my good luck/love/life/legacy charm a kiss. “We’re close now.”
I was close, but in this new icy wilderness, I was beginning to realize that close meant nothing. The snowflakes were still huge, and the brutal wind was now making them come down nearly sideways. It reminded me of watching Star Trek, and the USS Enterprise taking off at warp speed.
Humming the theme song, I slowly pressed the gas and inched forward. But as the nose of the Jeep dipped downward, dread became a living thing inside me. I hadn’t gone more than a dozen yards and I already knew coming up the mountain was better than going down.
As the first curve appeared before me, I tapped the brake. Nothing. I stomped on it. Still nothing. I pulled up the e-brake but the Jeep continued to slide forward, heading straight for the edge.
I screamed, yanking at the steering wheel, but it didn’t make a difference. Both my feet were on the brake, but it didn’t matter. The Jeep went sideways, then tilted up on two wheels, tossing me hard to the right.
I reached for the door handle, preparing to jump out. But I was too late. I was falling into the abyss.
CHAPTER TWO
Gray
I stomped my boots on the front porch, knocking off as much snow as I could. Beside me, Maggie shook the snow from her chocolate fur, her pink tongue lapping at her ice-encrusted muzzle. I reached up and did the same to my beard. One day, I needed to cut it off. Maybe I would when I gave a shit, but today wasn’t that day.
The snow had gotten here faster than the idiot forecasters predicted. Hit harder too. In the two years I’d lived here, I’d never seen anything like this. Even now, I couldn’t see a foot past the railing. Within an hour, the entire world had been consumed in a sea of white.
Still, I was prepared.
Plenty of fuel for the generator and more than enough wood for the fire. The pantry was stocked with enough food stores to survive Armageddon, and there were barrels of water at the ready.
Maggie whined and scratched at the door. I opened it, and her nails clicked across the wood floor as she ran inside. “Don’t worry, girl. There’s plenty of food for you too.”
Leaving my boots just inside, I shrugged out of the heavy coat and tossed it across a chair in front of the fire, placing my gloves and hat beside it. Maggie plopped down on the rug while I squatted in front of the flames, holding my hands out to warm. The temperature was dropping quickly. Grabbing a towel, I wiped most of the wet from the lab/pit mix’s thick coat. Then she was out, fast asleep before I could even stand up.
The need for coffee drew me away from the bright flames, something warm to heat up my bones. I’d gotten up early to prep the cabin for the storm and hadn’t yet had either breakfast or lunch. In just a few minutes, the scent of it brewing also reminded me of how hungry I was. A sandwich didn’t sound appealing. It might be afternoon, but bacon and eggs sounded about right.
Flipping on the TV for company, I cursed when all I got in return was another type of blizzard, the black and white kind that signaled the satellite was down. Not that I was surprised. A cow could piss in the road and the damn thing would fuck up on the best of days. This was most certainly not the best of days.