The vehicle’s engine had died, and the only sound was the eerie creak of metal and my heavy breathing. As I listened, the howl of the storm could be heard above the roar of the blood in my ears.
Very slowly, I took inventory of my situation. I didn’t think anything was broken. My fingers and toes could move at least. My head seemed to be my biggest problem, and I was able to get my left arm up and over the limb so that I could probe a wet gash in my hairline. I didn’t remember hitting my head, but from the pounding radiating across my skull and the blood flowing down my face, I’d done a pretty good job of it.
The vehicle creaked and then suddenly slid a few inches. The scream of metal piercing the air mingled with my own. I braced for impact, but no impact came as the Jeep resettled onto the tree that had saved me from plummeting to the bottom.
For how long?
I had no way of knowing if the tree would hold me, but I knew that my chances were better out of the Jeep. I’d always heard that you should never leave your vehicle in bad situations, but as the Jeep slid another couple inches, I recognized that staying was the worst of my limited options.
“Help.”
The cry was useless, even more so because it was barely a whisper, and I realized that was because I was finding it hard to breathe. Looking down, I found the reason for my continued distress. When the vehicle shifted, the branch that had busted through the window moved and was now pinning me even harder to my seat.
The Jeep had lodged against the tree at an angle, so I wasn’t completely on my side, but the driver’s door was above me. Snow and ice fell through the broken glass, covering me with its icy cold. Using all my strength, I tried to push the door open, but the weight and gravity were too much, especially since I was pinned the way I was.
It was a good thing and a bad thing, I realized.
The thick branch was keeping me from falling, but it was also keeping me from climbing out. I didn’t know what to do, and the pounding in my head didn’t help me think, so I just sat there for a moment, my chattering teeth making everything worse.
“Pull it together, Z.”
Taking breaths as deep as I could, I swiped away the blood, blinking hard until my vision cleared a bit. The hat. With the very tips of my fingers, I could reach the wool cap. I was also able to reach a t-shirt I’d tossed inside a couple weeks ago.
I wiped the blood from my eyes so I could see better, then folded the shirt and wrapped it around my head, tucking the ends before securing the makeshift bandage with the hat. There, I’d solved one problem. Now, I just needed to solve the next.
As I continued to force myself to remain calm, thinking became a little easier and I remembered the lever at the side of the seat. Reaching down, I pulled it up and eased the seat backwards into a reclining position.
That was better. The pressure from the tree branch was off my lungs and getting air in and out was considerably easier. Looking around, I wished the Jeep was a ragtop. If it was, I could have maybe clawed my way out. Since it wasn’t, I needed to find a way to heave the door open. I looked right, and froze. From my position, I had a view out the passenger window, and what I could see brought a new wave of fear.
Nothing.
Even through the blur of the blizzard, I could see that nothing besides this tree and a number of smaller ones was stopping me from plunging hundreds of feet to the bottom. The very knowledge stopped me cold.
I was going to die here. I’d either freeze to death or fall.
No.
I wasn’t ready to give up yet. I wanted to know how my story ended. Not just the novel I was writing, but my story. Zoe Elaine Meadows. I’d fought through the embarrassment of my childhood and was on the cusp of enjoying life for the first time. I wasn’t ready for it to end. Not like this.
Bracing my elbow on the passenger seat beside me, I slowly reached for my seatbelt and pushed the button to be freed from the restraint. As I expected, my weight shifted, but I hadn’t expected the Jeep to shift too.
This was it.
The branch in front of me cracked, straining from the weight, and when I looked down this time, the chasm below me appeared to loom closer.
Crack.
The Jeep shifted again, the front end sliding several more inches. Knowing I had so very little time to spare, I squirmed under the branch until my boots were on the seat beside me before pushing my hands and shoulder against the door, heaving with all my might. It moved. Only a few inches, but the snow blew in on my face as I adjusted my feet for better leverage, refusing to give up.
Crack.
The Jeep shifted again, but I didn’t stop pushing, straining, screaming with the effort. Ten inches. Twelve. Then, as if it were a miracle, the weight of the door was lifted off me.
“Here, take my hand.”
I didn’t question, just locked my hand around the one extended toward me. Strong fingers circled my wrist as the Jeep shifted even more.
Crack.
“Please, don’t let go!”
Two hands were on me now, the bite of the man’s grip cutting nearly to the bone. He pulled, but the tangle of the branch was snagging at my clothes like demons trying to pull me into hell.
“I’ve got you,” he roared, and the tree appeared to respond with a roar of its own. I felt myself sliding, my hand slipping through his as my glove tried to come off in his grip.
Then I was free, the Jeep falling from beneath me to crash to the mountain’s floor. Legs and arms surrounded me, pulling me higher onto the man’s body. Shock and adrenaline battled through my system, causing me to shake more from their symptoms than the cold, and I buried my face into his chest.
“I’ve got you,” he said, his hand stroking my back, his breath warm through the woolen hat. I tried to respond, but the harsh chattering of my teeth prevented me from voicing any words. He sat up, still holding me tightly against him. “We’ve got to get out of this.”
I nodded, the violent shivering making even that gesture disjointed, and I felt him wrap something around my waist. A rope. He finished the knot then looped it between my legs, making a harness of sorts, adding a carabiner to keep it together.
“Can you walk?”
I wasn’t sure, but I was damn well going to try. I’d lost my glove, and the warmth of his palm felt wonderful as he took my hand. He pulled me to my feet, and I forced my quaking legs to stand, proud that they did as I bid. I looked up at him, trying to get a glimpse of my savior, but he was all hat, goggles, and ice-encrusted beard.
Grizzly Adams in the flesh.
“You first,” he said, yelling over the wind. “Grab the rope. I’ll help from behind.”
I nodded, still unable to speak as he guided me in front of him before forcing my numb hands to take hold of the rope. There was a harness around him too, and between the two of us, we started up the steep incline, his hand on my back to keep me going.