if she would crack at any moment.
It was Taylor who broke the silence. “What the hell are we going to do? I mean, seriously—what do we do?” she asked. Taylor was trying to control her own panic, but she wanted answers. The unknown grew inside her like a constant ridicule to her sanity. “Are we going to have to spend the night out here? If so, we’ll freeze to death, won’t we?”
Her husband was not blind to that simple and possible destined fate. The prospect of dying within the shadows of a cold, mountain road churned in his mind. He was both angry and scared. Nonetheless, Mike’s survival mode was beginning to take charge. He squinted his eyes and looked through the windshield of their tomb. He stared for some time, into the night, and the night stared back. This time, however, it seemed Mike won the contest.
“Look,” he exclaimed, pointing into the distance, a twinge of hope in his voice.
The other passengers stared forward in unison, straining their eyes into the floating darkness of the storm.
“What? What do you see?” asked Brian eagerly.
The stretch of time that passed before his answer was maddening. Mike finally said, “Well, I think . . . I might be mistaken, but I think I see lights.”
At that mention, all four leaned further in their seats and strained their eyes, looking past the puzzle of snow flurries and searching for what could be their salvation.
Kelly responded, desperation in her voice. “I don’t see anything. Are you sure you see something, Mike? Are you sure?” She was nearly pleading with her brother-in-law.
“Yeah, I don’t see anything, either. Maybe it’s just—” Brian stopped his words as his older brother opened the driver’s side door and stepped out into the frozen night. A cold blast of chilly air entered the truck before he closed the door.
Brian immediately looked back towards the women and said, “Don’t worry.” His instincts were tossed mercilessly out of control, and the women could tell by the look in his eyes. Yet, through his personal troubles, the man did maintain an ambience of control. Brian nodded his head in approval of his brother’s actions, however strange they were, and for the moment, the two women were convinced of his countenance. Yeah, as if this stuff happens all the time to Mike and me, he thought to himself with bitter sarcasm. Brian oddly felt a stab of resentment, although he did not know towards whom.
Minutes passed.
The three drew in breaths simultaneously.
They exhaled in unison.
Minutes more.
Then, as they all secretly felt that in some demented, idiotic way the earth itself had swallowed Mike whole, the driver’s door opened abruptly. There was Mike, covered in a blanket of snow, cold and shivering, yet not dissuaded by his bizarre actions.
“Well, d . . . did you s . . . see anything,” Brian questioned, oddly his childhood stutter slipped out—it had been many years.
Mike looked at him oddly and then replied, “Well, it’s colder than our mama’s freezer, but I walked, oh, I’d say about a hundred feet up the road.” He paused for a moment. It was not intentional, for he knew the rest were in limbo, but he felt oddly like laughing. It was like having a joke stuck in your head and it not rearing its ugly duckling head until old Aunt Martha’s funeral. He grinned and gritted his teeth to control the laughter.
Mike snapped back to his senses and continued, even though he was bewildered as to why he would think any of this nonsense was funny. “So, the snow is pretty much blinding, but I did see it. I knew it.” La de dah. I knew I was right. “I saw lights. Looks like a gas station, and definitely lights on at the home front.”
Everyone in the Blazer was smiling now. Everyone that is, except for Kelly. She gazed through the windshield, which was solid white, and stared ahead skeptically.
Within minutes, the group had formed a plan. The two brothers were to bundle up tightly and make what Mike estimated to be a thirty-minute trek to the gas station, serve themselves up a gallon or two of gasoline into their red gas can, and maybe grab a thermos of hot joe for the ladies. They would be back in about an hour. Back in no time at all. With a little luck, the attendant might be nice enough to drive them back, lowering their estimated travel time to less than forty minutes. The women would be fine, even without a heater, having a pair of wool blankets in which to bundle themselves.
With that, the brothers kissed their wives, stepped from the Blazer, locking the doors tight behind them, and began moving briskly into the depths of darkness—towards the light of the gas station. It was indeed cold, but their spirits remained settled, yet cautious and wary. They walked on.
An hour passed. The women kept constant check of the time, and both Kelly and Taylor began to fidget. They had kept relatively warm; each was draped in a scratchy, yet warm, wool blanket. They shivered more from fright than from the cold. Kelly finally leaned forward in her seat, looking into the abyss, then sat back again. Finally, the two busied themselves in gabbing conversation that the two men would have rolled their eyes at had they sat and listened. Nothing like a little ‘girl talk’ to keep their minds from wandering and roaming. Nothing better to push away the nightmare.
They remained constant in their conversation until over an hour and forty minutes had passed, and then, like their innermost nature prescribed, they worried.
“They said an hour at the most,” Kelly mumbled. She flicked her eyes to meet Taylor’s, and then back again to her watch. She acted as if time was an element that she might be able to grasp in her clutches and manipulate. Kelly rocked back and forth. “An hour at the most,” she repeated. “An hour . . . an hour . . . an hour.”
“Listen, Mike could have misjudged the distance. It probably took them longer at the gas station than he thought,” said Taylor in a comforting voice. She, too, was worried, but she also realized that something such as this could not be dependent upon a deadline. Taylor knew that if Mike could see the gas station lights from the Blazer, they would not have any problems reaching it. Both men were in good shape and spent time in the outdoors. The roads would be slick walking, but not impossible. But still. “They’re probably just taking it slow, having to carry the gas and coffee back,” she said, almost as an afterthought.
Taylor managed a smile, trying to relax her sister-in-law. Unfortunately, it was not working. Kelly was simply the type of woman who could not keep rationality intact. Her mind raced for perverted and disastrous reasons as to why her Brian was not back yet. One hour. One hour. At the most. “Well, what if—?”
However, Taylor headed her off. “No, we’re not playing that game Kelly!” She spoke to her as a parent would a child. She had to. Being a schoolteacher, Taylor went back to her roots. Her voice became stern. “There is no reason to get worked up when probably in just a few minutes the boys will be walking up.” Noticing the tears beginning to swell in Kelly’s eyes, she added, “Do you really want Brian to think you’re a baby? Because he will if you don’t stop acting like that. He’ll think you have no faith in him whatsoever.” Taylor then lowered her voice and said calmly, “Don’t worry. They’re alright, and will be here soon. Just relax.”
Kelly nodded her head, wiping away the few tears that had gone astray, and wrapped the itchy, tattered wool blanket tight around her shoulders. Her eyes shifted in constant motion. Back and forth and back and forth, trying feverishly to see signs of life outside the Blazer. Snow coated the windows, as if freshly painted, and obscured her vision to the outside world.
Twenty more minutes passed and Taylor also grew increasingly worried. The winds outside howled ravenously, worse as time passed. It would blow through the pass in powerful bursts that rocked the off-road vehicle side to side. Taylor gazed at Kelly, trying her hardest to assure her that everything would be all right. Kelly sat silent and numb, focusing on the silver watch that cuffed her left wrist. Panic had now entirely set in for Kelly and she simply knew that everything was wrong. One hour. He said one hour. Damn you, Mike, damn you and your one hour.
Suddenly, the two women fel
t a thud against the driver’s door, causing both to nearly leap out of their skin. They maybe would have if they had not immediately seen the figure outside wearing a yellow ski jacket. It was Brian, pounding on the window. Kelly anxiously reached over Taylor, pushed the driver’s seat forward, and unlocked the door, opening it wide. The rush of wind instantly pounded at their eardrums. The wind screamed an eternity of anguish, like a small child who wanders past the racks of blouses and suddenly realizes that mommy is no longer around. The wind whined, piercing the air as if afraid.
Afraid of what? Taylor thought.
Kelly’s face brightened immensely, a great weight dropping from her shoulders. Brian stepped closer, his head leaning into the Blazer, and Kelly’s arm shot forward and grabbed him, pulling and hugging her husband at the same time. Taylor slid to the right as Kelly took her spot, helping Brian inside. She giggled loudly.
It was then that Taylor noticed something was not right. Not right at all.
Kelly pulled Brian firmly towards her. Then she noticed the blood. He had some cuts on his face and a gash on his hand. But there’s a lot of blood. Taylor leaned to help and noticed Brian’s face had gone stark white, pale with shock. He was expressionless as they grabbed him. With uncanny strength, the girls pulled him