My Christmas Wish Alpha

Walk for My Life

Neviah

No! No, no, no! This can’t be!

I nearly fall on my face while struggling to make the last deep-snow steps onto the street. When I jump down, there are at least three feet of solid snow on both sides of the empty street. It looks even higher than it appeared last night.

My car is nowhere in sight, not a trace of it. Even my lug wrench, which I left lying on the street by my tire, is gone.

Panic has my heart racing. My lungs gasp for air, and I start hyperventilating. My hunger forgotten, I run back and forth on the street as though my car will magically appear.

Where is it?!

It has to be here. I followed the man’s tracks straight to the road, and this spot is the only place it could be.

My car... my phone... the food and water....

It’s all gone, and now I’m alone and freezing.

The panic grows, gnawing at my chest, until I finally yell at myself to get a grip. Closing my eyes, I try to force myself to calm down, to breathe, to think.

Okay, this could be a good thing. A tow truck came and took my car away. Yes, that’s it. They’ll report the abandoned car, and the police will get involved. Maybe they traced the car to me, and Maria told them where she expected me to be.

Right now, they’re back at Steve’s cabin searching it, thinking he killed me and putting him in handcuffs while he screams about how wrong they are while Miss Blonde walks out the door in a huff.

Now that image makes me smile.

But there’s also the possibility my car was stolen. But by who? It’s not like there’s another car around, and no one would be walking on this road. But if two people had come along, they could have changed my tire, and one could have driven my car away while the other drove their own.

Well, that’s not comforting. My smile fades instantly.

What am I going to do?

I wrap my arms around myself and shiver. That wakes me up to the reality of my situation. There’s nothing I can do about my car being towed or stolen. It’s not here, so I need to switch to plan B.

Whatever that is.

Okay. I’m hungry, but that can wait. I need water, but that’s not an option right now unless I find a creek that isn’t frozen. I’m good for a few hours at least, even though I feel thirsty.

My feet are wet, but just a little, and they could freeze. That might be my biggest problem right now... well, other than being completely alone in the frozen wilderness. But my only way out of this right now is walking for my life, so I’d better do something to keep my feet safe.

My heart leaps as I remember the snacking I’d done on my drive up here. I didn’t have a place to put the wrappers, so I’d shoved them into my coat pocket so I could throw them away when I got to Steve’s cabin.

His name in my mind should make me vomit, but I’ve got more important things to worry about right now.

I reach into my pocket and sure enough, the plastic bag is there, the one I’d thrown my chocolate-covered almonds into before leaving my apartment. It’s not much, but it’s waterproof.

After dumping out every chocolate crumb into my mouth, I tear the bag in half. Now for the hard part: taking off my shoes and socks so I can put the plastic inside without sitting down on the icy road and getting my pants wet.

Thank goodness for all the yoga practice I’ve done recently. I make quick work of the task.

With that sorted, my feet feel strange with plastic around them, but at least they’re dry. The socks weren’t too wet, but they’re going to soak up more moisture from my wet shoes the more I walk. For now, I’m fine.

Okay, now... which way?

I look both ways down the deserted mountain road, and they both look the same. With my car gone, I don’t know which way I was headed and which way leads back.

“Think logically,” I tell myself, trying to pretend I’m Dad in a situation like this. What would he do?

It takes just a few seconds for me to realize that the footprints would be on the driver’s side of my car since the man pulled me straight out and into the forest.

Okay, so I was facing this way. I turn toward the other direction, the way back to Steve’s cottage. I know there’s at least one neighbor nearby. Let’s hope they’re home. I definitely don’t want to knock on Steve’s door again.

But if I have to, I will.

So, I start walking, knowing this will take forever. I’d punched on the gas a couple of times, first to get away from Steve’s house, and then when I got scared of the forest. I’d covered a lot of roadway before my tire blew.

At least the fake fur around my collar works to keep me somewhat warm, even though the rest of the jacket is nearly useless in this weather. I take a second to tuck the fur up more to my face, then wrap my arms around myself again as I trudge forward.

It’s a different kind of quiet out here in the snowy forest. There’s nothing but stillness and silence, broken only by the occasional dropping of snow from an overloaded branch. I wish I could enjoy its beauty, but I’m too cold, too lost, and too scared to sightsee.

At home, it’s never quiet. My apartment building wasn’t exactly constructed with privacy in mind. The walls are thin, and I can hear every word of Mr. and Mrs. Silverberg’s arguments next door. They disagree about everything from which soap to buy to whether or not it might rain the next day, and it used to annoy me.

But I’d give anything to be safe in bed listening to their bickering right now.

As I continue, I start to notice new sounds, like winter birds fluttering through the trees and small animals moving about the forest floor. I even spot a bright white rabbit that almost matches the snow, digging near a tree stump to chew on a small branch of shrubbery.

He makes me jump at first, but then I stop and watch him for a moment while he desperately makes the harsh environment work for him. That’s what I need to do. I make a note of what he’s eating in case I don’t find help soon. Whatever it is, the leaves have dried up, but he’s still chomping down on them. If he can eat it, I can, if I have to.

A light, icy breeze hits me, and I get moving again.

If the rabbit is out here, what about the wolves? They wouldn’t hunt during the day, would they? I rack my brain trying to remember anything I knew about wolves. I think they’re crepuscular, so they might hunt at dawn... which is right about now.

I quicken my steps as an eerie howl echoes through the trees.