Chapter 3
1523 Words
CHAPTER 3
Ginger almost didn’t see the car in the ditch. When she did see it, her instinct was to keep driving. To ignore any situation she couldn’t be sure of. They were only about a mile away from the correctional facility, so there was a chance that it wasn’t just tourists in the car. But potential convict or not, what if someone was hurt and needed help?
Ginger looked around her at the deep ruts where the car had skidded and gone off the road. Her 4Runner had brand-new snow tires. But she also knew that everyone who was headed to Spirit Lake for Christmas was already up there, except for her. They’d all been flown in by helicopter yesterday—one of the perks of having a boss with more money than he knew what to do with. Besides them, almost no one came up to the remote recreation area in the winter, because you could never be sure about the road conditions.
Her boss, Justin, was going to be pissed when she showed up at the door instead of calling him on the sat phone for a helicopter lift like he’d told her to. But she hated asking people for favours and didn’t want to explain why she couldn’t come in with the rest of the group. They’d become good friends over the years, but there were still things he didn’t know about her.
Showing up quietly and slipping into the party without all the fanfare would be much better.
She checked her phone and confirmed there was still no cell service. Dammit. If she couldn’t call for help, then neither could the occupants of the car. Whoever was in there, she couldn’t just leave them out here to freeze to death—even if her instincts were screaming at her.
Ginger pulled carefully over to the side and waited. “I don’t see anyone, Max. Do you?”
She swivelled her head to see her dog asleep in the back seat. “Great. I guess I’m on my own for this rescue mission.” Which was probably for the best given Max’s challenges with snow. “You stay here and guard the car. I’ll be right back. Hopefully. I mean, what are the chances that the person in that car is actually an escapee from the correctional facility?” She could deal with some punk teenager if she had to. She’d had plenty of self-defence classes over the years. Gareth had seen to that—he even recruited her to help with the classes from time to time.
Max snuffled in her sleep and drooled all over the car seat. Ginger sighed. “Yeah, I know. I’m not really one to judge. Not everyone in there is a bad person. Some are just desperate.” Or stupid. She’d been both. Only through blind luck had she managed to avoid a criminal record as a troubled teen avoiding the foster system. Although she might have been better off in there than under Clint’s “protection.”
She’d learned the hard way that plenty of bad people just walked around looking like normal people, with no orange jumpsuit to identify them.
Ginger pushed open the door and jumped down, thankful for her boots. She crunched through the snow, calling out as she went. “Hello?” The car was nothing fancy, and definitely not a match for the snowy roads. “Is anyone there?” The car was empty, no sign of a broken windshield or blood anywhere, and she let out a sigh of relief. Whoever had been here, they likely weren’t seriously injured.
But foolish? Yes. Why the hell were they out here in the first place?
Ginger raised her eyes to the sky and caught a snowflake on her tongue. If there was no one here to rescue, she’d best get her butt in gear. The last thing she wanted was to be caught in a snowstorm in the dark.
She took a picture of the car and the license plate, just in case, and trudged back to her vehicle. She’d keep her eyes open as she made her way up to the cabin. Hopefully whoever had abandoned that car was safe and warm inside by now.
Eli was freezing. He shivered in his hoodie and stuck his hands deeper in his pockets. He’d raided his sister’s trunk, hoping for a blanket or something, but the only thing in there was a gift bag containing a couple of knitted items. He had jammed the too-small white knitted hat with red snowflakes onto his head under the hood he’d pulled up and wrapped the red-and-white striped scarf around his neck—even though it made him look like a giant candy cane. Nothing he would have chosen to wear, but at least they kept him warmer than he might otherwise be. As his mom had constantly reminded him and Jenna, beggars can’t be choosers.
Besides, now he could add stealing Christmas presents to the list of reasons he was going straight to hell.
He checked his phone again—still no service. His bright idea had been to walk to higher ground in the hopes of getting a cell signal, but as usual in his life, he’d had no luck. Zero bars.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been somewhere without cell service. There was nothing but trees, trees, and more trees up here. He really was in the middle of nowhere. The silence was deafening, and broken only by the occasional crack of a branch giving in under the weight of the snow.
On the upside, if he had no signal, he wouldn’t be getting any more threatening calls. On the downside, if something happened with his sister, he wouldn’t know about it.
Why did he always f**k things up so badly? He’d been trying to do a good thing by helping out his friend and her son—and look where that had gotten him. He was spending Christmas Day in a snowstorm in the middle of nowhere after ditching a car he’d stolen from his sister and destroying his last remaining connection to the only family member he cared about. What an i***t.
The white flakes were falling faster now, thicker and wet. Sticky snow—the kind that settled in and didn’t go anywhere. If he didn’t find shelter soon, he’d be completely screwed.
There wasn’t much daylight left. He needed to find a cabin or something—most of them were probably abandoned this time of year—and hunker down for the night while he figured out a plan. Sure, they’d probably be locked. But there was more than one way into a building, and desperate times called for desperate measures. Jesus, I really must be losing it if I’m parroting Mom’s crappy clichés.
Eli stomped his feet, trying to keep the blood moving, and cringed at the painful tingles that radiated up his leg. On the upside, still being able to feel the pain was a good thing. It was when it stopped hurting that you knew you were in trouble. He eyed his soaking wet shoes and wished he’d picked up the ugly rubber boots he’d seen in the little gas station store. But he hadn’t wanted to use Jenna’s credit cards, and he’d spent what little cash he’d had left on the food and supplies in his pack.
Eli shifted the heavy backpack on his shoulders and set off again, trudging upwards through the snow. No point retracing his steps. He already knew what waited for him back there—and none of it was good.
Besides, people didn’t waste their money building roads to nowhere. Somewhere there was going to be a house or a cabin or something. The sign on the highway had indicated a recreation area with camping and cabins. He didn’t think they’d be open this time of year, but the guy at the store had said there were a few houses up around Spirit Lake.
His stomach growled at the thought of food, and he contemplated the protein bars in his pack. He didn’t want to take the time to stop now, though, and he had no idea how long the storm would last. Better to play it safe.
His number-one priority was to get his ass in gear and find some shelter before dark. He had remembered to buy a flashlight, but when it got dark up here, it wasn’t going to get city dark. It was going to get really dark. There probably wasn’t an electric light for miles. A lot of miles.
He wiped the slushy snow off his phone screen and tucked it back in his pocket. Best save the juice for calling out when he eventually found cell service.
While he slogged through the snow, he wondered who he was going to call.
In the past, he wouldn’t have hesitated. He would have called his sister. But he’d just burned that bridge, thoroughly and completely.
As usual, he’d screwed things up, and now he was alone on a mountain road to nowhere. It’d be a miracle if he didn’t get eaten by wild animals or freeze to death before he had a chance to explain to his sister that he wasn’t the total d**k she thought he was. And before he could make sure she wasn’t in danger.
Good job, Eli. Merry f*****g Christmas.
- Writer
