Michael’s truck was definitely not winning any awards for a smooth ride.
Every time we hit a dip in the mountain pass, the whole cabin rattled so hard I thought my molars might actually vibrate right out of my head. It was that kind of low-end hum that settles deep in your bones and stays there.
For the first hour, I’d tried to stay focused on the scenery, but we’d ditched the asphalt and the comfort of streetlights miles ago. Now, it was just the endless, rhythmic crunch-crunch-crunch of gravel and loose shale under the tires as we climbed higher and higher into the clouds.
Outside the dusty windows, the world I knew was officially a memory. The tidy lawns and cookie-cutter suburbs I grew up in had vanished, replaced by a wall of old pines that loomed over the road like a crowd of gi
