Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 126(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 126(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
The car retaliates by sputtering to a slow stop. I guide it to the side of the mountain. For a moment, I sit in silence. I watch the snow flurries and wonder what would happen if I walked away from it all. Will the world collapse if I’m not there to keep it spinning?
Frosty makes another impatient noise, and I know his little bladder has to be getting close to maximum capacity.
“You can potty then I’ll get on the phone. We’ll be out of here in no time,” I tell him with more confidence than I feel. I’m not sure where I am…or if I want to be found.
After Frosty has relieved his bladder and I’ve given him extra snuggles, I reach for my phone. It had plenty of bars and connection a few minutes ago, but now, there’s nothing.
Despite the fact I know it won’t work, I still try to call my sister twice before admitting defeat. I debate using emergency services then decide this isn’t an emergency. There are real people who need help. I just need to walk back down this mountain and find someone to give me a ride.
I’ve only passed one other vehicle on this mountain road. It was a pickup truck.
“Well, if there’s a truck, then someone lives on this road. We can hike to their house and ask to use a phone,” I say to Frosty, trying to think through my plan out loud.
He makes a growl, and I sigh. “Yes, I know that’s how urban legends start, but I don’t have any better ideas. Do you?”
He puts his head down on his paws, which I take to mean no.
“All right then, it looks like we are going on foot.” As soon as I say that, I glance down at my feet. I’m wearing green slippers with jingle bells glued to them.
My poor toes are going to be cold and wet before this is over. But I don’t see that we have much of a choice. Hopefully, if I’m lucky, we’re close to the house where the driver lives.
I put Frosty back in his little booties to protect his paws then the two of us start down the road. My shoes jingle with every step, mocking me and making me hate Christmas a little bit more.
We’ve been walking for close to three hours, and I’m not sure that we’re any closer to the imaginary cabin than when we started. It feels like I’ve walked fifty miles, but I know in reality it hasn’t been that far.
“Who decided that mountains should be so steep?” I pant.
The snow flurries are coming down faster, sticking together and forming slight snow accumulations. Right now, I’m regretting my decision to leave the warmth of the rental car.
I wonder if I died on the side of this mountain, if my mother would mourn me or the loss of my wedding more. Just the thought of a wedding planned by my mother is making me break out in hives.
“Let’s catch our breath,” I tell Frosty as I dust off a cold guardrail on the side of the road.
My breath hangs in little puffs of the air, and my best friend shivers. I feel a stab of guilt for the fact that we’re out here. I shouldn’t have trusted the stupid GPS on my phone. I shouldn’t have planned a day trip to get away from everything for a few hours. I shouldn’t have started walking.
“This was all such a dumb idea,” I mutter.
Frosty tips his head as if he’s agreeing.
I’m not sure if we should continue walking or try to find our way back to the car. Given how quickly the snow is falling, I worry that either choice is the wrong one.
With numb fingers, I tap at my phone screen, but nothing has changed. I still don’t have service no matter how many times I try to dial. The reality of the situation finally starts to sink in as I realize I’m trapped on the side of a mountain, and I have no idea what to do next.
Panicking is the natural next step, and I’m well on my way to that when I hear the distinct sound of a rumbling engine.
Frosty whimpers.
I square my shoulders and take a breath, pulling deep within for courage. “You’re right. We don’t know if he’s a deranged lunatic. But we don’t know he’s not one either. So, let’s just pretend to be tough. We can be tough.”
The truck slows to a stop as I finish my pep talk. The window rolls down slowly and then I’m staring into blue eyes the color of a summer day framed by long lashes. His face is all harsh angles softened by a dark, bushy beard that I want to feel underneath my fingertips.
My stomach swoops and despite the cold, snowy weather, my palms grow damp. I wipe them on the edge of my striped skirt and try to remember how to do normal stuff like talk to other human beings.