Snowed In at Silver Lake - Stephanie Fowers Page 0,3

and a little fear. Of all the times she’d driven through this pass, she’d never paid any attention to the side roads that led to the small farming communities or cabin resorts, but now she wracked her brain to figure out where exit 287 might take her. Did it matter? She’d be away from the danger of faster traffic and could pull over if she couldn’t find a hotel. Thanks to her father she had a heavy sleeping bag in the back of her car and water. Eventually it had to stop snowing, right? As soon as the storm was gone, she could use her father’s satellite phone and tell him what was going on. He’d take his Outback to get to her. She’d be fine.

Fighting a flutter of indecision, she took the exit and was immediately sorry. The road was less traveled, the snow higher. Trees surrounded her on both sides, and the storm was so thick that she had no idea what was on either side. She traveled this way for about an hour, and was sure that she’d only gone a few miles by how slow she was going. Finally, she inched to a stop... in the middle of the road. She couldn’t do that, right? Not in the darkness where no one would notice her until it was too late. Besides the thick overhanging trees, she couldn’t see what was past those either. What if she was on another cliff?

She said another prayer. God, I don’t know how bad this is, but I know you can see the bigger picture and you know what’s ahead. Please be with me right now. Help me to stay alert and drive as safely as I can. Gracie took a deep breath and tried to get her bearings again. If there was someone on this road—anyone—she could find some help. Crawling forward again in her Honda Accord, five minutes passed before she spied a light through the white crocheted branches of icy trees. Relief made her knees weak. Oh, happy day! A light! That meant civilization, maybe a ranger station, someone who could help her. She just hoped she could figure out how to reach the place. The ground was so thick with snow that she couldn’t tell where the roads were anymore.

Gracie kept going, straining her eyes for anything that might mark the turnoff. She spied a wooden post, so completely covered in snow that she almost missed it. Hoping she wasn’t making another bad decision, she inched her car through the trees. The woods were thicker here, so that there were actually spots in the road that weren’t covered in snow. Her car was so woefully ill-equipped for off-roading that this would be almost laughable in normal circumstances, but if she could only reach that light, she’d be safe. The thought of warmth, hot chocolate, and a blissfully long hot shower kept her going.

Her mind filled with doubts the longer she traveled with no sign of civilization, especially as the trees grew even thicker so that it felt like she was driving in the wilderness, and no longer a road. What if she wasn’t headed for a ranger’s station, but to a beacon meant to warn off air traffic from the mountain? Maybe she should stop now and wait out the storm and the night? Her father might shake his head at her and lecture her for how far she’d gotten off the beaten path, but at least he could find her once she got his phone to work.

The light flickered through the trees again. Her breath caught in her throat. Her destination was so close. She could walk if she needed to. She navigated a sharp bend and her wheel slipped. She felt it catch air and her whole car shifted to the side, sliding sideways off the road and through the trees, snapping branches until the trunk of her car crunched into a heavy fir tree and spun her around. Her mouth opened and a scream ripped from her as she plummeted even further down the ravine, straight for a black hole. What was that? She knew the moment her car crashed into it. Her seatbelt tightened the same time her bag deployed, whipping her back. Water splashed up around her windows. She’d landed in a lake. Oh, God, save me!

If only she’d waited a day. If only she didn’t get to the pass in time. If only she hadn’t made one stupid mistake after another.