Black Ice

  "I wonder what the weather's like in Hawaii," Korbie said, using her sleeve to clear the fog accumulating on her window.

  I tapped my nails on the steering wheel, wondering what Calvin would do in my shoes. It would brighten my mood tremendously if, tonight, I could report to him that I'd weathered the storm, no problem.

  "Don't panic," I murmured aloud, thinking it sounded like a good first step toward success.

  "It's downpouring, we have no cell phone service, and we're in the middle of the mountains. Don't panic. Sure," Korbie said.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The rain didn't let up.

  An hour later, it continued to stream down the windshield, thickening to slush. It wasn't quite snow. A few more degrees, though, and it would change. I was still parked in the road, and I'd left the engine running almost the whole time. Every time I turned it off to conserve gas, both Korbie and I started shivering violently. We'd changed into jeans and boots, and put on our winter coats, but the extra clothing hadn't kept off the chill. For better or worse, nobody had driven up behind us.

  "It's getting colder out," I said, chewing my lip nervously. "Maybe we should try to turn back."

  "The cabin can't be more than an hour away. We can't turn back now."

  "It's coming down so hard I can't make out the road signs." I leaned against the steering wheel, squinting through the windshield at the yellow diamond-shaped sign ahead. The black markings were completely illegible. It had gotten dark awfully fast. The clock showed after five, but it might as well have been dusk.

  "I thought the Wrangler was made to go off-road. I'm sure it can handle the rain. Just give it a lot of gas and get us up this mountain."

  "Let's wait ten more minutes, see if the rain stops." I didn't have a lot of experience driving in a downpour, especially one this severe, with gusting wind. The growing darkness only compounded the low visibility. Right now, driving, even at a crawling pace, seemed dangerous.

  "Look at the sky. It's not stopping. We have to keep going. Do you think the windshield wipers will hold up?"

  It was a good question. The rubber was wearing away from the metal skeleton, which etched into the glass with a soft squeak.

  "Maybe you should have replaced them before we left," Korbie said.

  Good of her to point that out now.

  "On second thought, I'm worried this weather might be too much for your car," Korbie continued in a smoothly concerned voice.

  I kept my mouth shut, afraid I'd say something I'd regret. Korbie's digs were always like that--under the carpet. She had the whole guilelessly undermining thing down to an art.

  "They've really improved off-road vehicles over the years, haven't they?" she added just as sleekly. "I mean, the difference between your Wrangler and my SUV is remarkable."

  I felt my back go up. She was turning this into a competition, like always. I would never tell Korbie, but last summer, during a sleepover, I'd peeked in her diary. I thought I'd find secrets about Calvin, things I could playfully tease him about later. Imagine my surprise when I found two side-by-side lists comparing Korbie and me. According to her, I had better legs and a more defined waist, but my lips were too thin, I had too many freckles, and therefore I was only generically cute. She had the better bra cup size, better eyebrows, and she weighed ten pounds less than me--of course, she failed to mention she was three inches shorter! The list took up two pages, and I could tell by the changes in ink color that it was ongoing. She'd given each feature a point rating, and added up our score totals. At the time, she had me beat by a safe ten points. Which was ridiculous, since she'd given her manicure five points more than mine and we'd gotten matching ones at the same salon.

  I thought of her secret list now, and felt more determined than ever to defend the Wrangler. I would get us up this mountain to keep from giving her yet another victory on her stupid list. (Better car? Check.) I knew this game shouldn't matter, it was rigged, and I knew she'd never let me beat her, but I wanted to. Badly.

  Oddly enough, I'd gone through the same charade in my relationship with Calvin, trying excessively hard to convince everyone around me, especially Korbie, that Calvin and I were perfect. Forever. I had never thought about it so consciously before, but I felt an overpowering need to show Korbie how great my life was. Maybe because of the list. Maybe because it annoyed me to think she was keeping score, when that was the sort of game enemies, not best friends, played.

  "Did you put snow tires on this thing before we left?" Korbie wanted to know.

  This thing? It was times like this when I had to stop and remind myself why Korbie and I were friends. We'd been inseparable as far back as I could remember, and even though we'd started drifting in different directions, especially this past year, it was hard to let go of a relationship that had been years in the making. Plus, when I really stopped and thought about it, I couldn't count how many times Korbie had thrown herself in the road for me. Starting when we were little girls, she'd paid for things I couldn't afford and whined until her parents let me come on family vacations. She made sure I was never left out. Big personality or not, Korbie's small acts of kindness had endeared me to her.

  Still.

  We were definitely more like sisters than friends: We loved each other, even if we didn't always like each other. And we were always there for each other. Rachel and Emilie hadn't chosen hiking in the Tetons over a beach for spring break, though they knew I needed it. But Korbie hadn't hesitated. Well, had barely hesitated.

  "It wasn't supposed to snow," I fired back. "Your parents told us the roads would be clear to Idlewilde."

  Korbie exhaled a long, pouty sigh and crossed her legs impatiently. "Well, now that we're stuck here, I guess we'll wait for Bear to come rescue us."

  "Are you implying it's my fault we're stuck? I can't control the weather."

  She turned on me. "All I said is 'We're stuck,' and now you're blowing it out of proportion. Even if I was implying the Wrangler can't handle the weather. It is true, isn't it? You're just mad that I'm right."

  My breathing came a little faster. "You want to see the Wrangler make it up this mountain?"

  She gestured grandly out the windshield. "I'll believe it when I see it."

  "Fine."

  "Go ahead. Be my guest. Put the pedal to the metal."

  I blew hair out of my eyes and gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles went white. I didn't want to do this. I didn't trust the Wrangler to swim upriver--that's practically what I would be asking it to do.

  "You're such a faker," Korbie said. "You're not gonna do it."

  I had to do this. I hadn't left myself a choice.

  I put the Wrangler in gear, summoning bravado, and steered tentatively into the water that gushed over the road. I was so scared, I felt a bead of sweat trickle down my spine. We hadn't even made it to Idlewilde, and already we were running into problems. If I screwed this up, Korbie would never forgive me for dragging her here. Worse, she'd tell her brother, who'd point out that I shouldn't have attempted a rigorous backpacking trip if I couldn't maneuver my car through bad weather. I had to get us through this.

  The back tires jerked and skidded but finally grabbed the road and we started climbing. "See?" I said proudly, but my chest still felt cinched in a knot. My foot was frozen on the gas pedal, and I was afraid if I made the slightest adjustment, the Wrangler would slip or slide--or worse, skid over the mountain edge.

  "You can pat yourself on the back when we reach the top."

  Enormous snowflakes flew at the windshield, and I turned the barely usable wipers up a notch. I could only see a few feet in front of the Wrangler. I switched on the high beams. Not much better.

  We kept up our crawling pace for another hour. I couldn't see the road anymore--only fleeting glimpses of black pavement beneath blinding white. Every few feet, the tires skidded and locked. I gave the Wrangler more gas, but I knew I couldn't inch my way uphill forever. It was one thing to save face in front of Korbie. It was som
ething else to kill us both needlessly.

  The Wrangler stalled out. I restarted it and eased my foot down on the gas. C'mon. Keep going. I wasn't sure if I was coaxing the car or myself. The engine whined and stalled again. The steep grade, compounded by the icy road, made driving any farther impossible.

  I couldn't see where on the road I'd stopped, and it scared me. We could be inches from the edge. I turned the hazard lights back on, but it was snowing so heavily no one was going to see them until it was too late.

  Pulling out Calvin's map, I tried to orient myself. But it was useless. I couldn't see any landmarks through the whiteout snow.

  We sat in silence several minutes, our breath clouding the windows. I was glad that for once, Korbie didn't offer commentary. I couldn't handle arguing with her right now. I kept going over our options. We didn't have food--it was at the cabin. Mrs. Versteeg had had her assistant bring it up last weekend so we wouldn't have to. We didn't have cell phone service. We had sleeping bags, but was camping here in the road tonight really an option? What if a truck plowed into us from behind?

  "Holy crap," Korbie said, wiping away the vapor on the windows and gawking at the whiteout. Never had I seen snow fall this hard and fast. It covered the road, piling higher.

  "Maybe we should turn back now," I said. But that wasn't really an option either. Going downhill on ice seemed far more dangerous than climbing on it. And I was already exhausted from the concentration I'd put into getting us this far. A dull headache scraped my skull.

  "We're not turning back. We're going to stay here," Korbie said decisively. "Bear is probably an hour or two behind us. He'll pull us out with his truck."

  "We can't sit in the middle of the road, Korbie. It's too dangerous. There has to be a turnout somewhere up ahead. Get out and push."

  "Excuse me?"

  "We can't park here. We're in the middle of the road." I didn't know if we were in the middle of the road. The ground, the trees, and the sky blurred white. There was no telling where one ended and another began. And while I didn't really think we should try to move the car--not when we couldn't see--I was tired of Korbie's stupid, thoughtless suggestions. I wanted to give her a reality check. "Get out and push."

  Korbie's eyes widened, then narrowed. "You can't be serious. It's, like, snowing out there."

  "Fine. You drive. I'll push."

  "I can't drive stick."

  I knew this, and making her admit it didn't improve my mood like I'd hoped. We were stuck and I had no idea how to get us out. A strange feeling fluttered in my throat. I was suddenly afraid we were in worse trouble than either of us understood. I pushed aside the chilling thought and shoved myself out of the car.

  Immediately, the wind and snow buffeted my skin. I dug through my coat pockets for my wool ski hat. Five minutes in the snow and it was going to look like a wet dishrag. I had a backup hat, a ball cap that Calvin had given me last summer, buried somewhere at the bottom of my pack, but it wasn't waterproof. The whole reason I'd brought it on the trip was for the satisfaction of giving it back to him and sending a clear message that I was over him.

  Wrapping my red scarf around my neck, I hoped it fared better than my hat.

  "Where are you going?" Korbie shouted through the open door.

  "We can't sleep here. If we leave the Jeep running all night, we'll run out of gas. If we don't run the heater, we'll freeze." I held her eyes, making sure she registered what I was saying. I barely understood it myself. The idea that we could be in danger seemed to drift aimlessly at the back of my mind. It wasn't sinking in. I kept thinking of my dad. Did he know it was snowing in the mountains? He could be in his truck now, coming for us. We weren't in real trouble, because my daddy would save us . . . but how would he find us?

  "But it wasn't supposed to snow!" Korbie argued shrilly.

  If my dad had seen this coming, he wouldn't have let me leave. I'd be home now, safe. But the thought was a waste of time. I was here, it was snowing, and we had to find shelter.

  "You're suggesting we sleep out there?" Korbie pointed into the forest, dark and haunted-looking in the swirling snow.

  Stuffing my hands into my armpits to keep them warm, I said, "We can't be the only people up here. If we walk around, we should be able to find a cabin with lights on."

  "What if we get lost?"

  The question irritated me. How should I know? I was hungry, I had to use the bathroom, and I was stuck on a mountainside. I was abandoning my car to look for better shelter, and I didn't know if I'd find any. My phone didn't work, I had no way of reaching my dad, and my heart was beating so fast it was making me dizzy.

  I shut the driver's-side door and pretended I hadn't heard her question. I pushed "getting lost" far down on my list of things to worry about. If my dad couldn't get up the mountain, if Korbie and I stayed the night in the Wrangler, if we didn't find a cabin, we were going to freeze to death. I hadn't told Korbie, but I wasn't even sure where we were. She had a worse sense of direction than I did, and had put me in charge of reading Mr. Versteeg's instructions. The freezing precipitation had iced over the road signs, making them unreadable, and even though I'd pretended to be confident, I wasn't sure the last turn I'd made had been right. There was one main road up the mountain, but if I'd branched off too early, or too late . . .

  Bear was following us in his truck, but if we were on the wrong road, he'd never find us. Idlewilde could be miles from here.

  Korbie met me at the rear of the Wrangler. "Maybe I should stay here while you go look. That way one of us knows where the Wrangler is."

  "The Wrangler isn't going to do us any good if this storm lasts through the night," I pointed out. Snow clung to her hair and coat. It was coming down harder. I wanted to believe it would let up soon. I also wanted to believe Bear was close behind. But a feeling of panic deep in my chest told me I couldn't count on it. "We should stay together," I said. It seemed like a good idea. It seemed like the sort of thing Calvin would say.

  "But what if we miss Bear?" Korbie protested.

  "We'll walk around for a half hour. If we don't find anyone, we'll come back."

  "Promise?"

  "Of course." I tried to keep my voice neutral. I didn't want Korbie to know how worried I was. If she figured out I didn't have everything under control, she would flip. Reasoning with her would be out of the question. I knew her well enough to know she'd either break down crying or start yelling at me.

  And then I wouldn't be able to think. And that's what I had to do. Think. Think like someone who knew how to survive. Think like Calvin.

  I grabbed a small flashlight from the gear and led us into the storm.

  We waded through the snow for thirty minutes. Then forty-five. I followed the road to keep from getting lost, but it had grown so dark, and was snowing so heavily, it was easy to get disoriented.

  We were coming up on an hour, and I knew I was pressing my luck--Korbie would start whining to go back soon. "A little farther," I said, not for the first time. "Let's see what's up there, behind those trees."

  Korbie didn't answer. I wondered if she was finally as scared as I was.

  The snow bit into my skin like sharp teeth. Every step hurt, and my brain started shifting to another plan. There were sleeping bags and blankets in the Wrangler. We couldn't sleep in the car, not while it was parked on the road, but if we put on our layers of clothes, dug into a snowdrift, and slept close to conserve heat . . .

  Light. There. Ahead.

  It wasn't a mirage. It was real.

  "Lights!" I said, my voice thin with cold.

  Korbie started crying.

  I grabbed her hand and together we trudged through the trees, over ground soft and soggy with snow. It clung to my boots, making each step heavier. A cabin. A cabin. We were going to be all right.

  The windows cast enough light for us to see an old, rust-colored truck buried under inches of snow in the driveway. Someone was home.

  We ran to the door and I knocked. I didn't
wait for an answer; I started knocking louder. Korbie joined me, fists pounding the door. I didn't let myself think what if no one answers, what if they've gone and left the truck behind, what if we have to break in--I was pretty sure I would break in, if it came to that.

  A moment later, footsteps sounded on the other side of the door. Relief crashed inside me. I heard a muffled exchange of arguing voices. What was taking them so long? Hurry, hurry, I thought at them. Open the door. Let us inside.

  The porch lights burned to life suddenly, glaring down on Korbie and me like spotlights. I flinched, trying to adjust my vision. We'd been walking in darkness so long, the brightness stung my eyes.

  The bolt slid and the door opened with a soft creak. Two men filled the doorway, the taller one withdrawn a few steps. I recognized him right away. He was wearing the same buffalo-check shirt and rugged boots from earlier. Our eyes met, and for one moment, there was nothing but stark surprise blanking his face. He stared at me, and as recognition dawned, his features hardened.

  "Mason?" I said.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  "Twice in one day," I said, smiling at Mason through chattering teeth. "That's either a really big coincidence, or fate is trying to tell us something."

  Mason continued to stare down at me, his lips pressed tight, his eyes dark and uninviting. Snow swirled through the open door, but he didn't ask us in. "What are you doing here?"

  The guy leaning on the door frame beside Mason split a curious glance between us. "You know her?" He looked about the same age as Mason, early twenties. But he was shorter, and built straight up and down like a board, his fitted T-shirt revealing a flat, rawboned chest. Shaggy blond hair fell over his forehead, and behind a pair of round black poet's glasses, his eyes were arctic blue. What held my attention longest was his crooked nose. I wondered how he'd broken it.

  "How do you know each other?" Korbie asked, nudging me expectantly.

  I couldn't believe I'd forgotten to tell her about Mason. If I weren't so cold, I might have laughed at the memory of Calvin's jealous expression when Mason and I had convinced him that we were together. I would have to tell Korbie before we got to Idlewilde, so I could recruit her help in carrying out my charade in front of Calvin.