weâd switch once we got to the next town.â
âSounds good. If we donât lose track of the road.â
âPray this storm doesnât get any worse.â Grim, Ryan recalled all the cases heâd read about in med school where innocent drivers had gotten caught in harsh winter storms and gone off the road. He saw how easily that could happen.
The blizzard closed in with a vengeance. The falling snow began to spin, washing over the windshield with a dizzying speed. The twin beams of the headlights glared on the downpour, reflecting back at him until he lost complete sight of the highway.
âThank God for the tracks.â Kristin leaned forward, straining against her shoulder harness as if to help him watch for signs of danger. As if they were about to plunge off the road and down a ravine.
âJust what I was thinking.â Some brave soul was ahead of them. The lone set of tire tracks was rapidly filling with snow, but it was enough to keep him headed in the right direction. His vision blurred and he blinked hard.
Just stay alert, man. He fidgeted in his seat, fighting the belt. He could use the rest of his soda, both the sugar and caffeine would help, but he didnât want to take his hand off the wheel or his attention from the road. There was no way he was going to let anything happen. He had Kristin to keep safe. Mom was waiting for him.
Thank you, Lord, for the help. The tire tracks in the snow unspooled ahead of them like a sign from above guiding them toward home.
Home. If his head wasnât pounding from exhaustion and the effort of concentrating so hard, he could try to get his mind in the right place. He didnât want Mom to see him like this, undecided and unhappy to be walking straight back to his past.
Luckily, driving took all his energy. He didnât have to think about anything other than this moment and keeping the car on the road. It was like driving in a dark tunnel. He glued his attention to the tire tracks barely visible in the sheen of the headlights.
The road beneath them seemed to heave, tossing the SUV around. Fear hit him and he swung the wheel left, but it was too late. A tree bough swiped across the roof. The passenger-side tires dipped low into the pitch of the shoulder.
He saw it all in a flash, the sharp drop, the void of a forest. Already he was picturing what it would be like to crash through those thick limbs and plunge into the darkness, out of control. Flashes of car-accident victims heâd treated in the E.R. haunted him and he fought to stop the inevitable as the top-heavy SUV began to tip.
Please, Lord, he prayed as, teeth gritted, he fought the jolting steering wheel. A little help, please. Crashing into old-growth trees was going to be a very bad thing. Time slowed down. He saw the minute detail of the pine needles on the limb swinging toward them. Beside him Kristin gasped, grabbed the dash, expecting the worst, too.
Then, miraculously, the tires dug in. The vehicle swung left toward the level road, and he eased it to a shaking stop. Thank you, Father.
Adrenaline pumping, he tried not to think of everything that could have happened, how hurt they could have been and what those tire tracks meant. âThat was a close one. Are you okay?â
Sheet white, Kristin studied him with wide eyes. She nodded. âBut whoever is in that car isnât.â
He didnât answer. He flicked on the overhead dome light to see as he searched the dash for the hazard lights and hit them on. âCheck around and see if thereâs a first-aid kit. Then button up and come with me.â
Gone was the hint of the boy heâd been. He was all man, mature and focused. Reaching beneath the seat, Kristinâs fingers tapped over the nubby carpet and bumped into a plastic edge. She got down on all fours to extricate the small box and realized that Ryan was already climbing outside. The brutal subzero winds cut through the warm passenger