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 and getting us safely to Idlewilde.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 really 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.