Chapter 2 #2
With a nod, he bent and picked up some snow, pushed my hand away with the edge of his wrist, and put his own snow on his own head. I flicked bloodstained snow from my hand, leaving red circles on the white, and then he took his hand away and did the same.
“It’s fine,” he said, looking around as he pushed his shoulders back in a determined way.
Red-tinged water slid down the side of his face.
The collar of his coat was a darker wool than the rest of it.
He kind of looked like he’d once been wearing a silk scarf, but that was probably at the bottom of the lake. “What do we do now?”
It wasn’t really a question. It sounded more like he was starting a to-do list that only he knew the contents of.
I looked up the road and squinted through the snow that batted at my eyelashes. For some reason, it’d taken me until now to realize there were no other cars on the road. That is, except for one snow-ladened state trooper car coming slowly in the single lane going down hill.
The trooper went right across the uphill lanes like he had the whole planet to himself and was unconcerned that he might get sideswiped by some asshat who didn’t see him. That was because there was nobody else on the road.
My suspicion that the road was getting shut down was confirmed when he walked over to us in his state trooper snow boots and his brown jacket with the Colorado state emblem on it.
There was the same emblem on his state trooper hat, complete with plastic snow guard, and also there was were a string of electric Christmas lights around the brim.
I could see the single black cord going inside his jacket, like that’s where the little battery was.
The lights blinked on and off, then blinked on and off again, red, green, blue, white, gold. Over and over. Ho-ho-ho.
The trooper shook his head, sending flakes of snow everywhere, and tugged on the edges of his super state trooper mittens.
“Looks like you had an accident,” said the state trooper, stating the obvious.
“I hit some ice, I think,” said the guy, not mentioning my thwarted attempt to pass him, which might or might not have added to the accident. Nor did he mention that all the other cars on the highway had been racing past him like they’d been shot out of a cannon.
“Let me get your info, sir, just in case.” The trooper pulled out his pad, and I had no idea what just-in-case was all about, or maybe he was just bored and wanted to fill out paperwork for a car that was most obviously at the bottom of a frozen lake and of no use to anybody.
The guy pulled out his wallet and handed his driver’s license to the state trooper. Then he snorted a laugh and said, “My registration and insurance are at the bottom of the lake, sir.”
This made me laugh too, though it wasn’t my joke.
The trooper wrote some stuff down, then paused to read the name on the driver’s license. “Alexander James Westmore. Where you headed, sir?”
“Up to Steamboat Springs,” said Alexander-James-Freaking-Westmore. “Call me Alex, please.”
“And you, sir?” the state trooper asked me. “What’s your name? Is that your Volvo?”
“Yeah,” I said. “That’s my rental.”
“Your name?”
“Beck,” I said, not sure how long I wanted to humor him for.
“Beck?” asked the trooper with a wince and a squint, like he’d suddenly thought he’d heard wrong.
“Malachi Beckett,” I said. “Do you need my license?”
“Were you part of the accident, sir?” he asked.
“No,” I said.
“Then where are you headed?”
“Same as him,” I said. Then I added, “Sir,” for good measure. “Got a little resort package reserved at the Anchorage.”
I noticed that Alex shot me a glance, but then he focused his attention on the state trooper, who was giving his driver’s license back to him, as well as a quickly filled out accident report. Alex’s wallet was thin and shiny, and made of good leather.
“Well, I hate to tell you,” said the trooper. “The snow and dangerous road conditions have closed down the top of Rabbit Ears pass,” he said. “You folks are going to have to head on down the mountain, as they are restricting access.”
“But I need to get to Steamboat Springs,” Alex said, because of course he would. Rich people had to get where they needed to go and to hell with Mother Nature. “My sister’s Lottie’s there with her new baby. My mom and dad. My brother. We were going to have Christmas together.”
I wasn’t expecting that to be the reason for his urgency. He didn’t mention some high power meeting. Or a date with a big bosomed lady. No, it was because of family.
I didn’t really have a family besides a crooked uncle, and Jonah and Royce, but I got it, I really did.
I felt bad for him, but I wasn’t going to tell him that, because what was going to happen to my high-dollar room and expensive spa package?
Not to mention the G&T I planned to have in that hot tub.
Looked like the trooper got it too, for he smiled in sympathy, but he was still shaking his head.
“How about this?” he asked. Then he pointed with his mittened hand across the three lands to a little sign next to what looked like an opening into the woods.
“That’s the 307. Used to be the cutoff to the 14 before they decided it was easier to come around this hill.
There’s a place called Whispering Pines Lodge.
Maybe they have a room. If you can get one, you will be first in line when the road opens to Steamboat.
Maybe tomorrow. Maybe the next day. Otherwise, you’re going to have to head down the 40 and pretty much go all the way down to Denver. ”
“That sounds good,” said Alex, not at all pleased, but being super polite.
“How are you going to get there?” asked the state trooper. “Looks like your car is underwater. Anyone else in the vehicle?”
“No.” Alexander snapped the word, as though affronted at the insinuation that he’d be standing around while his passenger was drowning.
“I’ve got your information,” said the state trooper. “But you and your friend here are going to have to skedaddle off this mountain.”
I wasn’t his friend, and I didn’t feel like skedaddling.
What I had wanted was to get to Steamboat so I could put up my feet, and have a drink of alcohol in a frosted glass while I watched the snow come down.
But that didn’t happen, of course, as I realized that the only way Alex was getting anywhere was if I took him.
Sure, old me could have left him by the roadside to freeze to death or whatever. But I was new me, wasn’t I.
“I’ll take you,” I said to Alex’s very broad back as the trooper walked back to his SUV.
“What?” Alex asked, turning on me like I’d been impertinent and interrupted a far more important conversation.
“I want to get to Steamboat as fast as I can, mister,” I said. “Sounds like Whispering Pines is the closest thing to a good place to wait for the road to be open. They’ll have rooms.”
I didn’t know whether they would, but I spoke confidently, like I knew all about it. The snow wasn’t stopping, and my hands were freezing.
Alex’s head had stopped bleeding, but he looked like he’d been in a fight and very much wanted all the bad things to stop happening to him. Only there wasn’t enough money in all the world to make that happen. All he had was me and my Volvo for rescue.
“We need to get out of the snow,” I said, slowly and carefully, as though he was much younger and very foolish. “I’ll drive. We can figure it out when we get there.”
“Okay.”
He tightened his mouth after he said this one word, like he’d just signed a contract with the very devil.
I looked down at myself, at my black Doc Marten’s, my black jeans with the hole in the knee, and the ratty hem of my black t-shirt.
The t-shirt hem draggled below the hem of the only nice thing I was wearing, a blue fleece jacket that Royce had gotten for me against my protests.
“I know I’m not much to write home about,” I said with a bit of a snarl. “But I am your rescuer here.”
For a moment, he looked me up and down, his eyes dark as they appraised me. What color were those eyes, anyway? Deep blue? Some kind of hazel?
I’d find out soon, not that it would make any difference. He wasn’t my type, and guys like Alexander James Freaking Westmore did not go out with guys like me, guys from Five Points, with no college education, and no bank account to write home about.
“So?” I asked. “Alexander James Westmore, you want me to leave you here or are you coming with.”
“Coming with,” said Alex. “But call me Alex, if you would.”
Ooooh, he had manners, too. Royce would have liked this guy, and Jonah, by association, would have liked him, as well. Too bad I’d never be bringing cool-as-a-cucumber Alex home with me any time soon.
“Well, let’s go,” I said. With my hands in my pockets, I pointed with my elbow at the Volvo. “If any car can get us there, it’s this one.”
“Nice,” he said, and then he surprised me. “Thank you for the ride. And for stopping. I’d be in that lake if it wasn’t for you.”
He wiped at his forehead, seeming a little dazed as he looked at the snow coming down thick and fast. Maybe he was overcome with the fate he escaped, or maybe he could not believe he was going to let some dicy-looking stranger give him a lift to a country lodge in the middle of the forest that might or might not have rooms.
Frankly, I was a little surprised at myself, at new me, though I didn’t have any idea how all this might look in the morning.
But I led the way to the Volvo and got in, reaching over to move stuff from the passenger seat into the back so he could slide in.
As he did, his eyes lit up at the bag of Bugles that still sat on the console between us.
“Help yourself,” I said. “I always have eats and treats when I’m on a road trip.”
“Thank you,” he said and with a sigh, he stuffed a small handful of Bugles into his lovely mouth. Then he smiled at me as crunched away, then said, “I’m not dead.”
“No, Alex, you are not.”
I laughed and waited while he buckled in, then slowly trundled across three lanes of snowy highway, and turned onto the road into the woods. The road was white between the trees, with the only thing breaking up the snow was a single set of what looked like deer tracks.
“Here we go,” I said, and turned the wheel into what looked like no-man's-land, but which would hopefully end up taking us to a hotel that had rooms for the night.
Ho ho, fucking ho.