17. Gale
Gale
Ipumped the gas in intervals until the Jeep was gently rocking.
Each time, I encouraged it forward a fraction of an inch more.
When I was comfortable with the steadily pulsing motion, I waited for the forward climb and pressed harder on the pedal, hoping the momentum and acceleration would pull me out of the muddy ditch.
For a heartbeat, the tires gained traction, but it was a tease, and after a few inches, they spun out in the muck. The Jeep slid the wrong way. I released the gas and slammed on the brake, trying to stop the backward slide.
It was hopeless. I was hopeless.
Each time I failed to reach the edge of the ditch, I ended up farther down the slope. With the angle of the Jeep, I couldn’t be sure all four tires were connected to the ground anymore. I didn’t know what to do. With the storm raging, I had no signal on my cell phone to call for help.
Olivia would be pissed. Not only had I taken my own vehicle—getting stuffed in her tiny car the previous week was enough for one lifetime—but I’d refused to stick with the group.
“And look where that got you.” I smacked the steering wheel.
Frustrated and out of options, I threw the emergency brake.
The Jeep was in a semi-stable position. It had quit moving backward, but the mud beneath me was treacherous, and I didn’t trust it to hold much longer.
The relentless rain hadn’t given up, and at this rate, I was more likely to end up at the bottom of the ditch than back on the road.
I opened my door and glanced to the rear of the Jeep. The bumper was nearly kissing the dirt. Great.
Slamming the door, I tipped my head against the headrest and closed my eyes, listening to the rain pummel the windshield and carbon fiber roof.
Thunder rumbled. As one storm system moved out, another blazed through on its tail.
I’d studied the radar long enough that morning to know the activity wouldn’t cease for at least another hour, maybe longer.
A strange vertigo hit me out of nowhere.
I popped my eyes open and braced as I studied the wet world beyond the window. Was I moving? “Shoot. No, no, no.”
My tires were definitely slipping. I disengaged the emergency brake while delicately pressing the gas with every intention of building that rocking motion again, but the Jeep wouldn’t move forward. For every lost inch, I tilted further.
Four-wheel wasn’t doing shit, and even though Jeeps could climb mountains and go off-trail, I had no skill or knowledge for those situations. Hell, I couldn’t parallel park to save my life.
I lost a few more inches, and the back bumper struck the bottom of the ditch with an unforgiving clunk. I cringed. My angle was such that I wasn’t sure a front tire hadn’t lifted off the ground.
Nothing but a tow truck was going to save me now. Killing the engine, I sighed. Amazing photographic opportunities notwithstanding, storm chasing was not my thing.
I checked my phone again, found half a bar, and tried to call my sister.
She answered, but the connection was so broken, I had trouble hearing over the storm.
“Olivia? Olivia, I’m stuck in a ditch.” I gave her the name of the road, but I didn’t think she heard me. “Hello? Come find me. Hello? Can you hear me? I need a tow truck.”
“We can’t get… the road… tree down in… blocking… dangerous.”
“What? There’s a tree in the road? What did you say?” The call dropped, and when I tried again, I had no signal.
Was there a tree in the road? Is that what she said? And with the road washed out on the other side, she couldn’t go around either.
Now I was really stuck.
It would be a long wait for a tow truck if they had to clear a tree first.
A flash of lightning lit up the wet world beyond the windshield. I was at an awkward angle, my ass end halfway in the ditch. Pressed into the seat, I stared mostly at the sky. The roiling clouds moved quickly, several layers deep, and I studied them as thunder crashed and boomed.
If it wasn’t raining so hard, I might have gotten out to take pictures, but even though my camera was weatherproof, I wasn’t ready to test it in a torrential downpour.
I debated what to do, though I had few options. Getting out and walking was pointless. I was miles from Newton. I could venture to the farmhouse I’d seen along the road a quarter mile back, but that meant conversing with strangers.
I could walk to this supposedly downed tree and hope Olivia was on the other side waiting. Was that what she wanted me to do? How far back was it? Would she wait, or would I hike the distance in the storm in vain? She wasn’t too happy with me, so I didn’t have high hopes.
A sudden pounding on the passenger window made me jump out of my skin and scream. The seat belt cut into the side of my neck as I flailed in panic.
Heart in my throat, I peered through the rain-washed window at the figure of a man on the other side, hood drawn up and face pressed to the glass, peeking in.
Was that Roe? “Roe?”
The guy shouted something I couldn’t hear over the storm and banged again with a fist. I thought he said, “Unlock the door,” but I couldn’t be sure.
With the Jeep off, I couldn’t power down the window, so I fumbled for the manual lock switch until it clicked. The person heaved the door open, which was likely difficult given the Jeep’s tilt, and tumbled inside.
Not Roe. Instead, I was met with a sopping wet Ozrik Devereaux. Stunned didn’t begin to describe the way I felt. How did I constantly end up in this man’s presence when I went out of my way to avoid him?
Ozrik looked like he’d gone swimming at the bottom of a lake. His sodden hair clung to his head, running rivers down his temples. Drops speckled his face and dripped off the end of his chin and nose. His clothes stuck to his body. Yet, somehow, the man retained his unfair good looks.
If it were me, I would resemble a drowned rat.
“Are you stuck?” he asked, slamming the door and removing a contraption from his head. He tossed it onto the dashboard before swiping his face and blowing water off his lips.
“Um… unfortunately.”
“Shitty. Did you try putting it in four-wheel?” He examined the gear shift with a quizzically raised brow.
I deadpanned. “Yes.”
He held up his hands in defense. “Just asking. Did you try rocking back and forth?” He made the motion with his hands.
“Couldn’t get enough traction. Plus, I don’t think my right front tire is connected any longer.”
“Oh.” He glanced out the windshield as though he might be able to see it. “I think you’re right. What happened?”
“The road was washed out, so I tried to turn around. Couldn’t see behind me well enough with the rain and ended up too close to the ditch. I slipped in the mud when I tried to correct the angle, and a gust of wind caught me off guard at the wrong moment. Tore the wheel from my hand.”
“Where’s Olivia?”
“I don’t know.”
“Abandoned you again, huh? Good thing I was around.”
“Were you, like,” I glanced briefly at his soaking wet clothes, “out for a random stroll or something?”
Ozrik chuckled. “Well, you know. This is my favorite kind of weather. For the record, Jeeps don’t make good tornado-chasing vehicles. Their center of gravity is too high. They flip easily. No friend to high winds.”
“In my defense, I didn’t plan to chase tornadoes in it, and the storm wasn’t going to produce one today, so…” I threw my hands up as though that explained everything.
“So.” Ozrik took in the interior of the Jeep. “She’s a sweet ride, though. Do you ever do those Jeep Jamboree things?”
“No.” I wasn’t nearly that adventurous. I also didn’t want to explain why I bought the Jeep. It meant getting into parts of my life that weren’t shareable, especially with guys like Ozrik. “Why are you here?” I asked instead.
“The guys and I were in the area. We got stopped on the other side of the washed-out road. I noticed your highlighter Jeep in the distance, so I waded through the flood to make sure you were okay.”
Lightning flashed, and I glanced at the sky. “That’s highly dangerous.”
“So I was told. Vern read me the riot act.”
I wasn’t sure what to say.
“Lex is taking the car around,” Ozrik continued. “Shouldn’t be too long. You’re welcome to join our party again. We might as well recruit you at this rate. Why are you out here alone?”
“I was… sort of…”
“Didn’t want to be part of it, huh?”
“No.”
“Doesn’t your sister know where you are?”
“I’m not sure.” Remembering the choppy phone call, I added, “I think there’s a tree blocking the road the other way. I called her to let her know I was stuck. The connection was bad, but… I don’t know. I might have heard wrong.”
“Shit.” Ozrik pulled his phone from a zipped pocket of his rain jacket and punched a few buttons.
“Do you have service?”
“No. I didn’t grab one of our satellite phones.” He peered out the windshield. The storm raged. “We could walk down the road and meet up with them. How far away is the downed tree?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure that’s what she said or if it was this road at all.”
“Well, come on. Can’t be more than a mile or so to the next intersection.”
Was he serious?
A rumble of thunder traversed the land as Ozrik pressed a shoulder against the passenger door, trying to open it. The wind had picked up, and even shoving with his body weight, he only managed a few inches before it slammed closed.
“Well, that was embarrassing.” He gave a cheeky grin. “We’ll use your door.”
“The wind is gusting at nearly a hundred miles an hour, there’s fork lightning, massive flooding, and we’re in the middle of nowhere. Flat plains country nowhere.”
“Your point?”
“You want to walk in this?”
“How else are we getting out of here?”
“I…” Had no idea.
“What’s wrong, Windrow? Are you afraid to get wet?”
“I’m afraid to get electrocuted or struck down by flying debris.”
“And this from the man who wanted to play chicken with a tornado not a week ago.”
“I didn’t… There was no tornado.” Shame colored my cheeks, and I tucked my chin against my chest, staring at my hands. “That was different.”
“How?”