CHAPTER 11
Phoebe
This is not good.
And now, I have a decision to make.
Do I keep going? Or do I turn back?
Either way, it’s going to hurt my pride. I can already hear it. ‘I told you so’ will be followed by ‘You should have let me go’ or ‘You should have let Ryder go’ or ‘You should have let Kyle or Bo or Mason or anyone else on the planet go in your place.’
That’s gonna sting. And the last thing I want is to get rescued twice in one day.
That realization is what tips the scale in my mind.
I decide to keep going. I’ll figure it out on my own. Yes, the wind is really whipping now, and the temperature has suddenly dropped another ten degrees, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.
I’ve lived here my entire life. I was speaking the truth when I told Jake that I know what I’m doing. So I’ll get it done, do whatever I need to. And later this evening, when I’m back home and warm in front of the fire with my family, I’ll look back on my adventure and be proud that I persevered.
Proud that I didn’t have to ask anyone to come get me. To rescue me.
The way Evander did this morning.
Ugh.
A gust of wind slams into the side of the ATV with such force that I’m nearly knocked off the trail. I slow down, shift into low gear, and take a quick peek at the sky overhead.
Okay. That happened fast. Not ten minutes ago, I saw a few gray clouds in what was a mostly blue sky, and now it’s like I’ve entered into a different reality.
An intimidating one.
I continue on, in search of a rock outcropping that might provide a windbreak against the westerly gusts.
It’s slow going, and I’m getting tossed around pretty badly, but I finally locate a place.
I pull over and put the ATV in park. I unzip the breast pocket of my coveralls, use my teeth to pull off a glove, and grab my phone.
My hand is shaking, which surprises me. I’m not sure if it’s the cold or adrenaline. Maybe I should just call Jeb and Louise, since I’m closer to them now than I am to home.
We can meet up on the trail. I can stay with them until this blows over.
What?
I don’t have a signal? How can I not have a signal?
I slide my goggles up on my forehead so I can scan my surroundings. Am I down in a canyon that’s blocking my reception? I’m not. I’ve got a clear view all around me.
Maybe it’s the big, jagged rock I’m hiding behind. I straighten my arm and hold the phone away from the slab of sandstone. A wind gust knocks it from my hand. It goes flying from my grip and lands in a prickly pear cactus on the opposite side of the trail.
Just great.
I climb down, replace my glove, and grab my phone. As I head back to the ATV I decide to look overhead again.
My heart sinks.
A wall of storm clouds is rushing this way, whirls of black and gray tumbling and spinning across the sky toward the east. This can’t be right. The forecast didn’t call for snow!
With my head tipped back and my mouth open in surprise, the first snowflakes smack my face. They’re heavy and large. One clings to my eyelashes. Another goes right into my throat. And within seconds, a blurry white curtain has dropped all around me.
Snow begins to fall.
Maybe unload is a better word for what’s happening right now.
I jump back on the ATV and turn on the engine. I return my attention to my phone because even if I don’t have a signal, my GPS will still work. That I’m sure of.
So I pull up my app with the overlay that details unincorporated ranch land, including the Travis property.
I see where I am, and I’m relieved. It looks like I’ve got another 1.5 miles until I reach the drop-off shack where I’m supposed to leave the supplies. At least it will be a shelter from the wind.
I pack away the phone. I pull my goggles over my eyes once more, turn on the ATV headlights, and I keep going. I’ve got a plan. I’ve made my decision, which is sometimes the hardest part, right? Now all I need to do is stick with it.
All is well. I feel determined and confident.
Right up until I don’t.
Suddenly, I can’t see. It’s a whiteout. I can’t see the trail right in front of me or what fatal rock face might be lurking on either or both sides. The headlights don’t help. All they do is scatter light that’s picked up by the snow, creating a sparkling, otherworldly soup to travel through.
I turn off the headlights. That’s even worse, and I turn them on again.
I stop and check my phone once more. The GPS is no longer functioning. This storm system must be so fierce that it’s created a shield between my location and the satellites orbiting the Earth.
All right. Now, I’m scared.
I should have turned around and headed back when I had the opportunity. Now, it’s too late. The light is fading, and I know it’s not because the sun is setting—it’s barely noon! It’s because the sky has gone dark with storm clouds. I’m in a heap of trouble.
Snow is piling up at a rapid rate. There must be six inches on the ground already and it’s been snowing for less than a half hour. I’m not worried about the ATV making it through snow and severe cold—that’s what it’s designed to do.
But the human body? Not so much. Not with temperatures this cold. It’s well below zero with the wind chill.
I’ve long been amazed at how resilient and miraculous our human physiology can be, but our bodies can’t function outside of a narrow window of environmental conditions. I won’t last long out here unless I do something.
Now.
I have to find shelter and stay warm while I wait out the storm. Then, I can continue on my way. That’s my only option. Because I certainly have no intention of letting myself freeze to death out here because I can’t see through heavy snow.
And I’m sure as heck not going to allow myself to go missing in a bad storm.
Because if I don’t make it back, my parents will be crushed. I worry how it will affect my father’s already delicate condition.
Oh, no. I can’t think like that.
But now that I’ve told myself not to think like that, I can’t stop thinking like that.
My brothers will be devastated. Jake will blame himself for not forcing me to stay home, and it breaks my heart to think he’ll carry that burden for the rest of his life.
The hospital will make a big deal out of my death. They’ll search for a way to explain to my patients—especially the kids on the pediatric floor—that Nurse Fee-bee won’t be coming back.
Rick may never find out that I’ve died. My family doesn’t know that he exists, let alone that I was in a relationship with him or how to contact him about my fate.
Oh, crap! I forgot to text Rick to verify that he’s not expected for Christmas!
Oh, great. My family will think I’ve died a virgin.
I’ll never get to wear my dress. I’ll never get to see the look on Evander’s face when he realizes that little Phoebe has it going on.
That’s the saddest part of all, I decide. That I’ll die without ever feeling Evander’s kiss.
I could kick myself for not responding to Evander the night the pain meds took hold. When he grabbed my wrist and told me he was in love with me… and the other bit.
I missed my chance to tell him I was in love with him, too!
I don’t usually curse. In fact, as a rule, I avoid bad language, even in the privacy of my own thoughts. In all other circumstances, I might call this situation a fustercluck.
There’s no point in that now.
I can’t see my hand in front of my face. I have no idea where I am or even if I’m still on the trail. It’s getting dark. The wind is ruthless.
This is a legitimate clusterfuck if I’ve ever seen one.
It’s a fucking tragedy. A fucking catastrophe. It’s fucked all the way up.
And dammit, I’m fucking angry.
Fuck this. Fuck the snow. Fuck the storm. Fuck my stubborn pride. Just fuck it all.
Because Evander will never know I loved him.
I scream into the snowy, swirling void.
“Fuuuuuuuuccccckkkkkk!