“What do we do?” Annika cried.
“I’ll tell you what I’m going to do,” he said, already walking toward the door. “I’m going to go get my babygirl!”
Chapter Thirty
This was a bad idea, Samantha thought for the umpteenth time.
It was so cold that her skin hurt. Somehow, her insides hurt, too, as if she was literally chilled to the bone.
Her front driver’s side tire had blown out thirty minutes ago. There, on that deserted stretch of two-lane highway, the fierce winter wind had blown a piece of thin metal right into her path. She’d tried to swerve, but it wasn’t any use. It sliced her tire, leaving her stranded.
All around her were low-rising arid mountains and a whole lot of nothing.
Well, besides the tumbleweeds. A few honest-to-goodness tumbleweeds blew about, either rolling across the road or flying, depending on how ferocious the wind gusts were.
The gray sky was eerie. The world was strangely quiet except for the taunting, howling wind.
It was as if the very air was angry.
She popped the trunk, got out, and hurried to the rear of the car to once again look inside at the spare tire, as if that would somehow make her know how to change one.
Obviously, nothing had changed from the last time she’d stared down at it. Or the time before that.
She went back to the car, shrieking a little as a giant semi zipped past her, the swooshing current it produced nearly knocking her over.
It rocked the car, too, as she climbed back inside and shut the door.
Part of her wished the trucker would have stopped to help her. Another part of her was glad he hadn’t.
She felt so alone and vulnerable out there in the middle of nowhere.
Why had she run? She should have stayed in LA! Perhaps she should go back. Of course, she couldn’t on that flat tire. But maybe someone would stop and help her. Or maybe someone who happened by would have pity on her and stop to help. That ran the risk of a psychotic killer attacking her. But then again, she wasn’t exactly protected from them just sitting in the rental car.
The snow started slowly.
A few hard pellets clinked against the windshield. Then more came, pinging on top of the roof and bouncing down.
Crap! It wasn’t soft snow. It was mixed with ice.
Five minutes later, the window was glazed over.
She looked down at the dash and realized her fuel wouldn’t hold out forever. Running the car all night to have the heater going wasn’t an option. Besides, she might overheat the engine.
So, that left several options.
She could kill the engine and let it go for a while until she became too cold. Then, she could turn it back on to run the heater for a while before switching it off again. The process would just have to be repeated throughout the night.
But then what? The morning would come and the area might be covered in snow, and she’d be colder than she was now!
Maybe that was why there weren’t many travelers on this stretch of road right then. Everyone else had the good sense to check the damn weather before setting off on their journeys.
Another option was to watch a video on YouTube and see if she could figure out how to change the tire. Surely she could stumble through it.
That was the only course of action.
Hopefully she was strong enough to get all the nuts or bolts or whatever they were and get that old tire off and the spare on.
She hopped out of the car and rubbed her hands together. Everything instantly hurt. She hadn’t prepared for winter weather. Living in Los Angeles, she didn’t really have a heavy coat. The long-sleeved flannel shirt she wore did little to protect her from the storm that was billowing around her.
