“Oh no. No, no, no, no …”
The front tire caught on a rock, and the cart pitched forward. Through the windshield, I could see nothing but air and the yawning mouth of a steep drainage ditch.
Pure instinct took over. I flung myself sideways, tumbling from the vehicle an instant before it flipped. I hit the ground with bone-jarring force, rolling through pine needles and dirt, roots and branches scraping my skin as I tumbled downhill.
A thunderous crash echoed through the forest as the cart landed upside down in the ditch, electronic motor wheezing, wheels spinning in the air like the legs of an overturned beetle.
“Ouch.” I lay sprawled among the pine needles, staring up at the trees. Branches swayed gently in the breeze, forming a natural cathedral ceiling against the perfect Colorado blue sky. At least it was a beautiful place to die.
I tried to sit up. Pain bloomed in various parts of my body,sharp in my left ankle, dull and throbbing across my ribcage, hot and wet along my forehead from a cut above my eyebrow.
“This is it,” I said to a nearby chipmunk, who paused its acorn-gathering to stare at me, pity in its beady little eyes. “I hope you and your woodland friends enjoy the feast. Just wait until I’m gone before you start eating me, okay? Professional courtesy.”
The chipmunk twitched its nose.
I imagined my obituary. “Here lies Sam Li, social media influencer and failed human being. Betrayer of mountain men. Disappointer of parents. Abandoner of authentic experiences. She died as she lived, in over her head and making questionable life choices.”
My vision began to blur, the pain and probable concussion taking their toll.
“If I die here,” I told the chipmunk, too battered to even name him. “Tell Noah I’m sorry. Tell him it wasn’t just business. Tell him ...” The world began to fade, darkness creeping in from the corners of my vision. “Tell him I was falling in love with him.”
The trees melted into a swirling kaleidoscope of green and blue. My life didn’t exactly flash before my eyes, more like a blooper reel of my most embarrassing moments: spilling coffee on Noah at the airport, spilling coffee on Noah at the resort, Noah fishing me out of the river, Noah rescuing me as I dangled from the climbing wall.
A sharp rustling in the nearby bushes snapped me back to reality. My eyes flew open, head whipping toward the sound, sending fresh jabs of pain shooting through my temples.
“Hello?” My voice came out as a croak. “Is someone there?”
The rustling grew louder, branches parting as something pushed its way through the underbrush. My mind racedthrough the wildlife catalog Noah had drilled into me. Was it a bear? Mountain lion? Something worse?
My fingers scrabbled in the dirt, searching for a stick, a rock, anything I could use as a weapon against whatever was about to emerge from those bushes and finish what the golf cart crash had started.
The branches parted.
I held my breath.
Waiting for Death to appear in a form full of claws and teeth.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Ibraced myself as the leaves rustled, waiting for certain doom.
But instead of a mountain lion or a bear, it was the bizarre bird again, strutting just a few feet away, completely unfazed by the near-death experience. Its chest inflated to an impossible size, like a feathered balloon animal, the white ruff around its neck jiggling as it performed what looked like the world’s strangest chicken dance.
“Are you real?” I asked, my voice a rasp in the sudden silence. “Or are you a death vision? Because if you’re a sign from the afterlife, I have some serious questions about God’s aesthetic choices.”
The bird continued its mesmerizing dance, puffing and deflating, bouncing on stick-like legs.
“If I’m dead, and you’re my spirit guide, I feel like I should at least know what you are.”
The bird responded by turning in a perfect circle, its tail feathers fanned out as if it were taking a bow.
With tremendous effort, I extracted my phone from mypocket. If I were hallucinating, I needed proof. And if I wasn’t hallucinating, I needed documentation of whatever wilderness fever dream I was currently experiencing. My thumb left a smear of blood across the cracked screen as I opened the camera app. Luckily, there was enough juice left after the recharge from the conference room.
“Just in case I survive this,” I explained to the bird, which continued its performance with dedicated focus. “I need evidence you exist. No one’s going to believe this otherwise.”
The bird strutted closer, clearly not camera-shy.
Bounce. Puff. Strut.
