“This is slow.” Noah handled the steering wheel as if he were racing down the 405 during rush hour. “I would have had the LuxeLife limousine pick you up, but the trail’s only accessible by four-wheel drive.”
“Ha ha,” I said. “Smart ass,” I mumbled under my breath.
“I heard that.”
“Good.”
Yeti barked. I think she was agreeing with me.
The dirt road was like driving on the surface of Mars. The Jeep hit another bump, and the headrest nearly gave me a concussion.
“You hit that one on purpose.”
“Whoops.”
“I don’t remember reading anything about backwoods death traps in the resort brochure.”
“That’s why you should always read the fine print.”
Yeti’s head popped up between our seats, her warm breath tickling my ear. At least someone in this vehicle was friendly. And slobbery. She smeared a puddle of drool on my sleeve.
“Your breath smells like bear farts,” I said.
“Don’t listen to her, Yeti.”
“I wasn’t talking to Yeti. I was talking to you.”
We hit another bump, and I yelped, drawing another eyeroll from Noah. “Relax. I’ve driven this road hundreds of times.”
“In the dark?”
“Best time to do it. That way you can’t see how far down it is to the bottom.” He downshifted, the engine growling as we climbed higher. “Plus, Dawn Patrol means getting there before dawn. Hence the name.”
I wanted to snap back with something witty, but my stomach lurched as we rounded another hairpin turn. The headlights briefly swept across empty space before finding the road again.
“How much further?” I asked, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice. And last night’s cookies from climbing back up my throat.
“Ten minutes to the trailhead.” Noah glanced over. “You’re not going to throw up, are you? Because if you are, let me know now so I can slow down and push you out.”
“I’m fine.” I wasn’t fine. But I’d rather have died than admit weakness.
The Jeep continued crawling upward, suspension creaking. Through the windshield, I caught glimpses of stars scattered across the sky. No light pollution out here to dim their brilliance. Despite my churning stomach, I had to admit it was beautiful.
“Seriously though, I can stop if you want me to. I got some water in the back.”
When I looked over, the look of actual concern on his face surprised me. “I’ll be fine. We have to get there before dawn, right?”
Noah put his foot back down on the accelerator, and we continued on our way. A few minutes later, the Jeep lurched to a stop in a small clearing. My phone’s clock read 5:15AM. It was still pitch black.
Noah hopped out and opened the back, pulling out two backpacks and what looked like ski poles. “Here.”
I staggered under the weight of the backpack. “What’s in here, bowling balls?”
“First aid kit, emergency blanket, satellite phone, flares.”
“Flares? Are you expecting we’ll need a rescue?”
He adjusted the straps on my pack. “Had a guest break her ankle last month. Two miles from the nearest access point.”
