To the east was a streak of pale blue, but to the west were layers of low gray clouds that Morgan was coming to know meant snow. Lots of slow. Blizzardy blowing snow, the kind that piled up to first-floor windows and made going outside impossible.
“We’ll be fine,” he said, thinking of the clear roads and a simple hour’s drive to get home.
“No, you won’t, man.” The clerk shook his head. “Don’t you have a weather app on your phone?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” Morgan pulled out his phone and opened the weather app. Indeed, there was a red bar at the top, its white scrolling print showing all kinds of details about theincoming blizzard. “I swear to holy hell, this state,” he said. “So, no time for pizza?”
But he knew the answer. The snow was already coming down, the white flakes gentle, as though they never meant anyone any harm, but apparently they would soon make the roads impassable.
They could get a motel and hunker down, but for how long? Morgan’s wallet could withstand it, but, with sudden clarity, looking at Jack, sweetly warm in his new scarf and tuque, Morgan knew that his heart could not.
The intimacy of sharing the apartment above the feed and grain with someone was one thing; a small motel room was another. Besides, he didn’t have his meds with him. Yes, that was the main reason not to stick around.
“I’ve seen skies like that before,” the clerk said. “That hour’s drive is going to turn into two hours. Maybe three.”
Only weeks before, Morgan would have scoffed at an idea like that. Now he knew differently. Jack knew as well and was pulling his gloves tighter and patting his pockets for the keys.
“We need gas,” Jack said.
The tank was more than half full, but Morgan agreed because it was better to be safe than sorry.
Using his phone, he directed Jack to the nearest gas station. From there, they pulled out onto the highway. The gentle flakes had already turned into thicker ones coming down heavily, covering the road’s white and yellow stripes, draping the top of the blue-and-red shield-shaped interstate sign.
“We gonna make it?” Jack asked.
“We’ll make it.”
Morgan was sure they would, even though the snow was already an inch thick by the time they were on I-94 and headed toward Hysham. The sky was dark in spite of it being barely noon, all gray billows and black streaks.
Then the wind picked up. Luckily, the worst of the weather was behind and to the side of them, but every time a gust whomped the truck, Morgan felt his stomach lurch.
“Just go slow,” he said, feeling in his bones that he wanted Jack to step on the gas and get them home lickety-split.
“Being out in this is bullshit,” Jack muttered as an 18-wheeler passed them on the left like it was a spring day and all those wheels weren’t spitting up even more snow.
“I’m sorry,” Morgan said. “This is my fault. I should have known not to trust that blue sky.”
“Naw,” Jack said, his eyes fixed on the road. “I trusted it, too.”
Jack drove slowly. He had to, because the visibility was coming down to zero, a pillowy white blur all around them, with only red dots glaring through the snow to let them know they were behind another car or truck.
More 18-wheelers roared past them, chuffing and groaning. The truckers knew the road. Jack did not. Morgan peered through the windshield, for all the help it gave Jack.
“I don’t remember seeing anywhere we could stop when we were driving down this morning,” Morgan said. He checked the map on his phone, which confirmed what he’d thought. “There’s nothing between here and home.”
“Just have to keep going.”
It felt ludicrous to have it be so white at midday, and so cold he could feel it through the floorboards of the truck. Luckily, the heater, going full bore, was keeping them warm enough.
Morgan wished he’d had Jack put on his new coat before they started out, but as long as the engine kept running, it wouldn’t be an issue. The only way to get home safe was to keep going. To follow the tiny blobs of red through the cloud of blowing snow.
They were moving slowly enough that Jack turned the hazards on, just as the car ahead of them did. The road was slick,and the snow was piling up, but as long as they kept steadily on, they’d be okay. Wouldn’t they?
CHAPTER 24
morgan
The road sloped up, and then it sloped down again. Going downhill was worse, because though Morgan knew full well the grades were gentle, in the snow the highway felt like a roller coaster. A nasty, slick, sliding one.
