Page 15 of The Lumberjack and the City Slicker

BATTERY CRITICAL.

“No,” I breathe. “No, no, no?—”

I press the accelerator.

The car lurches forward… and then everything goes quiet.

The screen dims.

The power dies.

The headlights wink out like someone blew out candles.

I’m sitting in a dead car on a mud-soaked mountain road, surrounded by nothing but storm and trees and the sound of my own breathing.

My heart pounds so hard it hurts.

I stare at the dark windshield.

At my reflection—mascara smudged, hair frizzing, face pale.

Clara Belle, city girl extraordinaire, currently starring in her own bad decision.

“Okay,” I say, voice shaking. “Okay. We can fix this. We can?—”

I can’t.

Because there’s no signal.

No help.

No chargers.

And the rain is coming down like it wants to drown the world.

I fumble for my phone anyway, like stubbornness is going to create bars out of thin air.

Nothing.

I grab my bag and my coat and open the door. The cold hits me so fast it steals my breath.

I step out into mud that sucks at my shoes like it’s trying to eat me.

My designer heels are absolutely ruined within two seconds.

Lightning flashes again, illuminating the road ahead—curving, vanishing into trees.

And behind me—nothing.

Just darkness swallowing the direction I came from.

Panic claws up my throat.

I don’t like being stranded.

I don’t like being helpless.

I don’t like not knowing what to do next.