Allie let out a humorless laugh. She wouldn’t hold her breath. The rain continued to pound the roof of the car, and a crack of thunder split the air. She glanced in the back seat for the hundredth time to make sure the dog wasn’t about to pounce. He was fast asleep, jowls sagging to the side.
She continued staring at the passing landscape. They hadn’t passed a car in ages. Seemed like no one else wanted to meander the mountain roads during a thunderstorm. Go figure.
Luke slowed the car. “Oh boy.”
Allie’s gaze followed his. Up ahead a one-lane bridge spanned the river, water rushing over the roadway. It must’ve been raining for days up here.
“Should we chance it?” he asked as they came to a stop, the car idling loudly.
The water seemed only several inches deep, but still. “They say not to do that.”
“Do you know another way around?”
“No, but I don’t want to get washed away in a flood either.” Her voice was, perhaps, a little too sharp. More importantly, she didn’t want the car to get washed away in a flood. She could see the headline now: “Family Grieves Antique ’57 Chevy Washed Away in Flood (Daughter Missing).”
“We’ll have to go around,” she said.
“We’ll have to get over this river eventually, and all the other bridges may be flooded too.”
“We have to try. Maybe your phone has a signal.”
He took out his phone and checked. “Nothing. Not even a map.”
Allie stared at the muddy water rushing over the road. “Well, we don’t have much of a choice. We can’t go that way.”
He looked back at the bridge as a gust of wind shimmied the car. “All right.”
He turned the car around on the narrow road and went back to the next crossroad, turning to make their way around. The road wound around a bit, then finally dead-ended at the river. “This might be harder than we thought.”
“We are not going over that bridge. Go back to the main road. We’ll try another route.”
But the next road wound around the mountain, going every direction. There were no roads to turn onto, and when the road finally straightened, Allie had no idea which direction they were going. By the time they arrived at her grandparents’ it would be the middle of the night. This whole trip was shredding her nerves.
“This isn’t working,” Luke said. “We’re headed west and we need to go northeast. Maybe we should go back, take our chances with the bridge.”
“And if the car gets washed away, are you willing to accept the blame?”
“If the car gets washed away, neither of us will even be here.”
“A pleasant thought. Just turn around. We’ll try another road.”
When he came to a place with a pull-off, he did as she suggested. They continued on until they were on the winding part of the road again. A small hill rose to one side, and a short meadow descended on the other.
Something pinged the windshield. She looked out the window, her gaze sharpening on the ground. “Was that...?”
Another ping sounded, this one hitting the roof.
Luke looked as dismayed as she felt. “Hail.”
The car. The beautiful, refinished body. The perfect paint job.
Another ping sounded. “Quick, get under something!”
“Sure, I’ll just pull into the nearest garage.”
She pointed ahead. “The trees.”
“That’s not enough—we need a building.”
