Snowbound

Heat. Food and safety. Although it had been scarcely

noticeable at the time, they must have gone over the

pass an hour or more ago, because the road was definitely descending now, although not steeply.

But it seemed, if anything, that the snow was falling

harder. Or perhaps her eyes were just so tired, she was less

capable of seeing through that driving veil of white. Her

neck and shoulders and arms were rigid. Somebody would

probably have to pry her fingers from the steering wheel.

Her frozen fingers, she thought morbidly. After the van

disappeared into a snowbank and its tracks filled in. Or

perhaps her fingers wouldn’t be frozen anymore, if

nobody found the missing teacher and her pupils until

spring.

“Wait a minute!” Dieter jerked. “Did you see that?”

She braked. “What?”

“I think…wait. Let me get out.” He reached back

for his parka, grabbed the flashlight from the glove

compartment and sprang out, disappearing immediately in the dark.

Fiona just sat, too exhausted to move. Too exhausted to worry, even when he didn’t come back for several minutes.

“Where’d he go?”

“Why are we stopped?”

One of the girls, voice high and rising, “Are we stuck?”

Fiona was too exhausted to answer, as well.

The passenger door opened again, and Dieter said

exultantly, “There’s tire tracks. And a turn here. I think

there’s a sign. I bet it’s Thunder Mountain Lodge.

Remember how I told you my family comes up here?”

Tire tracks.

“What if whoever made the tracks came out? ” Kelli

asked. “And they’re, like, gone, and even if we find the

lodge it’s cold and dark?”

A lodge. Fiona’s mind moved sluggishly over the idea.

“We could build a fire,” she said.

Voice pitched so only Fiona would hear him, Dieter

said, “If this is Thunder Mountain, the next town is

something like another hour. And that’s when the road’s

plowed. I don’t remember much in between.”

The others were offering opinions, but she ignored

them.

“Okay,” she said. “I’m going to back up. Can you

guide me?”

He left the passenger door open and talked her

through backing up ten yards or so. Then he shone the

flashlight on the tracks in the snow. Now Fiona could

see them, too. A vehicle had come from the other direction and turned into an opening between trees.

Please God, she thought, let the driver have known

where he was going. Don’t let me follow someone else

as desperate as we are.

“See?” Dieter turned the beam on a dark bulk to the

right as she turned into the road or driveway or whatever

it was. “Let me go look.”

She watched as he plowed his way through and took

a swipe at whatever it was with his bare hand. Clumps

of snow cascaded down, exposing writing that the dim

beam picked out.

He yelled, “It is Thunder Mountain Lodge. Cool!”

When he got back in, Fiona asked, “Please tell me

it’s not another five miles.”

He laughed exultantly. “Nope. It’s like…I don’t

know, a quarter of a mile. Half a mile?”

“Okay,” she said. “Here goes.”

Whatever vehicle had gone before her had obviously

passed by a while back; it was a miracle that Dieter had

spotted the tracks, vanishing fast under fresh snowfall.

She kept losing sight of them in the white blur.

The kids in back were talking excitedly now that salvation was at hand. Dieter started telling them about this great old lodge, the ancient trees and the river just

below.

“There’s this huge fireplace,” he was saying, when

the van lurched and the front end seemed to drop.

One of the girls screamed. Fiona braked, out of

instinct—they had already come to a dead stop. Dieter

jumped out again, coming back to shake his head.

“I don’t know if we can get it out.”

“Can you still see the tire tracks?”

He looked. “Yeah.”

“It can’t be that far. We’ll walk.” She turned.

“Everyone, bring your stuff, especially if you have any

food left over from lunch or dinner.” They had stopped