Battleship (Anchored 2)

There will be another small town half an hour or so up the road. If the storm worsens, I can stop there. It won’t be a problem.

I slow down and notice my GPS lo

sing signal. That’s not uncommon. I keep a couple of maps in the glove compartment for instances like this. The windy mountain road I’m on right now tends to weave in and out of really rocky areas and that can affect the signal. It’s not a big deal. I just turn my headlights on, decrease my speed, and keep going.

Everything is going to be fine.

My phone has seven missed calls from my mother. Now that I’m not getting cell service, maybe the calls will stop. Maybe they’ll start going right to voicemail and she’ll realize I don’t want to talk to her. Part of me is surprised she cares enough to call, but then, she always was a little bit dramatic.

Chances are I’m going to delete her voicemails without listening to them.

I’m not a glutton for punishment any longer.

Nope.

No more.

My days of dealing with her drama are over. Maybe there will come a time when we’re able to work through our differences. Maybe in a few years, we’ll get together and talk and things will be different. We’ll have both changed and grown and things won’t seem so bad, but I don’t think so.

With a sigh, I try to stop thinking about my mother and instead focus on the road. The snow is coming down harder now and I’m starting to feel a little nervous. Maybe I will take the next exit and find a cheap motel to crash in for the night. Colorado weather is notoriously unpredictable and despite the fact that it’s April, snowstorms aren’t that unusual.

Suddenly, the car slides a little and I realize the road is icing over. I slow down even more. I’m barely moving at all. The car is slowly crawling along the deserted road now. My wipers are going back and forth as quickly as they can, but it’s just not fast enough. I can barely see and I slow down even more.

Panic mode hasn’t set in yet. This is good. The last thing I need to do right now is panic. I just need to think. There are mountains on either side of me and the two-lane road is totally empty. Luckily, there aren’t any nearby ravines or cliffs I could slide off into. Even if I swerve and hit something, I’ll be hitting the side of the mountain: not falling to my doom.

Somehow, the thought isn’t as calming as I think it should be.

Suddenly, I slam on my brakes much too hard and my car slips and slides and finally stops just in time to miss the boulder that’s fallen and blocked the road.

I’m trapped in the middle of nowhere in the middle of a snowstorm and that’s when panic mode finally arrives.