Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90252 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90252 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
I watch the snow start to come down faster. I thought we only had another hour to drive, but it’s been way over that. I’m chalking it up to the weather. I’ve been watching this storm since we all came up with this little plan to drop off the map. We knew it was crazy, but we needed to do something to shake everyone. To let the world and the paparazzi chase their tails while we get away to a little town in the middle of nowhere. I do have to admit that this is starting to get a little more middle-of-nowhere than I’m comfortable with. That’s what happens when you do things on the fly, though. Something we usually don’t have the luxury of doing.
“Are we getting close?” Bells lets out another one of her deep breaths that tells you she's more than annoyed. I understand the feeling. We should have had twelve hours before this storm reached us.
“I ran out of signs miles ago.” She squints, trying to see through the snow. I almost tell her maybe we should pull over and wait for a clear spot in the storm, but what if it only gets worse? We could get stuck in the car or plowed in, and then what would we do? Maybe we should have thought this out a little better.
“Signs? You don’t pay attention to those anyway.”
“Fair point.” She smirks, then grips the wheel harder.
I tense up when the SUV begins to slide, but then the back tires catch, and it quickly rights itself. Bells is a killer driver in the city. I’ve never seen anyone lose paparazzi the way she can. She could make a profession out of it. I’m really starting to see that city driving and country snow driving are two different beasts altogether. I think she’s coming to that conclusion, too.
“I haven't seen a sign in forever. Not even one of those mile marker things. Nothing.” She shakes her head. “Not good.”
“Okay.” I sit up a little straighter. “We’re not going to freak out.” I'm totally beginning to freak out.
“I’m not freaking out.”
“We will remain calm.”
“I am calm, but I can tell from the high pitch in your voice you’re not feeling the same.”
“I am totally calm.” I drop my voice low to cover the high voice I have when I’m, well… not calm. But the attempt only makes me cough.
“What the hell is that?” Bells says under her breath. I look out the window and only see snow. I don’t even see a road. How is she driving in this? Still, I try and see what she’s looking at.
“Are we on a road?” I find myself asking. “I think that’s a mountain.”
“We’re already on a mountain.” I watch Bells try and press the brake, but nothing happens.
“Bells.” My voice wanders higher.
“I know.” Yeah, she doesn't sound so calm anymore. Neither of us do. My stomach drops as I watch her yank the wheel to the right. I don’t miss for one second the fact that she turned the wheel so that she would take the impact of whatever it is we’re about to hit.
Our screams fill the inside of the vehicle. They’re the last thing I remember before everything goes eerily quiet.
2
CHARLES
I hear the impact and watch as the turkey I was aiming at scatters right along with all its brethren. “Shit.” I drop my aim and peer through the woods down toward the main road that leads to Frozen Falls.
For a moment, I consider turning around and hiking back to my truck, throwing it in gear and heading back to the lodge.
Staying hidden has its advantages, especially for a man like me. Walking down to the road could mean more trouble than it's worth, especially if this is something more nefarious than a simple wreck. No one has come for me in the two years since I came to Frozen Falls, but that doesn’t mean no one ever will.
I sling my rifle over my shoulder and look up as the sun peeks from behind the wave of storm clouds. The first front is moving off, but the real snowmaker is coming right behind it. If the people on the road are hurt, they’ll die in the second storm. The cold will get them before they ever reach town.
With a groan of deep discontent, I trudge down into the clearing where the turkey was huddling, then I keep going over a ridge and down until I get a view of the road. A white SUV is wedged against a pine tree. I can see movement inside.
Moving one hand to the pistol at my side, I creep closer. Something in the snow catches my eye. Leaning down, I find prints. Big ones.
“Dammit, Leonard.” I stand again and curse the big white lynx that likes to run these woods, play in the road, and rummage through my garbage. Looks like he’s also into causing car accidents.