Page 2 of Love Me Fierce

I navigate over the hard lip of blocky snow separating the lanes to the left one. The bare pavement humming beneath my tires sends a pulse of relief through me. I’m still catching my breath when another plow vehicle materializes behind me, this one in the right lane, with snow shooting into the void like a giant firehose. It makes sense they work in pairs, but watching him approach me is no less terrifying.

I make sure I’m as far to the left in the lane as I can safely be. The giant snowplow lumbers past, chains clanking, the spinning orange light at the back fading into the sea of falling snow. The highway is now a bare swath of charcoal gray streaked with white where the snow and ice has been wedged into the cracks. An eerie wind dances across the surface like smoke. A reminder that the road is still slick.

Within a few more miles, snow is accumulating on the highway again. It’s so dark out here that my headlights barely illuminate the road ahead. My windshield wipers can only sweep halfway up my windshield now, forcing me to scrunch lower to see through it. I should stop and clear the wipers, but there’s nowhere to pull over—the berm of snow deposited by the snowplow takes up the entire shoulder.

FINN RIVER 35

There’s at least an inch on the road now, and I can almost sense the change in traction beneath my tires.Okay. It’s officially time to stop and put on the chains.I’ll be able to clear my windshield wipers then too. With my eyes glued ahead for any place to pull over, I keep a steady pressure on the gas pedal. To distract myself, I think about our destination. Finding a rental property with my meager budget wasn’t easy, but the single wide trailer doesn’t look too bad. Though there’s no yard, we’re not far from a lovely park, and the bike path that leads to town. I try to imagine my new job at Finn River Pediatrics. What will my new boss, Dr. Boone, be like? On the phone he sounded a bit gruff, but I sensed kindness too. He didn’t question my switch in nursing fields or why I wanted to leave California.

My car’s tires lose traction so fast I’m too late in trying to compensate, and my car swings sideways. I let off the gas and we glide to a stop in the middle of the highway. Quickly, I try to back up, but my tires spin.No, no, no.

I force in a series of breaths so I can think but I’m stuck in the middle of a highway blocking both lanes. What do I do? I test the gas pedal, going as slow as I can. To my relief, my tires bite into the layer of snow, and I creep forward. Moving the wheel in steady increments, I manage to straighten out, but my hands are shaking, and my breaths are coming in ragged gasps. There’s no place to pull over, but it’s obvious I should have done so already.

I’ll just have to crawl along. There has to be a pullout somewhere soon.

Ahead, in the distance, muted by the thick snowflakes swirling all around me, a soft glow has been getting brighter. Like a spotlight. Is the road ahead closed? If they make me turn back, I’m going to cry.

The thought of having to confront a cop isn’t exactly welcome, either.

As I near the source of the light, it takes me only a second to realize something’s very wrong. A vehicle is in the median, facingback at me, like it spun as it lost control. It’s the truck that passed me earlier. I squint, but I don’t see movement.

Shit. The truck is upside down.

There’s not a lot of room to pull over, but I put on my hazards and steer to the side. What the hell do I do? I can’t just race to the aid of the driver and leave my car in the middle of the highway. If another snowplow comes by, and they didn’t see my car in time to swerve…

But what if the driver is hurt?

A gust of wind blasts my car, shaking the walls. I force a steadying breath and steer into the swath of torn up dirt and snow made through the median by the sliding truck. I don’t know how I’ll be able to turn around later to get back on the road, but I also can’t leave my car in the middle of the highway. Not with Matty inside.

My car bumps over the chunks of snow spewed by the snowplow and ruts made by the truck. I pull to a stop about ten feet away and park, but keep my engine on. There’s still no movement from inside the upside-down truck, but my headlights illuminate what looks like smoke in the cab. It could be airbag powder. Or it could be fire.

I grab my phone. There’s only one bar—but it should be enough to get 9-1-1 on the line. I hold the phone against my ear with one hand and unbuckle with the other, then reach into my console for the nitrile gloves I always keep there.

“Mama?” Mateo’s groggy tone startles me.

“Hey, bug.” I shut the console and turn to smile at him.

He yawns, his eyes scrunching shut for an instant. Then he looks out one window, then the other, blinking. “Where are we?”

“On the highway. A car ahead of us went off the road. I’m just going to see if they’re okay.” It hits me that Mateo’s never seen snow before.

The line clicks. “This is 9-1-1, please state your emergency.”

“This is Vivian Reece. I’m about forty miles west of Finn River on highway ten.” At least I think it’s still highway ten. “There’s a truck off the road. I need a medic unit and probably a rescuecrew.”

“Are the occupants of the vehicle outside or inside of it?”

“Inside. I don’t see any movement.”

“Are you in a safe place?” I can barely hear her over the wind.

“Yes. I’ve pulled into the median.”

“Is there fire?”

“I don’t see any flames, but I think there might be smoke inside the cab.”

“Are there other vehicles involved?”

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