Page 2 of Snowed in with Scrooge

“Love you too,” I say quickly before I hang up.

It’s no shock to my parents that I’m not planning on coming for Christmas because the past five years I’ve done as much as possible to avoid it. When my brother Aspen died, time stopped for me and I can't imagine celebrating a holiday without him. My parents don’t get that same luxury because they have to think about Aspen Junior, or AJ as they call him. AJ came to live with them after my brother’s accident. For them, it’s not about the pain of the loss but the love they choose to remember. It’s just not like that for me.

AJ was a baby when my brother and his wife were killed in a car accident. It’s not like I know anything about how to take care of babies, so what do they expect? I talk to my parents often enough, but visiting is too hard. AJ looks just like Aspen did at that age, and it makes me miss him all over again. It’s almost impossible to go into my parents’ house and not be swarmed with grief.

So here I am in a snowstorm trying to avoid my feelings.

Search and rescue wasn’t my first choice of career paths, but it’s where I ended up. My parents think it’s because of Aspen, and technically they’re not wrong. After Aspen and his wife were killed, I closed my law firm in the city and moved back to my hometown.

Brightberry is a town nestled between a couple of mountains with a few ski lodges nearby. Sometimes I’m called to go with teams to retrieve lost skiers, but mostly I pull cars out of ditches because city folks think they can drive in the snow.

At night when I can’t sleep or during holidays when I can’t stand to be home alone, I drive around and check the roads that lead in and out of town. Every once in a while, I’ll find a lost tourist and I point them in the right direction, but mostly I just drive around.

There was a lot of traffic earlier, but since the storm hit, people must have reconsidered driving anywhere. Even with a heavy truck and chains on my tires, the visibility is shit. It won’t do me any good if I’m the one stuck on the side of the road tonight.

Deciding that I’ll do one more quick pass before I head home, I slow down at the edge of town and go to make a U-turn. Just as I’m about to leave, there’s something on the side of the road that catches my attention. It’s the oddest thing, but it’s like the snowbank is lighting up. The colors under the snow are flashing blue, then green, then red, then yellow. I watch it for a second more and see it cycle through the colors again.

“What the hell?” I say to myself as I reach over to the passenger seat next to me and grab my gloves and hat.

Jumping out of the truck, I pull my hat down low to avoid the worst of the snow in my eyes and then tug on my leather work gloves. The closer I get to the glowing snow, the less it makes sense. I look up and down the road to make sure it’s not a reflection of something else before I finally walk over.

Reaching out, I put my gloves in the snow, but the lights are still blinking. I dig away a few inches and then my eyes widen when I see where the light is coming from. There’s a toddler stretched out on the back seat of a small SUV. She’s got on some kind of holiday sweater that’s glowing brightly, and that’s what’s causing the colors in the snow. There’s a woman in the back seat holding her, and they both appear to be asleep.

“Please be asleep,” I say to myself as I start frantically wiping away the snow. I don’t want to scare them, but I’ve got to get them out from under this snow drift as quickly as possible. They could freeze to death or even suffocate under snow this severe, but I try not to think about that and dig faster.

Once I’ve got the door completely unblocked, I try the handle, but it’s locked. When I knock on the glass the woman doesn’t flinch and so I knock harder the second time. That’s when I see the toddler stirring, and a small glimmer of hope sparks inside me.

I hurry to my truck and grab the emergency kit I keep in there for situations like this. After a second, I decide that breaking the glass should be my last resort because the toddler is right under the window, and I don’t want to hurt her. As quickly as I can I find the handle of the front door, and thankfully, it’s unlocked.

The automatic locks don’t work so I have to reach in and do it manually as I call out to the woman and her daughter. The woman appears to be breathing but she doesn’t wake up even when the toddler begins to whine.

“It’s all right, I’ve got you,” I say to the little girl when I open the rear door. She stretches her arms out, and I scoop her up before running her over to my truck and placing her in the warm cab. She doesn’t cry, and when I check her over, she seems to be okay. “I’m gonna go get your mom, but I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay,” she says and sniffs a little as she looks over my shoulder at the SUV stuck in the snow.

When I get back to the SUV, the woman is somewhat awake and is blinking like she can’t focus. “Mina,” she says in a weak voice. “Where’s Mina?”

“It’s okay I’ve got her,” I say, and then I’m shocked when the woman tries to swing a fist at me.

“Don’t you take her. She’s mine.” Her words are as weak as her body, and she falls out of the vehicle and into my arms.

“Whoa, easy, champ.” She’s limp in my arms, and it’s then I realize she’s burning up with fever. “Shit, we need to get you to a hospital.”

“Can’t go. No hospital.” Her voice is pleading as I carry her to the cab of my truck and place her next to her daughter, Mina.

“You need a doctor,” I tell her as I take one of the warm blankets from the back seat and drape it over the two of them.

“No.” She shakes her head, then reaches for Mina.

“I have to at least report this to the police.”

Her eyes widen, then she grabs the neck of my shirt. Her grip is the strongest I’ve felt since I found them, and her gaze is intense. “If he finds us, he’ll kill us.”

With those last words, she passes out, and all I can do is stare down at her and the toddler snuggled together in my truck.

What the fuck have I gotten myself into?

CHAPTER 3

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