I’d reached the stage where I was looking for a refuge, any refuge. But there was nothing. No motels, no rest stops, no towns.
Just fucking snow.
I was in the middle of nowhere, and things had gone beyond scary.
Should I pull over and wait it out?
I’d seen too many I Shouldn’t be Alive episodes to know I’d be the one person who wouldn’t make it out alive.
And while I might not make that show, I’d for sure end up on the fucking news if I didn’t get off the road soon.
I could see it now. I’d be the lucky subject of a Darwin Award, where people marvel over others’ stupid, deadly decisions.
And now I was down to half a pack of stale peanuts and some bubblegum, stored in my car’s console. I was about as unprepared as I could be. The only thing worse would be if I decided to take my clothes off and walk in the storm.
Actually, maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea. The end might come sooner that way.
* * *