Chris began the long day's drive already spent from a week of sleepless nights. He had stopped for some soda and fast-food hours after leaving home, but caffeine and empty calories could only do so much. Realizing that his head was starting to drift downward every so often as he rested his eyes, he left the interstate for a rural route. Seeing a filling station, he decided to top off his gas tank before he ventured further into the official middle of nowhere.

        Pulling into the station, he caught a glimpse of the mountains ahead, a jagged range of incisors biting at the clouds. As he came to a stop, he worried that they might be more than his old car could handle.

        Parking the car in front of a gas pump, he got out to stretch, swinging his arms in broad circles in an attempt to wake himself up. Pulling out his debit card, he placed his wallet on top of the gas pump.

        A yawn swelled in his chest as he stared at the dark clouds moving across his field of vision, dropping a long shadow over the mountains and the trees below. Chris swiped the debit card through the card reader then dropped it back into his pocket. As he finished pumping, he felt the first drops of rain on his head. After the tank was filled, he placed the nozzle back in the pump and replaced the gasoline cap.

         The rain started to pick up as Chris stared up at the sky. Thick clouds obscured the sun, and it became like dusk. Getting back into the car, he pulled out his maps. He had a long way yet to go, and driving in the dark wasn't going to make the trip any easier.

        Back on the road, Chris drove for hours. It was already past eight o'clock, and he hadn't seen a single sign for Oak Grove. He was growing worried; the vicious rainstorm that had started a few hours ago showed no signs of abating. Rain poured in sheets, and he could barely see a few feet in front of the car. The headlights reflected almost nothing but the torrents of water. Still, he kept going. Again checking the time on his cellphone, he decided to give it one more hour, just one more, then call for directions.

        Nine o'clock came and went with still no signs of Oak Grove; no signs of anything, for that matter. His maps clearly showed the small town somewhere up in the mountains. He'd definitely been gaining altitude for some time, but in the storm and darkness he couldn't be sure if he were in Death Valley or on top of Mount Everest. Chris strained his eyes as he watched the road, which was becoming dangerous with all of its strange curves and twists.

        White aspens streaked by like apparitions in the rain blasted windshield. He could stop, he thought; pull off to the side of the road and wait for the storm to blow over. But how long would that take? What if it rained all night? What if he weren't even on the right road anymore?

        It was already late, and each minute he wasted dug him deeper in his hole. He desperately wanted to meet these newly discovered cousins. No, the thing to do was to make up for lost time. Chris pushed down on the accelerator and leaned forward as though that would make driving through the liquid void feel less like piloting a submarine.

        That's when he saw the twin halogen lamps slice through the water. They appeared around an unseen corner; two bright lights careening across the road. The muscles in Chris' gut tensed. Did he see it right? Were the lights over the yellow line? Oh God, he shouted in his mind, they were in his lane!

        Chris felt his mind contract; his body didn't budge, but he felt the world fold in around him. His vision was suddenly clear; he could see every rain drop as it fell in slow motion across the oncoming beams. His hands clenched the steering wheel like talons and he threw the wheel all the way to the right. His legs locked, pressing hard on both the brake and the accelerator. The tires shrieked and the engine roared, but the car did not change direction. The wheels locked as the car hydroplaned across the slick road, straight towards the oncoming lights.

        He saw them inch ever closer His every hair stood up, and he could sense the impending impact on every inch of his body as the car sailed towards collision.

        But it never came ...

        The headlights drifted past the car to the left. It was impossible. There was no way he could have avoided the other car, yet Chris watched the lights glide past.

        That was when the front tires made solid contact with asphalt.

        The front of the car jerked hard to the right and the tail end whipped around to follow it. The rickety Saab spun violently as it launched off the road and into the darkness. His senses recorded each millisecond as the car whirled through space, though his body was still frozen.

        Then he felt the impact; the car smashed against something solid in the darkness. The world went instantly from slow motion to high speed, and Chris' head snapped against the door.

        Christopher Chase opened his eyes, unaware of how much time had passed. His body quivering, he looked through the cracked windshield and saw the rain falling in his headlights. He heard the sound of a thousand icy raindrops pounding on the roof of his car. The word, "Shit," repeated over and over in his mind, but his lips were not moving. Realizing that his body was still stuck in the same pose it had been during the impact, Chris released his grip on the steering wheel. He'd been clenching the wheel so tightly that his palms ached.

        He felt a steady throbbing rippling from his forehead. Raising his hand to his head, Chris found it was painful to the touch, but it didn't appear to be bleeding.

        Still stunned, Chris knew he had just been in a crash. He knew he should do something, but he couldn't think of what that might be. He tried starting the car. It made some noises, but it wouldn't start. Coming to his senses, Chris moved his hand over the passenger seat until his fingers came in contact with his cell phone. He flipped it open and looked at the display.

        It was ten o'clock, and his phone was almost out of power. He started to dial 911 when the phone lit up with an incoming call. He attempted to say hello, but the words wouldn't come.

        "Chris? Chris are you there? It's Misha." His cousin sounded worried.

        "He ... hello." Chris' voice was high pitched and faint.

        He sounded rattled, something that was not lost on his cousin. "Where are you? Are you alright? There is a terrible storm tonight."

        "My car went off the road," his voice trembled. "It was dark ... and then there was another car ...." Chris found that speaking the situation aloud only made him more frightened.

        "Are you hurt?" Misha asked.

        "No. I don't think so. My head a little ... but I think I'm okay."

        "Chris," Misha said, keeping a cool head, "Do you know where you are?"

        "I ...." Chris peered out into the darkness as his eyes teared up and a lump formed in his throat. "I don't know. I was on route five-twelve ... but then I went into the mountains ... there were lots of turns, and I just don't know what happened ...." The battery life warning chimed on Chris' cellphone and the connection started to fade. "I took the turn for Franklin's Notch. That was the last sign I saw." Chris didn't hear a response, all he heard was static. "Hello?" he cried.

        "Listen to me Christ-" Misha's voice cut out in the static and back in again, "-tly where you are. Everything is going to be okay. I'm sending Alek and-" more static cut through the conversation. "-be there in a half an hour. You are going to be fine. Just stay right there. Can you still hear me?" Misha tried to hide the fear in her voice.

        "Yes," Chris said. "I'll just stay here and wait for you. I didn't hear everything you said. Are you sure you know where I am?" The last part never made it to Misha. He felt his phone rumble and beep as it powered down. He was alone again.

        Chris again tried in vain to start the car. He accepted that it wasn't going anywhere, but he hoped he could get the heat running. It was no use. Wishing his cousins had already arrived, Chris clenched his arms by the elbows and shivered.

        When his teeth started to chatter, Chris realized he needed some way to keep warm until help arrived. His coat was in the back seat, but he feared it wouldn't be enough. Chris tried to think if there were anything he may have packed that he could use, and he remembered his emergency kit in the trunk. It had jumper cables, some flares, and more importantly, a blanket. Chris considered his options as the rain continued to pound on the roof of the car. Getting out wasn't exactly a good plan, but neither was freezing to death. Chris reached down and pulled the trunk release; he could barely hear the trunk pop open over the noise of the rain. After taking a deep breath, Chris kicked open the door and sprinted towards the back of the car.

        The rain battered Chris from all angles. The frigid drops of water stung where they made impact, and every inch of him was quickly soaked. Trudging through the thick mud and the wall of water, he forced his way to the open trunk. He rummaged around and felt the corner of the ratty, old blanket. Without hesitation, he draped the blanket over his head, and he was overtaken by the sickening odor of oil and gasoline. Without bothering to close the trunk, he made his way back around the car, his feet sinking deeper into the mud.

        When he felt himself sliding downhill with the shifting earth, he realized he was on the peak of a steep incline. Straining forward with all his might, Chris yanked himself free from the mud, and his shoes were pulled off his feet. Before he could react, his socks plopped down into the muck, and freezing water and earth filled between his toes.

        Opening the back door of the car, he felt around for his jacket. He pulled at it, but it was caught under his heavy suitcase. Yanking his coat in frustration, he pulled so hard that he fell backward into the mud, taking his jacket and suitcase with him. Engulfed by the cold, wet earth, he felt his entire body sliding downward.

        Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his suitcase drifting away into the darkness. Rolling over, he grabbed for it, but he was too late- it was lost. As he felt himself pick up speed, he realized that he didn't want to find out where the suitcase had gone. Frantically, he grasped at the mud and darkness, and regained his footing. After carefully making his way back to the car, Chris slammed the back door, then climbed back into the front seat, completely covered in mud and shivering worse than before. Shaking violently now, he covered himself with his coat and the blanket.

        Chris pressed his trembling palm against his chest, feeling the outline of the gear necklace that hung around his neck. In his other hand, he held his cellphone. He knew it didn't work, but holding it gave him some small comfort. Closing his eyes, Chris tried to ignore the trembling of his body and the relentless thumping of the raindrops on the roof.

        A pair of headlights appeared in the darkness, as an old truck pulled off the road and pointed its headlights towards the crashed Saab. Alek and his son Andrei, wearing their boots and heavy rain coats, stepped out into the storm. The world was fluid and shifting around the two solid figures as they strode though the beams towards Chris' car.

        In the light reflected off the car, Andrei could see a pained look on his father's face. Alek turned to his eldest child and barked, "Get the bags. I will get your cousin."

        Alek ran to the driver's side door and grabbed the handle. Closing his eyes and clenching his teeth, he exhaled forcefully through his nostrils like a bull, and ripped the door open. Alek crouched down and looked inside. He saw a disoriented Chris lower his oil stained blanket and squint into the beam of the flashlight. Alek reached out and wiped the mud off Chris' pale, cold cheek "Oh God," he gasped.

        Andrei took his flashlight and scanned the car, looking for any sign of cases or bags. Not finding anything, he moved to the back of the car. The side of it had slammed into a large tree. Andrei was not a mechanic, but he knew this wasn't going to be easy to fix.

        Alek shook Chris gently as he said, "It is going to be alright. We have come to take you home." Alek's arms felt like fallen tree trunks on Chris' thin shoulders. Chris couldn't see much of the enormous man's face in the darkness other than his dark brown eyes and heavy brow. His accent was thick, and more distinguished than Misha's. "Come on," Alek said, "We can come back for your car tomorrow.

        "I ...." Chris trailed off. He was drained.

        Not waiting for Chris to finish, Alek pulled him out of the car and held the boy in his arms. He carried Chris back towards the truck. "Andrei," Alek yelled over his shoulder, "Hurry up!" Alek opened the passenger door of the truck and effortlessly placed Chris inside.

        "There's nothing here," Andrei shouted back.

        "Andrei! Do not be useless! Check the trunk."

        Andrei flashed his light into the trunk finding only a few empty bottles of motor oil and two road flares. He slammed the trunk door and trudged back to his father. "There's nothing there either," he complained.

        Looking very annoyed with his son, Alek reached into his pocket and tossed the truck keys to Andrei. "You drive," he commanded. Alek raised his thick finger at Andrei and added, "Take it easy. One accident is enough for tonight."

        "Don't worry," Andrei sneered, "I'm not the one who drove like a madman to get here."

        Ignoring his son's comment, Alek took off his coat and wrapped it tightly around Chris. The man climbed into the passenger's side and sat next to Chris while Andrei got behind the steering wheel.

        "My suitcase," Chris whimpered, "It got washed away. I fell down, and-"

        "See?" quipped Andrei, "Just like I said- No bags."

        Alek glared at his son and pulled Chris against his chest. The giant man cradled Chris and brushed the mud from his long hair. "Do not speak," Alek said, "Just try to rest. We will be home soon."

        Feeling the heat from Alek's body, Chris leaned against the man and closed his eyes.

        Chris felt the roughness of the road under him as he slowly opened his eyes. He was still dazed, though he was lucid enough to recognize that he was in a strange truck, and bundled up securely in the arms of some large, unfamiliar man. Chris normally would have reacted immediately, but his mind was trying to put these pieces of information together in some way that made sense. He turned his head to the left to see another, much younger and equally large, man driving the truck.

        "Alek?" Chris said in a breathless and battered voice.

        Alek looked down and brushed Chris softly on his forehead. "Just relax," he cooed.

        Chris winced as Alek's immense, rough hand touched the tender bruise on his head. "I was in an accident," Chris said sheepishly, bringing his hand up against his forehead. "I think I hit my head."

        Alek set Chris upright on the seat and pointed at a porch light in the distance. "See?" Alek said softly, "We are here. Everything will be fine."

        Andrei stared at his father. He'd never seen the man act so tenderly. His father had certainly never treated him this kindly. He couldn't understand why his father was acting this way; he questioned whether it was even in his father's character.

        Andrei parked the truck between the house and the old barn. He hopped out of the aging green truck and saw his mother waiting at the side door. She looked every bit as worried as his father.

        Alek stepped out of the truck and held his hands up to Chris. Slowly unraveling the layers of clothing around him, Chris moved towards Alek. Chris was surprised when Alek lifted him up by the hips and placed him gently on the driveway as though it required the same amount of effort as fluffing a pillow. Alek wrapped his raincoat around Chris' shoulders, and his large arm around Chris' waist, and walked him slowly to the side door where Misha was waiting.

        "I think I can make it okay," Chris said, even as he stumbled along in Alek's arms.

        Misha took Chris from her husband and held him for a moment. The boy was covered with mud and grime. Misha held his face in her hand and brushed the mud from his hair, studying Chris' face. Then she looked at her husband in shock.

        Alek didn't say anything, only returning his wife's look, unable to explain the resemblance.

        "It's just a bump on the head," Andrei complained from behind.

        Ignoring her son, Misha led Chris into the kitchen and surveyed the large black and blue mark on the side of his forehead.

        Chris winced again and said, "I think I'm okay. I just need to lay down."

        "Of course, child," Come, you must get cleaned up. Dr. Stone can look at your forehead in the morning." She took Chris upstairs to the second floor bathroom.

        Misha entered the bathroom with Chris, and ran the faucet. Taking a hand towel, she dabbed it in the stream of warm water and started to clean the boy.

        Chris turned to the older woman and said in a sturdier voice, "I think I can handle this."

        "Are you sure dear?" Misha asked.

        "Yes, I'm okay- I promise." Chris looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. His clothes were ruined. Every inch of fabric was soaked through, and his face and hair were covered in filth.

        Misha left Chris to himself and disappeared down the hallway.

        Chris looked almost as miserable as he felt. There were steady, dull throbs of pain radiating from the dark mark on his head. He started to wash up the best that he could. He cleaned his face and tried to rinse his hair in the sink, the warm water feeling like fire on his chilled skin.

        Misha returned with a plastic bag, a towel, and some pajamas. "Put your clothes in this," Misha said holding out the bag. "I will clean them tomorrow."

        Chris took the bag and Misha folded the towel and placed it on the counter.

        "Andrei said he could not find your bags."

        Chris said, "I lost my suitcase. It slid down a hill, I think."

        "Do not worry child," she assured as she placed the pajamas next to the towel. "You can wear these tonight." As Misha closed the bathroom door behind her, she said, "Hurry up dear, you must be exhausted."

        Chris was still tired, even after resting on the ride to the house. He was unsteady on his feet, and his thoughts were cloudy. Chris wasn't sure if that was from his injury or just plain fatigue. Even though he didn't feel he had a strong grip on the night's events, he did feel the same unmistakable warmth from Misha in person that he'd felt on the phone.

        As Chris peeled the soggy clothes from his body, he felt cool air sting his wet skin. Dropping everything into the plastic bag, he cleaned himself a bit more, then pulled the cotton pajama top over his head and the pants up around his long legs. After spending the night in soiled, wet clothes, the soft, clean cotton felt like heaven against his skin. He relaxed the clenched muscles in his back and he felt warmth spread to his arms as his shoulders dropped.

        Stepping out of the bathroom, he found Misha waiting for him. She smiled maternally as she took Chris by the hand, leading him to the end of the hallway and into a large bedroom. The warm glow cast by a lamp on top of an antique chest of drawers was a marked contrast to the darkness of the storm that was still raging outside.

        Misha walked to the bed and pulled the covers down, Chris following behind her. At her urging, he slid in between the sheets.

        As Misha pulled the covers up around him and stroked his long, damp hair, Chris said, "I'm sorry about all this."

        "Shhh," she whispered. "Can I get anything for you?"

        As Chris lay there in his clean pajamas, nuzzled in the soft inviting bed, he shook his head. He couldn't imagine being more comfortable than he already was.

        Misha continued to stroke his hair as she smiled at the boy. Chris couldn't help but smile back at the caring older woman.

        "Goodnight," she whispered as she went to the chest of drawers and turned out the light. As she closed the door behind her, Chris closed his eyes.