"Please, save my friend. I'll do whatever it takes. If someone has to die today, let it be me. But save my friend. Please. Please."

CHAPTER 1

It always started with nausea. Just a slight twinge of it in his upper stomach, accompanied by tightness in the back of his neck. If the situation continued, he could develop a full-blown headache and be unable to eat anything for fear of throwing up. This was Joseph’s body’s way of experiencing stress.

Usually he avoided this by action. He’d learned now to address most situations where things weren’t going right: find out what you can do to affect it, and then do it. Joseph was determined anymore not to just let life happen to him, but to address it, influence it, control it when possible.

But this. This situation was beyond him right now. Because he’d given away a measure of control when he agreed to carpool with Alan Sarkisian on this trip. Now they were going to be late getting off. All Joseph could do was wait in his idling PT Cruiser parked at the entrance to Alan’s apartment. Wait, and feel his stomach start to flip-flop in the cold Missoula, Montana morning.

It wouldn’t be such an issue, lateness. After all, it’s not like it was a workday. Both of them were on vacation. But the drive was going to be long, and both of them had people expecting them, and the forecast had predicted snow tonight. And it was Christmas Eve….

I should know better. Why does it seem like whenever I agree to go out of my way to help someone, I end up regretting it? Is everybody out there unreliable, or do I just choose the wrong people, Joseph thought. Maybe my “chooser” is broken.

Alan Sarkisian rushed around his apartment in a furtive dash to do some last minute packing. He really should have done it the night before, but he’d gotten in so late. Sleeping through his alarm didn’t help either. It was Joe’s cell phone call at 6:40 this morning that had awoken him — 10 minutes after their agreed upon departure time. Now it was 6:58.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!” Alan cursed himself as he looked for his dental floss. He used to be able to get by fine on five hours of sleep. But he was fifty-one now, and knew better. He knew better. Always trying to get a little more done. It would be okay if his day were messed up by waking up late with too little rest — but now he was messing up his friend’s day too.

Well, actually, they weren’t friends. Joseph O’Donnell had just offered to give Alan a ride to where he was going for the Christmas holidays, since he was driving by there anyway. Alan needed to save money, and a solo drive to Helena was going to cost a bit. A mutual contact at the pharmaceutical firm Alan and Joseph worked at realized that their travel destinations were close together - why not ride together and split the gas money?

So Alan approached Joseph at work and proposed the trip. Joseph had been hesitant — he knew Sarkisian from passing in the hall and from company parties, but that was it. And he preferred to drive alone. But he saw that Alan needed his help, so he agreed.

The partnership was getting off to a bad start.

~o~O~o~

“Come on, come on, c’mon, c’mon” muttered Joseph, twiddling his fingers on the steering wheel. He stared up at the second floor door, hoping for any movement. As if glaring at it would cause it to open magically, with a readied and packed Alan exiting. He glanced at the console clock. 7:01. Time for a second phone call.

Alan’s cell phone rang. He saw the caller ID.

“Hey there — almost ready — I’m putting you on speakerphone so I can keep both hands free and finish up here — I’m really sorry, I’ll be out in less than 5 minutes.”

“Alan — is there something I can do to help? We really, really need to get on the road.”

Alan looked at the disaster zone that was his dwelling. If Joe saw this mess, then he would have an even lower opinion of him than currently. “NO. No, no — thanks, but I don’t know what you could do — really, just 3 minutes, Joe.”

Joseph sighed as he hung up. He really didn’t like the shortened version of his name. He had told Alan — like he told anyone on first meeting them — to call him Joseph, please. Most would comply, but this guy seemed to not get the message. “Joe” sounded too… rough. Plain. Too informal. Too macho.

“3 minutes. Riiight,” whispered Joseph; then he thought, never trust a salesman. Alan worked in sales, and was one of the better ones, per the office grapevine. Joseph much preferred the Information Technology department. You could trust I.T. people to tell the truth. He snickered at his thoughts — the “department”. He WAS the I.T. department. The company wasn’t that big.

Alan finally came through the door with his suitcase. He clip-clip-clipped down the stairs to show he was hurrying. Joseph clicked the rear hatchback button. Alan threw his bag in with a loud thump and reached to pull down the hatch.

“I got it — it closes automatically,” said Joseph, pushing the button. Alan came around and got in the front passenger seat, rubbing his hands and blowing into them.

“WHEW! Cold enough for you, Joe?”

“Alan. Please, call me Joseph. I don’t like the name Joe.”

“Right! Right. Yes, now I remember. Sorry, Joseph. Cold morning, huh?” Alan was smiling, but internally he grimaced. That was a faux pas. If this were a pharmacy or a doctor’s office, he would have already blown the sale.

Joseph didn’t immediately answer. He was focused on entering the street. Safe driving was a priority for him, because it was the correct thing to do. He wouldn’t use the phone behind the wheel, and preferred not to talk when doing things that required more concentration, like left turns or merging into traffic. It was good feng shui for his life, living in order and balance.

Alan looked at Joseph. Was he just ignoring him? No, it looked like he was concentrated on the road. He took a good long look at his driver. Joseph seemed a little odd in appearance. At work he looked thin, like a beanpole, though the last year at work it seemed that Joe wore more layers of baggy clothing, even indoors. Maybe he was become more “cold natured”. Kept his long brown hair in a low ponytail like those Gen X’ers tended to do. He had a really recessed chin. Pale skin; these I.T. guys, do they ever get out in the sun? His speech was focused, but soft. Brown studs, one in each ear. This guy would never make it in sales.

Alan caught himself. Sizing up people — it was a reflex. All good salesmen did it in assessing customers. It worked good to determine how to approach a deal. The problem was, if you did it outside of work, you could end up jumping to wrong conclusions about people. Everyday life and relationships were more than just a sales call.

Now they were on the road, headed out to the interstate. Joseph could finally reply. “Yes, it’s quite cold. Supposed to hit well below freezing tonight — there’s heavy snow being predicted. That’s one reason why we needed to leave early.”

Alan winced.

“But, that’s OK, Alan. I still think there’s plenty of time; we’ll need to get a fast food lunch, and eat on the way.” Joseph glanced a conciliatory smile to his passenger. They were going to be together all day; they ought to try to get along. Even though things started off lousy.

Stop light. Alan was talking on his cell phone, so Joseph took the opportunity to evaluate his passenger. He looked probably fifteen to twenty years older than Joseph’s age of thirty-three. A little overweight, probably by at least forty pounds, but his shoulders were so wide it hung on him fairly well. Black mustache, well trimmed, and thinning salt and pepper hair brushed straight back. A toothy smile. Probably six foot even — an inch taller than himself. He looked a little too slick, like a politician or a used car dealer.

Stop it. Joseph chided himself. You’re so into appearances, and for good reason. But you — especially you — should know not to judge a book by its cover. Keep an open mind.

Alan broke the silence. “So. Tell me about yourself”.

There it was. Joseph felt the slight nausea again.

“I do information tech at the firm.”

“Okay…knew that. Where did you go to school?”

“Are you always this inquisitive? I don’t like to talk a lot about myself. Why don’t you tell me about yourself instead?”

Alan was dumbstruck. Most people loved to talk about themselves. That’s how you got them to warm up to you in sales. Not that he was trying to sell anything right now, just trying to be friendly. Maybe if he opened up first, Joseph would feel more at ease.

“OK, about me. I was born in St. Augustine, Florida-”

“Florida! How did you end up here in Missoula, Montana?”

“Whoa there, sport. Haven’t gotten to that yet. I just got through with my birth, remember?” Alan chuckled. “But if you must know, the life of a salesman can take you far and wide. I’ve been in pharmaceutical sales for the last 18 years, most with Forza.”

“Forza? Third largest drug maker in the world Forza?”

“The same.”

“Why did you quit them?”

“Ah…. I didn’t quit. I was downsized.”

“Oop…oh, I’m so sorry. That was careless of me.” Joseph’s cheeks turned bright red.

“No problem. It happens. Their stock had dropped, and they needed to cull the herd. Sales necks are usually first on the chopping block. I was a good producer for them, I was just one of the older guys, I guess.”

“Too old? But you’re just...”

“Fifty-one. Old, for a drug salesman. But I’m a good fit with Marcam. I’ve really enjoyed the last 4 years here. My family’s had the hardest adjustment. San Diego was a lot bigger... and a LOT warmer… than Missoula is.”

He has a family? But he lives in a small apartment. From where I was, it didn’t look bigger than a one bedroom. Joseph wondered about that, but didn’t want to ask a second embarrassing question.

Maybe now that I’ve told him a little about me, he’ll open up a little, Alan figured. “Where were you born, Joseph?”

After a long pause: “Here in Missoula. I’m a lifer here, so far. Even went to U of M.” That was more than he’d planned to ever tell Alan. He figured he’d stop there.

After 3 more blocks of silence, Joseph spoke up again. “How is your family, Alan?”

“Last I heard, my wife Lacy and our twins are fine.” (Sigh) He saw that I live in an economy apartment. Might as well spill the beans. “We’re newly divorced. Lacy and the girls still live in the house, and I — well, you know where I live.”

“You’re there alone?”

“Yeah, I just said Lacy - oh, you mean do I have another woman living there with me? No. There was never another woman, and there is no other woman now.”

“I didn’t mean — I just was meaning, it sounded lonely.”

“Well, it can be. But it’s not impossible. You live alone, don’t you Joseph?”

“Yeah, but I’m used to it; I like it that way,” Joseph lied. “You’ve been married for a while, I’m assuming, and now — boom. Alone. And by the way, how did you find out I live alone? Who’s been talking to you about me?”

“No one.” Alan felt a little frustrated. “You always come stag to the Christmas party. And leave early. Look, I didn’t get enough sleep last night. You mind if I try shutting my eyes a little?”

It was a welcome suggestion. Both could feel the uneasy tension in the car. There was silence as they pulled onto Interstate 90, headed towards the intersection with I-15.

~o~O~o~

Joseph noticed the conditions. It hadn’t snowed in 3 weeks, and the road was dry and clear. The sky was blue and the sun was out. 34 degrees, per his smart phone earlier. He looked over at his passenger. He was asleep, his seat leaned back slightly, head against the side glass, a faint snore occasionally leaking out the back of his throat.

Maybe he’ll sleep most of the trip. That would be a relief. Joseph shook his head. He hadn’t meant to sound condescending or suspicious earlier. Yet he was sure he had. He’d refused to open up any of his own life, yet somehow had gotten into some embarrassing details of Alan’s. How had it gotten so weird so fast?

I can’t even achieve a normal, simple conversation. On top of everything else, I’m a social misfit too. I need to be exiled to the island of misfit people.

About seven miles after getting on I-90, trouble hit. As the PT Cruiser peaked over a rise in the road, huge pieces of shredded tire appeared on the asphalt. A trucker had likely blown one of his big tires, or a retread had come untreaded. Joseph was unable to adjust in time, and his left front hit the debris.

BLAM!

“WHOA! What happened??” spurted Alan, jarred awake.

“I think I blew a tire,” Joseph grunted through clenched teeth, fighting the steering wheel. The Cruiser was now a wild bronco, bucking to the left. It veered onto the white lane stripes, almost sideswiping a passing minivan. Joseph hit the brakes and fishtailed wildly while trying to force the beast to the right shoulder.

Finally, the car relented and came to rest. Both of the men’s hearts were racing. Joseph was still gripping the steering wheel tight, and Alan wiped his forehead.

“Whew! You know, the next time you need for me to wake up from a nap, just kick me.”

“I didn’t do that on purpose.”

“I’M KIDDING. Let’s get out and look at the damage.”

Alan whistled as he examined the shredded rubber hanging off the wheel. “Boy — it’s toast. Um… I hope you have a full size spare, and not one of those mini-tires.”

“No, it’s full size, although it’s not a snow tread like this one was. I still have three other snow tires on, though.”

“Well, let’s get to changing then. Where’s the jack stored on-”

“I’ll take care of it. My car, my responsibility.”

“I’d be happy to help.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

Nearly an hour later, Joseph was finally tightening the last nut on the spare. “There,” he puffed. “I (pant)… told you I’d (pant)… get it on.”

“I didn’t think you couldn’t. I just thought we’d get done faster if I… never mind.”

“Well (puff)…” said Joseph, lowering the jack, “we’re good to go, as they say.”

“Uhhh… are we?” Alan pointed to the spare as the car settled to the ground.

It was almost completely flat.

“Oh God,” Joseph flustered with embarrassment.

“I don’t believe in god. But if you do, maybe you should have been asking him for help before now. Or are you too proud to even do that?” Alan walked away, angrily.

Respite finally came in the form of a pickup truck that mercifully stopped. It was a local rancher who had an air pump that plugged into his power socket. Nearly three hours after the blowout, the PT Cruiser finally got back on the road.

~o~O~o~

There was more emotional friction now than ever, Joseph could sense. He glanced over at his travel companion, who sat silent, face turned away, looking out the side window.

“I’m sorry I blew out the tire.”

“No problem. Wasn’t your fault.”

“I’m also sorry about the spare being low on air. The oil change place is supposed to make sure the tires are aired, including the spare… I was just there last week.”

“No problem, Joseph. Stuff happens.”

“I made us get three hours behind. All that after me being frustrated with you this morning.”

“You also told me then that it was OK, so don’t worry about it.”

“I’m sorry that-”

“Joseph! Stop apologizing! We’re on our way, and that’s what matters! Let’s just get there.”

Joseph swallowed dryly. This is the stuff he was not great at. He hated conflict. But if the trip went on this way, he’d have a killer migraine and be vomiting before they got there.

“Alan. Please, hear me out. I was really rude to you, I feel, when you were trying to make conversation earlier. I didn’t want to tell you anything about me, so I deflected the conversation to you — and then, it got uncomfortable, and I didn’t mean for it to. I don’t know how it got there, but it did. And then I didn’t let you help me change tires, when it would have gone quicker if I had. Um… I acted like a jerk.”

Alan looked at his driver. “Yeah. Somewhat.”

“I’m uncomfortable with… I mean, when anyone wants to get to know me…” He sighed. Talking like this was hard. “I have trouble trusting people. Even a little.”

Alan’s interest was piqued. “Why do you think that is?”

“Stuff. That’s happened.”

“What kind of stuff? …You want to talk about it? I’m a great listener.”

“I… don’t know if I can talk about it.”

“Ah. Because you have trust issues with me?”

“With almost everybody. Except for one really good friend. That’s why I’m going to spend Christmas with her.”

“That sounds romantic.”

“She’s not a girlfriend. She’s a friend friend. Who’s a girl. (sigh) You know what I mean.”

“You know what you did just now?” Alan smiled.

“What?”

“You opened up to me about your life. That right there shows you’re taking a chance, trying to make a connection. Not too bad, for a guy with trust issues.”

“Huh… I guess so.”

“And by the way, apologies accepted.”

~o~O~o~

Alan looked at his smartphone. He loved map apps. “Okay, Joseph. As requested, I have our new arrival time.”

“What are we looking at?”

“We’ll hit Helena about 10 tonight, if we stop for nothing but gas.”

Joseph fretted. “It’ll have been snowing for a while by then, according to the forecast. I really wanted to avoid that.”

“You know, Highway 12 is coming up. That cuts straight through to Helena. We avoid that big loop south; it would cut more than three hours off our trip.”

“But… that takes us off the interstate.”

“I’ve traveled through there before. It’s a little hilly, but we should get through by six o’ clock. That’s when the snow starts, right?”

“But… I trust the interstate.”

Alan grinned his toothy grin. “Trust issues, huh?”

Joseph laughed. “Yeah. You know me — Paranoid Pete. You say you’ve traveled it?”

“Yes. Twice. Good road, no problems.”

“You’ve traveled it in winter?”

“YES. And there’s been no precip in this part of the state for weeks, so it should be clear. Now, there aren’t many places to get food or gas, but if you’ll fill up at the station near the intersection, we’ll be fine.”

“Hmmm. Well, OK. I’m TRUSTING you, now. That’s a big thing for me.”

“Your action of trust has been duly noted, sir, and entered into the record. Here comes the Highway 12 turn off up ahead.”

CHAPTER 2

Joseph filled up his gas tank at the truck stop by the intersection, while Alan went inside and bought a few refrigerated sandwiches and some beef jerky. The cashier was in a good mood, even though she was working on Christmas Eve. He gave one of the sandwiches to his young driver, checked the spare on the left front — it was still well inflated — and they took off on Highway 12.

They rose in elevation, and far off mountain peaks came in close. The road was clean as Alan had predicted, and the scenery was turning impressive. Tree lines nestled in the wrinkles of the hills. Snow from earlier in the month had lingered, and despite the car’s heater the men felt the dropping temperature seep through the windows and tickle their shoulders, then their arms.

Joseph stopped so he could get out and put his heavy coat on, and Alan did the same. “I apologize that the Cruiser seems to let the cold leak in,” said Joseph as he pulled a thick knit beanie down over his ears. “This is so beautiful up here!”

“See what you can experience when you go off the beaten track a bit?” Alan took a deep sniff of the biting air. “I can’t believe you’ve never been this way before. And you’ve lived here all your life!”

“I’ve been missing out. I just never have been a big outdoors guy.”

Both hopped back in the car and the ride resumed.

“I learned to love the outdoors when my family moved to Colorado when I was five,” reminisced Alan. “I joined the boy scouts, and we did a lot of camping and other trips. The badges — that was my obsession for a while. My favorite time ever was a winter scouting retreat where they taught us survival skills. We learned fire starting, smoke signaling, ice fishing… it was so cool. It made me dream of living like Jeremiah Johnson when I grew up.”

“Jerewho?”

“Old Robert Redford movie? A classic? Runs on the old movies channels from time to time?”

Joseph flashed him a bewildered smile as he shook his head and shrugged.

Alan faked a faint. “WHAT? We’ve got to get you cultured, boy!”

“I like older movies! I just haven’t seen that one. Is it really old, like black and white?”

“Ow! Speaking of old, you sure know how to make a guy feel that way. Yuh gol-durned whippersnapper.”

They both burst out laughing at that. Joseph guffawed until he had tears. It had been years since he’d done that.

“So,” said Joseph as he wiped his eyes, “ah…heh…you were a scout? Did you make it all the way to eagle?”

“Yes. Yes, I did.”

“Wow. You must have made your family proud. Do you do anything with the BSA today?”

Alan turned suddenly wistful. “No. Unfortunately. I haven’t even done any camping or hiking in decades. About the main wilderness experience I get these days is just driving through it. I’ve sunk most all my time and energy into my work for the last 25 — 30 years.” He drew a long sigh. “You know, I loved being an Eagle Scout. I knew I was going to live my life using all those skills and principles that I learned. It was who I was. I wish that still were so sometimes.”

Joseph grew surprised at Alan’s new demeanor. He sounded regretful.

“You mean… you still wish you were a boy scout?”

“Not that I wish I was a teenager. Acne, stupidity, and social cliques? No thanks, one puberty was enough. I mean that I wanted to take my scouting activities into adulthood.”

“And your work got in the way?”

“The type of work is fine — I love it, in fact. It’s the amount of time I invest in work that’s got me out of the groove. It’s not just work, either. It’s a whole bunch of other things, many related to the reasons I divorced Lacy. I just haven’t… lived my life the way I thought I would. It just got away from me.” He sighed. “I can’t even remember any of that survival stuff I learned. And I have a salesman’s photographic memory.”

After a little silence, Joseph cleared his throat. “You know, I was a scout for a little bit.”

“No kidding!” Alan was glad to shift the focus off him.

“Yeah. I barely started Webelos. But I quit.”

“You didn’t like scouting?”

“Actually, I did. The scouting part, that is. I still remember the knots and some of the other things I was taught. And I loved making my wooden racing car. I just didn’t like my fellow scouts.”

“Why?”

“I was ridiculed, and bullied a lot by the other guys. Especially one kid, bigger than the rest of us; he was the den mother’s son. So angelic when mom or dad was around; then when unsupervised, he became Hellboy. Like, a bad guy Hellboy. If Hellboy had become a regular demon instead of joining forces for good…”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Joseph glanced over. Alan had a joyful smirk.

“Yeah, you’re right. You ARE old,” Joseph needled.

“Whatever! Nerdy sci-fi lovin’ I.T. guy.”

“Black-and-white movie watchin’ slick sales dude!”

They both cracked up again.

~o~O~o~

The banter continued at a brisk pace. Joseph discovered that his passenger actually had been familiar with the Hellboy movies, and loved to watch good sci-fi / fantasy / superhero shows, just like him. Alan discovered that Joseph liked classic rock and pop from the 60’s through the 80’s, and even had a small collection of vinyl LP’s by the Beatles and Led Zeppelin, complete with turntable to play them.

Alan began to notice that he actually felt a kinship with his young companion. He’d not had a connection like this with another single person — definitely not with one this much younger than him — in a long time. All of his other friends were married, and getting with them seemed awkward after he’d filed for divorce; most couldn’t see why he had done it, and their wives seemed to now label Alan as a “leaver”. But this — this was nice. He felt energized. He felt… youthful.

Joseph realized something as they talked away: he had no tightness in his neck, and no hint of upset stomach. He was laughing out loud repeatedly. When was the last time… heck, had he ever done that? He surprisingly found he really liked Alan’s company. Even more amazing, Alan seemed to like him. Not since childhood had he had a good male friendship. He had acquaintances to be sure, but no bosom buddy. In fact, in his experience when any guy got to really know him they became indifferent, or worse, uncomfortable or disgusted. With this man, he sensed a strange, alien feeling starting to arise in him.

He was beginning to trust.

~o~O~o~

Time seemed to fly as they headed up Highway 12. Only one hour from Helena, though, their plan hit a major roadblock.

An actual roadblock.

A policeman had his car parked across the road, with orange cones in front spanning from shoulder to shoulder. He was motioning for them to… make a U-turn? Joseph rolled down his window as the car came to a halt.

“What’s up, officer?”

The cop walked up to them. “Sorry guys, you’ll have to turn back. We’ve had a tanker truck — a big 18-wheeler — overturn up ahead. Happened about 45 minutes ago. Toxic chlorine gas. We got a HAZMAT team coming, but we won’t open up this stretch here for at least one or two more days. We’re already closing the road in this direction all the way back to I-90.”

Both men in the PT were stunned. They would have to go all the way back to the interstate, nearer to Missoula than Helena!

Joseph turned around as instructed, then promptly pulled off on the shoulder to gather his thoughts. Don’t panic; attack the problem. Think. There’s a solution out there. Despite this brave logic, his stomach began twisting into more knots than he ever learned as a Webelos.

Alan was looking at the map app on his phone. He spoke softly and meekly. “There’s no way to make Helena tonight. We can find a motel back at the interstate… or just go back home, even. Buddy, I’m so sorry for suggesting this route. This has turned out horribly.”

“Alan, the coming snow is predicted to go on for all night. We may not be able to go very far or fast even on I-90 and I-15 tomorrow. It’s not like this car is a Jeep or a Hummer high off the ground with 4-wheel drive. This could threaten the whole trip happening at all!”

Joseph now felt a steel claw gripping his neck muscles and creeping up the back of his head. He pulled out his phone and looked on his own maps there. After a minute, he showed the screen to Alan. “See this winding road here? We passed that a few miles back. It looks like it twists around a bit, and it may add another two hours, but it would spit us out right on I-15 about twenty miles from Helena.”

“I’ve never driven that. It doesn’t look like a major road. And it might start snowing before we get off it.” Alan regarded the choices, and their consequences. He had to be in Helena on December 26th. Otherwise, that new job offer was lost. He hadn’t disclosed to anyone about that purpose for this trip, and he definitely wasn’t going to tell his coworker here. “But… if you’re up for it, I’m with you.”

Joseph put the Cruiser in gear. If this was the plan, they needed to get moving. “Okay — here we go.”

~o~O~o~

An hour into the new route, both men began having misgivings. This road not only was narrower and convoluted, but it ascended higher and higher in altitude. They had not seen another car since they started on it. Instead of just patches, the snow now coalesced into a steady layer all around, and at times stretched across their drive path. The cold was incredible — Alan felt his fingers stick to the window temporarily when he felt to test the temperature. And flakes were now falling from the darkening sky.

Joseph was driving slower; this swerving road had no shoulder. As he rounded a right curve, he saw that they were dipping into a tiny valley between hill peaks. What he then saw ahead to his left shocked him. “Look at that small lake — it’s frozen!”

He realized that this way was much more dangerous than he’d calculated. If it had been frigid deep and long enough up here to ice a pond over already, then that meant that ice could be covering major stretches of the road up ahead. Or snow banks blocking their way. Or — who knows what. The landscape, so beautiful most of the trip, now seemed threatening.

Alan was obviously fretting, chewing on the fringe of his mustache with his lower teeth. He reached down to make sure his seatbelt was indeed clicked in fully. He looked at his driver. “Do we need to consider waving the white flag and going back?”

Joseph began to obviously cry. So much for his Christmas plans. “DAMMIT!” He sniffed loud and wet. “I’ll turn around, just let me hit a wider stretch,” as he approached a right hairpin twist. “S-sorry. It’s this blasted headaAAAAAHH!-”

The huge bull elk in the road wasn’t visible until he’d entered the turn.

He slammed on the brake and the Cruiser went into a spin. Unbelievably, they whirled by the implacable beast without making contact. But then the car slipped off the left bank of the road and slid down the slope towards the frozen lake.

Joseph tried to steer and point the nose downhill to avoid going into a roll, but control was impossible. They hit the lake bank at a high speed, flipping then slamming the PT onto its side and they slid onto and over the ice, gliding sixty feet from the shore before grinding to a stop.

~o~O~o~

Alan shook his head. He was… alive. But what happened… where were they? He heard the ‘click-click’ of the turn signal, and the ‘ding-ding-ding’ of the check engine warning. Something was pressing in hard on his waist. He was trapped. Things didn’t look right. Where was he??

In just a few seconds, he reoriented. They were still in the car… it was turned on its left. He was held by his seat belt, with his head and torso hanging down towards the driver’s side. He turned… his head was about a foot from Joseph, who was wincing and slowly moaning as he lay on his door. Alan could see a blue-gray solid color out Joseph’s window. What was that?

Then a crack appeared on the color, and water seeped through and kissed the window. That was…

WE’RE OVER THE WATER!

Alan adrenalized with that. We’ve got to get out! What do I…

Suddenly in his mind appeared words on a page.

“Remove the occupant(s) from immediate danger.”

Alan moved quickly and with purpose. He unlatched his door and pushed it ajar, keeping it from closing by pushing with his right foot. He then unclicked Joseph’s seat belt and grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Wake up, buddy! I’m lifting you out of the car — we’re on the ice, and we’re falling through!”

“Okay.” That news focused the young man some.

With a mighty heave Alan lifted him towards the door. Once there, Joseph pushed it open and climbed out.

“Get off of the car and away from the cracks,” yelled Alan, now grabbing the roof of the Cruiser with his right hand while undoing his seat belt with the other, readying himself to exit.

He pulled himself out of the door and onto the right side of the car, which was essentially its top now. Joseph was on the ice, crawling to the rear of the PT, out towards the center of the small lake.

He turned his head back to Alan. “This way!”

As Alan quickly, gently, lowered himself to the ice, he glanced towards the front end of the car. Big fissures were developing there. He got on his stomach so to not focus all his weight on just two feet. He crawled the opposite direction from the cracks. As he shuffled he kept his head down, focusing on moving as fast as he could. After 30 feet he looked up towards Joseph-

But Joseph wasn’t there.

He looked back. The young one had stopped at the rear hatch and was pulling out their suitcases.

“Joseph! Drop and get over here! If you fall through that ice, you’re dead!”

“We’ll both be dead of exposure tonight if we don’t have more covering!” hissed Joseph.

The I.T. man shoved one bag towards Alan. It skittered across the frost. Then he grabbed the big suitcase he had packed last night. He braced his feet against the car, and with a loud “Gyaaah!” pushed it the same direction as the first case.

The effort made Joseph’s feet slide out from under him. He lost his balance and belly flopped on the ice, slamming his small chin on the surface.

Fissures suddenly appeared all around the PT Cruiser and Joseph. He was dazed, but not so much that he didn’t realize what was happening. A look of terror encased his face, as Alan watched helplessly. The Cruiser pitched towards its roof as water mixed with floating ice materialized in a split second over the whole area. And in that split second, Joseph was gone.

A hushed quiet came over the lake, as Alan was alone. He was screaming — or trying, but no sound would come out.

CHAPTER 3

Alan shuffled frenetically on his hands and knees towards the ice hole. The PT Cruiser, with hatch open, turn signal blinking, was taking on water and sinking rapidly. By the time the older man was to the edge, he figured 15 — 20 seconds had passed. Still no sign of Joseph. He looked into the dark water but couldn’t see a thing — there was scant daylight left.

He’s stuck under the ice, and can’t find the hole, Alan figured. He didn’t know what to do. So he silently did something he hadn’t done in decades.

God, if you are there, I know thirty-five years ago my last words to you were that I was through with you and you didn’t exist. I hope I was wrong, because Joseph needs you. Please be real, and please guide him to the hole. Don’t do it for me, do it for him. Please, save my friend. I’ll do whatever it takes. If someone has to die today, let it be me. But save my friend. Please. Please.

Joseph was still dazed some when he went under, and didn’t close his mouth. He inhaled ice-cold liquid, and reflexively spasmed multiple coughs to eject it. But now his lungs were empty, and he needed air. He swam up but promptly hit a solid wall. He realized he was trapped.

Please God, save him. Please.

Joseph punched the ice futilely. It was inky black. He started crawling along in one direction, hoping it was the right one. Visions of his life started passing through his mind…

Please. Alan was bawling openly. PLEASE!

Suddenly Joseph noticed off to his right — a blinking light, faintly. Just a few blinks, then it stopped. What was that… - the Cruiser! The hole is in that direction!

Please. Ple-

Joseph’s head emerged through the hole, gasping, and then heaving with wet, deep coughs.

“JOSEPH! Over here!” Alan was still choking back sobs, but he was overjoyed to see that skinny face.

Joseph, however, was not trying to get out. He was still choking and coughing. He looked too weak to swim. Alan thought he might have to jump in to get him. Then another page popped in his head.

“Extend a rope or pole or any similar device to the victim.”

Alan realized — his belt! He quickly unfastened it and pulled it out of his pant loops. Thank God I have a 44-inch waist, thought Alan for the first time ever. He then held on to one end, throwing the buckle end to his wet buddy. It fell right in front of Joseph.

“Get it!”

The young man did so, with one hand and then the other. Alan pulled him to the edge, all the way to where half of Joseph’s torso was out. Alan then grabbed his hands and pulled him most of the rest of the way out. While doing so, he noticed more cracks forming.

“Once out of the water, the victim should lie flat and roll away from the opening.”

“Joseph — stay flat on your belly and stretched out! Roll away from the hole!”

Joseph did so, slowly, continuing to cough mightily. Alan rolled away also. They stopped twenty feet from any further danger. Joseph was still coughing, so hard and deep that he had to throw up right there. Alan noticed his friend was drenched, and starting to shiver. The snow was coming down in thick clumps now, and the daylight was almost gone.

Okay, God, I’m going to ask you to save us both now. Help me find shelter, pronto. He looked towards the road. But going back there means going near the hole, no thanks. He turned to the opposite shore, looking for a tunnel, or a pipe, or a deep snow bank, or something he could use. But all he saw was low brush and trees. And more snow coming down. He looked through the tree line for a cave opening or an overhang. What’s that straight surface there? Too linear for an outcropping… is that…

A roof?!

He focused his eyes through the trees.

A roof.

~o~O~o~

“C’mon, Joseph… walk, man! Move! Get that body heat rising!”

Alan had his belt looped around the two suitcases and through the buckle, dragging them behind them with his left arm. With his right, he pulled a retching, still-barking Joseph, whose shivering was turning into jerking spasms. Between the coughing and the shaking, he was not making good walking progress.

“I’m…(kaff, kaff, wheeze)… t-trying…”

Alan saw the cabin outline before them, maybe 50 yards away now. He was breathing hard and deep; every inhalation of the freezing air felt like it burned his lungs. But he kept moving, one more step, one foot in front of the other. Almost there.

He then felt his friend’s hand pull out of his. He turned to see Joseph on the ground, in a fetal position. For a second it looked like the young one was having an epileptic seizure, but then Alan realized it was just the cold rigors worsening to a violent state.

“Jos… get up! Hey — can you hear me? Joseph?”

The fallen man made no attempt to speak or look at Alan. He just began to moan lowly, which sounded like rhythmic gulps due to the shakes.

He’s dying — dead in minutes if I can’t warm him up! This shocking realization gave Alan new energy. He picked up Joseph and laid him over his right shoulder. Leaving the bags and belt behind, he bounded towards the house. He got there with his trousers beginning to slip off of his butt and down to his thighs. If we survive, I’m not telling Reader’s Digest I lost my pants.

The solid wood door of the A-frame log cabin was locked tight. So were the windows, but Alan put on his gloves from his coat pockets and punched through a pane, then unlocked the latch. He pushed Joseph through, then ducked in and closed the window behind him.

It was now dark outside, and pitch black inside the cabin. Alan pulled up his pants and picked from his shirt pocket one of the combo penlight/pens marked “Marcam Pharmaceuticals” that he gave out as marketing freebies to doctors and pharmacists. Using the dim penlight glow, he quickly looked around. There was one main large room, with a fireplace and couch on one end, a kitchen area on the other. A loft spanned over one half of the room, above the kitchen. He found a light switch and flicked it on; there was no response. Likewise, the stove and refrigerator were both empty and powerless, and the thermostat did nothing when he turned it to “heat”.

No juice — dammit! Alan figured whoever owned the cabin had powered it down for the winter. He could search for a breaker box, but he was losing precious seconds as Joseph was dwindling. He ran through an open door and found a small bedroom with a king bed, bedcovers and blankets; an attached bathroom had two thick towels folded and on the counter. Bingo!

He grabbed Joseph and carried him to the bedroom, as he recalled pages from his Eagle Scout survival manual on how to treat hypothermia. He quickly laid out open as many blankets he could find over the bed. He put Joseph on the floor, grabbed the towels, and started to strip the wet clothing off. Holding his tiny light in his teeth, he took off his own gloves then unbuttoned Joseph’s coat, then flannel under jacket, then shirt, then pulled off his shoes and pants and underpants. He dried the young one’s skin as he disrobed him. Joseph still had a t-shirt on — Man, this guy really dresses in layers — so he pulled that off. There was still something yet underneath that — a stretchy Ace bandage wrapped around Joseph’s chest. Does he have a busted rib? He didn’t act like his chest hurt earlier on the trip.

The bandage was wet, so Alan undid the metallic clasps and off it came. Joseph was still shivering violently. Alan furiously dried his chest area, and as he did he felt yet something else attached there. He pulled the towel away and pointed his mouth-light to the area to see-

Breasts. Definite, rounded, full breasts.

He pointed the light downward. Hadn’t he dried some…? Yes, there was a penis and scrotum.

Alan stood stunned, nonplussed. What…?

Then, snapping back to the urgency of the situation, he finished drying Joseph. We’ll sort this out later, if he doesn’t die on me here. Joseph’s hair got wrapped up in a towel. Alan pulled the young man up and laid him across the foot of the bed that he had laid all the blankets on. He then disrobed himself down to his underwear and climbed on top of Joseph. Grabbing the blanket’s edges hanging off the foot, he then “logrolled” himself and Joseph towards the head of the bed, making a human burrito.

Alan, being overweight and having exerted himself, was very warm, in contrast to Joseph who felt like a giant ice cube. Alan willed his body heat into him, hugging him and rubbing his back. Please live. Please live.

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TO BE CONTINUED ON 11/28
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Thanks to Sephrena Lynn Miller for a quick first read!

Thanks to the "BCTS Closeteers" - especially Jana - for help with the pic!

If you've gotten this far, please leave a comment! (Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!)

Thanks for reading! - **Sigh**