Protect Ellie.
The instinct ran through him, bone-deep, as he steered the vehicle into the wintry landscape. Visibility was low, especially around the curves, and if any trees or power lines were down... He’d figure that out when it happened.
The handles vibrated under his gloves. He tightened his grip.
“How far is the truck?”
She shifted behind him. “Maybe twenty yards away?”
Too close. They had to get off the street, but the snowbanks that lined the road were too high to safely climb at anything faster than a crawl. He could turn off onto one of the driveways, but that would mean leading a car chase right to someone’s home. It could be a dead end—or, worse, what if the owner of the house was outside, shoveling their driveway? Then one more person would be in harm’s way. No, he couldn’t risk it.
“We need to get off the road,” he muttered. “Somewhere past this development where a truck can’t go. I need an exit.”
He’d said it to more to himself, but Ellie answered. “What about the driveway into the national forest, farther ahead on the left? They plow the parking lot, so there will be a break in the snowbank, but the recent snowfall might make it too deep for them to follow us easily.”
Her words sent a little jolt through his system. She knew where she was. She remembered. He had a load of questions for her, but right now wasn’t the time. Instead, he weighed her suggestion. It might work, as long as they could keep the white truck at a distance. As long as they made it through this development.
“Good idea. We’ll try it.” He revved the engine. The mountainside was too bare, exposing the oversize houses, The snowmobile slid around the next curve and the engine sputtered as it grasped at the snow underneath it. They rounded another curve, drifting precariously into the opposite lane.
“How far are they now?” he asked.
“Closer, but their truck is skidding on the snow.”
Michael doubted that would get them to slow down. Instead, it made the truck more dangerous. If the driver lost control, would the vehicle come skidding toward them?
As they raced past a wide driveway, Ellie’s voice came through the intercom. “That’s the last house in the development. The national park is just around the next bend.”
“The turn will be tight, so I’ll need to slow down.” That meant the truck would get closer.
“I’m ready.” She tightened her grip around his waist and another rush of warmth spread through him.
Please, God, give me the courage and the sense to pull this off. For Ellie.
Michael hugged the next curve, trying to gain some distance on the large white truck. “How close are they?”
“Maybe ten yards.”
Too close.
The break in the wall of snow came into view. The more recent snowplowing had blocked the entrance for a truck, but their sled would be fine as long as he took time to get over it—time he didn’t have. He had to pull this off fast. That meant there was no room for error.
“We are putting ourselves in your hands, God,” he breathed.
These were words he never thought he’d say again. Not after God had taken Sunny away from him. Michael’s anger at God, at the unfair world around them, still lived inside him. His faith had been shaken, but somehow it was still alive. Somehow, the words came out.
“Amen,” said Ellie.
“Here we go.”
He scanned for oncoming traffic then gunned the motor, hugging the right snowbank. When they were just a few yards away from the road into the park, he slammed on the brakes then turned to the left. The snowmobile skidded through the snow, turning until the sled was pointing toward the crossroad. But they hit ice, slick and uneven, and the snowmobile slid and bumped past it. The engine sputtered as the track grabbed for the snow.
Out of the corner of his eye, Michael could see the white truck speeding toward them. Focus. Michael fixed his gaze on the opening in the snowbank and throttled the motor. The engine stammered then jolted forward. The truck was only a few yards away, and it swerved, moving far too fast for control on the ice below it. As the snowmobile started onto the heap of drift, the truck’s bumper clipped their back ski, jolting them sideways, pulling them back. The truck swung around, its side sliding straight for them. Michael revved the motor again and they took off up the snowbank, leaping through the air just before the side of the vehicle slammed into them. Ellie clung to him as they flew into the deep snow and landed with a hard jolt.
“You okay?” he yelled.
“Yes. Go.”
Michael’s heart jumped in his chest as they raced along the deserted winter drive. He took a couple deep breaths. “Can you see them?”
Ellie shifted behind him. “They’re right there at the entrance, but I think they’re stuck.”
“Good,” he said, driving them deeper into the park. He continued until he found a break in the wall along the side of the road. It looked like a ski trail, but it hadn’t been used in a while.
He drove up the mound and followed the trail into the forest, trying to get his breathing under control. The trail wove through the forest and then forked. Michael brought the sled to a stop at the fork and turned off the motor. The forest was quiet, but his heart was still jumping, his ears ringing from the buzz of the snowmobile’s engine.
Thank you, God, for showing us the way.
He was sweating and his arms ached from grasping the handles of the snowmobile. He flexed his hands then climbed off the vehicle. He waded through the deep snow, trying to process what had just happened. Michael laced his hands behind his head and took a couple of long, slow breaths. There was no mistake. The men in that vehicle had wanted to get them badly enough to risk injuring everyone, themselves included.
He and Ellie were still alive. He had kept her safe. He had done it. Relief poured through him, so intense that his breath caught in his throat. He had failed Sunny, but he had not failed Ellie—not yet. That meant something. If he could be there for Ellie right now, maybe he could get out from the heaviness that clouded every morning, every night, even his dreams. Maybe. After all, he had found himself praying when faith had escaped him for years.
But the burst of hope was chased with a twist of guilt. How had he connected Ellie and Sunny so easily in his mind? Sunny had been his soul mate, his perfect match, and he hardly knew Ellie. Michael pushed away the messy thoughts. They were in the middle of a forest buried in snow, and a truck had just tried to run them off the road—a truck almost certainly driven by two men who had already tried to kidnap Ellie. And those two men weren’t the only ones after her. They were nowhere near safe yet.
Finally, he turned to Ellie. She had taken off her helmet and was scanning the forest with a dazed look in her eyes, like she was just as shaken up as he was. Her fiery hair was tamped down from the helmet, but when she shook her head, her curls sprang back to life.
Michael took off his helmet and looked into her gray eyes, wide and serious.
“Thank you,” she said.
