going to get, she closed her eyes and breathed. Deeply.
“I will not die out there,” she whispered. Opening her eyes, she stepped once again into the icy maelstrom. “I will be strong. I will find the light, which will be attached to a warm and occupied house, and someday in the future this entire night will be nothing more than an awful, distant memory. A story I will tell over drinks.”
Right. A story and not the end of her life.
Hunching her shoulders against the wind, Meredith trudged away from the car, keeping her head angled downward and focusing on staying upright.
Her pace was slow, almost sluggish, due to the snow and the wind and the layers of clothing she wore weighing her down. While she had no actual sensation of time, it seemed to take forever to break through the trees and reach the road. So long, in fact, she had a moment of chilling fear that perhaps the car had spun again before the collision and she was walking in the exact wrong direction.
Relief centered in the pool of her stomach that this wasn’t the case. Shoving her hands in the pockets of her coat—the socks she’d used as mittens were already wet, leaving her with frozen fingers—she paused to get her bearings. Here, at least, there was zero doubt as to which route to take. Uphill, the way she’d been driving. She’d continue along until she saw that light again. That light would lead her through the storm to safe ground.
Okay. She could do this.
“I am woman, hear me roar,” she said into the wind. Silly, maybe, but the words gave her another bolt of strength, of courage. Of belief in herself. Whatever worked, right?
She started the trek, walking smack-dab in the middle of the road, using every muscle in her body to stay upright, all the while pretending that she didn’t notice how the cold was seeping through her multiple layers of clothing. Or how her thighs were burning from the exertion. Or how her heart pumped faster, harder, with every labored breath. She kept her gaze glued in the direction she’d seen the light, praying she’d see it again with every step.
So far, just unforgivable darkness.
Had she made a mistake in leaving the car? No. Don’t think like that. If she had made a mistake, there wasn’t a darn thing she could do about that now. What she had to do, all she could do, was keep moving. That was her only job, the only “rule” she needed to follow.
“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” she said.
Time melted into a black hole of nothingness. She could’ve been walking for five hours or five days...she no longer knew. For a good while, her mind remained clear and her focus unfettered by the still-worsening weather or the effect it was having on her body.
But when she realized that it seemed she had gone a farther distance uphill on foot than she had in her car, still with no sign of the glowing light, fear and desperation rode in and took control.
Tears that she’d held back rushed her eyes and clogged her throat. Her legs, frozen and unwieldy, gave in to the demands of the wind and buckled at the knees. She tried to catch herself but couldn’t.
Losing her balance, she toppled backward and landed in a heap in the thick, icy snow. She instantly went to stand, but between the weight of her clothes, the ferocious, sharp bite of the wind, the gales of stinging, slashing snow and the unexpected unresponsiveness of her numb limbs, her attempt was met with failure. As were the next three.
She breathed deeply, searched for and found an inner kernel of strength amidst the fear. Of course she could stand. She’d been able to stand for most of her life. It was second nature. It was easy.
She breathed in again, rolled to her knees and planted her hands deep into the snow, until she felt the ground and then, after counting to three, shoved herself up.
She didn’t waste time feeling relief or in congratulating herself. This was bad. Worse, even, than she’d let herself believe when she’d ventured from the Honda. Yes, she quite possibly had erred in judgment.
Now, her decision to tread through the storm instead of staying put, where she would have had protection from the wind and snow, felt ludicrous and shortsighted and...well, stupid. Because no, she still did not see that light.
She had been so sure, but could she have imagined it? Perhaps. Especially with her deep desire to locate shelter, yeah, it was possible.
Meredith stopped. Should she turn around and try to find the car? Did that even make sense? The return trip was sure to be easier, since the wind would blow against her back and push her forward, but she wasn’t positive she’d be able to locate the car again. Confusion swept in, mixing with her exhaustion and panic, making it nearly impossible to form any decision other than to do just as she was: stand in place. And that...well, that would seal her fate.
Right. Keep moving.
She started to walk again, forcing her body through the unyielding storm, her vision once again aimed in the direction she’d seen the light. If it hadn’t been a mirage, she would see it eventually. But she couldn’t stop again. No matter what, she couldn’t stop.
One step. Two steps. Three, four, five and six.
When she reached ten steps, she started over with one. Anything to keep walking. If she stopped again, that would be that. And she was pretty sure if she fell again, she’d curl up in a ball and close her eyes. Because oh, every ounce of her body yearned for rest.
On her third set of ten steps, acceptance that, yes, she might be facing the last moments of her life seeped in.
How was that possible? How could this be it? How could she be done? What had she accomplished and what would she be remembered for? What dreams had she fulfilled? Did even one person on the face of the earth really know her?
The answer to that last part came swiftly. How could anyone else really know her when she didn’t yet know herself? This trip was supposed to be the official, if belated, start of that journey. A time to make sense of all she’d learned, of what she’d thought was true balanced against the real truth. And then, over the next year, the rest of the pieces would fall into place.
That had been the plan. Not this fight for survival.
Until her early twenties, she hadn’t had to fight for much of anything of importance. She and her two brothers were raised in an affluent household. Their parents were strict but attentive. Her childhood was filled with private schools, extensive travel and chauffeur-driven cars. Extracurricular activities were carefully chosen by her parents, and success in school was demanded more than encouraged.
Meredith’s grades were always exemplary. She liked to learn, so that part of the equation came naturally. And yes, there were moments she wished her parents would loosen their will in favor of hers, but mostly she towed the line. She went to the college of their choosing, majoring in business as they expected. She fed her love of art with a class here and there, trips to various museums and devoting hours of nonstudy time to sketching and painting.
During her final year of college, she fell head over heels for a man who did not fit in her parents’ neat and tidy box of expectations for their only daughter.
Alarico—Rico—Lucio worked as a mechanic, but he had big dreams and, she believed, the will to fulfill them. He drew her into his world quickly, so fast her head spun. He came from a large and boisterous family that had made Meredith feel at home the second she met them. They accepted
