The Ford Bronco plunges toward the tree line, skimming over the rocky cliff face on its way down to the bottom of the snow covered ravine. A sea of white and green fills my view for a few breath-stealing seconds, until the nose of the SUV—heavy with the engine—drops toward the mountainside and smashes down onto a slight outcropping. The brief collision jolts my body and head forward, toward the steering wheel, but the shoulder strap snaps me back in my seat.

I hope this ride from hell is over, but when the front end careens out over the open air, I know it's not.

The vehicle plummets, its undercarriage scraping over another rocky protrusion with a shuddering crunch. Everyone screams. Our seatbelts are the only things keeping us from ricocheting off the SUV's interior like human pinballs.

I haven't had time to think, but as we free fall toward the spruce and cedar, I feel my heart lodged in my throat. The pressure intensifies, cutting off my breath and leaving me gasping for air.

As we drop, my chest presses against my seatbelt.

Straight down, the tree tops race toward us. I can't estimate the speed of our descent, but the branches reach out and claw at the SUV on the way down.

As the vehicle draws close to impact, I feel the g-forces pulling me toward the windshield, fighting against the shoulder strap which holds me back.

The branches slap the outside of the Bronco, marring the shiny red paint and knocking off the side mirrors. As we fall, the limbs grow thicker and stronger, shattering glass, crumpling fenders, and buckling quarter panels. The thick arms slow the plummet, but not enough to stop it. We nosedive and smash into the ground. The impact rushes up through me, throwing me toward the steering wheel and then whip lashing my body back like a rag doll.

The airbags blast out, protecting my face and chest, but punching me straight in the mouth. All my joints burst into pain and I can't help but squeeze my eyes shut and cry out in shock.

Just like that, we come to a bone-rattling stop.

As light streams in through the busted windows, my vision sways as I hang, suspended, above the dashboard. I feel my bottom lip swelling, wet and warm.

I stare through squinted eyes, groaning from my bruised sternum where the seatbelt broke my fall.

I still can't breathe.

My mind struggles to find out why, and then it hits me. The seatbelt. In a blur with my head tingling, desperate for air, my fingers scramble in every direction, searching for the latch. I'm about to pass out when I click the button and release the belt, allowing me to drop. My arm catches on the strap, turning my body at the last second and driving my shoulder into the steering wheel.

What air was in my lungs, blasts out through my mouth.

I gasp, my torso draped half over the dash. There's a wheeze in my chest, but soon, it clears as I suck in several breaths. When I try to move, the vehicle shifts. It's standing on end with the grill implanted in the snow, the rear end sticking up in the air.

"What happened?" Chloe glances over at me with glassy eyes, slumped over in her seatbelt, chin sagging. "We crashed."

A groan from the backseat. "I think I broke my wrist."

"Isaiah?" I say.

"Yeah. It hurts. I can't bend it."

"Stay where you are. I'll come to you."

More moans come from the backseat.

Jasmine leans forward, caught in her shoulder strap. Hunter the same. When I climb up to reach them, the Bronco shifts again, but this time it rocks backwards. It must have been teetering on the edge of balance. There's a metallic creak of tortured metal and then the SUV looses it battle with gravity and falls, slamming down on its back tires, shock absorbers protesting like a ruined set of mattress box springs.

When the fog clears in my head, I find myself jammed between the two front seats, staring up at Jasmine and her painful grimace. With the vehicle right side up, everyone seems to collect themselves, assessing the damage.

"I think I'm going to be sore tomorrow," Jasmine says with a wince.

"We're fortunate." Hunter glances over. "But we'll be lucky if we make it out of this valley alive."

"Why do you say that?" Chloe asks.

"Look outside."

Even in the shadow of the trees, the snow continues to fall, accumulating on the forest floor and blowing inside the vehicle. Heavier than before. Colder than before too, now that the engine isn't running and producing heat. It doesn't take long for a shiver to hit me. When I stare through the busted windows, I thought I'd see a way out, but I only see spruce trunks with sheared off knots where limbs used to be, blocking our path. I can see around the trees on each side, the only way I could know how bad the snow is falling. We can't even crawl through the windows to get out because we're wedged in so tight between the trees. The doors won't open either.

But behind Jasmine, who's coughing—knocking the cobwebs loose, I guess—the back glass stands half open. The impact must have shaken it loose.

"We should get out of here and try to reach the road. To find help," Chloe says.

I push up and straddle the center console. "If we can climb the mountainside. We fell a long way down."

"She's right," Hunter replies, clicking his seatbelt free. "We're in a valley. I think it runs east and west, but from what I remember on the map on my phone, is that we're miles and miles from Aspen and any other civilization."

"So, we can go either way, east or west, but not up." Jasmine swallows and holds Hunter's stare as we all realize we're in a serious, life or death situation.

"I doubt I could climb with this." Isaiah holds up his swelled wrist, his face twisted in pain. "It hurts. Bad."

Hunter sees me looking at the back glass and then makes a quick assessment of the other avenues of escape, only to find them blocked, as I had. Bark had shaved off the trees and fell in his lap. He brushes it off and then turns to face the back.

"That's how we get out," he says. "Let's go. If we stay here, we'll freeze." In the vehicle's rear compartment, he squats near the hatch and glares at us. "Come on, we have to get our cold weather gear and get out of here. We need to find shelter somewhere, especially if we can't find any way to reach the road to get help."

"You mean, we're on our own." Chloe's countenance falls. "In the cold."

"Afraid so."

Hunter puts his shoulder against the glass and shoves it open. It won't stay, so he slivers through, and when he reaches the ground, he turns around and holds it up for us. He helps Jasmine out first, holding her hand as she shimmies over and out. When her feet touch down, she loses her balance and trips into his arms. It lasts for a moment, but I'm not the only one who notices it. I lift my gaze to Isaiah and his narrowed eyes. Even while his body shivers, his jaw tightens as Hunter and Jasmine separate.

I don't think he could see Hunter's expression, but I saw it. His eyes locked onto Jasmine's, his gaze shifting, searching hers for any reaction. Was she hurt? Did she know he cared about her wellbeing? Maybe something else? Something deeper?

"Excuse me, let me by." Chloe and her dangling braid shoves past me. "Eliza can't stop staring at Hunter long enough to help you. She climbs over the backseat into the trunk area and stretches back for Isaiah and his swelled wrist. "I'll help you."

I grind my teeth. Refuse to comment, denying the pleasure of snatching her braid and yanking it hard. She didn't have to say that in front of Hunter. I think she's pissed I wrecked her brand new Ford Bronco. From the looks of it, it's totaled. I'd be mad too, but she's the one who wanted me to drive, so I blame her. The heat of embarrassment radiates and flashes across my cheeks. I'm sure my face is red from the frigid air and Hunter's quick glance at me.

My breath fogs out. There. Gone. There again. Gone again. With each exhale and inhalation.

When Jasmine sees Chloe assisting Isaiah, she tries to help, and so does Hunter. But with the broken wrist, the injured wide receiver can do nothing but lean into Chloe's embrace as his feet hit the ground. He slips on the ice and she catches him.

"You okay?" she asks.

He swallows. "Yeah, yeah, I'm good."

As I crawl out by myself, I notice Jasmine's uncomfortable glare at her boyfriend and the blonde cheerleader who he can't take his eyes off of.

"Thanks for the help," I say, hoping to get everyone back on track. Sarcasm is my crutch sometimes.

Hunter steps closer. "How are you?"

"I'm fine." He only asks after it's obvious everyone forgot about me.

"We should get our gear," he says, moving on quicker than I'd like.

He steps up on the rear bumper and hoists himself onto the vehicle's roof. Chloe's beautiful sports-utility-vehicle now looks like a crumpled mess between the trees. Fortunately, there's not a tree on top of it, but there is a severed branch, which Hunter tosses aside to access the cargo carrier on top of the vehicle. I'm sure Isaiah would help, but he can't with his injured wrist. He stands to the side, staring as Hunter does all the work, taking his place as the alpha.

The thought of Hunter assuming the role as the new leader of the pack makes me chuckle.

"Something funny?" Chloe directs her hardened gaze at me.

I shake my head and remain silent.

"I'm just glad we're all okay," Jasmine says. "The crash could have killed us."

"I'm far from okay." Isaiah brandishes his wrist for everyone to see. "This will take months to heal up for next season."

He's thinking about his senior year of football and a pro career, when all of us are in danger of dying from the elements.

Hunter slings the last bag onto the ground, erasing some of our footprints in the snow. "Aspen is west. A long way away. Too far to reach on foot. I say we hike in that direction, hoping to find a way up on the road, if this valley runs parallel to it."

As he speaks, snowflakes land on top of his head and cling to his facial hair. When I survey the rest of us, I realize the icy precipitation is doing the same to us all. My teeth rattle, my insides quivering, which makes me think of my gear. We all brought a suitcase and a backpack. Inside my luggage, I find my laptop and clothes. I grab my thermals and an extra pair of jeans and a sweater. My gloves, a wool hat and my earmuffs. As I dig into my case, everyone else does the same, rifling through the things most important to them. Hopefully, they're using wisdom and not thinking about the weed and the beer. Then I see Isaiah stuff a pint of whiskey into his backpack. He has to use his feet to hold the bag in place while he works with one hand. A second later, Chloe crams a bag of weed into hers. Hunter sticks a knife in his pack and Jasmine slips her phone into her back pocket. We all have phones, but I doubt we'll find a signal with all the mountains.

I stare at my laptop and bite my lower lip. It won't do me any good and it'll only add weight to my pack. Besides, the cloud has all my work backed up, anyway.

I snag my notepad and a pen and thrust them into my backpack with a few items that will aid in survival: matches, a lighter in case the matches get wet, a thermos, not a canteen, and the wool blanket that I planned to cover up with next to the fireplace in the cabin. I had imagined myself typing away on my laptop with a hot cup of coffee and a gleam in my eye as I plotted out my new murder mystery novel.

The bitter cold snaps me out of my trance.

Shivering, I put my parka on and zip it up. Wipe the blood from my lip and sling it to the ground. The deep crimson stains the snow.

My mind goes back to planning how I can stay alive. As I thought before we crashed, I'll have to make do with what I have and adapt to our situation. All of us will have to do that. Or we'll die. Apparently, the coin is still up in the air, but I feel it's about to land. And when it does, I'll have to deal with the consequences.

With that, we set off, bundled up in layers with our backpacks filled with the things we need to survive. The snow is coming down hard as we stick to the trees, the only shelter we can depend on for now.

We have each other, but I wonder if our backstories will decide our fates. I can't help but think of things in terms of a writer's world view. But this one isn't fictional, it's real.

And it's cold. Freezing, in fact.

It's life or death.

At that moment, I think the coins lands with a resounding thud, sealing our fates. We just won't know the outcome until the bitter end.

—————

Chapter 2 - 2,338 words
Story Total - 3,953 words