Page 11 of Beautiful Distraction

We remain silent for a long time. At some point, I considerasking her to drive back to the gas station, but then decide against it. Forone, she’s taken so many turns that I doubt she’d find her way back before therain begins cascading down on us. And second, the gas station is at least atwo-hour drive away. If the weather’s playing along, we have three or fourhours to find a motel before dusk falls.

“I could turn around,” Mandy suggests, jolting me out of mythoughts.

“No. Just keep going. The road’s bound to take ussomewhere.” I open my eyes and scan thesky, worried. The gathering clouds dim the light, bathing the deserted road insemi-darkness. It’s only four p.m., but it feels as though nighttime is aboutto fall. As the car rolls on, the first drops of rain begin to splatter againstthe windshield.

Within minutes, the drizzle turns into a raging downpour andthe road begins to resemble a huge puddle of water. The engine is roaring andthe tires keep slipping on the muddy ground. The visibility’s so bad Mandyslows down the car and leans forward in her seat, fighting to see through thefoggy glass.

“Should we stop and wait this one out?” Mandy asks.

“No. Don’t stop,” I yell to make myself audible through thenoise of the splattering rain. “I fear if we stop, the tires will get stuck inthe mud and no one will ever find us out here. No one can possibly survive onTwinkies and soda forever.”

“You’re right.” Mandy hits the accelerator, and the enginethunders in protest. “We’re almost there,” she says for the umpteenth time,casting another nervous glance at me.

I squint my eyes to make out the road, but it’s too late tomake out the dark silhouette to our right.

“Tree!” I shout.

Instead of swinging left, to the other site of the road,Mandy turns the wheel sharply to the right, the unexpected impact of hittingunpaved, muddy earth pushing me against my seatbelt as we barely escape acollision with a tree.

Thunder echoes in the distance, once, twice, when I realizeit’s not thunder but the spluttering sound of a dying engine.

The car cogs several times…and then stops abruptly.

“That was close.” Mandy leans over the steering wheel,panting.

“Yeah. You could say that.”

She turns the key in the ignition, but nothing happens. Shetries again. Still nothing.

Double shit.

This isn’t good at all.

“Ava?” The panic in her voice is palpable.

“We’ll be fine,” I lie, even though I know better than tomake false promises. More than likely, we’ll have to spend the night in thecar, huddled together for warmth in the hope that the rain will stop at somepoint.

I make a mental note to be mad at her for the rest of ourlives.

I peer out the passenger window into the dark. The sky hasturned black, and the torrential rain makes it impossible to see more than afew feet ahead.

Except for a road sign consisting of a wood panel thatappears to have cattle carved on it, I have no idea where we are.

“Great. Just great,” I whisper.

We’ll freeze to death.

The thought is so scary I shiver against the coarse fabricof my jacket and barely dare to look out the window into the pitch black.

Mandy shoots me another nervous look and tries to start theengine a few more times, without any success.

This is it.

Now we’re really stuck.

“It was worth a shot,” Mandy says, raising her chindefiantly.

I stare at her in disbelief. “Who the fuck tries to turnaround on an unpaved road with apocalyptic rain pounding on us?”

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