Page 8 of Under His Control

I ignore the twinge of concern and return my attention to the game. She’ll be fine wherever she is, wherever she goes. Devious people are like scorpions and those things are resilient.

4

Penny

“Today is a day of huge mistakes.”

I probably would’ve been warm and cozy in a bed right now, but no, I had to make things difficult for myself as usual.

Determined to put distance between me and Jacob, I decided to leave Wenora and spend the night in a bigger town I’d passed through on my way up. It was only supposed to be an hour’s drive. Now I’m stuck creeping along in a horrible snowstorm.

This is bad.

This is so bad.

I’ve never driven in anything like this before. I can barely see! The wipers work overtime clearing the snow from the windshield, the repetitive sound drowning out the radio. My useless summer tires are slippery on the road, and the wind won’t stop shaking me. I clench my steering wheel.

“I hate you, winter. I hate you so much.”

Winter is the worst for lots of reasons, the biggest is that it marks the end of my favourite season. Give me an entire year of fall when the temperature is just right, the outdoors are stunning, and Halloween spirit is in the—

My headlights shine on something dark lumbering across the road.

“What is that?” I gasp, squinting through the fierce white stream.

To my dismay, tapping on the brake has no effect. The thing ahead grows nearer. It’s huge with four towering legs, massive antlers, and gleaming eyes.

My heart lurches.

“Oh my god! A moose!”

I slam hard on the brake. A sickening feeling fills my gut when my car still doesn’t obey and it continues sliding on the icy road toward the moose. I wrench the steering wheel and my car fishtails before it whips over the edge of the embankment. I scream as I go rolling.

“Oh god oh god oh god!”

My stomach churns from the violent tumbling. The seat belt digs into my chest and neck, pinning my body, but my arms flail wildly like an inflatable tube man. My screams fill the car, and I cry out even louder when one of my arms smack against the door.

The passenger’s side slams into something solid. Glass shatters, spraying over the seat. There’s a deafening splat as the side airbag deploys but mine doesn’t. My temple strikes the window and I yelp as pain blooms in my head.

With a shudder like a final death rattle, my car goes still. I’m frozen and my heart is trying hard to burst free from its cage. The silence and stillness is so sweet, it’s untrustworthy. My car might somehow start rolling again if I even so much as breathe.

Eventually, my lungs demand oxygen. I suck in the cold air coming through the broken passenger window in one long, deep, shuddering inhale through my mouth. Then I exhale.

“I’m alive.”

After what I just went through, it’s hard to believe. I touch my chest, neck, and face to make sure. The pain in my arm and in the tender spot at my forehead is proof I really did survive. I’m not a ghost who hasn’t realized I’m dead.

“I’m alive!”

A flood of emotion hits me and I start to cry. Snow streams in all over the passenger seat where my handbag was sitting before the tumble. As the adrenaline and tears wear off, the freezing air pouring in becomes unpleasant.

I push the button to start my car. The engine does a feeble turn then goes dead. It’s the same result after a few more attempts too. Oh, no. I survived the roll but my car didn’t.

My whole body aches as I wrestle myself free from my seat belt and hunt for my phone. It was connected to the console for the map until it flew to parts unknown. I find it tucked under the passenger seat. When I hoist it into the air, one triumphant signal bar pops into view.

“Thank god.”

I dial the emergency number with shaking fingers.