SNOWBOUND

A thick, swirling crystal cloud billows up behind the semi rapidly approaching on the desolate narrow, snowy Arctic road. I grip the wheel harder, prepping for the icy blast.

Seconds later a strong gust slams the car, all visibility gone. Whiteout! Unable to see the road has curved left, I plow straight into a snowbank, a deep one engulfing the car into eerie darkness. All-wheel drive is now useless.

I smell diesel fumes, and turn the motor off. Above the Arctic Circle the sun sets quite early, becoming dark at two. It is 18° below zero. Snow jams all the doors; the windows are frozen shut. I am trapped, with no service on my phone.

I wonder how long it might be before someone finds me. . . A situation like this makes one think about being prepared.There are a few snacks in my pack and layers of warmth. So hopefully I’ll survive. But will my air supply hold out?

So quiet. Then the motor cools with an odd mechanical cadence, muffled by snow. I know not to turn it on. The map light flickers as the radio crackles in staticky Swedish. In isolation, I’m wishing for a hot, steamy cup of coffee and one of those tasty cinnamon buns.

If I fall asleep, I might not wake up. I’m wondering if the battery will hold out? My eyes close, as dark memories flood my mind, distorting time.

Rhythmic sounds of snow shovels digging, accompanied by unfamiliar voices, awaken me.