“I love you, baby girl.”
Leni tried not to cry.
“Hold your breath. Go up.”
Mama cracked the hammer against the window, hard, fast.
The glass crackled into a webbed pattern, sagged. For a second it held together, and then with a snap! it broke. Snow dumped into the bus, covering them.
The cold was shocking.
Leni lurched forward, climbing over her mother, trying not to hit her arm, hearing her moan in pain, feeling her mother’s good hand come up through the snow to push her.
Leni shimmied through the window.
A branch smacked her in the face. She kept going, crawling on the side of the bus until she reached the hillside, which had been scraped and scarred by the plunging vehicle; black dirt and broken branches and exposed roots.
She launched herself forward, flailed for a higher foothold, climbed up the hillside.
It seemed to take forever. Clawing, clinging, hauling herself upward, breathing hard, sucking in snow. But finally she made it. She threw herself over the edge and landed facedown in the snow, on the road. Gasping, she climbed onto all fours and got to her feet.
Whiteout. Her headlamp threw out a razor-thin glow. Wind tried to shove her off the road as she started her trek. Trees shuddered all around her, bent and cracked. Branches flew past her, scraping the torn ground. One hit her hard in the side, almost knocked her over.
The light was her lifeline out here. Her chest began to ache from the frigid air she was breathing in, a stitch formed in her side. Sweat slid down her back and turned her hands clammy inside her gloves.
She had no idea how long she’d been trudging forward, trying not to stop or cry or scream, when she saw the silver gate up ahead, and the cow skull on it, wearing a bowler of snow.
Leni dragged the gate open, over the bumpy ground, bulldozing snow aside.
She wanted to run forward, scream Help! but she knew better. Running could be mistake number two. Instead, she trudged through the knee-high snow. The forest on her right blocked some of the wind.
It took at least fifteen minutes to get to the Walker house. As she neared it, saw light in the windows, she felt the sting of tears—tears that froze in the corners of her eyes, hurting, blurring her vision.
All at once the wind died; the world drew in a quiet breath, leaving a near-perfect silence, broken only by her ragged breathing and the distant purr of the waves on a frozen shore.
She stumbled past the snow-covered heaps of junk and old cars and past the beehives. At her approach, cows began lowing, stomping their hooves as they herded together in case she was a predator. Goats bleated.
Leni went up the ice-slick steps and pounded on the front door.
Mr. Walker answered quickly, opened the door. When he saw Leni, his face changed. “Jesus.” He pulled her into the house, through the arctic entry lined with coats and hats and boots, and to the woodstove.
Her teeth were chattering so hard she was afraid she’d bite off her tongue if she tried to talk, but she had to.
“W-w-we cr-crashed th-the b-b-bus. M-Mama’s stuck.”
“Where?”
She couldn’t stop her tears now, or her shaking. “By the b-bend in the road before Large Marge’s p-place.”
Mr. Walker nodded. “Okay.” He left her standing there, shaking and shivering just long enough for him to return in snow gear, carrying a big mesh bag slung over one shoulder.
He went to the ham radio and found an open frequency. Staticky sound crackled through, then a high-pitched squeal. “Large Marge,” he said into a handheld mouthpiece. “Tom Walker here. Car crash near my place on the main road. Need help. On my way. Over.” He lifted his thumb from the button. Static again. Then he repeated the message and hung up the mouthpiece. “Let’s go.”
Could Dad hear that? Was he listening or still passed out?
Leni glanced worriedly outside, half expecting him to materialize.
Mr. Walker grabbed a striped red and yellow and white wool blanket from the back of the sofa and wrapped it around Leni.
“Her arm is broken. She’s bleeding.”
Mr. Walker nodded. Taking Leni’s gloved hand in his own, he pulled her out of the warm house and back out into the frigid cold.
In the garage, his big truck started right up. The heat came on, blanketing the cab, making Leni shiver harder. She couldn’t stop shaking as they drove down the driveway and turned out onto the main road, where wind beat at the windshield and whistled through every crevice in the metal frame.
Tom eased up on the gas; the truck slowed, grumbled, and whined.
“There!” she said, pointing to where they’d gone off the road. As Mr. Walker pulled over to the side, headlights appeared in front of them.