Free Bitter Cold by J. Joseph Wright

you know what?” she looked at her wristwatch, trembling. “I forgot how late I am. I’ve got to go, guys. Really. It’s been fun but…”
    Strawn snatched her arm. “Leaving so soon?”
    Her jaw dropped. In one split second, she pictured Strawn telling his underlings: watch for a moment. Wait and watch for when I decide whether the girl lives or dies. When that moment comes, you’ll see my signal. If she lives, it’ll be a subtle wave of my hand. If she dies, it’s a glance and a nod. Got that? A glance and a nod.
    Her fight-or-flight reflex kicked in and she twisted from Strawn’s grip. Then she lifted her leg and kneed him square in the balls. He groaned and doubled over, though she only saw it from the corner of her eye while darting to her car. She heard footsteps in the frosty ground behind her. They stopped when she reached the Neon and yanked open the door, its hinges cracking with ice.
    She threw herself inside and fumbled for the key, cursing at herself for not reaching for it sooner. She’d actually practiced this exact sort of thing. As a female journalist, she knew she’d need such a skill. And every time she’d gone over the drill, she’d made sure to have her ignition key in hand, ready for the getaway. She rooted in her pockets some more and found the damned thing, then, in record time, had the Neon running and moving.
    She took off quickly, though not so fast as to lose traction and reel out of control. In her rearview mirror, she spotted the men hustling toward the administration building. She could tell Strawn by his limp.
    A bend in the road made her lose sight of the NWP men. Blistering wind sent wisps of flakes skittering across the icy ground, showering her windshield with a steady white spray. The Neon’s wipers at full blast couldn’t keep up with the frozen deluge, reducing her visibility even further.
    Up ahead, the road widened, signaling the junction with Highway 30. She glanced in the mirror again. Her heart sank into her intestines. Behind her, coming around the curve, two bright, bluish halogen bulbs sliced through the blizzard. She recognized the white NWP truck. It blended in with the wintry backdrop, yet clearly she saw the outline of the double cab and emergency light mounted on top.
    At the intersection, she wanted to head home to Portland. Then she thought again. All of the sudden, staying at Jeff’s house sounded more appealing than ever. A short drive and she’d be safe and off the road, sitting by a warm woodstove, maybe sipping some nice Bordeaux or, hell, even a beer if he had one. She didn’t care. She just wanted to get off that gloomy, frozen highway. So she turned right instead of left, toward the northbound lane, heading for Jack Falls Road.
     
    SHE PULLED OUT OF Trojan Park and noticed movement on the other side of the highway, shifting shadows in the trees. Nervous energy coursed through her veins. She couldn’t tell…was it black snow? The interplay between dark and light looked exactly the same. Soon, though, brightness prevailed over shadow as headlights appeared up ahead in the oncoming lane. Other lights, too. A dozen orange bulbs outlined the silhouetted exterior of what looked like an eighteen-wheeler.
    She eased off the gas, glancing at the mirror and keeping her head forward. The NWP truck had disappeared. She guessed maybe Strawn and his men had come to their senses and decided to not murder her, after all. Giggling, she realized right then how crazy it sounded. Maybe she’d let her imagination get the best of her. She had to laugh at herself, creeping into the thoroughfare while maintaining a close watch on that big rig headed her direction.
    SLAM!
    Her car jerked forward. The seatbelt locked millimeters before her nose smashed against the windshield. Her collarbone burned where the safety belt dug in. It hurt her neck to look up. She did anyway, searching for a sign of what hit her. Nothing. The impact skewed the rearview mirror, and even when