Page 8 of Blizzard Babies (Alaska Blizzard #6.5)
Gage
Two hours up and down the highway with no sign of them.
If they skidded off the road or something, the snow is coming down fast enough to cover it, so I haven’t found a god damn thing. And I’m equal parts pissed off and scared.
I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up considering the weather conditions, but I also can’t give up. Everything inside of me says my wife and her friends are in trouble. And my players—the husbands of those women who also happen to be my friends—are counting on me.
My unborn child is counting on me too.
Laurel is probably fine, but there’s that tiny voice in my head—the one that kept me alive during my time as a spy—screaming that she isn’t. Whether it’s our intense emotional connection or some other sixth sense I can’t explain, I know she needs me. So I will not give up. Not for any reason.
I pull off the exit and make my way to a small strip mall.
This is a generally residential area with lots of little neighborhoods.
I don’t know if the ladies are near here or somewhere else entirely, but I tend to trust my gut, and my gut tells me they came this way.
Sara only lives a couple of miles away, and Laurel said they were dropping her off first.
If only I had a fucking clue which direction they were heading.
They could have detoured, stopped for food, or who knows what else.
I called local law enforcement just before I left the house, but they said there were no accidents so far; most people stayed home.
They have all-terrain vehicles they could use in the snow, but with very little visibility, it’s dangerous for them to try.
Which leaves me to soldier on.
I pull a bottle of water out of the backpack I filled and take a long drink. It isn’t as cold as I’d thought it would be, but the wind is brutal.
Where are you, baby? I think, taking in my surroundings.
Streets are deserted as the wind howls and snow swirls around me. There’s already a foot on the ground, with a lot more on the way. I need to find them sooner rather than later, and I yank my phone out in annoyance, hoping beyond hope I have a signal here.
Missed call.
How the fuck did I miss a call? I jab at the screen to open it, though I can barely see it.
Charli Laasonen.
Charli called me four minutes ago!
Fuck.
I hurriedly call back, hoping I’ll be able to hear her.
“Gage!” She sounds far away but okay.
“Where are you?” I yell.
She says something I can’t quite understand.
“Hang on, Charli!” I leave the snowmobile in the parking lot and run toward the strip mall. Nothing is open, but I’ll have a little cover under the overhang, and that might help with my ability to hear her as well.
“You still there?” I ask.
“I’m here.”
Thank fuck. I can hear her clearly now.
“Where are you?” I repeat.
She recites an address. “It’s near the Book Cellar in the strip mall.”
Book Cellar.
Why did that sound familiar?
I look up and, sure enough, I’m standing in front of the store.
“I left my SUV in a ditch down from the highway. And Gage—Laurel’s in labor.”
“What?” I freeze.
“A car spun out in front of me, and I went off the highway,” she says. “We landed in a ditch not too far from here. I don’t know how far, exactly, since I walked.”
“I’m coming to find you,” I say hurriedly. “Stay where you are.”
I pull up the address she gave me and am glad to see it’s less than a tenth of a mile away. I go in the direction the GPS pointed, and finally see her standing on the front porch of a small house across from the strip mall, waving frantically.
If she’s okay, Laurel is too, I tell myself.
“Hi.” I join her on the porch and give her a hug. “Glad you’re okay. Do you remember where you left the car?”
“That way.” She points. “I’m not a hundred percent sure it’s directly that way, but you can see my footsteps for now.”
“I’m going to try to follow. You should stay here.”
She looks conflicted. “Yes, but?—”
“I know, hon. I know you want to help, but it’s better for me to go alone.”
She finally nods, and I squeeze her arm before running back in the direction of the snowmobile.
My only goal now is to find my wife as quickly as possible.
I really don’t want our daughter to be born on the front seat of an SUV in the middle of nowhere, without medical assistance.
Of course, I’m not quite sure how I’m going to get my very pregnant wife to a hospital either. If they weren’t able to drive the SUV out of wherever they were, I don’t think I can put a woman in labor on the back of my snowmobile either.
Christ, this is a clusterfuck.
I need help but don’t know who to call.
An ambulance won’t be able to drive in these conditions, but maybe a fire truck can? I don’t know any firefighters personally and calling 911 will be difficult since I can’t give them a location.
I’m going to have to find them first and then make a decision.
Just as I restart the snowmobile, a flash of red catches my eye.
“Oh, thank fuck,” I mutter to myself. Then I gun the engine and take off after the fire truck.