For the first part of this story, click the Sylvan Pass topic at the end of this post, in the sidebar to your right, or just click here.
“Is it worth it? We could die up here, but you wanted to save a few hours. I hope you're happy.” Eve was justifiably pissed. The sandwiches were gone, the beer was gone, and she was stuck in the cab of a U-Haul truck with her husband whom she barely liked, some guy she barely knew – me, and a dog so hyper with pent up energy that she kept climbing over and around all of us. And the place stunk like the adults and the dog hadn't washed in four days. Because we hadn't.
Gerold D. Thibedou didn't say anything except, “I'm sorry.” He had nothing else to say.
I also sat quietly, the uncomfortable third party in a two-party fight. It was obvious to me that their marriage was doomed. It seemed be a two-sided affair, passion and anger, with the random coin flip determining the switch.
The storm stopped on the third day. The sun came out. Snow was up to the door on my side, but drifted clear to the window over on Thibedou's. We tumbled out in relief, still hungry but able to stretch our cramped bodies. The dog burst through snow drifts in fits of burrowing energy.
And it was quiet.
“Hey, Thibedou. Let's rummage around the truck and see if you packed any food in the household supplies,” I suggested.
Eve clenched her fists and folded her arms. “Yeah, you useless bastard. Why didn't you think to find any food back there yesterday, or the day before?”
“Because it would've been too hard to search through the boxes in the dark,” Thibedou said.
Eve screamed a loud piercing scream that echoed from all directions. If anything would've caused an avalanche, that scream was the thing. Fortunately we weren't in a valley, we were just about at the peak. She ran back to the door, kicking snow and she fell right into a drift. She screamed again. Agony, anger, frustration. I thought Thibedou should go to her, but he stood staring as if he had no control over the show. When she reached the truck she pulled out the big six-volt box lights, holding them both over her head she yelled, “What the fuck are these for?” Then she threw one at Thibedou who was still standing slack-jawed. It bounced off his head and thunked into the snow. Thibedou was alert now and the second flashlight missed him. Then Eve was into the glove box and came out with all three Mag Lights. These are the heavy kind with black handles the right diameter for the batteries that power them. She threw the small AA one at him first. “Flashlights. That's what you spend all your money on, fucking flashlights. But when it comes to going into the back of a truck you're afraid of the fucking dark?” She threw the C-cell at him.