“Hmmm?”
“Does the windshield wiper look like it's going slower?”
“Looks fine to me,” he murmured, distracted. His attention was on the side window. Mimicking Murphy, he'd used the sleeve of his bomber jacket to swipe away the frost in a sloppy circle. Outside the snowy landscape passed by very slowly.
Garrett's brooding silence was beginning to get on Murphy's nerves. She took her eyes off the road for only a second, just long enough to send him an irritated glare.
A second was all it took.
At the same time, he glanced out her side of the windshield. His eyes widened. She felt the hair at her nape prickle with alarm.
“Watch out!”
Her fingers locked in a death-grip around the steering wheel. Her gaze snapped back to the road. The dimness of headlights cut through the sheet of snow, barely illuminating the large, gawky-looking creature that had sauntered out of the line of trees gloving either side of the road…and into the middle of the road itself.
The animal turned it's head, looked at the car.
And froze.
The beam of the headlights reflected a bright shade of copper-orange in the animal's eyes.
Murphy's reaction was instantaneous. She slammed on the brakes. It was a testament to just how bad her day was going when she realized how familiar it felt to have the back wheels fish uncontrollably over slushy snow.
The Rabbit slipped sideways for a dozen yards. The hood of the car dipped as the front tires sank into a snow-covered ditch.
This time when the engine died, it didn't choke or sputter or cough, it just cut out entirely.
With the windshield wiper no longer working, the snow quickly accumulated on the glass. Squinting through it, Murphy saw the animal—to her jaded eye it looked like a very large, very ugly deer—sprint to the opposite side of the road and disappear amidst a thick patch of needled evergreens and leaf-bare birch and maple trees.
From the back seat, Moonshine yowled his displeasure.
“What on earth was that?” Her voice was high and shaky, one degree shy of full-fledged panic.
Garrett's, on the other hand, was strained from pain. “A moose,” he said, then groaned as he shifted his weight off his wounded leg. “It's a damn good thing you didn't hit it. They've been known to put bigger cars than this out of commission.”
She shivered. “I was more concerned with putting it out of commission.” The raspiness of his tone finally pierced her shock. She turned toward him, concerned. “Are you all right?”
“Oh, yeah. Peachy-keen.” His tone branded him a liar. The way his eyes squinted and the muscles in his jaw bunched said he was in a good deal of pain.
“Do you want more aspirin?”
He looked at her like she'd just offered him a lollipop.
“Never mind.” Murphy faced forward and reached for the key. It felt cold against her fingertips as she gave it a twist. The engine ground.
And ground.
And finally turned over.
One of them sighed with relief; Murphy was unsure if the sound came from her or Garrett. Maybe both?
With trembling fingers, she jerked the shift into reverse. The lone wiper struggled to clear the windshield of snow. Murphy tapped the gas pedal with her right foot. The loud, rattling cough of the engine magnified.
The car did not move.
Her heart skipped a beat as she released the clutch more, pressed down harder on the gas pedal.
Still nothing.