High Risk

Ambra was trying not to show how scared she was. But Tom frightened her. What she’d done was wrong, she knew that. You didn’t snoop around the way she had. But she’d peered in through the crack in the door and seen the documents spread out; then somehow she found herself taking a step into the room and saw the pictures. They were images of war and devastation. She saw what looked like dead people, mutilated bodies, saw reports about firefights and losses.

This was serious, she thought as her heart pounded and Tom stared at her with ice-cold eyes. The images could be proof of something really terrible. She was afraid now. Tom was suddenly a different person. A stranger who terrified her. The light on the ceiling flickered again. Jesus, she really hoped it was only a temporary power issue. Tom stepped toward her, and she flinched instinctively. He frowned. She was breathing heavily. Her very first foster home. There was a man. He was the first one to hit her. He used to scare her and then hit her. She still had trouble dealing with sudden movements. She had taught herself not to be afraid, but now she was so terrified she wasn’t quite in control.

The lamp flickered one last time, she saw Tom’s face, and then they were plunged into darkness.

“What’s going on?” she asked, aware of how scared she sounded.

“The power’s out,” was all he said. She could only just make him out, a compact darkness amid all the other darkness. She blinked, couldn’t see anything. Her cell phone was out of power. No one knew she was here. She’d been so stupid, so careless. The darkness was penetrating, and she was finding it difficult to breathe.

“Ambra? What are you doing?”

She tried to think clearly and logically. Tried to stop breathing so damn hard. She could feel the cold sweat beneath her arms.

“What?” she said, her voice small.

She heard him move. She hadn’t moved an inch. Part of her knew she might be overreacting, but she couldn’t think straight.

“I need to see if I can get the power back on,” he said curtly. The grown-up part of her knew his hand wasn’t raised to hit her; he was just grabbing the door. But she didn’t really know him at all. He was twice her size, strong as a bear. And he had pictures of dead people in his office. Panic threatened to take over. As he moved out into the dark hallway, she heard his footsteps, but otherwise he was silent.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Nothing.” I don’t want to be here. I’m so scared I can’t think.

“I need to find a flashlight that works. There are candles in the kitchen. And the fire is still going.”

He disappeared again. She was at a crossroads. Should she go back to the living room, deeper into the house? Or should she stay in the hallway, where she was closer to an exit?

She had to pull herself together. Act. She was capable, not helpless. Think, Ambra. She couldn’t stay here, which meant she had to get away. That was her only option. But how? If Tom wouldn’t give her a ride, she would have to come up with something herself. But even if she made it to the car, it wouldn’t be able to handle the storm. It would get stuck in the snow straight away.

The snowmobile!

Keys, she had seen keys somewhere. She closed her eyes and racked her memory. The kitchen. She’d seen keys on a hook in the kitchen. It said snowmobile above the hook. She could hear him rummaging around in the house. Her heart was pounding.

“Ambra?” he shouted again.

She couldn’t tell whether he sounded angry, irritated, or something else.

“I’m downstairs, trying to get the backup generator going.”

Perfect. She hurried to the kitchen as fast as she could. He had lit a gas lamp in there. She found the hook and the key for one of the snowmobiles. The clinking sound made her hold her breath, but he was still making a noise downstairs and didn’t seem to notice anything.

She paused. What was she doing? It was cold and snowy outside. But she hated the fact he was refusing to give her a ride, that he scared her. To hell with him. She sneaked back out into the hallway. She fumbled along one wall and found what she was looking for—overalls. She pulled them on. Managed to find her scarf, hat, and gloves. Drenched in sweat, she pulled on shoes. Paused again. Was this really a good idea? But she’d had enough. He had shown her how to start it, said it was easy. He would just have to come into town to pick up the snowmobile tomorrow; she was only borrowing it. It wasn’t far into town. How hard could it be? And she had warm clothes; she would make it. He wouldn’t decide whether she stayed or left. It was her choice. He could go to hell.

Ambra left the house and closed the door quietly behind her, gasped for breath in the wind, pulled her hat down onto her head, did up the zipper as far as she could, and then hurried toward the garage through the heavy snow and whipping winds.

She made it without any trouble. It wasn’t locked, and she opened the door with a pant, propped it open. The air was calm inside. The shiny black car glittered threateningly at her, but there, there were the two snowmobiles. Still no sign of Tom. She took down a helmet from the wall. For a moment, she thought about going back to the house, but she sat down on one of the snowmobiles and studied the controls, tried to remember what he’d done, what he’d said.

She pulled on the helmet over her hat, fastened it, put the key into the ignition, and started the engine. She gripped the handles, took a deep breath, bit her lip, and accelerated. The snowmobile took off so quickly that she almost lost control when it flew out of the garage. But she clung onto the handles, turned gently, and then she was really speeding ahead.

Tom was right, it was super easy to drive. She’d done it! The snow whirled around her and she hunched down behind the handle bars.

The thing was insanely fast. She steered it away from the house, and the snowmobile sped across the ground. When she turned around, she saw the house disappear from view, and then the forest enveloped her. She was on her way. At this rate, she would be back in Kiruna in no time. If the police stopped her, she would ask for a ride, but in this weather they would surely let her drive in town, even if it wasn’t allowed? She would soon be back in her room, in her bed, and once she managed to charge her cell phone, she would send Tom a message to pick up the snowmobile.

After a while, her initial excitement started to fade. It was much colder and darker than she had expected. Didn’t everyone say that the snow made the night brighter? But it was terribly dark, despite the snowmobile’s powerful headlights. And despite her layers, she had started to shiver. She was almost there, it couldn’t be far now. As long as she stuck to the road, it would all be fine.

She squinted, had trouble seeing through all the snow. Was she still on the road? It was hard to tell; it felt as if the trees were closing in around her. Shouldn’t there have been a road sign or something by now?

She slowed down, glanced around, continued, but a few minutes later she was forced to admit it. She had no idea where she was. She was lost, like an idiot.

There was nothing but forest and snow and darkness all around her. The wind whipped at her face, and she was now so cold that her teeth were chattering. She sped up again, but the sinking feeling inside her grew.

She had overreacted, been a typical, naive city girl about the weather, and she’d let her fear take over. In doing so, she had gotten herself into something that might be a much, much bigger threat than Tom Lexington ever could be.