Darwin Expedition by Diane Tullson Page A

we continue to roll.
    My teeth slam against my tongue and I taste blood. My shoulder and then my head crack against the side window. Old snow in the ditch swipes the side window and fills it with white. Then I see trees, and sky, and I know we’re going over again. That’s when I close my eyes.
    I don’t know how many times we flip, but when we stop, we’re suspended upside down in our seat belts. At some point the air bags blew and now droop from the dash. The air feels dense and it’s too quiet. I take a careful breath and wait—for the truck to roll again or careen down the mountain, but it doesn’t. We’re stopped. I heave open the door, and then I push up on one hand against the headliner of the truck, easing the pressure off the seat belt so I can unbuckle it. I tuck my head androll. It isn’t pretty, but I manage to get out of the truck.
    My legs liquefy, and I grab the door to steady myself. The truck’s front end is jammed solidly against a three-foot tree stump. Good thing, because otherwise we’d be tinfoil at the bottom of the mountain. I stumble around the steaming undercarriage and haul open Tej’s door.
    His hair is hanging in black spines and his dark eyes are the size of quarters. He’s scrabbling with the seat-belt buckle.
    â€œMy truck.”
    â€œI’m fine, thanks for asking.”
    Tej gets his buckle undone, and for a second I think about letting him drop on his head. But I pull him from the truck. He wobbles a bit, and then he stands, looking at the truck, at the crumpled steel and the twisted bumper, at the tailgate plowed upside down in the mud.
    â€œWrecked,” he says. “Totally fubar.”
    I wait for Tej to say something more but he is silent. His eyes are wide open, staring. I shuffle my feet. “You can fix it.”
    Tej gives himself a shake. “Not here, obviously. We need a tow truck.” He yanks his hood up on his blue rain jacket and brushes the hair out of his eyes. After a minute he fishes his phone out of his pocket, opens it and then closes it again. He doesn’t have to tell me: There’s no service this far into the bush.
    The daylight is almost gone. I say, “Maybe we can get a ride out on a logging truck. We could come back tomorrow to get the truck.”
    â€œWe were on this road most of the afternoon and didn’t see a truck. Something tells me we won’t see one anytime soon, not with this rain, not even if they use this road anymore.”
    It was Tej’s idea to take the old logging road. Like he can read my mind, he says, “We could have waited the entire long weekend for them to clear the accident off the main highway.” He shoves a duffel bag under the truck out of the rain. Our gear was in the bed of the pickup. Tej’s snowboard is scattered in pieces. I can’teven see mine. Rain is running down my neck.
    â€œMaybe they’ll send someone.”
    â€œWho? Our parents? “ Tej kicks a sleeping bag under the truck. “Our parents think we’re on the highway to Whistler.”
    â€œI mean when we don’t call. They’ll get worried and start looking for us.”
    Tej shakes his head. “I never call. My parents expect that I’ll be okay or that I’ll deal with it.”
    â€œI call. Sometimes a few days late, but I always call.”
    â€œWell, I’m not sitting here for a few days waiting for an imaginary rescue.”

Chapter Two
    Tej reaches into the truck and grabs a road map from the overhead console, only now it’s on the floor, of course. Rain drills the map as he unfolds it. As he studies the map, his eyebrows knot.
    â€œSo?”
    He folds the map. “If we stay on the forestry road, we can walk out in a couple of days.”
    My tongue is sore where I bit it and Ichomp it again. “Walk? For a couple of days?”
    â€œOr we can go cross-country. It won’t take more than a day, max.”