Something moved in the distance, catching his gaze. A car. It had gone off the side of the narrow mountain road and from the looks of it had been there for a while. It was completely covered in snow, but someone was inside, trying to push the door open. It wasn’t going to happen, not with the snowdrift that had built up.
He slipped the rifle strap over his shoulder and continued down the hill after J.R., toward the car. He didn’t bother to yell that he was coming to help, because there was little doubt whoever was in the car could have heard him over the wind. It had to be a tourist, because any locals would know it was insane to go out in this weather. No one in their right mind would sign their death warrant by being out here. Without Scott’s intervention, this person was done for. He quickened his pace.
He neared the back of the car. The bumper was sticking up, and the license plate read Virginia. No wonder the idiot was out in this storm. They didn’t know any better. He tapped J.R. to get him out of the way, and went to the side of the car where someone had been trying to get out. “Anyone in there?”
“Yes…please, help me!” someone sobbed, the voice edged with desperation. Tiny fists banged on the glass. “I can’t get this door open.”
“There’s a snow drift here, can you put the window down farther?” He tried to peer in where the window was rolled down just a crack, but he couldn’t see anything.
“No, the car’s dead.” There was movement closer to the window, but he couldn’t see through the tinted glass. “Scott…Scott Meyers, is that you?”
“Yeah. You know me? Who’s in there?”