No Exit by Taylor Adams 2

Nightmare Children. The huddle of snowbound cars.
Particularly, she watched the visitor center’s front door,
waiting for Lars to step outside under the orange glow of the
sodium-vapor lamp. Waiting to see if he’d follow her trail.
The door didn’t open.
No sign of Rodent Face.
Melanie’s Peak towered to the left, a sloping shadow. The
intensifying snowfall had obscured most of it, but it was still
the tallest mountain within view. It would be a useful
landmark for navigation.
From this vantage point, she could also see State Route
Seven, bathed in circles of overhead lights. It looked like a
giant ski ramp, glittering with fresh powder. Utterly impassible
for everything here except (maybe) Sandi’s truck. Blue
wouldn’t make it five feet up — or down — that.
She waited there with snowflakes in her hair, listening to
the distant gusts of high-altitude wind. Between them, a bleak
silence. And in it, Darby’s own tortured thoughts ran wild, like
an echo chamber.
You’re the reason Dad left. And if I could have chosen him
instead of you, I would have, in a heartbeat.
In a fucking heartbeat, Maya.
Before hanging up, her mother had answered: If he really
wanted you, Darby, he would have taken you.
She sipped her hot cocoa again. Lukewarm.
Now that she was certain Lars wasn’t following her, she
could finally approach his van. She crossed the exit ramp and
came at it from the north, her eyes never leaving Wanapa’s
front façade. From the interior window, you could see the
van’s right side but not the left, and she had to assume Lars
would be keeping an eye out. Walking in the deep snow was
exhausting; she clambered and panted, spilling her drink. The
air was abrasive on her throat. Her nose burnt. She felt the
moisture freeze on her eyelashes, turning them crunchy.