Page 103 of Seale the Deal

Mud reaches halfway up the tires, and the passenger side sits lower where the soft shoulder has started to give beneath the weight of the car. Judging by the mess behind it, the driver tried to power their way out.

I crouch beside the front tire. Spun pretty hard, I say.

Glen nods. Yep.

Tourists do this all the time. They rent a vehicle, see the words all-wheel drive on the paperwork, and assume they’ve been handed a vehicle capable of handling anything Alaska throws at them. It’s great for slick highways and snowy parking lots, but it doesn’t magically give a compact crossover the clearance or muscle of a proper four-by-four. Once the tires start spinning in mud like this, all you’re doing is digging yourself a grave.

Or in this case, a very expensive hole for the rental company to deal with.

I walk around the vehicle one more time before I drop down to find a solid recovery point underneath. Mud soaks through the knee of my pants, but I find what I’m looking for and straighten. I’m going to pull it back the way it came. Glen, keep an eye on the shoulder. If it starts to give way more, yell.

He nods.

I drag the winch line from my truck, boots sinking into the mud with every step. The cable feeds out behind me as I make my way to the rental and crouch again. Once I’m hooked on the vehicle, I give everything a firm tug and check the connection twice.

I’m all ready, I call.

Glen and Walter make sure they’re positioned so they won’t get in the way.

I return to my truck and open my glovebox, where I keep the controller for my winch. The motor hums as I power it on, the cable tightening between the crossover and my truck.

The rental ever so slightly budges, but the mud sucks at the tire, reluctant to let the vehicle go. I keep the pull slow and steady—that’s the key to these situations—to avoid breaking anything.

It finally jerks free with a wet sucking sound as it slides back onto firmer ground.

There we go, Walter says.

I keep pressure on the controller until I’m sure the car is safe, then release the button. The winch motor falls silent.

Well, Glen says, walking around the vehicle. At least it’s out.

I join him at the front bumper with Walter, light still in hand.

That’s about the best we can say for now, I agree.

The front end is caked in mud, and I don’t need to go underneath to know it’s not driving anywhere tonight.

Glen seems to reach the same conclusion. I’ll deal with the rest at the station. A tow will have to come from Anchorage in the next few days.

Walter and I nod.

If the excitement’s done, I think I’m going to get on home, Walter says. Do you want to hold on to this light?

Not needed. You have a good night, and thanks for your help. Glen gives Walter a wave.

Walter turns off the light and puts it in the bed of his truck before getting into the driver’s seat. I reel in the last of the line while his truck roars to life.

I guess I’m done here too, I say as I return the cover to the winch. Tell that couple next time they rent a vehicle, all-wheel drive does not mean all terrain.

Glen chuckles. It’ll be in the official report. Thanks for coming out.

No problem.

We get into our vehicles and go our separate ways. By the time I pull into the driveway, the mud on the bottom of my pants has hardened enough for them to feel uncomfortable, and exhaustion has started settling in my shoulders. Despite that, I’m happy to be home and just hope that Wrenley is still awake and we can talk.

When I pick up my phone from the cup holder, I notice I have a text message.

WRENLEY: Remi is dragging me and Audrey out for drinks. Come to Alpine Brewing when you’re done!