The Snow Man – Part 1
Alex was driving on the interstate about fifty miles west of Denver when the world turned white. First came the blanket of fog, then thin sheets of snow that blew in over the rocks on either side of the highway and drifted, snakelike, across the pavement. The snow flakes became bigger and heavier. Soon the road signs were unreadable and the drop-off beyond the guardrail disappeared into a featureless void. It was all Alex could do to keep his Blazer pointed in the tracks left by the truck ahead.
Alex was a traveling salesman for a company that manufactured sports equipment. Standing at six feet and weighing 190 pounds on a muscular frame, he was the picture of a strong outdoorsman. His wide shoulders and blond hair gave him a rugged, masculine appearance that brought him plenty of stares from women, and with his easy-going personality he had all the customer accounts he could manage. But he wasn't happy in his job. He was weary of the constant travel and the petty dishonesties that make up a salesman's repertoire -- the pretenses, the empty promises, the insincere handshakes and smiles. Watching the snow drifting on the road, Alex felt a giddy sense of relief like a schoolboy who has learned that school has been cancelled. He'd have to get off the highway and find a safe place to wait out the storm. It was inconvenient, but at least he could spend the afternoon doing something different.
Alex turned off at the next exit and saw a sign that said: "BRUSH CREEK 3 Miles." He'd never heard of Brush Creek before and the surroundings looked rather alien, but he had little choice. The roads were quickly becoming impassable. Gusts of wind buffeted the Blazer as he shifted into 4-wheel drive and steered around a sharp curve. Progress was slow and he'd traveled only about a mile when he saw a sports car on the side with its emergency lights flashing and a person, evidently the driver, making his way through the snow on foot. Alex stopped and rolled down his window.
"Need help?" he yelled.
"Car went in the ditch!" replied the man, gesturing. He had no coat or gloves and a cloud of vapor accompanied each word. "I'll have to get it towed, I think!"
"I'll give you a lift. Hop in before you freeze!" said Alex.
Without further encouragement the man opened the door and climbed into the passenger seat. His teeth were chattering and he rubbed his hands over the dashboard vents. He was younger than Alex had first thought, perhaps 22, or 23. As a sporting goods salesman Alex was good at judging people's sizes and he estimated his passenger was about 5'9 and 160 pounds –suited for soccer if he played sports. His chestnut colored hair was thick and curly and he had clean-cut, almost delicate, features. The most striking thing about him, however, was his eyes. They were dark and intense, and darted quickly at his surroundings. Alex thought there was something unusual about the young man but couldn't put his finger on it. He was dressed inadequately in a ribbed navy pullover, denim jeans, running shoes and socks. He'd make a good model for L.L. Bean, thought Alex.
"Man, I've never seen snow like this! I didn't know it could snow so much!" The young man spoke rapidly. His accent was mid-western but Alex judged he was from a big city.
"You ought to have a coat, you know," said Alex. "Do you live around here?"
