"Hm... The snow is getting quite heavy." I said as I carefully gripped the wheel. "At least we are in a car," Jacob grinned, "do you think we're safe here." It was true the police had been catching up to our trails; we thought they'd let go once we escaped to such remote locations as Alaska, but apparently not. I run our chances in my head: snowstorm, frigid temperatures, fake passport. "Yup. They won't be finding us for quite some time." I said. Jacob grinned. Suddenly, a jolt slammed my head against the dashboard.

"Argh! The tires!" I shouted, banging the steering wheel. Darkness enveloped our small vehicle as the storm hailed on outside, the winds of the Great Alaskan wilderness whipping at the car's metal exterior, howling like a beast as we sat motionless in the snow. "We have to get it unstuck," said my colleague. We never imagined the road would get so abhorrent in but a few hours. The GPS screen flickered like a dying flame, yet my head tumbled like a knocked-out passenger on a rollercoaster, consciousness too faint to realize the slow death of our lifeline.

At that moment, we heard a distant rumbling of an engine. "We might have help," mumbled Jacob. The sound got nearer; the frequency of the sound slowed--the driver must have seen our emergency lights--then the vehicle appeared in our sights. It was a gray Nissan with winter tires; the windows were tainted and seemed pitch black to us, though the front windshield revealed a bearded man wearing a black winter coat. He shot a glance from his car, then to our dismay, revved up the engine and shot past our stranded vehicle.

"Sh*t." The driver! “Did that moron actually just drive away?!” Jacob exclaimed. He saw us–he definitely saw us, without a sliver of doubt. “He did. We’re on our own again.” I pressed once more on the gas--a desperate attempt to get the car moving; yet, the car was stuck.

But a few hours ago, my colleague and I were enjoying the beauties of the Alaskan landscape. The ice-capped mountains stood tall and proud, their peaks glistening under the sunlight. The valleys were blanketed in a pristine layer of snow, untouched by human presence. We were but mere observers, humbled by the grandeur of nature that surrounded us. The vibrant hues of autumn leaves painted the landscape, and the crisp air carried the scent of pine trees. The sky was a sleeping beast: cloudless, spanning across the horizon like a blue canvas, the sunshine sneaking past and bathing the world in a ray of light. Yet, it was around noon when the first ominous grays started appearing on the canvas. The beast was aroused. We continued our trail, leaving snowy footprints in the path, and snapping pictures of the surroundings. The sky cracked, a downpour; the beast was awake.

Our car still refused to move. Begrudgingly, we ventured out of the warmth of the car to heave it out of the muddy snow water. My foot landed on something soft, unlike the frozen and packed snow of the (very poorly conditioned) road. I felt something grab me. It wasn't rainwater splashing up, it was warm; then, I could feel a weak force pulling my boots down when I attempted to lift my foot up.

"AH!" I don't think words could describe the horror I felt then. "For Christ's sake! Come over here, Jacob." I shut my eyes and muttered to myself, "No, it can't be. What was I looking at even? That was- that was not real--A hallucination! Yes. It was a hallucination." In my heart, I secretly made some prayers--please, anything to smudge the vision out of my mind--and cautiously peeked out. It was not a hallucination, and my legs nearly gave way under me as I looked down at my feet.

A few moments later, we laid the man's cold, rigid body onto the back of our truck. We had spent great effort removing his body from the packed snow which enveloped him, so he can at least have the heating of the car. The poignant smell stung my nose as it filled the interior. My eyes couldn't help but be drawn to his countenance. The man's face was pale, drained of life and color; yet, beneath the veil of suffering and lifelessness, there still lingered a hint of the man he once was. Even in death, the remnants of his strength and vitality were evident. The chiseled contours of his face hinted at a life well-lived, shaped by perseverance and determination. Though now motionless, his facial muscles appeared taut, as if frozen in the midst of an unyielding resolve. Blood dripped down from the crack of his eyes, like water from a broken faucet. He was--to put it bluntly--quite unbearable to look at. The unforgiving forces of nature! What little can man do against it...

I immediately laid my untrained hands on my dying patient--no heartbeat--push down, again, one more--his countenance bore no change. I could feel him slipping away from us with each chest compression. My colleague stood beside me, part dumbfounded by the situation, frozen like a statue. It was the 20th push now; 21, 22, 23... the man's heart still pounded with an unchanging silence. We did everything we could, which wasn't much, considering this was an SUV lightly packed with survival gear for 2. "Okay! Breath!" I briefly remembered the training of my special force days and lifted his chin up to breath into him. The dull-red first aid kit lay open on the passenger seat, its contents haphazardly scattered in our haste to find any remedy that could save the man's life. But it seemed that fate had already decided the outcome. Sweat poured down my forehead as the weight of the situation pressed upon me. The small, cramped vehicle felt suffocating, filled with a mixture of despair and determination. He shouldn't die; he mustn't die!

The rigid figure suddenly moved his right hand. He was alive!

"Man," He slowly croaked out. Each syllable took a painfully long time to leave his mouth as if they were burning him from the inside. "Man?" I curiously asked, "What man?"

"Car, Nissan," he croaked, his voice strained and hoarse. Each word seemed to scrape against his parched throat, a painful reminder of his struggle for breath. The sound of his raspy voice echoed through the confined space of the vehicle. I leaned in closer, trying to understand his fragmented words. "You saw a man in a Nissan car?" I asked.

I watched as he gasped for air, his chest heaving with the effort. Beads of sweat formed on his furrowed brow, mingling with the pallor of his clammy skin. "Ye- yes. Murder."

Murder.

My spine tingled as that word left his mouth. Jacob gestured me to stop, his disapproving gaze peering in my direction. I knew he was cautious and didn't want to push the man any further. "Murder?" I repeated still, my voice barely above a whisper. The word hung in the air. Suddenly, his trembling hands clutched at his chest, fingers digging into the fabric of his torn shirt. Veins protruded along his temples; the lines etched on his face deepened–time was slipping away.

The man’s breathing suddenly ceased, and I immediately started CPR again. "Don't die. Don't die." I muttered under my breath. 120, 121, 121... Eventually, Jacob tapped me lightly on the shoulder, "Stop. I think he's dead." I slowly withdrew my hands, feeling the ache in my tired muscles and the heaviness of my own breathing. The storm outside seemed to intensify, the beast howling louder, as if in triumph of the lost soul. But grief does not stay long in dire situations. What had we to do now? A dead body was in our hands. Jacob still stared at the body. It was he who told me to stop, yet I could see it--bewilderment--any being could see he was absolutely bewildered with one look. Apart from the occasional gasps of air, he would let out, he stood there motionless, as if time had frozen around him.

"Throw it out. Bury it, 6 feet deep, so no mortal should ever lay eyes on it again," I cried.

"No, no-" he stuttered, "we should drive him back to town. The police will understand. We can explain--w-we can explain everything to them. We must give this soul a proper funeral. It’s too tragic--I can't stand it."

"Jacob, the police won’t understand! We have a dead body! A funeral should be arranged for us if that's your plan." I wailed in protest. It was absurd to even have these thoughts, I wanted to say!

"Our funeral will arrive regardless, perhaps even more tragic in hell if we did not give proper respect to this dead body. We are sinning ourselves here!"

"Respect?" I was becoming desperate now at his arguments. "Throw it out, Jacob! Sin or not, the man is dead, we should not be killed for a crime we did not commit. Further, we should make sure our own little secret does not get exposed!"

He hesitated; he was considering the proposal; I could see it in his eyes, his mind twirling with thought. How simple a problem this is, I thought. If only we didn't get stuck--If only we were a few inches away from that exact spot, or even in a different lane, none of this would have happened! If only we were luckier-After a while, he bit his tongue: "Okay. Throw him out."

Jacob's uncut hair fluttered in the wind as we moved the body off the road. It was a difficult task, considering he was a 200-pound man, and the soft snow added friction to the mixture. We battled the winds and flung him near a tree. Jacob got on his knees and tried to pry away at the snow “Goddamn the ground is like rocks!” Jacob shouted over the wind. “It is! What do we do!” I shouted back, after making an attempt myself. I kicked at the snow in frustration–oh, that worked surprisingly well, the spikes must’ve helped. “Jacob! Dig with your boots!” A shallow hole soon formed underneath us. Then, a thin layer of snow was put on top. The blizzard would surely ensure that the body, along with everything else that stayed still, would be buried. And with that, we returned to the vehicle.

It was a few long hours before we got back to our small inn. It was the only inn, at least not for another hundred miles, and paired with a neighboring gas station and a solitary McDonald's they make up this lonely Alaskan town. It must’ve been confusing that I looked some 20 years younger and magnitudes more handsome in my ID photo, for it was of course stolen, but luckily, the clerk from the front desk did not inquire more, and we proceeded up the stairs into our rooms.

The heat from the air conditioning splashed gently onto my frozen skin like a mother's comforting hand. A mirror hung above the sink. With a sigh, I realized that I must have looked like a disheveled mess. My once neatly combed hair now stood in disarray, tangled by the wind and covered in dust. Specks of mud clung to my hiking boots. The lower half of my trousers bore the unmistakable signs of a snowy struggle, dripping wet from the melted ice. My jacket, once a vibrant shade of blue, was now stained with patches of dirt and grime. Yet, unlike my colleague, who treated himself to a lengthy shower upon returning to his room, I was too tired and desperately wanted some food. Thus, after swapping on some fresh clothes, I headed to the diner.

The dining hall was mostly empty, for it is not usual for people to eat at 11 at night. Out of boredom, I began to study my surroundings. A Chinese couple was seated a few tables to the front; the table to my left was occupied by an old lady; the corner furthest away from the door was taken up by a bearded man. His coat lay beside the table. "The driver?" I thought--curious to see him here.

My thoughts were interrupted by Jacob, who had come down to join me.

"That was an experience," Jacob said after taking his seat next to me.

"No kidding. There is, however, one slight problem. We should eat first though."

Our dinner was promptly brought up by the waiter. We ate our food in silence, mumbling a few compliments for the below-average food. Soon after, we'd both finished our dinner.

It was Jacob who broke the silence. "What's this slight problem you mentioned?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of concern.

I paused, taking a deep breath before responding. "The problem, Jacob, is that we can't just forget what happened out there."

I leaned in closer to his ear, "Don’t you think that the body might be found, say, by any traveler commuting along the only road to get to here?"

"Oh god!" Jacob almost leaped out of his seat as he said that. His already dark countenance bore an even darker gloom, with his pearl-blue eyes widened to a perfect circle.

"But listen first. You panic without remembering one thing: we touched that body in the dead of night, during a storm, mind you. Plus, it was not us who committed this horrific crime; we were sucked into it by luck of circumstance. Also, remember, we were in a snow storm."

"You reassure me, Allen. But are you sure they won’t find us?"

I smiled. "No, they will most certainly find us if they discover the body. We are the only town in 100 miles, Jacob, where do you think they would look? What I mean is we have left no evidence to incriminate us."

"Ah." He did not seem convinced, but we resumed our routine chores of staring out at the landscape and reorganizing the photos we had taken. However, the thought would again cross my mind many times during the night. I turned in turmoil under my ghastly white hotel sheets, trying to picture any evidence which might (falsely) incriminate us--then it hit me: the Nissan. But it was unlikely--terribly unlikely--that the driver would associate a parked car with a murder case; added, the snowdrift had moved the body a sizable distance away from the spot. But what was the person doing in the middle of nowhere at such a time? Was he a lone adventurer who had perhaps lost his way, succumbing to the forces of nature? Seems unlikely, as no sane individual would attempt a walk at night in Alaska. Then perhaps he was thrown there by someone and left to die. But then who could be the murderer? Concluding with that thought, I drifted off to sleep.

It was late in the evening the next day when I heard urgent rapping on my door.

"Allen--please--come--come out--now--" I lazily reached for the door. Jacob came barging in, then roamed around the room like a caged tiger. "I don't understand it. How--how?"

"Calm yourself down, Jacob. Tell me, what has happened?"

"The body--they found it..."