I'm not sure what woke me up, the pain in my arm, or the headache in my head. Whichever did didn't matter at that moment. I was hanging upside on the inside of my car, the seat belt kept me afloat from the roof of said car. My head was spinning from all the blood that had flowed into it and my arm was blistering from the seat belt that had been more than likely carried me for hours.

I reluctantly forced my uninjured arm to the buckle of the seat, and pressed the button. I landed on my sore arm, yelping out of pain as I did. I laid motionless on the roof of my car trying to ignore the pain that flooded my body.

After a moment of stillness I finally had enough strength to crawl myself to the left side door of my car. I tried to open the door and felt it give resistance, more than likely the snow that had piled up on it.

I sat down on my ass and starting kicking the door, just hoping that it would provide enough space for me to get through. Eventually after minutes of kicking, and getting a sore leg, I finally managed to get the door open.

I crawled through the crack in the door and looked at my surroundings. Everything was as I expected, cold, dark, and ultimately snowing. But the one thing the confused me the most was that there were no tracks anywhere. You'd expect after getting into a car crash that you'd leave some sort of trail to your car, especially in the snow, but I didn't see anything. It was as if the ground wasn't touched for days.

I simply stood there for a few moments, the magnitude of the situation I was in finally getting through to me. I didn't move I was simply frozen on the spot, trying to comprehend what to do. I pulled out my cellphone, hoping that I had a connection. Of course it told me that I am out of the receiving area. Those words shook me. I was miles away from civilization, and I was stranded in the middle of nowhere.

With little options I went back inside my car and started to think as to what I would do. It was hard trying to come up with ideas. The bitter coldness from the outside was leaking inside the comforts of my car, it was distracting.

I felt my body shiver and shrivel while my mind was still looking for way that I could survive. Eventually I just abandoned the idea of brainstorming and decided to look around my car for my winter coat. I crawled around on the roof of my car, and started to rummage through it. As expected I found it a little worn out but still durable.

When I picked up the coat, I had found Timothy's backpack. I completely forgot that it was in the car. Unlike other elementary kids his backpack was big, bigger than his body if I remembered correctly. I put my coat on and looked at my son's once worn backpack.

Kathleen and I had to get him the overwhelming backpack because of how many textbooks he had to carry. A child his age shouldn't have been carrying textbooks in the first place. But it wasn't my place to decide the teachers feared that some of the other kids might've destroyed them if they stayed in the school.

With tender care, I picked up Timothy's backpack. It was still heavy and felt like a brick I didn't need to think too long before I opened it up and dumped its content out of it. While doing so, I felt something sharp poke my finger. With much more care this time I put my hand back into the backpack and pulled out a small pocket knife.

It was about three inches, had an orange handle, and was easily concealable. Since your probably wondering about the knife, I gave to Timothy on his first day of school. The neighborhood his school was in wasn't exactly the safest I had bought the blade to ensure that he had an edge if he ever got into a fight. I made him promise me that he wouldn't tell his mother.

The sheer nostalgia that the simple little thing brought was enough to bring a tear to my eye. I stuffed the knife into my back right pocket and went back to dumping the backpack. I put the then empty backpack on the side door and continued searching through the wreck of my car.

Many of the bottles of water I had in the car were either broken or weren't there. I collected what I could only having three bottles and setting them down near my backpack. I then continued my search for any sort of cans of food I could scavenge. And like before there was hardly any of it and I only managed to collect four cans and lay them near my backpack.

While looking around I managed to find my old revolver, with its holster, my hunting rifle, and the boxes of ammo spilled over. It was interesting finding them so close to each other in the carnage of what was once my car. I was incredibly befuddled I had given my gun back to PD, and yet there it was in the palm of my hand fully loaded and as menacing as ever. It confused me to no end, but I was more or less grateful that I didn't have to rely only on my rifle as my only source of protection.

With no other choice, I put my holster on and put the revolver in. I didn't know how long I'd be out there so I grabbed as many bullets as I could carry in the backpack without it being a burden, and estimated that I had at 150 bullets for each gun.

I haven't fired a gun ever since Timothy died, I more than likely got rusty, had no idea how long it would be until I saw civilization, and I had no idea how long it would be till I ate real food. So I grabbed as much as I was able and stuffed my backpack with everything that I managed to find.

The backpack was slightly budging from everything that I had put In it, but despite it's massive behavior, it wasn't as heavy as I thought it would be. I put the backpack on and pulled on its straps making sure that it wouldn't fall off my back. I then grabbed my rifle and threw the strap around my arm, making it lie against the backpack, and made my way out of my ruined car.

Once I was outside, I felt the iciness of the wind smack my face and felt the coldness of the snow burn my feet. I was half tempted to go back inside my car and wait for help but I knew if I did I probably wouldn't be found, and would've starved to death if the cold didn't kill me first. Without much choice I trudged through the snow, into the everlasting vastness of the cold desert

I was in that Alaskan plain for three days. I hadn't found a living soul out there, the only company I had was the blistering wind and the icy ground. You know how hard it is to sleep in a blizzard that never ends? I hadn't slept in those three days, the sounds of the winds kept me up, and coldness of the snow froze my skin.

I started seeing things after two days without sleep. I saw people out there, I thought I saw cities; I even managed to see figments of Kathleen and Timothy out there. I knew they weren't real, but that didn't stop my emotions from breaking loose. But those were the least of my concerns; I was more concerned about my physical state.

I was thankful there wasn't any hostile wild life but that didn't make my situation any better. Most of my water had turned into ice and all of my food had been frozen solid, they were useless. I survived out in that wasteland by forcing everything down my throat. I know I could survive three weeks without food, but water situation wasn't exactly helping.

I was tempted to eat the snow, and I did, but it didn't exactly end well for my mouth. When I bit into the cold treat, I felt my tongue burst into flames and my mouth cry in agony. The bitter coldness of the ice had nearly frostbitten my tongue and left my mouth to burn.

It didn't look good for me, yet somehow I managed to find train tracks, and while it may not be a safe haven, they paved the road to one. I had followed those tracks as best as I could in the snow and eventually after three days of restlessness, coldness, and starvation I had finally found a sliver of hope.