Winter has come to Kepler, West Virginia.

It is late December, and the reliable crowd of out-of-state tourists has nestled into

Kepler's hotels and resorts, seeking an authentic snow-bound holiday retreat.

Twinkling lights cover the town's buildings and street lights and a freshly cut, garishly

decorated tree stands in front of City Hall.

It's nighttime, and not a creature stirs in Kepler's festive streets.

But up the road, to the west, a van speeds down State Route 66.

The vehicle emblazoned in the ancient logo of the Mananga-Hila Forest Service is driven

by one Rick Dannon, the agency's chief arborist.

With his working day of tending to the forest's trees behind him, he has packed up his tools

and left the forest to head home.

Through his windshield, the winding highway begins to vanish before his eyes as a sudden,

furious snowstorm materializes in front of him.

Thick, white flakes whipped into a frenzy by a powerful wind blanket his vision in seconds.

Panicked, he bears down on the brake pedal and wrestles with the steering wheel attempting

to maintain control of the vehicle and pull over to the side of the road.

And then, as quickly as it appeared, the storm passes.

The van's wipers kick on, revealing the road before him.

Rick breathes a sigh of relief and turns the wheel, pulling back onto the highway to continue

his commute.

The van pulls away down the winding highway.

It passes out of view behind the mountainside.

...