Nearer home than work
The road was a roaring blur outside, the car had become a world unto itself amidst a storm straight from the cold side of hell. Caroline sat over the wheel, edging slowly forward along where she hoped to road was. She had known it was a bad idea coming out in this weather, but she had no choice. Her job was miles away, and the public transport had the goose sense to stop running. She flicked the radio on, searching the tortured airwaves for some sign that the storm was going to pass, that she could make some headway. More than once she had thought about turning around and going home, but she had passed the point of no return, where it would take longer to get back to her house than it would to get to work. So she was resigned to crawling along in the darkness, watching the twin cones of sleeting ice hammer the hood, the road and the windshield. Luckily, the heater in the car was working, besides being a little worried about the inability to see anything she was too uncomfortable. The radio settled on a station where a jolly man was singing to a guitar about the benefits of spring, the trickling irony not making itself known outside the small world of the car.
Caroline felt, for a few moments as her mind drifted, like Jonah. The car was her whale, and she was trapped within. Then, just as she her mind was floating further away, a blue and red flash awoke her with a start. The howling of the wind was joined by a more plaintive sound, the yelp of a police siren. She moved her foot a fraction and the car stopped it’s interminable forward slide. Looking out of the back window, she couldn’t see anything except a blurred halo of sporadic lights, partially obscured by the man walking up beside her car. He tapped on the window, and she opened it little, shivering at the icy blast of wind which gleefully dove into her car.
The police officer bent over and looked inside, taking off his sunglasses. Sunglasses, thought Caroline, why is he wearing sunglasses? ‘Excuse me, ma’am, is everything okay?’ he asked, peering into the back seat.
‘Yes, yes officer. It’s just this weather, it’s a bitch to drive in,’ she said, giving him a resigned waggle of her eyebrows. He looked at her closely, shining the torch into her face.
‘See, we’ve had a report of an escape at the State Pen, not five miles from here. Wondered if you’d seen anyone on the road?’
Caroline suddenly got a lot colder and replied in a small, unsure voice. ‘No, I can barely see the road, let alone anyone on it.’
‘I see, well now, if you do see anyone, don’t stop, just keep driving and call us when you get to a phone. Nearest one’s about 7 miles down the road here, at a diner. You got that?’
She nodded, looking worried now at the prospect of driving in hostile conditions with suspected criminals on the loose. She was mentally kicking herself for bothering to make the trip in the first place, it was crazy, in this weather. So, she decided to turn around and drive back home.
The lights of the patrol car faded in her rear-view mirror as she forced herself to drive quickly, fuelled by a deep anxiety. More than once she thought she saw a figure standing on the side of the road, but they were gone as soon as they came and she drove on.
The patterns of wheeling snow outside was hypnotic, lulling her mind into a daze and before long it seemed like she had been driving for weeks rather than minutes. As the road curved gently around the base of a hill she was startled awake by a fence approaching very quickly. Spinning the wheel in the way you are exactly not supposed to do the car skidded out of control, ending up across the highway with the lights splashed over a rockface.
Caroline clutched the wheel tightly, trying to get hold of herself and fight the waves of panic sweeping over her. She opened the window a fraction, and breathed the cold air deeply to clear her head. Just as her head sagged from exhaustion she saw something moving out of the corner of her eye. Without thinking she slammed the car into gear and pulled it around into the face of the storm, the wheels spinning on the slippery road. The old car fishtailed away into the screaming darkness, and the scarecrow in the field flapped in mute futility at the torments of the wind.
Her heart was hammering in her chest as she crested a slight rise and saw the town in the middle distance, a sprawl of orange halos. For the first time on the trip a smile pulled at her mouth, and she sat up straight in time to see the town dip out of view again. She drove around a small cliff, about eight feet high, and the wind redoubled its efforts to dislodge the car from the road. After a particularly harsh battering, the car seemed to creak in defiance and lurch forward. In the lee on the other side of the hill the world was quiet, but the car was still creaking, as though it had suddenly aged ten years in the storm. Caroline was intent on driving as fast as she could to get home as soon as possible and she couldn’t see as something slid off the roof and onto the trunk of the car.
Nearer home than work, and the world was once more doused in primary colours. This time the car took longer to stop, too long, in fact. The patrol car, which was different than the previous one, edged up close and the door opened. The cop trudged against the wind, his head bowed and hand raised to fend it off. He tapped on the window with his torch, waiting. He hammered impatiently on the frosted glass with his fist, peering inside. He could see someone in there, but she wasn’t moving to open the window. ‘Come on lady, open up, police. Open the window, lady.’ He bent once more to peer into the car, and was surprised when his own car rushed by and clipped him, sending him spinning into the middle of the road. He watched as the lights rushed away to be replaced by falling snow, and a silent car.
