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We burned
them last fourth of July, and
being the stupid fuck I am, I never
got replacements.
Boy, would dad
tear me a
new one if he knew I was driving
around without flares. Comsomolka1
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Thank God I’m
not living at home
anymore.
The
old bastard would
take my
car away again.
She
looked out into the bitter cold once more, and
tensed up as she imagined herself having to traverse an unyielding plain of
snow three feet deep, at least.
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Sure, she’d
try to stay on the road, but she didn’t look forward to it.
Black ice, for one.
Plus, eventually, she’d
have to
stray off-
road; the
homes along this road, so far, were
all set back far, far from the road.
Oh, fuck! she thought.
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Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m going to
die out here, I know it! I
can’t
even see a goddamned house
from the road.
I’m going to have to
follow each of these
driveways up to some
house far
back off the road, and if it’s empty? Yeah, that’s
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With my luck, the house that’s finally occupied will have
some crazy killer fuck in it, and no
one will
ever hear from me again.
Why the fuck
didn’t I
charge my
cell phone?! The thought of
falling unwittingly into
dastardly, homicidal hands was
more than enough reason to wait for
someone to
come along and
help her.
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So
Riley sat, still, in the
dark as the wind
picked up and
began to
shake her
small, raggedy car to and fro.
The
crack in her passenger
door was so wide
that whenever the wind
changed direction, she could
feel a gusty
chill sweep across her
face, like a hand
slapping her with bitter, unfettered cold. Free
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She tried to turn away from it, but it was intent to antagonize as it wisped across her scalp and
prodded at the back of
her neck
like tiny
needles.
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She
checked her
watch.
It was 6:30 p,m.
and
now completely dark.
The blizzard was
just getting started; this
much she knew because she’d heard her
boss talking about it that morning
while pouring
his third or fourth cup of bitter
black, stale coffee.
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S’posed to be a
two-dayer, she remembered
him saying.
Fucking two-dayer.
I will die out
here and I will be frozen
solid like a popsicle before someone finally
comes across my stiff, dead
body.
A
good half hour must have passed before Riley’s thoughts finally drifted away from
images of the egregious
funeral her
tiny, tacky
mother would throw.
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The
woman was eccentric, to say the least.
Everything was an opportunity to garner attention.
She imagined her mother
throwing herself across the coffin, wailing out at God and
everyone else for taking away her precious
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