I ripped off my jacket, tossed it to the floor, and headed straight for the windows and doors. I closed and locked them as fast as I could, just as the downpour began to spray indoors. Not a fan of thunder and lightening, Sneakers shadowed me closely, letting me know he was not overjoyed with being left all alone while mayhem erupted outside.
After a slow rumble, a loud thunderclap broke overhead. I jumped, and spun around to the windows, praying weakened branches wouldn’t crash through. Alarmed enough without another white-knuckle incident, my ears picked up on a rhythmic tapping noise on the glass panes.
Was someone outside?
No–it was only hail that was beginning to blanket the driveway. I checked the thermometer; it was already registering a temperature of near freezing. Mesmerized, I watched as bullets of ice exploded in all directions.
What next?
As fast as the hail arrived, it vanished, and the torrential rain returned with a vengeance as gale force winds took over once again. I barely heard the phone ringing on the table, and got to it on the third ring. “Hello?” I said. Hearing nothing, I hung up.
It rang again. “Hello?” The racket going on outside was making it impossible to hear anything. “Hello? Is anybody there?” Frustrated, I hung up.
Then as quickly as it began, the rain stopped. The spiraling gusts of wind came to an abrupt standstill. I hesitated, praying it was all over, but jumped when the phone rang again.
“Hello?” I said. This time I heard it. Breathing. “Who is this?” I asked quickly.
Not one word, just the sound of… breathing. I slammed down the phone, now on high alert.
Did I forget to lock the front door?
I ran back. Bolted. It was now dark outside and I didn’t like the sensation in the pit of my stomach. I was all too aware of my isolation and quickly turned on lights to keep me company.
The phone rang. Had I misheard earlier? I picked it up. “Hello?” No, there it was. Breathing.
A loud crack of thunder boomed overhead and the lights went out. The phone fell from my hands as the house plunged into darkness just as the downpour and wind gusts picked up again. I shoved back a rising panic, repressing an urge to scream. Easy. I took slow, steady breaths. I knew what I had to do, and got moving.
Cautiously I felt my way in the dark, grabbed my flashlight, and found the candles and matches so I could at least see my way around. I started fires in the kitchen and living room thankful I had taken the precaution to stack some firewood inside two days earlier.
Figuring hot tea would help calm my nerves, I turned on the faucet, but only droplets of water and air came out. No electricity. No well water. A cold chill like I have never felt before took over. I put on a sweater. Was it weather-related or was it fear?
My stack of wood was dwindling.
I slipped into a second pair of socks and another sweater, and placed more wood on the fires. Every time I passed, I stared at the phone, which was still on the floor where it had fallen. Apprehension and indecision battled for my attention. Should I pick it up and call for help, or wait it out a little longer?
I went over to the window to check the weather, and noticed the rain had finally stopped. I checked the temperature. It registered zero! I quickly scanned the moonlit area outside, shocked. Everything was completely encased in a shiny glint and I knew what I was dealing with.
It was …ice. Everything, and I mean everything, was covered in a thick coating of it. After a moment’s hesitation, I knew what had to be done. These mountain storms could be brutal–deadly. Stephen had told me about them. The cold could penetrate the floorboards, and the wind chill could kill, even indoors. They could give me speeches all they wanted about my panic calls. I resolutely walked over and picked up the phone.
Dead!
I grabbed my cell phone from my purse and turned it on. Dead. I must have forgotten to charge it the night before.
Idiot!
I waited patiently for the electricity to come back on. But after a while, fear slowly started to corner me with its evil intentions, as an ominous premonition whispered in my ear that I was in deep trouble and might not be able to walk away from this.
What was I waiting for?
I had to come up with some kind of plan to try to save myself.
Chapter 12
Alone At Midnight
I set off for the front door, opened it and clung to the frame as an arctic blast assaulted my body and face. Its unexpected force stung on impact, whipping my hair wildly about, while I tried to weigh my odds for escape.
Bewildered at first, I stared further out, stunned. Solid ice was everywhere. The trees had grown grotesque frozen fingers that swayed heavily back and forth. I stepped forward and lost my footing. I barely managed to grab hold of the doorknob to get upright. I found myself staring directly at my car. My car! I turned and tore a heavy jacket from the coat rack, grabbed my car keys, and gingerly made my way to the car. The wind propelled me backward as I tugged hard on the handle, finally opening it, and jumped inside. Shivering, I jammed the key in the ignition and turned it. Nothing. I tried again. Dead. How could that be? I pounded the dashboard.
With my fingers going numb, I ditched the car, inched back to the house, slammed the door behind me and slid the lock back in place. I stood there, shaking from the cold and rock-solid fear. Sneakers anxiously ran around my ankles. I tried to catch my breath, feeling my world closing in. I knew I couldn’t walk up the ice-coated driveway and I couldn’t escape through the woods. I might get disoriented in the dark and freeze to death. Besides, even if I did make it to the road, who in their right mind would be out there at this hour, and in this weather?
I scanned the interior of the house. The candles were barely flickering and my flashlight was dead. I could wing the rest, but I needed heat to survive. I quickly threw the last scrap of wood into the fireplaces, frantically taking a quick look around. What else could I possibly do? I came up short and stood absolutely still when it finally hit me.
I’m trapped.
Emotionally beaten, I walked unsteadily to the living room and collapsed to the floor with a blanket. When the fires burned out, with no heat, no electricity, and no phone, my odds for survival were pretty grim. I had every reason to panic, but surprisingly, did not. I was too tired, too cold, and too defeated to think clearly anymore. I could barely keep my eyes open. Worn-out, I vaguely recalled that the cold would eventually lull me into…into…what was it? If I could just sleep… I leaned back on the carpeted floor and slowly began to drift off…
Sneakers’ shriek broke through my exhausted stupor and I sat upright, disoriented. I shot to my feet and ran to the kitchen window where he was perched on the sill. In the moonlit night, I caught a glimpse of a figure walking cautiously in the shadows, headed straight toward the front of the house. I pressed flat against the kitchen wall, terrified. Sneakers hissed menacingly. I snatched him up and raced toward the entrance. Grabbing Stephen’s old baseball bat from the closet, I cautiously approached the door, then inched back the curtain to steal a look outside.
Staring back at me was a black hooded figure on the opposite side of the glass panel. I screamed, dropping the cat and baseball bat as my legs gave out and I hit the floor with a thud. My mouth went dry and a paralyzing fear choked me. Sneakers continued to hiss, while I blindly groped for the bat in the darkened hallway. A fierce pounding stopped me in place.
“Samantha?” A voice yelled loudly from the other side of the door.
I froze. Through the howling of the wind, I could have sworn I heard my name called out.
More heavy pounding ensued. “Samantha! Don’t be alarmed. It’s only me, Clay.”
I rose to my feet, sliding the curtain to the side, just as he was ripping the hood off his head so I could see clearly who it was in the moonlight that had floated into the sky between some storm clouds. Sure enough, it was Clay.
“Are you okay?” he shouted. “I came to see if you were okay.”
“Didn’t expect me did you?” he teased, before noticing my odd, mute reaction in the darkened hallway.
Sneakers was all over this guy, purring and rubbing up against Clay’s leg like an old friend. I glared down at the cat, but he blatantly ignored me, as he cozied up to his ticket out.
“I didn’t frighten you too much, did I?” Clay asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I gestured and Clay followed me into the living area to get away from the door and its freezing, cold drafts. He shone his flashlight around the room, and I watched him take in the torn papers, scattered pieces of bark from the firewood, burnt candles, blankets, and the phone on its side on the table. Then he noticed I was trembling. “What’s going on?” he said, almost gently.
“…I know this looks crazy… ” I could hardly bear to tell him what I was really afraid of.
Wouldn’t he just laugh?
He cut me off. “Doesn’t matter. I can tell you’ve gone through hell tonight.” He approached me slowly; as though afraid I’d bolt. “Get some of your things and bundle up. You’re coming to my house. I have plenty of firewood, candles and a warm place for you to stay until this is over, and I won’t take no for an answer.” His look dared me to argue.
I couldn’t. He was absolutely right. I didn’t have a prayer staying there. Besides, I was too frightened to consider the alternative. I simply nodded.
Focused on getting out, I began grabbing what I needed for the night. When I was done, I met Clay in the small hallway at the front door. He was holding Sneakers. He gave me last minute instructions. “Now, stay close behind me. I’ll carry the cat so you have better footing. It’s treacherous out there, even in the woods. My Jeep is parked down below on the dirt road, running with the heat on. Button up, hang onto the back of my jacket, and watch your step. Let’s go!” And with that, we were off.
I followed his instructions, and we steadily made our way around the house and down the deer path I had taken earlier. It was a slow descent. Ice and wind challenged our every step. Rain puddles, frozen solid, added to our slippery hike down, but we were lucky. The moon was out again, helping to guide us through the trees and underbrush. Not thinking, I took my eyes off the path for a moment, ducking to avoid a low-slung branch heavily laden with ice, and lost my footing. I fell to the ground roughly and cried out in pain.
Clay spun around. My hat, torn from my head, caused my windblown hair to briefly blind me, as I gripped my ankle, rocking in pain. How could I have been so careless? I was furious at my stupidity.
“Are you all right?” Clay hollered over the racket of the wind.
“I’m hurt.” I yelled up at him, panicked at the thought of a possible serious physical injury.
“Let me check.” He kneeled down and started gently but thoroughly running his hands over my ankle. “I think it’s only sprained, not broken. It must hurt like hell. I’ll carry you.”
He bent over to pick me up, but I swatted at him, pushing him away. “Sneakers,” I yelled frantically, swinging my arms about wildly.
“What are you worried about your shoes for?”
“My Sneakers, you idiot!” I screamed.
“I don’t give a damn about your shoes. Besides, you’re wearing hiking boots. We have to get out of here, or we will both get frostbitten.”
“My cat.”
“What about your cat?”
“I am not leaving without my Sneakers!”
“What do your shoes have to do with your cat? Are you sure you didn’t hit your head? You are not making any sense.” He swore something unintelligible, while the wind tore between us. He leaned in close. “I’ve had enough. Let’s go!”
“Sneakers is the name of my cat, you moron!” I shouted back at him. “And I am not leaving without him!”
He hesitated for a second, then quickly found and wordlessly grabbed Sneakers. He shoved him into my arms and lifted me off the ground. He started trudging down the path, carrying me to his awaiting Jeep. “What have I done?” he yelled out loud. “I should have known better and stayed at home. I’ve rescued a nut.”
For some reason, his words cheered me immensely.
As promised, his Jeep was there, its engine roaring, radiating heat. I was unceremoniously dumped in the front passenger seat and the door slammed after me. Sneakers clung to me. Clay quickly jumped into the driver’s seat and shifted the car into gear and took off. He deftly maneuvered around ice and ruts, somehow managing to get us to his house, which was ablaze with candlelight. He carried me through the front door, and then I was dumped once again. Only this time, it was on his couch in front of a roaring fire. It was a wonderful sight to see after the nightmarish evening. A minute later, Clay returned with a blanket and tossed it at me. “There, that should do for the moment.” He gave me a strange backward glance as he walked away. “I’ll be right back. I need to put my keys and wallet away,” he commented, as he retreated into the shadows once more.
I tried to relax. Surely I was safe now. Or was I? One thing was clear: I had escaped from my house. Did I make the right choice? Did I have a choice? I really didn’t know much about Clay at all. Who was he? But by that point, I didn’t care. I was too exhausted at that moment to be fearful, and welcomed the warmth as I began to feel my fingers and toes gradually warm up.
Clay returned shortly and sat in the chair opposite me next to the fire. “So, let’s start at the beginning. Tell me what happened tonight. How did things get so out of control, Samantha?”
I explained, but I left out the phone episode and my mysterious caller. By the time I was finished, I was totally drained. We talked for more than an hour, while I described all the problems I had at the beginning when I first arrived. We laughed together, as he began sharing his tales of trying to fix up the house. He claimed he was still learning on the job and not in much of a hurry. To my surprise, our conversation flowed easily, and gradually I began to unwind. After a while, he left and returned with some wine for the both of us, handing me a filled glass.
“Go ahead, you look like you could use one,” he said, sitting once again and sipping from his glass. “Why did you wait so long to use your phone?”
“Because I didn’t think the situation would get so out of control like it did, and when things turned from bad to worse, it was too late. The phone lines were already dead.”
“You know it could have turned out a lot worse if I hadn’t hiked up there. After your earlier brush off, I almost didn’t attempt it. You are so lucky I don’t hold grudges for very long.” He gave a chuckle and sipped his wine.
I grinned. “I shouldn’t have taken my problems out on you. I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted.” He smiled and leaned forward. “I am not going to bite, Samantha. So, tell me. Why are you wound up so tight? Can I help somehow?”
The wine had done its magic and I thought I would trust him up to a point, but no mentioning of the notes and phone calls, or what my exact plan was. So, I told my story; an abbreviated version of Stephen’s demise, explaining I needed to get away from our house after Stephen’s death. What better place than here with a fresh start in a new home and quiet town? I stared at Clay.
Maybe he would be useful.
We spoke over one more glass of wine. Then I started to show signs of fatigue.
“Maybe you should get some sleep,” said Clay. “If we’re lucky, we’ll have electricity by morning, and I can take you back to your place. Sound like a plan?”
“Sounds like a great idea to me,” I replied, struggling to stifle another yawn.
He gathered up the glasses and brought me back a pillow and more blankets, and then settled himself up on the floor in front of the fire with a pillow and blanket for himself. I turned to
him. He had his back to me and was lying facing the fire.
After a few minutes of gathering some courage, I ventured, “Clay? I just want to thank you again for rescuing me. I’m sorry I gave you such a hard time. I guess I was just venting my anger and frustration, and you were the closest target.”
There was no response, just the rhythmic sound of his breathing. He had fallen asleep. Oh well, I would just have to tell him in the morning.
What could happen between now and morning?
No, I wasn’t going there. I was not to tempting fate. And in no time, fell asleep myself.
Chapter 13
What A Difference A Day Made
How could two days be so different from each other? It was bright and sunny when I woke up to the smell of coffee brewing and bacon sizzling on an old iron stove.
“Good morning,” Clay greeted. “How’s your ankle? Better?”
Refreshed after a much needed night’s rest, I smiled. “Much better, thanks.” I sat up, noticing a table set for breakfast, at a window overlooking a vast field and woods with the mountains just beyond.
“Wow,” was all I could verbally muster.
“I know, pretty nice, huh? When I came back home, I was hooked by those views the minute I set foot on the property. By the way, the warm weather has returned. Whatever hit the area, moved on, taking the frigid air with it. You should be fine up at your place.”
“That’s a relief. That traumatic evening was one for the books. It sure convinced me I’d better be prepared in the future. I was totally caught off guard. I certainly can’t afford to be so vulnerable like that again.”
He glanced up at me. Was that an expression of disappointment? Why, if I didn’t know better, I might have speculated he had enjoyed playing the hero the night before. I quickly turned away, concealing my amusement, and then turned back. There he was, chopping tomatoes and dicing onions, grabbing ingredients left and right and cooking like a pro, adding herbs and spices to potatoes also cooking in another skillet. He cooks?
The Puzzle Page 5