by JA Ellis
the last of the milk down the sink and rinsed the bowl with icy water from the tap. Then, she picked up the cordless phone and listened for a dial tone. There was nothing, not even the soft hiss of an open line.
“Shit,” she muttered. She looked at her cell phone where it sat on the sofa. She considered trekking down the driveway to the road to try to make the call, but as desperate as she was to talk to Sam and her family, she was just as desperate to remain warm and dry. She wondered how much longer the snow would fall. The news reports had predicted that the first blast would have occurred last night, but the snow would continue to fall through today. She sighed. It would be best to at least make the attempt. They were probably all worried about her.
She pulled on the snow pants and boots again. She put on her coat, pulled her knit hat down over her fluffy brown hair and ears, and wrapped a thick scarf around her face and neck. Zipped, wrapped and tied into heavy layers, she slid the cell phone into her pocket and picked up her gloves. Outside the wind had dropped even more, and it didn't feel as cold, but she pulled on her gloves and pulled the scarf up over her nose and mouth anyway.
She carefully walked across the porch, barely able to make out the steps leading down to the yard. The snow hadn't drifted as high on this side of the house, but it still reached half way up her shins. It had been a long time since she had seen snow this deep, and never from a single, sustained snowfall, and as she plowed her way towards the railing she had a faint feeling of disquiet. It could be far worse than she had expected. She gripped the railing with one hand and stepped down where she thought the first step was. Then, carefully she took another step, missed the next rung, and tumbled into the freezing white snow.
She thrashed around in the snow, her movements encumbered by her bulky clothing, and more than a bit of panic, trying to find her footing. Everywhere she placed her hands collapsed beneath her, burying her a foot and a half deep in the icy wetness. After several attempts, she managed to flatten enough area to push herself up onto her knees and then slowly to her feet. Her scarf had unraveled, and snow seeped in under her collar. She shook and slapped at herself to loosen the snow that had caked onto her coat and pants during the struggle, and then, with trepidation, stripped off a glove and checked her pocket for the cell phone. It was still there, dry, and in apparent working order. She looked down at the snow where she had fallen, and muttered several unseemly words under her breath.
She took a few steps to the left to get a look at the side of the house. A white, vaguely truck shaped object sat in the place where she had parked the red Ford yesterday afternoon. She cursed some more. It was going to be a long day of shoveling. She turned around and started heading towards the driveway, or at least where she thought the driveway was.
It was hard going. At first she tried to walk normally, but it was like walking through a semi solid wall, as her legs pushed the snow in front of her. Panting from exertion she started lifting her legs high, stomping through the soft snow. It was much easier than pushing it around, but soon her thighs ached from the motion. Five hundred feet had never felt so far. Eventually, after several minutes during which she completely unraveled the scarf to allow some cool air on her face, she reached the road. Or what she supposed was the road. The county had laid salt down yesterday morning, but there was no way of telling that now. It looked as much the same as everything else – a solid white ribbon bordered by trees covered in snow. She looked left and right. The whole area was completely quiet except for the caw of a crow somewhere in the trees.
Charlotte pulled the phone from her pocket and checked the signal indicator. It showed one bar. She took a few steps into the road and checked again. No bar. She took a few more steps, held the phone over her head and looked up. One bar, but when she lowered the phone the signal disappeared again. She shuffled around in the snow for nearly ten minutes, chasing the single bar of service until she found a spot that gave her a second bar. She stood stock still, for moving even six inches in any direction turned the phone into a useless piece of plastic. She was cold again, and her hands shook as she pulled up Sam's number and pressed “talk”.
“Hey.” Charlotte didn't think she had ever been so happy to hear Sam's voice.
“Sam?”
“- Char? - How-”
“Sam?” She shouted now, as if raising her voice would make her better heard across two thousand miles.
“Can't hear – out-”
“I know!” she said even more loudly. “Look, if you can hear me-”
“You're – out -”
“If you can hear me, I'm OK The power went out. The phone's not working and cell service is shit.”
“Char -”
“Dammit.” She stamped her foot in frustration. “I'm all right. Just a lot of snow.” There was no response. “Sam?” She pulled the phone away from her face. The call had ended and the service indicator was dark. She moved around, trying to make the bars appear again, but it was no use.
Charlotte closed her eyes, listening the wind and the rattling of the bare branches, and the cawing of the lone crow. There were no other sounds. No one was out trying to drive in this, there certainly weren’t any snowplows around. Her nearest neighbors were within in walking distance, but in these conditions, they might as well be on a different planet. She was essentially cut off from the outside world. Should she panic? She mused on the idea, and then realizing she was debating panic, decided she was no where near that point. She had food and water, plenty of fuel as long as she didn't run every light, and appliance in the house. And even if that ran out, there was the wood stove, and the flashlights. It was 2014, not 1914, and she wouldn't be cut off for very long. Maybe it would be an adventure. Something to tell people about – the time she roughed it on her own during the Blizzard of '14.
She opened her eyes when she began to shiver again. The air didn't seem very cold, but the snow that landed on her face and hands was. She slipped the phone back into her pocket and pulled her gloves back on. She straightened the scarf, leaving her mouth and nose free, and turned towards the short driveway that had seemed so long on the way to the road.
There was a crackling sound that made her jump before realizing it was an overloaded branch finally breaking. Looking at the trees around her, clothed in their white robes, she thought this was going to be a hell of a clean up. But perhaps they could salvage some of the wood for the stove later in the year.
The return to the house was much easier. She didn't have to break a new trail, and the packed snow crunched under her boots. When she passed the wide, trampled spot where she had fallen, she shook head and laughed. Twenty minutes ago, it hadn't been funny. She carefully took the stairs and kicked her boots against the door jam before going in. She stripped off her gear, and patted Jumper on the head before going upstairs to change. She was still wearing the same clothes she had slept in, and the sweater was now damp with sweat and melted snow. She pulled on a clean sweatshirt and jeans, and found a pair of thick woolen socks. Then she went back the living room considering what she should do for the day. She had no phone, no internet, no TV.
Charlotte looked at the falling show again – couldn't help but look at it. It showed no sign of letting up. She went about the house, collecting flashlights and batteries, making a little nest of blankets for herself on the sofa. Jumper followed her around as she did this. After that was settled she put the snow pants and boots back on, and stomped her way to the shed behind the house where she got out the snow shovel. She started clearing the section of deck beside the back door, and then made a trail to the generator. She cleared the remaining snow from around the generator and checked the fuel level. Then she shoveled the steps leading to the back yard and cleared a patch of grass for Jumper to do his business, knowing the dog would only get more stubborn about peeing in snow up to his chest.
The whole time she worked, the snow continued to fall. It was almost pretty, if it weren't for the back breaking labor of digging it out. She finally stopped when even
the empty shovel became to heavy for her to lift, and her back and shoulders ached from the effort. Dragging the shovel behind her, she went back to the house. Inside, she heated a pot of milk on the gas stove for hot cocoa, flexing her frozen fingers and winced as feeling returned with the sensation of fiery needles. Jumper, now lounging on the floor by the refrigerator watched her and yawned.
“Lazy,” she said, and the dog's ears perked up. “I made you a shit box out there. You better use it.” He only cocked his head and yawned again.
She mixed the hot chocolate and sat on a stool to drink it. Jumper came to stand next to her. She patted him on the head and he tensed, ears perked and eyes locked on the wall behind her. Charlotte turned to look. Jumper growled.
“What?” The only response was another growl cut short. Then he just stared, the full length of his body tensed.
Charlotte followed his gaze. Nothing but the wall. Then she heard it. A slithering, thumping sound. She cocked her head as she listened. What is that?
There was another slither, the sound sliding down the outside wall, then soft thuds, and Charlotte relaxed. It was just snow falling from the roof. “Silly,” she said to Jumper, and herself.
She jumped at a loud