A Still, Small Voice (excerpt) by M. J. Cross
The snowstorm
caught everyone off guard, like an avalanche plummeting from the heavens. The
meteorologists said the same thing on every channel: this was going to be a big
one. Just how big remained to be seen, but I didn’t intend on being one of its
victims.
My shift had
ended an hour ago. It was either stay cooped up in the office ‘til the plows
came or go home.
The office was full of fake smiles and white-collared folks
that hardly acknowledged me.
Home was Pamela, her ten year-old son, Erick, and our townhouse
of three years. It was Erick challenging me in his newest video game and
afterward talking about his girl troubles even though I repeatedly told him he
was too young to have girl troubles. It was Pam hugging me and poking my love
handles just to see me laugh.
Our stars had
crossed years ago outside a grocery store where Pam accidently backed into my
old Civic. We had been entangled in each other ever since. We weren’t getting
any younger, and I never did fix that scratch on the car, so I brought up
marriage.
Pam smiled and
kissed me. I smiled right back.
My mind was made
up and the others laughed at me as I walked out the building. They said I had a
death wish.
“I’ve driven
through snow before,” I told them dismissively.
And I had, just
not a storm like that.
Damien, one of
the few coworkers I actually liked because of his honesty, was inches away from
my face. Even he couldn’t change my mind. He grabbed a plastic rosary from
around his neck and prayed that the Holy Spirit protect me.
My eyes were
tuned to the snow falling outside the window. As if I were watching static on a
TV screen, I saw something moving in the snow.
I stepped around
Damien and promised that I would call him when I got home.
He one upped me.
He’d call Pam and let her know how stubborn I was for driving in the storm.
I joked that I
was going to end up in a ditch.
Damien regarded
me with the same feverish gaze he got every time he tried to get me to go to
his church, and said, “You shouldn’t put the Lord to the test, Cade.”
I wouldn’t
listen to it then, and even if I acknowledged it, I probably wouldn’t admit it,
but Damien’s words pierced through my shallowness as if it were tinfoil.
I paused and
thought.
I’ve always
dreaded New England winters. Every winter,
snow found a way to overwhelm me. Was I really going to do this?
Yea. I was. And
I was ready for it this time.
I did everything
I was supposed to do to ensure a safe trip home. I warmed up my 1999 grey Honda
Civic, for twenty minutes – an extra fifteen more minutes that usual – and set
the windows on defrost.
I even made sure
to brush off the snow accumulated on the roof of my car.
There was no
telling if I had the quick-mindedness to slam on the brakes if a sheet of snow
slid down into my plane of view.
My car couldn’t take another accident. It was an old thing that suffered its fair share of ding-ups
and saw more trips to the mechanic than I did to a hospital. The
serpentine belt was going, the wipers left smudges, the seatbelt stuck
sometimes, and my catalytic converter was giving me problems. But my car was
stubborn, much like me.
The snow was
coming down hard in thick flurries. Whatever I brushed off my car was steadily
growing back.
As I pulled out
from the parking lot, I buckled up and shifted into second gear immediately as
I hit the main road. My car slid just a few daring centimeters more every time
I braked.
The gas light indicator on the dash was on, warning me with
a deep red dot. I’ve gone from work to home before with that dot shining just
under my line of sight.
Phantom echoes of Damien’s words replayed in my head.
The serpentine belt was screeching under the hood. I had the heat on high and my wipers on full speed. I
wasn’t trying to test my car, and I didn’t want any part of it giving out on me
in the storm.
I pulled into the first gas station I saw. All the other
self-serve pumps were empty until I got there. As I stood outside, I pulled my
wool hat closer to my head and buttoned up my jacket to my chin.
The wind ushered snow between dark buildings and quiet
cars. A low whistle echoed in the abandoned streets. Then the wind picked up
and screamed.
The snow fell down in clumps now, steadily falling from the
sky like heavy raindrops. It spun madly through the air, pouncing right and
then quickly charging in the other direction.
As the storm continued its unrelenting fall, it slashed and
swiped through the cold air.
When the gas pump finally clicked back, my hands were cold
and stiff. I didn’t think I needed my gloves when I left the house.
I ran inside the attached convenience store, bought a bag
of peanuts and a small hot chocolate. I needed something to hold to thaw out my
hand.
I was relishing feeling returning to my hand and didn’t
hear the cashier.
“Excuse me?” I peered through the steam off my cup.
“It’s probably gonna to be a blizzard.” He repeated.
“Eh, Boston’s
seen worse.”
I was confident that Boston had seen worse, but no dates
came to mind. Just imagines of cars sliding down snow covered hills.
The cashier looked outside the store window and with raised
eyebrows asked, “Is ya Honda gonna make it?”
“Of course,” I laughed, quickly grabbed my things, and ran
back to my car. I started on the road again without looking back.
There was a glove stand next to the register, but in a rush
to get out of the store, I forgot to buy a pair.
Only a little pass 6:30pm, and the sky was muddied by
approaching night fall. I was driving down the woodland residential roads I
took home. Home was roughly a forty-five minute ride from work on the
residential roads, but I wasn’t so concerned with how fast I got home as long
as I got there.
There was one lane for each side of traffic. Big colonial
mansions on each side of the road set back from the street by a hundred acres.
The kind of acres tended to by a crew of landscapers, because the owners
wouldn’t dare do it themselves.
There usually were one or two cars traveling on the road,
but I didn’t see any one else. No plows. No shovels. No cars. Nobody.
I ignored it
then, and even if I acknowledged it, I probably wouldn’t admit it, but I was
nervous. I was alone, surrounded by whiteness so pure, so blank, I couldn’t
make the street from the trees; the mansions from their lawns. The line between
the sky and the road was obliterated by snow.
Even with my
wipers threatening to fly off my windshield, visibility was poor. Where was I
in this white out?
I turned on the radio. The voices filling the car made me
feel less alone. There wasn’t much on, but I settled on a station anyway. The
song playing came to an end and the deejay soon followed.
“That was ‘Angels Among Us’ by Alabama,
and you’re listening to WOW 91.5 Boston's
Premiere Gospel and Blues Radio. I am Sister Delores, and I am blessed to be
with you this evening. I hope you and your loved ones are warming up inside on
this winter night.”
I thanked Sister Delores for taking my mind off the storm,
if only for a moment. I agreed with her. I hoped to be home with Pam and
Erick, where it was warm.
“In case you missed it,” the sweet voice on the radio
continued, “The State of Massachusetts has issued a Blizzard warning for Suffolk County. Meteorologists predict this
Nor’easter to produce about 16 to 20 inches of snow stopping just after midday
tomorrow. Road crews are out clearing as many roadways as possible. We’re getting
early reports of accidents on 93. The Mayor strongly ---”
The reception faded into wheezing static.
I stared at the stereo and fiddled with the dials, until I
was able to catch a voice that was faintly reminiscent of Sister Delores.
She came in and out before she was smothered by static. Her
sweet voice got farther and farther away each time she faded back in. Her voice
was merely a whisper, when –
“– off the roads
as much as possible – THE PAIN!”
Sister Delores’
smothered voice – once sweet – was jumbled up with deafening sounds of things
smashing together and someone screaming. The car windows rattled.
“But I know you
listeners –SEE, IS IT STARTING TO HURT YOU! HUMAN! –right back to the – WHAT UP
PEOPLE! WHAT UP PEOPLE!”
I reached for the radio, wildly pressing buttons, anything
to shut off the screaming. For all my trembling, I ended up accidentally turning
off my defroster and changing the station into something more incoherent.
“ARRRRRRRHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
In the static, streams of water decimated everything in its
path. Rocks tumbled down the sides of mountains. It was as if the howling storm
had found its way inside my car.
My eyes darted from the blanket of white in front me to my
car radio as I tried desperately to stop the screaming. I kept a firm
grip of the steering wheel, when it suddenly jolted hard to the right.
The snow spun in quick circles, picking up momentum. Then
it changed directions dramatically and pounced towards me with gale force
strength, slashing and swiping at the car.
In the barrage of snow and ice chips that hit my car, I saw
shapes. The tornado of snow had a thousand eyes locked on me, each blinking
indiscriminately and whirling around in bone white sockets. I saw a maelstrom
of flying teeth – molars, incisors, and canines – sharp and gleaming as they
closed in from all side. A long thin crack stretched across the windshield as
the storm pressed down on the car.
I slammed on my brakes. I lurched forward and banged my
head on the driver’s side window. My seatbelt snapped me back into my seat. The
car struggled to come to a stop, and then it started spinning. I grabbed the
steering wheel and fought to get it straight.
For a second, my mind went blank. In that void of empty
thoughts, feelings remained. I wanted to survive. I wanted to live.
The car went rolling, spiraling downward.
My hot chocolate went flying. Bits of glass hit my face.
The glove compartment burst open, ejecting everything inside it. Papers, cup,
pens… spun around in cycle with me.
The car flipped once, twice, and finally came to an abrupt
stop.
When the chaos ended, the world blackened around me.
