And There Were No Cars on the Road Read online

And There Were No Cars on the Road

  Mark Petersen

  Copyright 2010 Mark Petersen

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  Tomorrow was his first day of class at a brand new school. He had moved in a few days before so he could begin to familiarize himself with the campus and the town. He had found a small one person loft which he was very pleased with, he wasn’t required to live on campus since he was a transfer student. Everything represented a fresh new start, he felt he could really succeed at this new school, and in the few days he had now lived here he began to feel a love for the little town too.

  He was a little nervous about classes starting the next day and couldn’t sleep, so he put on his coat and grabbed the car keys. His car was one thing he owned that his parents didn’t pay for, a little Japanese compact which he had bought new. At his old school he would often go on drives, and just stand in the dark emptiness of the woods when the stress of failing grades and family problems at home bore down on him. It was very relieving; all his problems would feel so far away. It was the one place he could actually hide from the world.

  It was January, he had transferred between semesters, and it was extremely cold all the past week. He walked out to the car, and flurries landed gently on his nose and cheeks. It had snowed lightly every night since he had been there. The steering wheel was freezing and he put the heater on full blast after he put car in gear. He clicked the radio on and immediately felt a feeling of peace and excitement as he pulled out of the parking lot.

  He turned down smaller and smaller roads, the lights began to thin out, and the roads narrowed as he rode up and down gentle hills though the falling snowflakes. There were no other cars on the road and a very thin blanket of snow began to settle over the pavement. The roads weren’t slick at all though; the snow simply muffled the tire noise as he gently glided through the trees into the hills. Gordon Lightfoot came over the radio and a full moon peaked though a hole in the snow clouds as he crested a small hill and the road turned to gravel. He began to feel alone and free, only passing occasional, little houses with lights on inside, and never passing a single car or person on the road. The feeling was almost surreal, a beautiful little paradise all warm inside the little car, the snowflakes gently disappearing into the windshield after they danced in his high beams. It was a beautiful night out, all for him; the locals were all boarded up inside with their lights. Perhaps beautiful nights like this were the norm here, and they had grown bored with them. It didn’t matter though, the world was his and he preferred not having to share it!

  The fields and houses beside the road faded out, and were replaced by naked trees, thick as far as the eye could see, the gravel road gently winding through deep forest; soon he would pull over and get out. The snow would sting his cheeks, the cold air would fill his lungs, and he would bask in the silence; but just a little further down the road, just a little farther from civilization.

  A few more turns and he found a small clearing where the road widened and he pulled over. He clicked off the headlights and his world went completely black. He opened the door, the cold rushed in, and he felt completely and utterly alive. He got out of the car and threw his hands up into the air, inhaling deeply. It was wonderful, he could hear only the whistle of the wind, and see only the contrast between the sky and the slightly darker trees above.

  After a few minutes he clicked on his flashlight to survey the area around him, and was extremely startled when the light fell upon a deer skeleton, only ten paces from the car. Something wasn’t right about it, it seemed unnatural. He walked towards it, studying it, feeling more unsettled with each step. Three consecutive ribs were cracked, it had taken a severe blow to the side, and two of its legs were missing…it had not died a natural death. He spun around scanning the clearing with his light, the air felt colder, he began to shiver. The whistling of the wind suddenly began to seem louder, as he strained to hear, fearing the sound of a stick breaking. These woods were not right. They were not peaceful. Something evil lingered in the air, he felt it in the pit of his stomach. He hurried back into the car, slamming the door shut and clicking the headlights on in a single move. He locked the doors and threw the car into reverse, backing the car along the road the way he had come. But the wheels spun in the fresh snow, and his back-up lights were not enough to see the gravel road. It was safer to go forwards, wherever the road led, through the dark, naked trees.

  It seemed silly to him to be scared, he had been in the woods a million times before, with Scouts, or last year at his old school. They had always been a place of refuge and serenity. Yet this place was different, it felt cold, there were no other people on the roads…and that deer! What had killed the deer? Perhaps a car had hit it; that made sense. A car was large enough to crack three ribs in one blow, and break two legs off. But it would take a crazy person to drive fast on these roads; he was struggling now to go even five miles per hour.

  After about 15 minutes he felt like he had maybe gone a mile or two. The road was very slick and not level, and it took every last bit of concentration to keep the car on the road. His stability control beeped at him, his ABS fought against his foot, and he held the wheel with a deathgrip, gently working the throttle and keeping his eyes glued to the road. There didn’t seem to be an end to the road, but he supposed it had to go somewhere. He persisted, pushing thoughts about the deer to the back of his mind.

  He came upon a tight left turn and the car began to slide off the road, slowly to the right. He braked, stopping the car, but it slid still, ever so slowly. It went directly right towards a deep ditch, gravity gently pushing him across a thin sheet of ice. He put the car into second, slowly pressing down the gas, more and more, hoping the tires would gain just a little bit of traction and pull him through. Three thousand revs and still no forward progress. The right rear suddenly dropped, the whole car leaned right and fell gently into the ditch on its side. A solid heavy thump confirmed his worst fears, and the engine ceased.

  He sat there, defeated. Damage was minimal, he suspected, but he was definitely stuck. There was no chance he would drive out of these woods tonight. He could either walk back along the road, or wait in the car until someone found him, which could be days for all he knew. That meant he really only had one option, try as he might to think of another. The air in the car slowly grew colder. After what felt like an eternity, he finally admitted he had no other options. He didn’t know anyone to call, and even if he did, he had no clue where he was. If he stayed, it could be days before they found him, and he might freeze. He unlocked the door, grabbed his flashlight, and unbuckled his seatbelt.

  It surprised him how much he had to push up rather than out to open the door. Once he was out of the car it was clear that it was banked almost forty five degrees to the road surface, the front left wheel in the air, the whole right side against a slope buried in leaves and snow. They would have to pull it out with a tow truck; hopefully there was no severe damage. He loved that car, and it broke his heart to have to just walk away from it like that. He probably had a mile and a half before he got the clearing, and another three miles past that before he got the last house he had passed. He kicked the gravel road and almost slipped, angry at himself for getting into this situation. After he took a few steps he turned around and looked at the car again one last time before it would disappear around the bend. It just sat there cold and lonely, like the woods. He felt even more alone, more helpless, more scared. But he was determined to get to that house, his last beacon of hope. The cold wind whistled around him, and the darkness blanketed him in a bitter cold as he put one foot in front of another, focused and still hopeful.
br />   After about fifteen minutes of walking he began to look for the clearing where he had pulled over. Just an hour ago he had fled in terror from it, and now he searched for it desperately as validation of his progress towards the house. A chill ran down his spine as he remembered that deer, he could still picture it clearly in his mind. A car couldn’t have done that damage, the two legs that were torn off were diagonal from one another, and the two still attached didn’t even look broken…and only three broken ribs? That had to have been a concentrated blow, but from what? Nothing killed deer in these woods except hunters, which would have taken it, and mountain lions, which bite at the neck. No, he was pretty sure the neck had been intact. He didn’t believe in vampires or werewolves or any of those silly things, there had to be a good explanation. Something sure wasn’t right about these woods, there was something threatening, something chilling…something…evil. He felt incredibly vulnerable, like he was being watched. He ignored it, walking faster, searching for the clearing and trying desperately to force the deer from his mind. He just had to find the clearing, then the house, and then he would be safe. The clearing, that was all the mattered…get to the clearing. He broke into a run.

  He exhausted himself quickly; the cold dry air burned his throat and lungs. His legs were tired, blood pulsing through them, his muscles tightening in the cold. He slowed to a jog. His spine tingled, he still had that strong feeling of being watched. Something was following him. Wait…why did he think that? Did he hear something? No, he just felt it. He felt that cold chill, that sixth sense that begins in one’s gut and rises slowly up one’s spine. He stopped and turned around, scanning the road with his flashlight…nothing. Just his own set of tracks in the snow, and naked trees as far as the eye could see. He felt relaxed. The wind slowed a bit and he could hear silence between gusts. These were just empty woods, same as all other woods. His heart calmed, his breath slowed. He drew deep into his lungs for a long, slow breath. He blinked a few times, shook his head and cleared his mind. He began walking again, towards the clearing, confident, strong. He got maybe five steps and suddenly his heart stopped. He froze. A chill came up from the back of his thighs, up his spine, even past the hairs on his head. He turned slowly, his trembling flashlight scanning the woods. Its light fell upon the road, and in the fresh snow were not one, but two sets of fresh tracks, the larger set beside his own. They led all the way to him. Right beside him, opposite from the direction he had turned. Whatever had made those tracks was now directly behind him, he felt his knees weaken. He turned slowly to face whatever it was, shaking uncontrollably, about to collapse. He felt a sudden crushing blow knocking the wind from him. He heard his ribs crack and fell, landing on his back with a thud. He looked up at the dark shadow of an enormous and menacing figure, slightly darker than the black sky, and he fainted.

  Local police found the Japanese compact in the ditch a few days later. Fresh snow lay on the ground, erasing any clues as to which direction the driver had gone. The sheriff and his posse searched two hours for the body, finding nothing. They would begin the search again the next day, the sun was setting and it was time to go home. The woods changed at night, and they knew that. They knew why there had been no cars on the road.

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