I could sit here and freeze to death until someone passes by and flag down some help, but that could be hours, and since I got onto this road I only passed by a couple of cars, and that was hours ago. Who knows how far the next town is?
I’m completely fucked.
Bucking up the courage, I climb out into the biting wind that whistles past my ears and straight down the back of my neck, breaking me out in a shiver. Snow pelts at me from every angle, stinging my face like a million tiny needles piercing my skin. I try to shield my face with my suit jacket but it makes no difference in the freezing wind.
In my tailored suit, I’m not exactly dressed for the weather, but then I never expected to have to push a car into a ditch off the side of the road and go in search of the nearest town on foot to find a mechanic.
The nearest town could be fifty miles away, but I’ve got no other option but to walk and hope for the best. I take out my bag from the car and begin walking, the snow crunching underfoot with every step as the stiff breeze sweeps under my jacket and through my shirt. If I’m out here for much longer, I’m gonna catch frostbite, my fingers are already turning numb, throbbing from the bitter cold.
I walk for what feels like hours and not one single car has passed by. I try to think what could have gone wrong with the car to make it break down like that. A faulty battery, the alternator… I haven’t got the faintest idea. I’m no mechanic, but I’m crossing my frozen fingers that I can find someone to fix the car so I can get home and out of this hellhole.
A little further up the road, I come to a sign that reads‘Welcome to Haven’and I scoff.
Haven?Is this some sick joke? My day has been anything other than a fucking haven, but I suppose I should be thankful, I finally found a town with people, electricity andcoffee.
Fuck, I could murder a cup of steaming hot coffee right now. My mouth is dry and scratchy like sandpaper and my body is crying out for something to quench my thirst, it’s the promise of food and coffee that has me putting one foot in front of the other.
I continue walking for about a mile and a half before I reach the first sign of life. A house. My legs ache as I head up to the front door, praying that there’s someone home to help me. I make it to the front door and ring the bell. There’s no answer. I move to the front window and peer inside, and through a crack in the curtain, I see that the room is dark and totally empty of furniture.
The house is deserted.Great.
It’s not until I’m walking away from the door that I notice thefor salesign that has been blown over by the strong winds, covered in a layer of snow.
I continue down the road, and as the buildings become more and more frequent, I grow all the more hopeful of finding a mechanic. I come to what looks like the centre of the town, a wide main road that has every type of shop you could want or need in a town so small, an antiques store, a cafe, a restaurant, a small grocery store, a barber shop and a boutique.
I spot a repair shop almost immediately and make my way through the ankle deep snow towards it, but my heart sinks when I read the closed sign hanging out front. I take a peek inside anyway, spying no one through the tiny window in the wide wooden doors held shut by a thick metal chain.
“Can I help you, Sir?” a voice asks behind me. I turn to find an older man in a thick padded jacket with the hood up.
“Do you work here?” I ask.
“Does it look like I work here?” he asks sarcastically, motioning to his walking stick.
Good point.“I’m looking for a mechanic.”
“I’m afraid they’re closed. Danny shut up shop about a half hour ago,” he informs me.
“Shit,” I huff.
“Sorry I couldn’t be of any help. Merry Christmas,” he says before waddling away down the sidewalk.
“Yeah, yeah. MerryfuckingChristmas,” I mumble under my breath.
What the fuck do I do now? The earliest the garage is going to be open again is the day after tomorrow, which means I’m stuck here for the foreseeable.Great.
A gust of wind whips at me and I pull my jacket around me tighter. I need to find somewhere to crash for a couple of nights. There must be a hotel or something somewhere around here.
I go in search of a place to stay, and find one not far from the garage. The second I step inside, relief floods me, the warmth from the log fire soaking into my skin and after a minute I begin to get feeling back into my extremities.
“May I help you?” a petite older woman asks behind the front desk.
I shake off the snow from my clothes, brushing it onto the floor where it melts almost immediately. “I’m after a room for a couple of nights.”
“I’m very sorry but I’m afraid we’re fully booked,” she tells me.
“Can’t I sleep on the couch? Anything?”
“I’m afraid that would be against policy, Sir. I really am very sorry.” She doesn’t seem sorry at all.
