Chapter 1: Off the Road
She drove along the woody street, watching the snow fall in her high beams as music played on her radio. Winters in New York were lovely; they reminded her of her childhood, or what she remembered of her childhood home. Sometimes she wondered if her father ever regretted leaving Norway, although she guessed he didn't since the little town they lived in was so far away from everything. When her mother died, there was nothing left that was appealing to him; the only anchor tying him to that small, secluded village was gone. He had the chance to leave, start over completely new.
She thought about her father on nights like this. Long drives along mountainous country roads, watching the snow zip by her like stars in space. She thought of sitting in the front seat, listening to him make Star Trek references as jokes, playfully saying that they were entering warp drive. When she was younger, she thought it was nerdy, but she loved that he could be passionate about such things. She wanted to be passionate too, always optimistic even in the face of pessimism.
Suddenly the van she drove jolted; shuttering like it hit something then falling to the driverside, her foot moving to instinctively slam on the brakes but caught herself. Instead, she gritted her teeth against the loud grinding, lightly pressing her foot to the brakes and aiming to keep the vehicle towards the middle of the road until it could come down from 60.
Roads could be treacherous out here in the winter, and a tiny area like Northkill stopped sending their snowplows out around 4pm unless the weather was bad enough to call for it. Since not much traffic ran by Hackett's Quarry, she wouldn't see a snowplow until roughly 3am. That fact meant there was a little cushion on the road to keep whatever was dragging from damaging too much, but she could easily lose control of the vehicle if she panicked -and going off the road wasn't something she wanted to deal with on top of whatever was physically wrong with the van.
As the vehicle came to a crawl, she moved it to the shoulder of the road, her heart pounding in her chest. She sat in silence, staring at the long, dark road ahead of her, the sound of music playing softly on the radio. Biting her lip, she let her eyes fall closed, afraid of what the damage was should she look in either the rear or side mirrors. But she had to, if she was going to report this to her boss -because it was a company van- she had to assess the damages.
Taking a deep breath, she looked up into the rearview mirror, seeing the left hand side of the van had dragged for about 100 feet before she could slow it down safely, the red lights of the brakes illuminating nearly 30 of the 100 feet before fading to darkness. Putting the car in park, she chewed on her thumbnail, debating on whether she wanted to get out and check the exact issue or not. While it was -13 degrees Fahrenheit (-25 celcius), the van was warm and she didn't handle the cold very well -and something didn't sit right with her. The darkness, the loneliness of the road. Like she was expecting to see something at any moment.
Turning the radio down, she unbuckled her seatbelt and slid out of the driver seat, putting her hazards on when a voice in her head told her that, instead, she should turn all of the lights off. It was a voice she ignored as her boots landed in the fluffy snow, sinking halfway up to her ankles.She didn't even need to take a step back before the damage was noticeable. The smell of oil reaching her nose; she looked down and saw that the front axle snapped and turned, the wheel bent and caught under the frame at an angle. How the vehicle didn't flip was beyond her. What had happened? How did it happen? She didn't see anything she could have hit to have broken it, and it wasn't like the van was in such disrepair that it would just snap; the van was new within the last 2 years, and state inspection would never allow it. She could only assume it was a fluke, but still, it was a costly fluke that had left her stranded in the middle of nowhere in the dark.
Grunting, she turned and pulled the door back open, climbing her way back into the warm cab. She worried about what she was going to tell her boss, mulling through the different ways to explain the issue as she grabbed her phone from a small, navy blue and beaded bag just big enough for tiny things like tampons, a coin purse, silicone finger coverings, pin backed buttons with numerous little adorable death themed pictures on them, a couple cat toys and little snacks.
Her thumb immediately hit the redial button, knowing her job was the last place she'd called and who had called her. She put it to her ear, listening to the ringing, her eyes staring out the front windshield and into the dark. She couldn't shake the feeling that someone or something was there, even though she couldn't see it. There were eyes in the woods, and she was the only beacon of light and warmth for miles. "Hi, this is Dani, um," she spoke, the phone going to voicemail instead of a person, forcing her to leave a message. She lifted her hand, wrapping a clump of hair around her finger, pushing it to her lips, roughly trying to think of everything to mention, gauging the time she had before she had no more tape to record on.
"I was coming back from that removal, the…the one out in Jewett? Well, it is snowing, and it is very pretty, but it is also very cold." She paused, mind drifting away to unimportant matters. She was a simple girl; her voice airy and sweet. She was always soft spoken and sincere, although she could be quite odd. "Ah, sorry." She pulled herself back onto the topic. "Well, I was driving and I'm unsure if I hit something? The van has taken a lot of damage and cannot be driven." She admitted, eyes glued to the light of the digital clock on the radio. It was 6:30pm, the sun was down completely now, and most tow services were probably closed.
"I don't know where I am exactly? But I do know I am near-" her eyes drifted to her side mirror, just in time to see a dark figure skirting the parameter of the flashing hazard lights, her heart stopping. "Hackett's Quarry. I am going to call the police, perhaps they can find someone out to help? But I am not going to be making it back tonight. I will call-" the phone beeped, dropping the call. Pulling the device from her ear, she gave a little frustrated grunt, pushing the power button to turn the display back on.
Cell service was awful in the mountains, so she was fairly confident that it was because of the service that the call dropped. Her eyes flickered back up to the mirrors, skimming the darkness anxiously for a brief moment before her phones reflection in the driver side window proved that the battery was depleted. "Oh no," she gasped, looking down at the screen, dread and worry filling her. She was normally very good about keeping her phone charged; she never wanted to be stuck in the middle of nowhere without a way to call someone, and with the weather how it was, she doubted any cars would be on their way anytime soon.
Grabbing her purse, she searched through it again for her charge cord, the sense of urgency in her picking up the more belongings she shuffled around and finding nothing. "Oh no, no no no." She put her purse on the floor, patting the seat beside her as if she suspected her charge cord had fallen through the fibers of the cushions and would emerge with enough pats.
Nothing.
Not even in the center console, the carriage panels in the doors or the glove compartment; her coworker was always leaving a charge cord somewhere. Every van had one of her cords in it, it was a long running joke that her forgetfulness would save a road trip one day. Then she remembered, leaning back in her seat with a defeated sigh, head resting against the headrest.
Her coworker forgot her charge cord at home today. She'd liberated one from one of the vans. "Damn."
Lifting her head back up, she looked around the cab once more, trying to figure out her course of action; she could stay here in the warmth, idling until she ran out of gas and pray someone would drive through, or she could get out and make her way towards civilization and ask for help.
The second one was a bit of a risk; while she may be near Hackett's Quarry, the only place she knew of that might have people would be the lodge. She knew that there was an old Estate on the property, but whether it had people living there or not was a question she wouldn't have the time to answer. If she couldn't get help at the lodge, she'd need to find the police station, but now there was one more obstacle to factor in.
What the hell was that thing so close to her van?
That was the main thing that kept her glued in place; it couldn't be a bear, it was winter, and its limbs were too long and thin with too little fur. It wasn't something she'd seen before, yet she hadn't seen all of it. Just a brief glance as long limbs clamored through the snow. It could have been a Moose? No, Moose would take their time crossing the road, this thing was quick.
She needed to make her decision; if she stayed, whatever that thing was had her trapped. But if she got out…
She couldn't stay here. The sooner she got somewhere and out of the dark the better. Turning the vehicle off, she waited as the sound of the engine died down. She listened to the sound of her own breathing as the cold crept in, her eyes trying to adjust to the darkness outside of the vehicle. Closing her eyes, she held her breath, counting in her head to 50; the snow hitting her windshield melting until no more heat could be sapped out.
When all was quiet, settled, she opened her eyes and opened the driver side door, her feet falling into the soft powder once more, now starting to harden as the snow that fell became denser, wetter. Her eyes drifted to the back of the car as she shut the door as quietly as she could. Slowly, she made careful steps, eyes flickering from the space behind the vehicle towards the trees the figure was heading in.
She prayed that there was something there; proof what she saw was real and not just a figment of her imagination, whipping things up to terrify her. Not even seconds later, she revoked that prayer as her eyes fell on very clear tracks; proof something was not only near her, but very large, and something she'd never seen.
The back feet were similar to that of a dogs, but the angle of the drag behind the claws indicated that this thing had a heel; like a human walking on their tip toes. That could have been easily misidentified in the snow, but the tracks ahead of it were unmistakable; humanoid hands with long fingers and claws. No creature -that she knew of- who lived in the wilds in the state had a track combination like that. She would be the last to admit knowing jack shit about footprints or animal tracks, but she loved animals and knew what their paws looked like. Those weren't Bobcat paws.
She held her breath, eyes following the trail across the road and over the snowbank where they disappeared just before the treeline, and that little fact made her heart drop. Why?
Because it meant it was still there, watching her from a perch in the trees. Any animal that stuck around to watch someone had every intention of attacking them.
Keeping her breath trapped in her lungs, she kept her eyes glued on the black tree line, somewhere between the snow laden canopies and the roots. She took careful, slow steps backwards until her heels hit the snowbank behind the van.
Not knowing what kind of creature this was made it difficult to figure out how to go about getting away: certain animals will remain at bay if you keep facing it, turning your back only invited an ambush. But if this wasn't an ambush predator, then she was fucked anyway.
Stepping over the bank, her foot sank down, snow flooding into her boot; a temporary inconvenience that was preferable to the other outcome. Whatever it was kept its distance for now -something she was grateful for as she backed up slowly, closer to the line of trees. When her back hit the bark of a tree, she fought the urge to look up -and potentially lose her throat- and instead slipped around its trunk and progressed further into the woods. When she was a safe enough distance away where she felt turning and running was a good idea, she did just that.
Turning on her heel, she began running, her feet silent in the carpet of snow she was running on. But that fact was a double edged sword; it may not be able to hear her footsteps, but she wouldn't be able to hear *its* steps either. And now it had a trail of hers to follow.