cold
A very short story about a very frigid evening.
The white airbags are deflated post-deployment, the windshield is cracked into a thousand pieces, and the sound of the horn beeps in the distance.
“I knew we shouldn’t have come here,” she says, straining to turn her neck. He breathes in slowly, trying to soothe himself out of a panic attack.
“How was I supposed to see that deer coming?”
She laughs sarcastically. “I don’t know, I thought the antlers would’ve maybe given you a hint.”
He gives her a cold glare, and her laughter quickly shuts off. Turning the key in the ignition, the sound that sputters out makes her groan in her seat.
“Great.” Her phone’s light shines in the pitch black car, and she sucks her teeth in. “No service.”
He looks around, gauging his surroundings, before he budges open his door. She looks at him incredulously as he limps to her side, and opens her door as well.
“What are you doing?”
“We have to walk somewhere to get help, you know.”
She crosses her arms in defiance, huffing and puffing even though it hurts her to do so.
“I’m not going,” she says, nose turned up and head turned away.
He sighs. “Okay, suit yourself.” He begins walking down the dark road, thunder starting to fill his ears. It’s not until the first clap that he feels an arm tighten around his, and of course, it’s her. She’s so stubborn. He gives her a look, and she returns it with an “Oh, just shut up.”
They walk for what seems like forever, until they notice an old, green tow truck coming their way.
“Hey! Hey!” They both yell, with the hope of slowing it down.
Their cries must work, because the tow truck begins to creep slowly towards them, at just the right time. He’s supposed to feel relieved, but it’s as if a block of ice hits the bottom of his stomach. Something’s not right.
They walk over to the passenger side, and the windows slowly roll down. She gasps.
In the driver’s seat, is a figure with a beige and brown flannel shirt and a denim jacket on, white hands gripping the steering wheel.
No head attached.