The Biting Cold: A Winter's Horror Tale (3 page)

Pe
ter's Fight

Peter looked outside into the darkness and saw the snow had stopped completely. The creature stood at the scraper and began to climb toward the broken window. Its red eyes reflecting no light, with claws that could tear flesh off the bone attached to long bony fingers built to clench a throat and rip it out. Within seconds he could feel its hot, rotten breath on his face as it crept through the window and into the cab. Peter sank down into his seat as low as he could go, one hand down by the peddles. It pushed itself down on him; Peter waited for the tearing to start.

He felt around on the floor with one hand for anything he could use as a weapon, under his seat
, his fingertips landed on something metal, something heavy. Peter gripped it in his right hand, it felt substantial, certainly heavy enough for a blow that would give him a little time, a little space.

The creature dripped hot saliva from its lips onto hi
s face. Peter lifted it up and with as much force as he could muster; he stuck the creature in the same place as Danny had. It yelped and backed off to the other side of the cab, scrambling and kicking its powerful legs. Peter thought just for a split second to turn and run into the snow, only a second though as he thought of Danny.

'We fight or die.'

The creature mewled in the corner like a frightened animal. He hoped that was exactly what it was. Peter moved onto his knees and raised what he now saw was the tyre wrench, he brought it down again on the creature's face, same place again. The wound opened further, its face split like a banana skin. The creature squealed in agony and Peter took this as his signal to finish it for good. He raised the wrench up, then pummelled it down; over and over until the creature stopped moving completely. The biting cold air breezed into the cab and froze the creature’s blood that now splattered Peter's face.

'That was for Danny, fuck-head,' he yelled at its corpse as it
lay limp in the corner of the cab next to Danny's head.

He took a deep breath of the cold, fresh air that whirled around the cab and sat back down on his seat. He knew there were at least two more but he didn't concern himself with that just now. His prior
ity was to dig while the snow had gone off and the wind had died down enough to prevent further drifts.

He jumped down from the cab and began to
dig; first he freed every wheel ensuring he had plenty of room to back the lorry up for a run at the drift in front. He then moved to the drift that had been half cleared by Danny and started clearing the front end, being careful to keep looking around to see if more creatures were going to show up. For the moment they didn't, so he dug.

After clearing enough sno
w he went around the back to shovel out some salt from the rear gate of the gritter, he needed to give himself every chance of getting out first time. He spread salt all around the tyres in thick piles, the ice that had been forming under the snow crackled under the melting properties of the salt and Peter knew it was working. He jumped back into the cab, he didn't want to travel back with this mess in his lorry. He reached over the creature and pulled the handle to release the door latch and the creature flopped backward from the cab onto the snow, taking Danny's head out with it.

He threw the gear into reverse and moved the lorry back a few feet. Peter then applied the handbrake and jumped down from the cab. A wailing sound surrounded him, he quickly bega
n clearing where the tyres had been sitting down to the glorious black asphalt, a mixture of scraping the hard packed snow with the shovel and salting it to break it up, this would ensure grip on whatever ice was going to be left. The wailing was closer again and sounded much more than just two. He hurried back around, secured the shovel in its cradle then got back into the cab. He reversed a little farther until he felt the tyres hit the snow he didn't clear. He pushed the gear stick into second and revved the engine. This is what he did.

Four creatures appeared in front of him, hunched down as if ready to
pounce; he wouldn't give them the chance. He took his foot off the clutch and hoped he had enough power and grip on the icy blacktop to give him a fighting chance. The mound of snow that had drifted onto the carriageway was just a small bump now and the scraper should have no problem as long as he kept up the power and momentum. The huge vehicle bounded forward, stuttering a couple of times as it found grip.

Power and momentum.

He dropped the scraper with a push of the button and the lorry sped forward. It crashed through what was left of the drift and this time it didn't stop. The creatures didn't have time to get out the way and the scraper ploughed through them as if they weren't there. The wailing didn't stop though; it just got louder.

How many were there?

He kept the accelerator to the floor and a firm grip of the steering wheel, concentrating hard to ensure he wouldn't run off the road. He knew there was a lay-by up the road, he would need to turn around as he wasn’t going to Peebles now. He only had the thought of home and his wife. He glanced at the dashboard clock and it was now a few minutes past midnight, all going well he could be home by one. Mary would be in bed, but at least they would wake up on Christmas morning together. He could survive this, which was all that mattered, he was focused and could see the lay-by ahead. He turned hard into it, trying not to slow down too much and then the squealing started again. Peter's whole body tingled at the sound.

This time, he would be ready.

Heading Home

Peter threw the lorry into the sharp bend of the lay-by entrance, the back end of the lorry started to slide on the still snow bound, untreated road. But this is what he does, and he managed to haul the steering wheel the opposite way to correct the slide. A few wheel spins later and the tyres gripped on the soft snow and he floored the accelerator. The lorry sped forward and Peter looked in the rear-view mirror. A couple of the creatures had followed him into the lay-by and began striding behind him; easily catching him up. He could see them no problem in the mirror, no glimpsing from the corner of his eyes.

The exit to the lay-
by was only just ahead. A creature loped down the driver’s side, Peter could see it in the mirror. He swung the wheel one way only briefly as he didn't want to start a sideways slide. A steep banking lay to his left and he really wanted to avoid coming off the road so he straightened the wheels almost immediately. This manoeuvre had the desired effect of forcing the creature under the back wheels as the underbelly of the lorry was higher than the creature. A small bump later and he was clear of the lay-by and heading back to Penicuik, this time there was no stopping. The freezing air blew into his face and chilled his core.

'Where are you fuckers?' he whispered. He wanted to finish them all off before getting home but he could see no more.

The next couple of miles were uneventful, no creatures could be seen, although they could be heard now and again. The high pitched wailing echoed all around him and could be heard above the engine roar. He was only a mile away from Leadburn and safety when he glanced in the mirror and saw one gripping the side of the gritter body. Its fingers curled around the cage. The scraper threw snow way off to the left, the faster he went the farther it got thrown.

The road began to twist and turn slightly and this threw the little '
hanger on' this way and that. It struggled to hold on, it banged against the cage with every violent turn of the vehicle, but it continued crawling along the body, attempting to reach him. His fingers ached from the cold grip on the steering wheel, a mixture of cold and mild arthritis sent pain shooting along his knuckles.

Not much farther.

He glanced at the nearside mirror and saw another one crawling along the other side of the gritter.

'Fuck, you want another fight do you?' he sounded l
ike Danny. He knew he couldn't take on two of them, even with a tyre wrench. He had used the gritter as a weapon earlier, he would have to do so again, but he wasn't going to shake them off.

He could see dim lights in the distance and flashing blue beacon
s, he was close. Although he knew he couldn't make it, he also knew he couldn't allow these creatures to reach the junction. Yes, there were probably more, but he couldn't be the one to deliver death to the poor souls in their cars waiting for him to be their saviour. If he was successful they would have no idea how much of a saviour he really was.

Peter pushed his foot hard on the accelerator trying to get up as much speed as possible. The roar of the scraper on asphalt was an undeniable sound, it was the
sound of victory, the road was clear. Peter allowed himself a smile before swinging the huge lorry first to the left, then to the right. He knew the embankment was just up to his left, if he timed this right on the next swing he would see the small fence. He did. He swung the steering wheel to the left again ensuring he kept the wheel to the left. The scraper hit the raised grass area with a thud and it bounced up hard. Peter was flung forward and to the right side; his head smacked the window but it didn't give way. This time he didn't correct the slide but encouraged it. The back end slid around the width of the road at the same time as the front end smashed through the fence. The rear wheels struck the raised grass banking and the lorry had no option but to try and tip over. With the scraper and cab already teetering on the brink, it was enough to start the tumble over and down the embankment. It wasn't a huge drop but was enough for two rolls of the gritter.

The salt cage was crushed as it rolled, as were
the two creatures who had tried to hang on. Salt was thrown all over the banking as it nearly emptied itself on the way down. It sprayed out all over and the snow turned a dirty brown where the salt lay in clumps. The lorry came to rest on its side; Peter had blanked out after the first roll.

Dawn

Peter had no idea how long he had been out when he flicked his tired eyes open. It wasn't as dark now as it had been when he blacked out. Small
glints of sun-light penetrated the heavy clouds and the snow that surrounded him was cloaked in a diffused light that was enough to hurt his eyes. It was dawn. He guessed about half eight, maybe nine, the first light of day breathed life into him and gave him the strength to push himself up on his arms. He lay only twenty feet from the wrecked gritter; it lay twisted and broken at the bottom of the banking. Peter wondered how he was alive, surviving the crash was the easy bit, but why had the creatures not killed him.

Maybe there had only been the two left.

On first glance around the site he couldn't see them. If there were more why hadn't they just killed him? And where were the police, the people at Leadburn? They might not have seen the crash because of the twisty road but surely they had heard it. They would have walked up the short hill to see what happened.

He stood up on weak legs, he was soaked through due the
deep snow he had been lying in and he shivered an almost uncontrollable shiver. His jaw chattered and his breath slowed to get the cold under control. His face was numb, his hands were numb, he felt numb all over but at least he was alive.

He scanned the scene out of the corners of his eyes and saw the creatures again. Two of them stood at the roadside looking down
at the wreckage, surveying the damage from their vantage point. He needed to keep looking away; he didn't want to lose sight of them. They seemed to be searching the area, perhaps they hadn't seen him yet. He crept toward the gritter, shoulders hunched and footsteps light, being careful not to make any sudden big moves or make any noise. He tried to understand why they attacked in the first place. What was it he had that no one else did? Creatures in the snow randomly attacking vehicles in the winter nights? This would have happened before, he would have heard about it. What did he have that they wanted so badly?

Salt.

They are after the salt? No, that's silly. Is it? They only attacked when he stood between them and the salt. The pure-unrefined-crushed rock salt. Danny struck the first blow. They were only after the salt and now they were after Peter?

He crept farther toward the gritter and heard mewling, it sounded like a scorned cat, but he knew it was them. Calling to each other, warning each other, talking to each other?

On approach to the gritter, which he now thought may be a bad idea, Peter saw his shovel lying in the snow; just the handle protruding from the white, like Excalibur. He clenched the handle and pulled slowly, the disturbed snow fell away from the shovel and now Peter had a weapon. He headed around the back of the gritter out of sight of the creatures that now began descending the banking towards him, upright and sliding most of the way on clawed feet. He took in a huge lung-full of air, slowly and controlled. He gripped the shovel in both hands with the scooped part raised, anticipating a fight. Maybe it would be a short one, but he readied himself anyway. He thought of Echo Base and as much as he hated the little twerp; he wished he was here right now. He also wished Danny was here but for different reasons. This was the moment when he actually really needed a 'second man'.

He could hear the deep, growling breath and could almost smell it approaching from the sid
e. They didn't come near Peter, they crouched down at the overturned lorry. The salt cage was burst open; the salt spilled from the side and lay burning through the snow to the grass beneath. Peter watched as they grabbed large handfuls of the salt and rubbed it over their skin, as he would have a bath with water, they bathed in the salt. They rolled around in it, throwing it at each other, playing in it. Mewling, screeching as they did. There were only two of them and he had to shut them up before others arrived. Gripping the handle until his knuckles turned white, Peter came around from the rear of the vehicle and stood in direct sight of the creatures.

Fight or die.

They just glowered at him, and then stood up tall, almost elegant in stature. They were far from elegant as they both bared their teeth and ran at him. Peter knew the first swing was the important one, he couldn't afford to miss. He took a deep breath and braced himself, puffed up his chest and when one of them was within shovel range he swung, he didn't miss. In fact he took a huge chunk of face with it. The creature was dead instantly; one blow and gone. The other stopped, it was frightened. Peter couldn't say how he knew, he just did.

'C'mon fucker, don't you dare run away,' he said through gritted teeth. 'I will never catch you.'

It didn't run; it got angry and charged. Head down and body prone like a missile, it came at him hard and fast. Peter had no chance of getting out the way, and it was too close for a shovel swing. It went directly for it, trying to grab it out of his hands, but he wasn't giving it up that easy. They stood pulling the shovel this way and that between them, a dance of survival, whoever got the shovel was the winner. The hot creature breath stung his eyes, it was like getting salt in them. The creature was stronger than Peter so he had to be clever. When the creature yanked once more Peter simply released both his hands from the shovel, the creature stumbled backward and fell onto the pile of salt behind it, smacking its head on the gritter cage as it fell. The salt cage access door dangled from its hinges to his left. As quickly as his old bones would allow, he grabbed the door in both hands and pulled with what little strength he had. First pull, nothing. The creature stirred. Second pull, nothing. The creature sat up. Third pull the hinges squeaked in protest then gave way and now Peter stood above the creature with another weapon in hand. The mesh had broken to allow metal prongs to be exposed. Peter raised it above his head and brought it down sharply on the creature's exposed chest. The prongs penetrated deep and the creature mewled again. Calling for help? None would be coming. Peter lifted the shovel from the creature's weakened grip, and raised it to the side as if he was swinging the largest three iron ever.

'This one's for me.'

The shovel came down with a crunch of bone. The creature's head crumpled under the sheer force of which the shovel had been swung. Peter dropped it immediately. He panted and puffed and knew it was over. He listened for a moment to hear screeching or mewling or squealing; he heard nothing. It was over.

'I will be home Mary, just wait a while longer.' Peter climbed t
he banking toward the road and when he reached it, he only remembered seeing the white van for a second before collapsing in a heap on the black asphalt.