Page 9 of The Nutcracker

Chapter Six

The sky had darkened and the snowfall grew heavier as I drove away from that desperate dead-end job at Hippo Hamburgers and back into town, keen to get back to my grandmother as soon as I could.

The streets of Coopers Mill were now completely abandoned. The lights trailing along the eves and criss-crossing the chimneys of the houses twinkled in anticipation of another perfect white Christmas. I imagined the inhabitants inside each home cosying by the fire and sipping eggnog and putting the finishing touches on their Christmas feasts.

Meanwhile, all I could do was hurry back to my grandmother, my only wish that she might remember her beloved husband.

Just once.

Just a glimmer.

Just for a single moment before Christmas arrived.

My mind tried to push the stress of my emotional state away about as fast as the wipers swiped at the snow building up on the windshield. The glass was fogging up and the lights from the closed stores on Main Street became bleary and splintered.

I tried turning up the demister and I heard a rattle and clunk behind the dash.

The air stopped pumping through the vents and the window fogged up even more.

I wiped the glass with my hand and suddenly—

There in headlights a few feet in front of me a deer appeared.

I slammed on the brakes.

The car slid through the snow.

I hauled the wheel to the right.

I saw the deer leap out of the way.

But there was no stopping the car from sliding straight into a lamp post on the corner.

The car hit with a loud crunch.

I jolted in my seat and my face hit the steering wheel hard.

The hood crumpled.

Steam billowed up into the falling snow.

The lamp post teetered then fell forward, crashing down onto the windshield and smashing it.

Snow and crystaline cubes of shattered glass covered the dash.

I felt the warmth of blood running down the bridge of my nose and pushed open the car door.

“Fuck,” I whispered, stunned and light-headed.

I leaned toward the open door and fell out into the snow, landing on my hands and knees and seeing the blood drip from the end of my nose and stain the snow. Gently I touched the bridge of my nose then inspected the blood on my fingertips. I scooped up a handful of snow and cupped it against the cut, numbing the pain momentarily.

I turned back to the car with the steam hissing from its buckled hood and the head of the lamp post resting against the shattered windshield.

I looked up and down Main Street.

There was not a soul in sight.

No people.

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