Page 64 of Snowed In with her Mountain Men
“Worst I’ve seen, I think.”
Terri swore, scathingly, as she so often did. Her little convenience store carried just about every household necessity you could think of, plus some creature comforts that somehow always tasted better when they came from a place like this.
“I was here in 78’, when the Big One came through,” she murmured. “I was only nine years old, but I remember it hit exactly like this. Zero warning. Bitter, ball-shrinking cold. The air tasted like—”
“Terri?”
“Yes?”
“You know how much I love your stories,” I grinned, “but we both need to get the fuck out of here.”
She smirked, then nodded. “Yeah.”
I threw a bunch of money at her, and she stuffed it in her coat pocket. As she fumbled for the keys to lock the place up, I closed a hand over hers.
“Did you find out anything?” I asked quickly. “You know, about what we talked about?”
She thought for a moment, then shook her head.
“Nothing really,” she acknowledged at last. “There was that ice-fishing tournament out on the lake, and that brought in a lot of loners. Shit was crazy in here for a solid week, until the prizes were all handed out. Then you’ve got your usual skiers and snowboarders; the ones that always come in pairs and groups. I didn’t see anyone that really stood out, though.”
“Alright,” I acknowledged with a sigh. “Thanks anywa—”
“I mean there was this one guy I could tell was new in town, because he kept asking questions.”
“What kind of questions?”
“Directions, mostly. General stuff. I think he mentioned he was staying down near the Sayonara. He was a big motherfucker, too. Had to be around my age, if not older. Ithought he was suspicious for a while, because he was always dirty. But then I just figured he found some work at the mill, or on a logging truck, or maybe even—”
The screech of a violent wind gust ripped through the street, rattling the front windows and conveying a sense of urgency that made me feel uneasy. As much as I loved Terri, I wasn’t looking forward to hunkering down in the store for the next few days and eating half her inventory.
“C’mon,” I urged. “I’ll drive you home.”
“But my car…”
“Your car is half-buried by now. Maybe you’ll make it home… maybe you’ll get stuck.” I shrugged. “Best to dig it out afterwards.”
She didn’t like it, but she knew I was right. As a local, it was easy for her to see reason.
“Fine, but one more thing…”
She dipped down the candy aisle and returned with two big fistfuls of something I didn’t recognize. Before I could object, she dumped it all into my box.
“Necco wafers?” I read the label. “Really?”
“Yeah. Take em.”
“They look like chalk,” I grimaced.
“They taste like chalk too, from what I remember,” she snickered. “Maybe they are chalk.”
I picked a roll of the little colorful discs up and sniffed it. It smelled like nothing.
“These things have been here since the 90’s, haven’t they?” I groused.
Terri laughed into the bitter wind as she flung the door open.
“The 80’s, actually,” she cackled. “But who’s counting?”
