by Graeme Clark
'What are you doing?' Danny asked.
'Calling in, we need a JCB up here to dig us out. Unless you want to wait till it melts,' Peter replied. 'Try your phone, might be lucky and get a signal.'
Danny unlocked his phone and the bright screen lit up his side of the cab in a light blue hue. Danny shook his head, and then shoved the phone into his pocket.
The engines thunder was all that could be heard, a calming rumble that comforted Peter in a time of desperation. Outside, the snow didn't let up and the drift that Peter hit was getting larger and larger. Peter turned the heater dial down a notch, the cab was stifling.
'What? We just hang aboot till a JCB comes all the way from the depot?' Danny asked. Their main depot was sixteen miles away, on a good day a JCB would take about forty minutes; in this weather? Who knows how long?
'There is a machine in Penicuik, half an hour and it would be here, so calm down.'
They sat in almost silence for ten minutes then Peter tried base again, still nothing. The orange tinted sky was heavy with snow and it just kept coming. The other drivers sometimes called the flakes, 'Pennies from Heaven' due to the over-time they could get, Peter didn't. This was a necessity, certainly not something to be happy about, 'Needs must'. He would rather be with his wife all day, every day but he needed the money.
'What if I dig us out,' Danny said. He looked terrified and Peter really didn't want him to go outside, but it might be an option. If he could clear the ever growing drift and some of the rear end, the lorry may get traction again and pull away. If they could keep momentum he had enough salt in the back to help batter through, he hoped.
'I don't know Danny, what about those things?' Peter said really concerned.
'I'll have a fuckin' shovel in my hand,' Danny said pulling on his jacket and smiling, but without any real conviction.
'I'll keep trying base, need to report in anyway.'
Danny cleared his throat, shivered slightly, opened the door and jumped down from the steps. Peter lost sight of him as he walked to the side to get a shovel. A few minutes later he was standing at the scraper waving the shovel and grinning like a horror story clown. Peter gave him the thumbs up and tried calling base again. Nothing. The wind and snow battered Danny as he dug. He was unconcerned where the snow landed as he threw it once that way, then the other. Peter felt guilty, calling base was an excuse not to go out in the blizzard.
Through the big flakes he could see the heavy sky pushing, crushing down on them. To Peter and Danny this was the only place on earth. It didn't matter about home, it didn't even matter about Mary, it didn't matter about the other gritters; possibly stuck on other routes. It didn't matter about the police back at Leadburn or the stuck cars wanting the road clear so they could get home. It was just him and Danny with a load of salt, a couple of shovels, a working heater and creatures in the snow that didn't look the friendliest. 'Focus on the job in hand not the job in plan' his dad used to say.
Shit, he thought, I better give him a hand.
Peter slipped his jacket on, pulled the hood up over his head and zipped it up to his chin. The blowing wind caused a little resistance on the door as he opened it and he felt the winter chill bite at his face immediately. He jumped onto the snow; it was up to his knees and he feared digging wasn't enough unless it stopped snowing. He took careful, large strides towards the rear to get the other shovel. He pulled it from the cradle that attached it to the vehicle’s body and headed back to the front. A squeal pierced the night and he felt it through his body; like polystyrene rubbed on a black board. He hurried to Danny.
He reached him and Danny was still shovelling, but more ferociously than ever.
'Did you hear that? We need to fuckin' move,' he urged. Peter simply nodded and started shifting snow from around the wheels and the scraper. The wailing returned and sounded closer, much closer.
'Think we should get back in the cab Danny,' Peter said with an air of panic in his trembling voice.
Danny shook his head, 'No, need to get away from them.'
They both froze. There was breathing, grunting and panting about ten metres in front of them and to the sides of them. Peter spun three sixty degrees trying to pinpoint its exact location, their exact location.
'Danny, move slowly into the cab, please,' Peter said.
'I have a shovel, I want out of here.' Danny lifted the shovel and held it like a bat, ready to swing. 'We fight or die Pete, those things are not fuckin' about.'
Peter thought for a moment about doing the same, stand and fight. He was too old and slow for fighting, he wouldn't last a minute. He backed off slightly towards the cab door. A deep growl vibrated in his chest like a low frequency bass. The black shapes appeared directly in front of them. Three of the creatures stood straight up this time, just as he guessed they could. As long as he didn't look directly at them, he could see them.
The middle one of the three made a lunge for Danny; he swung the shovel from shoulder height and hit the creature across the face with a 'thwack'. The creature squealed in pain and flew backward. 'C'mon then fuckers, come and get some,' Danny screamed at them, moving the shovel from side to side in front of him. 'Who's next?'
Peter's heart pounded and he shook uncontrollably from the sudden burst of adrenalin and the terror he clearly felt. He grabbed at the door handle and within seconds he was sitting high in the cab above Danny watching the nightmare unfold. The creature Danny had hit stood up again, Peter could see its face lit up by the roof lights. A large gash opened up the left side of its face, something oozed from the wound; thicker than blood and much darker in colour. It turned its head toward the other two who hadn't even moved. Peter saw the long snout that protruded from its terrible face like a dogs. Its jaws moved as if it was talking to the others, communicating in a language very alien to him. Danny stood still and watched. They could be hurt, they bled so they could be killed, Danny might be right, fighting may be the best option.
Peter was about to jump back out the cab when all three creatures loped toward Danny, Peter's hand froze on the door handle. Within seconds they were on Danny, no mercy. They tore and bit their way through his flesh, Danny's screaming stopped after only a few seconds. Peter watched as Danny's life was ripped from him in bloody chunks. The three dragged what was left of the body back into the darkness away from the roof lights and Peter only heard the wailing again. By the scraper, a dark patch was left in the snow, it looked black in the darkness but Peter knew what it was. His stomach lurched and he moved his head to the side and threw up over Danny's seat.
Minutes passed with no more creatures, the snow had stopped blowing so hard and Peter could swear he could see clouds again. Delicate flakes still fell but it seemed as it was at last easing off. The roof lights were able to penetrate further into the dark and visibility was getting better; or worse. As the snow became translucent he could see more than he wanted to see.
Danny lay off the road to the left, he was in pieces. A creature hunched over the body, the one Danny wounded. It had the shovel in its grasp. It stood up and swung it at Danny's neck and took his head off in a couple of hacks. The creature grabbed at Danny's hair and tugged. The head came away from his torso with ease and the creature turned to look at Peter. Its jaws wouldn't allow for a huge grin but Peter thought it was trying to smile. Its teeth glistened with blood; its face smeared in the red stuff, its body was strong and naked. It stood in the snow without a shiver. It turned now and walked toward Peter, Danny's head grasped in one hand. When it was about ten feet away it lifted the trophy above its head and in one flowing motion threw the head at the windscreen, it smashed inward. Peter ducked down to protect himself as much as possible as the glass shards rained down on the inside of the cab. Danny's head came to rest on his seat, on top of the vomit.
Peter'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 ref
lecting 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 his 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 priority 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 snow 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 began 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 like 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 beacons, 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.
