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SHUDDERS WRACKED CHARLIE’S body. Teeth chattered so hard she feared they’d break. Her car had finally stalled and stopped running during the night—not that it had provided much heat. One of the clothing-filled garbage bags in the back seat had burst on impact and the scattered fabric from random sweatshirts had cut the edge off the worst of the cold. She’d fallen in and out of consciousness all night, maybe even slept part of the time. At one point she’d dreamed Sherlock returned, his fur and hot body keeping her warm...Now the cooling engine tick-tick-ticked while sand-like snow peppered the shattered windshield. White drifted in through the open passenger window and piled up against the side of the car.
Her heart thudded when she became fully conscious. She might still survive. Something hurt deep inside, making it difficult to catch her to breath. Charlie swallowed. Her saliva tasted metallic. She spat, and her eyes widened at the crimson spatter now visible with the morning’s light. Her breath quickened, and shallow quick gasps steamed from her numb lips.
With no seatbelt to stop the impact, Charlie left a second head-size dent in the windshield. The steering wheel bruised her chest, and maybe shattered a rib. She lifted a hand to feel the lump on her forehead. Charlie screamed when bone grated upon bone. Her shoulder unhinged in a bizarre way. Gasping, she squeezed shut her eyes, and bit her lip, riding the wave of pain until it eased from shriek-level to dull roar.
The space offered a windbreak that barely made a degree or two difference. Her thin clothing and other random attire did little to shield Charlie from the biting temperature. How long until she froze? Her light gray vehicle, coated with white, would fade to invisibility against the snowy field. Nobody would find her. Getting to the road offered only a slim chance for rescue, but it was better than none. She had to get out of the car.
Charlie slowly, carefully twisted her neck one way and then the other, braced for the next unexpected stab of pain. Her head throbbed, but she felt gratified something worked. She examined the tiny space. The car canted on one side, nearly upside down. The driver’s side window pressed against spent corn stalks. The door, now a shivery surface upon which she rested, offered no way out. She’d landed on her left side with her arm pinned beneath her.
She had to get out! The open passenger window beckoned overhead, an impossible distance away. The remains of the cardboard cover blew to-and-fro in the wind, a monster’s lip-smacking dare to breach the opening. Right arm useless, Charlie had to perform a one-arm push-up with her left, and somehow drag her battered body up and out.
Gingerly flexing her right leg produced a sickening grating sound as her pelvis shifted. Oddly, she felt no pain, and wondered if the cold finally worked in her favor, numbing her extremities. Her shivers had abated, but Charlie knew the car hadn’t gotten warmer. Did shock make you stop shivering? If she lived, maybe she’d look it up. Right now, it didn’t matter.
Bracing herself for the pain to come, Charlie held her injured right arm tight to her body, while she flexed her left leg and pressed up with the corresponding elbow. Any fitness instructor would be proud of the plank she managed. But Charlie held it barely a minute before she collapsed into a near seated position.
The tiny world inside the car spun, and Charlie struggled to stay conscious. Her effort brought renewed warmth to her body. Her stomach flip-flopped, suddenly queasy, and she fought the urge to vomit, fearing that would tear up her insides even worse. It was no use; with only one good arm she couldn’t raise herself high enough to get out of the window. Even if she could, she doubted she could crawl the distance from her car to the road.
Snow completely covered the windshield. Charlie imagined the featureless lump of the car, a snowy speedbump in the field of white that wouldn’t catch anyone’s attention until long after the snow melted. She couldn’t get out of the car, but how about making it more noticeable?
She squirmed to free her left arm and hand. Pins and needles enveloped the limb, and she moved it erratically, trying to regain the feeling. Her arm brushed and engaged the wipers, thanks to the key still on in the ignition.
Charlie gritted her teeth at the grating noise until she saw the icy blades clear away some of the damaged glass. She wanted to shout with success, but held back, conserving energy. Even out of gas the battery would last for a while. A car from the road would need to be traveling one direction to see the glint off the glass windshield. Still, she’d improved her odds exponentially. But she could do better.
The car looked like an abandoned wreck. People needed a clue she was inside. Charlie’s movements had re-opened her head wound. She wiped her bleeding face and stared at her stained palm, then methodically painted the inside of the windshield bright red as far as she could reach. And every few minutes, Charlie switched the key on to engage the wipers and keep the red beacon free of snow.
That’s when a black and white creature forced its broad head and snuffling maw into the open window.
