THURSDAY NIGHT
By: Henry Snider
Jenna Mckee downshifted her green ‘75 Beetle attempting to gain better control on the icy road. The rear slipped and, for an instant, fence posts were brought to false daylight before returning to night’s embrace.
“Damned bastard.”
Trevor, her first date in five months, had offered such kindness as deciding she should only eat salad at the restaurant in lieu of anything “substantial considering her weight.” After catching him ogling the waitress for the third time in as many minutes, Jenna excused herself from the table, and, once out of his sight, from the date itself.
“A cold salad….”
She stepped harder on the gas and shifted back into fourth gear. Huge snowflakes fired past the headlights, streaking white against a charcoal background.
“On a cold night….”
Tires caught, lurching the bug around the last curve before Hansen’s Bridge.
“For one hell of a cold date.”
The starburst effect worsened as she left the partial protection of hills and trees. Snowbound silence gave way to a distinctive muffled hum as the car shot onto the bridge, speedometer tipping fifty. Slate colored rails bordered the bridge, offering a clear course in the year’s first blanket of winter. “Bald as a baby’s butt and he has the audacity to—”
A woman wearing a cream dress stood in the road.
Jenna jerked the wheel left and stomped on the brakes.
The car’s front end turned, but the forward motion continued. She let off the brakes and tapped the gas.
Wheels caught and the car pulled to the left before starting a slow counterclockwise spin.
Grey rails and grey sky.
Two deep cuts into Jack Frost’s bounty.
A woman and a dog.
Grey rails and grey sky.
Bam!
The right rear fender struck the rails and pinballed in the opposite direction.
Jenna’s grip tightened on the steering wheel and she closed her eyes, not wanting to see the inevitable impact. The nauseating ride slowed, wheels grabbing. Her foot instinctively went to the brake and stomped again. The seatbelt strained as the car slid to a halt.
Fear forced both eyes open.
Headlights shone into a dark sky, offering nothing save that of falling snow.
A coppery flavor overpowered the mint gum she chewed.
“Oh, God.” Shaking fingers touched her mouth and came away black with blood. A thick drop fell, descending as if in slow motion to the final impact against her powder blue blazer. The blood beaded before sliding down to the seat, a stained snail trail setting in its wake.
“Did I hit…?” Jenna furrowed her brow trying to make sense of what happened. Instinct took over and she put on the hazards. After some fumbling, she pulled the handle and leaned against the door.
Nothing happened.
The effort was repeated, this time with more weight put into the equation.
A groan emanated from the door before misaligned hinges gave way with a disgruntled squeal. Cold air whistled in through the two-inch gap and frosted the window. She forced the door all the way open.
“I guess big girls are good for something,” Jenna murmured while pulling free of the car she more wore rather than drove. Her low pumps disappeared into the white blanket covering the bridge. The world swam, accident induced vertigo preying mercilessly on her still-empty stomach.
The car’s right front dropped a foot, undercarriage impacting against the bridge with a dull thud. Desire for self-preservation pulled her back a half dozen steps. Railings ceased their parallel journey along this length of the bridge, ending in gnarled rebar fingers grasping for the night.
Realization of how close she’d come to plummeting fifty feet into the water below surfaced, beading sweat on an already furrowed brow. Morbid curiosity led her, staggering, to the bridge’s edge.
Below, water splashed against a rock-based support pillar, a touch of white foam occasionally breaking the wind-whipped ebony rock.
Something else.
A dull amber glow broke the water’s surface.
A taillight.
As her vision adjusted, the trunk and rear of a dark sedan materialized from the night’s gloom. Inside, a thin white arm pressed against the rear window.
“Oh, God,” she repeated.
The arm moved and was replaced with a boy’s face. Glass fogged as the youth gasped for breath in the narrowing pocket. He smacked against the rear window feebly, icy water taking its toll with each passing second.
“Help,” Jenna whispered and stumbled backward, heels offering nothing for stability.
The woman still stood in the road, her back to the wreck she’d caused.
The dog was gone.
“Help,” louder this time. “There’s someone hurt. Car…a car’s gone off the bridge.”
No response. Not even a shiver from the woman. Only the emergency lights gave flashing life to the scene.
The elderly woman wore no coat, just a sleeveless cream-colored dress. A tear along the left side exposed one leg to mid-thigh. Crusted blood caked the stranger’s head, neck and legs. The bun hung loose, part of the hair sticking to the nape of her neck, allowing the rest to shift with each gust of wind. Both her calves were dark with dried blood.
“We….” Jenna slipped and fell, nearly sliding into the woman. Piled flakes shot skyward.
“G…G…Go,” the woman panted.
“There’s a car in the water!”
Makeup contrasted sharp against the pedestrian’s hypothermic face. She stared straight ahead, not even glancing down to where Jenna sprawled at her feet. The woman’s eyes were milky – a blind woman’s eyes.
“Dog’s…crazy.”
Chilling wetness soaked through her skirt and offered a frigid reminder of what the child was experiencing. Jenna pushed herself onto her hands and knees.
A shadow bolted into Jenna’s vision, striking her hard on the right shoulder, teeth clamping down, sinking deep into the coat’s padding. The head pulled back, thrashing as if playing with an immense doll.
The dog released its hold, shifted, and gripped Jenna firmly by the neck. A sudden intrusion of canines piercing flesh created more an odd tickling sensation rather than pain. Instinct kicked in and she grabbed the guide animal’s harness in an attempt to pull the predator free. Jenna tried to draw air to scream. None came.
Her bladder gave way.
The German Shepherd twisted its head and jerked in a vicious arc. A second splash of warmth soaked her chest. One shoe flew off and scored a pitiful blow to the animal’s flank. Convulsive kicks freed the second shoe as man’s best friend pulled a fist-sized chunk of flesh loose and trotted over to his charge, tail wagging.
Jenna watched, detached, as the black and brown beast nipped at his benefactor’s ankles. The blind woman stumbled a half-dozen, stiff-legged steps toward town before stopping once more, still centered in the road.
He sat beside the woman.
Waiting.
END
Henry Snider’s website at Fiction Foundry
This is a work of fiction. All the names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyrighted 2023 Notch Publishing House
