Omar was cold and miserable driving up the mountain highway. The old Accord was chugging out as much heat as it possibly could, but winter had really set in by then and the chill was bone-deep. And winter was always worse in the mountains. Snow was piled thick as a result of a recent storm and Omar had to be constantly on guard for black ice. This whole assignment was dreadful.
In the back seat was a sealed case of antibiotics as big as Omar’s torso. A town up here, in the middle of nowhere, was in the middle of a large outbreak of MRSA and winter conditions were making it difficult to get treatment all the way out there. Whatever the lab had given Omar was supposed to be better at treating this particular strain with a longer shelf life that made transport like this feasible. As long as he got there by the end of the day, the shipment should last long enough to treat everyone.
He’d been driving all day, though, and was desperate to get to Saffron in time to make his delivery and find a hotel room. Well, a motel room. Omar doubted that the town was big enough for a hotel. He sighed. All Omar wanted was to get back to his shitty little apartment and go to sleep on his shitty little bed so he could resume his shitty little life in the morning.
Omar turned his attention to the hum of the radio, which he’d been tuning out for the past hour or so.
“A new scientific study has been making the rounds,” the host was saying, “claiming that long-term stress children suffer from high demands placed on them growing up do not necessarily taper off once they have grown up and moved away from—”
Omar turned the radio off. A memory was trying to squirm its way out of the back of his mind, but Omar pushed it back down. The last thing he needed today was a trip down memory lane. He did his absolute best to focus on the rumbling of the car instead.
On one side of the road was a wall of stone, reaching up into heaven. On the other was a sheer cliff. A sea of trees spread out in every direction below, the sharp changes in elevation giving the forest the appearance of a roiling ocean frozen in time. Snow piled across the trees like sea foam.
Omar had never liked the wilderness. Anything could be out there, lurking in the darkness. Wild animals were frightening enough, but most of the country was undeveloped forest and there could be old things out there that nobody knew about. Perhaps not monsters, but potentially shayatin, evil spirits of temptation. The thought of facing one of those grotesque creatures still filled Omar with dread, even as an adult.
Turning a corner, Omar finally saw a sign for the next exit. Wilmington. Omar sighed. This was the next-closest town to Saffron, according to the map. He was almost—
The road was empty except for him, giving Omar plenty of space to slow down as he approached the electronic road sign. Road out, it blinked, due to heavy snowfall. Take exit 21. Again, Omar sighed. He’d have to find another way around. So he pulled into the exit lane and sped up again.
The last thing Omar wanted to deal with today was a detour. And who knew how much time it would add to his trip back. Why couldn’t people out here just keep their roads clear? Was it really too much to ask?
The streets were a little bit busier once Omar was off the highway. He’d need to sit down somewhere and figure out his next move. Up the road was a small diner. That would do. Omar pulled into the parking lot and shut the car off, then braced himself before opening the door to the cold.
Inside the diner was nothing special. It looked like something out of the fifties, or sixties, or whatever. All diners were fundamentally the same. Omar sat at the counter and pulled out his phone to look for alternate routes.
“Can I get you anything?” the server asked, reminding Omar that he hadn’t eaten since this morning.
“Can I get a Reuben and some coffee, please?” Omar asked quietly.
Omar had never really liked his voice. It was too deep and gruff. Not talking probably didn’t help; if he was silent, he’d never get used to it. But he was a goddamn adult. He should be over this by now.
Something must be wrong with Omar’s phone. The only available routes it would give him would take another two or three hours, each with an absurd amount of turns. Where were the routes that weren’t exclusively roundabout? He checked closer; the map showed a lot of roads were out for some reason or another.
Omar could have screamed. He was never going to get a motel room at this rate. What was he supposed to do? Well, there was no getting around it; Omar had to be ready for half a night more of driving through the nothing out here.
Everyone else in the bar seemed to be enjoying themselves. That was nice. What he wouldn’t give to be any one of them right now.
“What are you doing in town, stranger?” the server asked, placing a cup of coffee down in front of him.
“Just passing through,” Omar mumbled, not looking the server in the eye.
“Where you headed?”
“Saffron.”
“What business do you have there?”
“Just business.”
The server seemed to get the picture and walked away. Omar groaned. He hated being unsocial, but he just hated being out in public. Truth be told, Omar avoided doing it whenever possible.
“Hey,” he said suddenly, turning to the server. “Why are so many of the roads out, anyway?”
The server chuckled silently and replied, “Common, this time of year. Snow piles on the rocks, rocks fall into the road, snow covers the rocks. After the first snowfall, nobody really leaves town unless they absolutely have to. By this point, everyone is used to hunkering down for the winter. In fact, I bet there are more roads out than your phone can tell you. You’ll probably have to turn around at least once if you go by what it says.”
“Wonderful,” Omar mumbled, pulling his coffee close.
This wasn’t good. Omar absolutely needed to get the medicine to Saffron as soon as possible. But he couldn’t drive all night and all morning looking for a clear route. If nothing else, he’d end up running out of gas. He shot his boss a message explaining the situation, but knew that he wouldn’t get some magical solution back. Omar was left to figure this one out on his own.
Getting back would be difficult, too. Omar knew that his first concern should just be getting there, but he didn’t want to be driving until dawn trying to find a clear road back out of the mountains. This was a miserable assignment. Omar just wanted to go home.
There was a ding from the bell above the door as someone new entered the diner. After a moment, they sat down at the counter next to Omar, who didn’t look at them. It took a few moments for Omar to realize that the man was in a uniform. Glancing over, his heart sank.
He was sitting next to a sheriff. Wonderful. Just great. Exactly what he needed. Someone in this backwoods town had thought he looked suspicious and called the cops. Omar braced himself for the worst.
“Excuse me,” the sheriff said. Omar tensed up, but the sheriff was simply addressing the server. “I’ll have my usual, please.”
Omar kept waiting for the sheriff to turn and address him, but it didn’t come. Instead, the other man pulled a dull pencil out of his pocket and started playing with it, tapping it on the counter and turning it over in his hands. Slowly, Omar started to relax.
Then the sheriff finally turned and asked, “How you doing?”
“It’s been a lousy day,” Omar admitted slowly.
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that.” The sheriff shifted so he was facing Omar. “You have business in town?”
“Just passing through. I… I’m trying to make a delivery to Saffron, but the roads are blocked and I have no idea how to get there.”
The server placed a plate down in front of the sheriff, who began picking at his meatloaf before telling Omar, “The best thing for you to do, I say, is find a room and set out in the morning.”
“Not a good option,” Omar muttered. “It’s not that far from here, right? Maybe I can just walk the rest of the way.”
But the sheriff, mouth full of meatloaf, frantically shook his head and swallowed.
“Don’t do that,” he said quickly. “Once the snow falls, something starts skulking out in the woods. The Indians called it the Snowstalker. It attacks anyone who wanders into the woods after dark. Anyone who survives is completely changed forever, barely recognizable as themselves anymore. You don’t want to go out into the woods. Not now.”
“Really?” Omar asked, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “What kind of monster is that supposed to be?”
Swallowing again—the sheriff was eating rather quickly, it seemed—the other man replied, “Never seen it myself. Never want to. I pity the poor people who have. It’s not human; almost human, but not quite. Folks say that it comes from between the folds of reality and is drawn to cold places.”
Omar shivered, but there was an ember of disgust in his heart. This asshole was trying to scare him with stories of some Native American cryptid that the locals had adopted as their mascot. As if Omar needed any more reason to avoid the forest.
“I’d probably just get lost anyway,” Omar muttered.
The sheriff nodded slowly, insisting, “If you value your life, you’ll stick to the highway.”
Omar finished his meal and nursed his coffee. The sheriff seemed to be done talking as well, as he scarfed down the rest of his meatloaf.
What was Omar going to do? There were no good options. And he wasn’t made of money, either. The longer he was out here, the less he’d have over for rent at the end of the month. Omar was kind of desperate for an answer.
The sheriff stood up and gave Omar a firm pat on the back, telling him, “You’ll figure it out.”
He made a gesture to the server before heading out. Omar stewed for a little bit before the server returned with two checks, placing them both down in front of him.
“What’s this?” Omar asked.
“The sheriff said you’d pay for his meal,” the server replied, with the expression of someone who’d seen this con more than once before.
“Son of a bitch,” Omar muttered.
While Omar searched his pockets for his wallet, someone else walked up and sat down on the other side of him.
“Let me pay for it,” the other man said. “Yours too. My name is Wallace, by the way.”
Wallace looked to be in his early fifties, about the same age that Omar’s own father was. His hair was just starting to gray and he wore a wrinkled smile that reached his eyes. Omar nodded and stopped looking for his wallet.
“Thanks,” he said softly.
“Don’t mention it. I overheard what you were saying to the sheriff. I want to make an offer. Come over to where me and my wife are sitting.”
Curiosity piqued, Omar followed Wallace to the booth where a woman was already sitting. She didn’t look quite as old as Wallace, but Omar wasn’t sure if that was natural or intentional. She gave Omar a curt smile as he sat down, and Wallace sat down beside her.
“This is Whitney, my wife.”
“Charmed,” Whitney answered, reaching out to shake Omar’s hand.
“You said you had something that might help me?” Omar asked Wallace.
“Yes, you see—” He gestured to himself and his wife. “—me and Whitney were out camping in the wilderness.” (“We’ve always been big outdoors people,” Whitney explained.) “But we live in Saffron with our daughter. You look to be about her age. With the roads out, we’re struggling to get home too, but we have all our camping supplies.” (”In the truck,” Whitney added helpfully.) “We should be able to make the trip to Saffron in two or three hours if we cut through the woods. And if you want to come, we’d be happy to help you.”
Omar was torn. To be perfectly honest, he loathed the idea. Trekking through the darkness had already been a desperate Hail Mary of an idea. Traveling with people was unthinkable. But the other option was to give up and do nothing. He wasn’t sure if his pride could take that hit.
“Have you done this before?” he asked.
“Not in the snow,” Whitney answered. “But we have hiked from Saffron to Wilmington and back before, yes. And we’ve done plenty of night hikes and snow hikes.”
Then Omar asked, “And you’re not afraid of the Snowstalker?”
Wallace burst out into a booming laugh while Whitney chuckled.
“No, pal, we’re not afraid of some urban legend,” Wallace assured Omar.
Well, they seemed nice enough; they had paid for his meal, after all. Omar didn’t really like the idea, but it seemed like the best possibility of getting there in a reasonable amount of time. Fate had granted him a chance, at least.
“Alright, I’ll come with you,” Omar said, fidgeting with his hands under the table. “Can we leave soon?”
“We can leave right away.”
Omar climbed back into his car and followed the two through the streets of the town. They turned seemingly at random, but were kind enough to stay slow for him. His insides were churning. How had he ended up in this situation? This was such a bad idea, but he didn’t really have a choice. People needed him.
They ended up in a small parking lot on the very edge of town. The other two got out of their car and opened their trunk, pulling out two large backpacks. Cursing softly to himself, Omar also climbed out, but grabbed the large case of medicine from the back seat.
“Here, you’ll want these,” Wallace said, handing Omar a beanie and a pair of gloves.
While Omar put them on, Wallace and Whitney used their rope to tie the case to his back. Whitney also slipped him a pair of hand warmers to slide into his gloves.
“Wrap your scarf tightly around your face,” she said.
“And don’t worry,” Wallace added, “we’ll go at your pace. You ready?”
Omar glared at the woods. There was no point in delaying this any further. He nodded, then followed the pair into the night.
Thanks for the chaps!
Ouuuu exciting!