|Some Like it Cold (standard:horror, 8533 words)|
|Author: Kenneth Brosky||Added: Aug 13 2002||Views/Reads: 2234/1478||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Three teens, on their way home from a ski trip during a heavy snowstorm, end up stuck in a small town where something is very wrong.|
The mist was thick, but that was okay because the van had a new set of headlights. What wasn't okay was the fact that there was a mist outside. Adam turned on his wipers and cranked up the heat full blast to melt the frost that was accumulating on the windows. “It's a fucking mist,” Rico was saying from the backseat, “and it's fucking freezing outside. Where the Hell are we anyways, navigator?” The navigator—Jeff, sitting in the passenger's seat—smoothed out the creases on the map in his lap. “Um,” he said. “Um, um, um. Honestly, I'm not sure. I think we're coming up on a small town called Sommerset any second now. I mean, I think we passed a sign that said it was coming up, at least.” Adam was about to retort when he caught the outline of a small building just off the main highway road. It was a Post Office; where there was a Post Office, there was at least some form of civilization. He tapped at the gas gauge dramatically to get his two friends' attentions. “We need to stop for the night. I can't see shit in this mist, it's snowing outside, and we're fresh out of gas.” “Yeah well I'm fresh outta fucking money,” Rico said. “If you got the spare cash to bunk us up for the night, then be my guest. The clunky old van coughed hard a few times before picking back up. It belonged to Adam's father for ten years, and—according to Mr. Harrington—could Adam's in one more. If the old bitch made it another year. Adam was sure it wouldn't. “Okay, we need a gas station and we need one soon,” Adam said. His hands were gripping the wheel as hard as possible and he could feel the van's engine sputtering and beginning to stall. Below, the wheels were weakly trying to grip the icy blacktop of the town's main highway road. It was a typical Wisconsin town: bars and shops and everything else tourist and shopping-related on either side of the main highways, while the houses were tucked away in the thick forest. Let the travelers gas up and buy what they need to buy and continue on their way without disturbing the townsfolk. No, the locals never enjoyed the out-of-towners much. Just a bunch of hicks, thought Adam. “I've got fifty bucks left,” Jeff said. “The night's on me; I charged the lift tickets to my credit card anyways. I think it's maxed out now.” “Tight,” Rico said. “Very smooth, Jeff my boy. Very smooth.” Adam reached one hand into his pocket quick enough to feel around, then quickly placed it back on the steering wheel as the van began to veer right on the icy road. “Okay, I think I have enough for gas. I remember putting a ten in my pocket. That'll get us seven gallons of gas or so, and that should be more or less enough to get us home.” Old Bessy—sensing that everything was coming together for her passengers—coughed once and puttered out. Adam guided her slowly to the side of the road. By now, sidewalks were visible in front of the buildings on both sides of the main road. Most of them were bars and small markets, from what Adam could see. Unfortunately, he couldn't see much; two buildings on either side at a time before the silhouettes blended back into the thick, white mist. The van came to a stop next to—surprise—a bar. The neon light in the window was on, and Adam could hear music playing inside. “Fuck,” Rico said. “She finally died.” “She's not dead,” Adam said. “She's just outta gas. Let's find a gas station and then we'll look for a Motel.” Jeff was looking at the back of the map. “It says that this town has fifteen thousand people. That means there's probably a nice-sized row of buildings along this main road. Probably a few Motels and gas stations. We shouldn't have to walk far.” “Yeah but how many are open at—” Rico checked his watch “—twelve-thirty in the morning?” Click here to read the rest of this story (912 more lines)
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