Melanie Rose - Coming Home

‘This isn’t good,’ I told Mitsy through gritted teeth. ‘Not good at all.’

Despite the muffled slowness of my progress up the hill, it seemed to me that everything inside the claustrophobic confines of my car was gradually gathering momentum. By degrees everything intensified. The white noise that had started in my head spread into the car itself. I had the headlights full on, windscreen wipers battling away, the heater blasting a clear patch on the inside of the windscreen. The engine whined and protested as it laboured up the steep incline.

Desperation grew within me; if I could have thrust the car forward by sheer willpower alone, then we might have won through, but just below the summit the car faltered and began to slide backwards down the hill. I floored the accelerator in a desperate attempt to regain control but the wheels spun, the engine shrieked indignantly, the car lurched sideways as it continued its downhill slide, and after a few terrifying moments of gathering speed we slewed to an abrupt halt with one back wheel jammed against a sapling at the side of the snow-covered lane.

For a moment I sat there, frozen with shock. The car was at such an angle that I felt I was hanging backwards and to one side in my seat. Reaching forward, I killed the ignition and a sudden deathly silence ensued. Giant snowflakes fell softly against the windscreen, and then I heard a sharp crack followed by the tearing, grating sound of metal ripping wood.

Looking over my shoulder, I realised with horror that the spindly snow-covered tree that had stopped my car’s descent was splintering under the weight of the loaded vehicle. At any second it could give way completely and the car would continue its backward slide towards the bridge I’d crossed at the bottom of the hill, or worse, plunge towards the swollen river itself.

Mitsy broke the silence by howling piteously beside me. The couple of long heartfelt yowls from deep in her stomach jolted me back into action. I shifted carefully in the precariously wedged car, unclipped my seat belt and reached round for my coat, which was on top of the pile of possessions on the back seat, but the car groaned and trembled with the movement and I turned quickly back and sat very still, my hands clasped in my lap. The car stopped moving.

After a moment I resolved to try again, and inched my fingers towards my mobile phone, which was on the seat beside the cat box, but my shaking hands only succeeded in nudging it onto the floor, where it fell with a clunk and slid under the seat out of reach. Holding my breath, and very carefully so as not to upset the balance of the car, I reached sideways with my left hand and lifted the handle of the pet carrier, easing it over onto my lap. The change in weight caused the car to tremble and creak, but it didn’t move. With my other hand I tried slowly pushing open the driver’s door. It seemed incredibly heavy, as the angle of the car meant I had to push upwards and out at the same time.

With the carrier lodged between the steering wheel and my chest, I shoved harder at the door, using all the strength in my arm and shoulder. For a moment I thought I wasn’t going to be able to move it, but then it swung back; the car bucked against the tree with the sudden movement and immediately snow rushed in, stinging the right side of my face, my arm and leg. The tree creaked against the metal of the car, protesting and cracking under the weight and suddenly it gave way altogether and the car broke free.

For a split second the car seemed to teeter in mid-air. With a mighty heave, I dragged the plastic carrier off my chest and made a desperate leap from the vehicle just as the door swung down again. The crushing weight smacked heavily against my temple as I dived for safety, knocking me half senseless as I landed awkwardly in cold, deep snow. Somewhere in my befuddled brain, I was vaguely aware that the car was teetering backwards. It part-slid, part-rolled away from me down the hill, snapping small trees and twigs from the hedgerow as it went. I watched, stunned, as it slewed sideways, missing the narrow bridge, and launched itself backwards with a last suicidal plunge into the fast-flowing river below.

Full consciousness returned with the realisation that I was huddled in deep snow on the verge of an empty road with what sounded like a cat’s plaintive mewing ringing in my ears. My head hurt. Looking down, I saw that I was clad in jeans, which were wet through from lying in the snow, and I could barely feel my legs. Shivering uncontrollably in a soggy, snow-saturated sweater, a mixture of bewilderment and fright flooded through me; I had absolutely no idea who I was or how I had come to be here.

My mind felt sluggish and my stomach tightened involuntarily with fear as I sat up and stared round me, blinking through snowflakes that were landing thick and fast on my hair, face and lashes. Reaching up to brush the cold wetness from the long hair fringing my face, my hands came away sticky with red, clotting blood. So this body was injured, I thought numbly, but why, how? What was I doing way out here freezing slowly to death in the snow?

A cat miaowed again somewhere nearby. Looking round I saw a plastic pet carrier lying nearby. So I hadn’t imagined the sound; there really was a cat. But what had I been doing out in the middle of nowhere in such weather and with a cat in a box?

Blinking away the moisture that was collecting on my lashes, I peered round me through the billowing snow, looking for any possessions that might belong to me, but apart from the partially buried cat box the freshly fallen snow was empty of clues.

Snow beat against me, freezing on my face as I struggled unsteadily to my feet. I knew I had to get moving. Straining my eyes through the blizzard, I felt a momentary rush of hope. Could that be a cluster of buildings? I wasn’t sure, but…yes, wasn’t that smoke wreathing from a chimney in the distance? Drawing in a cold raggedy breath I swallowed hard, trying not to cry. Maybe the cat and I—whoever I was—were saved.

It was eerily silent in the snow; sort of muffled as if I had plugs in my ears and couldn’t clear them by shaking my head. Taking a deep icy breath, I tried to pull myself together. I couldn’t leave the cat to freeze, so I fumbled to pick up the carrier and started gingerly up the hill, slipping and sliding in inadequate boots until I reached a footpath, ankle-deep in snow.

Soon I could no longer feel my toes. My head was swimming, my breath coming in short gasps, clouding the air in front of me as the snow continued to batter me; little pinpricks of icy cold stinging my cheeks, eyes and hands like tiny bullets. Every so often an overhanging twig would snatch at me, unloading a torrent of fresh snow down my neck and adding to my misery. My nose was running, my eyes smarting and I was shivering so violently that my teeth were no longer chattering but crunched together in a permanent grimace. Every step was a challenge now, every breath an agony, and the weight of the cat seemed to be wrenching my arms from their sockets, creating a dull ache across my back.

And then, whilst trying to shift the weight of the carrier slightly, my frozen feet shot from under me and I pitched sideways into the snow, landing with a crash on my right side. The cat box rolled away from me into a bank of deep snow on the edge of the field. It hadn’t gone far, but I was too cold and too exhausted to do more than drag myself to where it lay on its side in the thick snow and hunch my body over it.

Snow hammered against my back. I simply didn’t have the strength to go on. I ran an icy finger along the mesh of the cage and I felt a wet nose press against me. I wondered vaguely if I should try to undo the catch on the carrier to let the animal go free; maybe then it would have a better chance of survival than it had trapped here with me. But I didn’t seem to have control of my hands any more and it was just too much trouble when all I wanted to do was rest my aching head on the pillow of cold white softness and sleep…