To Calm A Blizzard

The ice crystals in my veins snap with each clench of my frozen fingers. Every time I open my hand, the ember of heat is dashed out by the greedy wind. More than anything, I want to shove my hands in my pockets, but if I slip with them there, I know that I’ll shatter into a million pieces on the icy asphalt.

The tire won’t change itself. I think to myself, skidding along the side of my tiny car to the trunk. The cracked and shrunk rubber had sprung a leak months ago, but a twenty-dollar patch job had kept the old thing rolling until today. After what feels like a marathon of slow shuffling through the frozen inferno, I reach the end of my car. Angry ice crystals plink red against the plastic of my tail lights, and I grab the rear windshield wiper to keep from being blown over in a gale of frost and wind. 

fumbling with the muck-covered trunk latch, Weeks of caked, dried road salt and sand wipe off of the release button on my flimsy dollar-store gloves as I pull the trunk open. A blast of heat from the cab hits me in the face, and my mind is filled with thoughts of the summer breeze only six months away. Reality rushes back in with the frigid wind, and snowflakes pelt my exposed cheeks. Hot tears roll down my face and mingle with the melted snow, creating a salve that saps the heat from my mouth and sets my teeth chattering- a rapid tapping beat between my sharp, sucking breaths.

I pull the spare tire from its seat under the trunk liner along with the tiny wheel jack and wrench and roll it around the right side of my car, which is parked ever so slightly into the ditch to avoid the non-existent traffic. I tuck my chin into the collar of my coat and eye the forest on the other side of the ditch. Something is watching you, my instincts whisper. I stare a moment longer and turn to my work. My jeans stick to the ice of the road as I kneel down to fit the jack under the frame.

The jack falls backward with a clink- thunk, further under the car. I place one numbed and near-frostbitten hand on the ground and reach as far under the vehicle as I can with the other. The engine is still warm, and I feel some life return to my fingers as they sit in the balmy above-zero temperatures underneath the car. I grab hold of the freezing metal and set it upright under the frame.

Craaa-snap

The sound of a tree branch moaning and then snapping behind me cuts through the howling wind. I yank my hand out from under the car and turn to face the forest. My other hand is frozen to the road, and I tear fibers from my gloves, freeing it as I stand up. The woods stare at me in silence. I scan the treeline for the location of the snapped branch. The wind blowing across my exposed nose feels like winter itself is dragging a hooked knife over my face. I curl and uncurl my frozen toes, making sure they’re still there, and turn quickly back to my work. 

I crank the jack with the tiny wrench that came with the car. It’s a slow, laborious process to turn the crank one half-rotation at a time, lifting the car half-inch by half-inch. The feeling of being watched hasn’t gone away, and I occasionally peek over my shoulder to see if I can catch a glimpse of what’s looking at me, but nothing appears. The car is finally up off the flattened wheel when I hear it again.

Snap

This time, the sound is upwind. I turn to my right, facing directly into the blowing snow. Through the howl of the wind, I hear a soft crunching of snow in the ditch. Something is clearly in front of me. I can see its outline against the blasting snow. It feels like cold incarnate is lashing my face with a million needles as I stare into the wind. Through my tightly scrunched eyes, I finally make out the shape of the thing. The beast turns toward me, and its huge antlers cause its heavy head to swing further than it intends; it corrects slightly and meets my gaze. Through the cutting snow, I see it: a moose of pure white. Its red eyes stare into me, shining through the blizzard and the dull, gray evening light. 

I stare, dumbfounded, at the creature before me. My mind goes blank trying to think of survival facts about bull moose. Is it like a black bear, where you should try to scare it off? Can I reach the driver door fast enough? Should I play dead? I stand completely still for a moment, my feet freezing to the ground. 

“Hey moose!” I choose the black bear protection system of making myself big and loud to try and scare it off, “Hey Moose! Get out of here! Heeeey Moose!” I raise my arms and slowly step in the direction of the beast before me. 

Frost streams around the gigantic body of the creature as it lets out a high-pitched shriek and raises its head to the sky. Wrong choice! My mind screams as I instinctively take a step back and lower my arms. The wind has sucked all of the heat from the sides of my body in the few moments I had my arms up, and I refuse to die any colder than I already am. I shuffle backwards behind my car, hoping to use it as a barricade between me and the monster. 

The creature lowers its head and returns its gaze to me. It stomps one of its great hooves into the asphalt and turns its antlers toward me, ready to charge. I duck behind the car as it lunges. The massive monster hurls past the side of my car, dwarfing the small vehicle with its massive body. Slowing to a saunter and turning around to face me, the beast huffs softly, almost like laughing. I run around the side of the car to the driver door, throw it open, and dive inside. A giant, furry head appears in my window, and puffs of hot steam roll out of the animal’s nostrils  and fog the glass. 

I pull out my phone to dial 911, but I must be in a dead zone because I have no signal. I’m going to be killed by a moose because I didn’t just buy a new tire! I reprimand myself for my stupidity as I cower away from the monster outside. I startle as I turn to the moose again; it is licking the orange paint of the doorframe. The enormous head fills the entirety of the window, and its tongue covers nearly the whole top half of the glass with slobber as it drags its face along the car door. My terror does not wane as the creature steps back, away from the car, and begins huffing again. Is this fun for it? The moose makes eye contact with me, and I see now, with clarity, the intelligence in its pale red eyes. A puff of snow tumbles from his antlers, and he shakes his neck. This thing is playing, I think. 

Does he want to play with me? 

I open the passenger door and crawl out the far side of the car into the snow. The cold bites my face with more ferocity than before, but I ignore the stinging pain. It is barely perceptible compared to the present danger before me. I pick up a pile of wet, sticky snow in my gloved hand and ball it up. I turn to the creature standing in the middle of the road and back to my snowball.

I pitch the mass of slush at the moose’s untouched white fur. It splatters against his muscled exterior, and he reacts with a start. The moose looks at where the snowball hit, then back at me, and tumbles to the ground. It writhes in fake death throes like a child playing cops and robbers. It lulls its tongue out the side of its mouth and feigns death for a moment, then its eyes pop back open and it jumps up on its spindly legs once again. He raises his heavy head high and prances in a circle before the car like a show horse.

I cannot stop myself from laughing at the creature, who stops to look at me. He takes a few steps in my direction, and I do not shy away. I raise my gloved hand to the animal and let him approach. Step after slow step, he draws nearer. It almost feels as though he is smiling at me. Cold be damned, the magic of the moment has gripped me, and I reach out and touch the side of the moose’s snout. 

In that instant, the storm disappears, as does the wind, as does the falling snow, as does the moose, and I am left standing alone, arm outstretched, in the middle of a country highway in the light of the setting sun. It is still cold, yes, but not so bitter as before. I smile and finish changing my tire.