Dead of Winter

Chapter 4

Head bowed, blinded by sleet that had mingled with the swirling snow, I inched forward, one hand clutching the side of my car. After the impact, it had swerved, finally coming to a sideways stop in the middle of the road. Its headlights now illuminated the spot where I'd last seen the dog. 

Clumps of briars choked the length of this section of road. Rearing beyond them, a dense tract of forest made it impossible to discern tracks of any kind. I tried whistling for it a few times. When that failed, hands cupped around my mouth, I called out. All that answered was the wind's scream and the cold-fire crackle of frigid sleet.

The sight of an ominous stain on a mound of nearby snow confirmed my worst fears. Just the thought of leaving someone's pet outside on a night like this made me sick to my stomach. Judging from its earlier cry, it sounded injured. The stains on the snow—discolorations whose darkness suggested a mixture of blood and another bodily substance—hinted at a serious injury. Although my conscience told me to go look for it, practicality dictated otherwise. I hadn't dressed to wade in knee-deep snow in the middle of nowhere, and with no flashlight, couldn't search for it. I could only hope that it would find its way home.

After a quick check of the front tire—lucky for me, it didn't look like it had sustained any damage—I started slide-crawling back to the rear of the vehicle. As I bent to look at the rear tire on the driver's side, branches snapped and bushes rustled.

Behind me, something growled low.

Once, then again.

When it shrieked, my stomach knotted, and every hair on my nape sprung to attention. Though I tried to tell myself it was just a dog, it didn't sound like any dog, wild or tame, I'd ever heard before. This was no coy dog's frenzied yip, but an angry scream, the sound of pure feral fury.

What in hell had I hit? Bracing myself against the SUV, I began creeping back to the safety of the cab. It was too cold and too late in the year for a black bear. Whatever kind of animal it was, its body appeared too large to belong to a bobcat.

Unless it's a catamount.

The thought shuddered through me, a frisson of pure fear that made me want to lunge for the door, although my feet refused to budge. Sightings of Vermont's version of the mountain lion, while rare, weren't unheard of in this part of the state. It was about the right size, too. If that's what I'd hit, a catamount was not something I wanted to encounter alone and unarmed at night!

Teeth gritted, taking deep slow breaths to quell my anxiety—because all animals could smell fear—I began inching towards the door. As I reached for its handle, a clump of nearby briars pushed aside and a pair of yellow eyes flashed through the storm.

Eyes at the same level as my own!

Unnerved, throwing caution to the wind, I pulled myself inside the cab, slammed and locked the door. Heart in my throat, I hunched over the steering wheel, gasping like a caught fish.

Outside, another howl arose, feral and furious. Without buckling in, I threw the 4Runner into gear.

Whump!

Something slammed against my door. Ice groaned beneath tires, as the sheer force of impact sent the SUV into a sideways skid.

I hit the gas, fishtailing in my attempt to escape, but before driving away, heard the unmistakable, nails-against-a-chalkboard screech of claws against metal.

No longer caring about the dangerous road conditions, I white-knuckled the wheel and put pedal to the metal. Speed would deter it, just as storm and night would swallow its outraged cries.

Whatever it was. 

The lights of downtown Bennington never appeared more welcome. Its battle monument, rearing its imposing spire against the storm, looked like a shining beacon. Despite the storm, traffic was heavy, but I didn't care. Being near civilization again was a blessed relief. Easing back in the seat, I allowed my cramped arms and shoulders to relax for the first time in what felt like forever, although my hands were still shaking like leaves. 

After rounding the battle monument, I navigated a series of residential streets. It wasn't much of a shortcut to my home off Veil Drive, but after my catamount encounter (I was now certain it had been a catamount), the bright-lit streets and cheery glows from houses instilled a sense of calm and safety.

Beyond the houses, Veil Drive rose into a heavy forest. When I crested the rise and saw the lights of home, bright and beckoning through the scrim of falling snow, and Rory's truck in the driveway, relief crashed over me. A release, so sudden and intense, I wanted to cry.

Floodlights splashed on as I pulled in beside him. Grateful for the added light, I hopped out of the SUV, catching the hem of my parka on ragged metal as I did. After freeing it, I staggered back and stared slack-jawed at the 4Runner, unwilling to believe the sight that met my eyes. 

Deep gouges ran the length of the driver's side. Jagged pieces of metal, those not torn free during my wild encounter, hung in ragged strips on both doors. 

Could a catamount, even an injured one, inflict so much damage?

The wind rose, whipping loose snow into ghostly dervishes. Head low, trying to avoid being lashed by the icy shrapnel from those snow devils, I tottered towards the back door. I'd almost made it when I saw an enormous shadow slink behind a stand of nearby white pines. Then I heard a long, low hiss. 

It's just snow falling from the trees, I tried to tell myself.

Falling snow doesn't make shadows, came the reply. A voice I did not recognize as my own. 

Trees shuddered, releasing their snowy caps. Across the drive, pine boughs snapped. After they landed, making a series of soft thud-thuds, the sound came again. Sibilant and harsh, slicing through storm and wind, it sounded louder, nearer this time.

It came in the night; it followed you home!

"Like hell it did," I whispered to the annoying voice in my brain. 

It sees you. It wants to—

"Get a freaking grip!" While reason dictated a catamount couldn't have followed me home, one wild encounter tonight had been enough. Tote clutched tight against my chest, I scrambled inside.