‘It’ll buff out,’ Nash says, unsure if it will.
How do people even use these roads in normal weather?If another vehicle comes along, one of them will have to reverse because there’s no room to pass each other.
And that’s to say nothing of the visibility.Everythingis white, and it’s taking all their concentration to determine what bits of white are road, hedge or the huge dip that runs along the edge of the road.It’s like driving in a meringue.As if to really get the point across, a few ominous snowflakes land on the windscreen.
Quickly followed by a lot more.
‘Uh-oh,’ whispers Christopher, turning on the windscreen wiper, which squeaks as it tries to furiously wipe away the snow.
‘Uh-oh indeed,’ murmurs Nash, clutching at the map for dear life.‘Maybe we should speed up a little?We’re going to get snowed in here at this rate.’
‘I don’t think it’s safe to drive any faster,’ Christopher says quietly, concentrating hard on driving.
‘The snow is falling faster than we’re moving.’Nash bites his lip.
Without taking his eyes off the road and with a clenched jaw, Christopher mutters, ‘Please stop backseat-driving me, Nash.I need to concentrate.’
‘I’m not in the backseat.I’m shotgun.’
It’s not productive to annoy the person driving him through a snowstorm, but perhaps it’ll keep him moving.Alert with annoyance.His barbs are the spark that lights the wick.After all, he knows that flirting with Christopher makes him freeze up and go all robotic, but annoying him, like when Nash arguably destroyed his kitchen, made him move as if he was on 2x playback.
But then, he’d just really like Christopher to keep concentrating on not driving them into a hedge or a ditch or off a cliff.Who knows if there are even cliffs here!?Well, there is a map on his lap that suggests no, there aren’t any, but what if there’s been some kind of mass erosion incident?
God he’s spent too much time around Christopher.And only two people from his world even know he’s here!
For some reason, he starts thinking about how soft Christopher’s deeply dreaming breaths were this morning.How they woke breathing in sync.How closely curled up together they were, like a pair of commas.As though searching for a moment of greater safety to ground him.
‘I can’t see any turnings off at all,’ mutters Christopher, which startles Nash from his thoughts.He’s frowning so hard that a crease appears between his eyebrows.‘Am I supposed to be straight still?’
What he wants to say isprobably not after last night, but then Christopher would go out of his way to find a cliff to drive them off.‘Yeah, just keep going,’ he says instead.
The road slowly climbs, then dips and winds as they get deeper into the valley.It’s bordered by more mountains, which seems like a terrible place to farm, but then again Nash is more familiar with the Dorothy-from-Kansas-esque golden fields of corn than the idea of sheep clinging to mountainsides, which seems to be more the vibe here.
In the distance, Nash thinks he sees a building.He glances back down at the map.‘I think we’re almost there.’
‘Are you sure?’Christopher says, squinting at the building up ahead as he slows the truck down.‘It looks abandoned.’
‘Didn’t the email say his power was out?That might be why.’
‘Good point.Can you see the turn-off for it on the map?’
Christopher slows to a plodding crawl, the kind that reminds Nash of the near-stationary traffic jams of LA and how they make him want to chew his arm off, because he could walk faster than that.Well, maybe not in this weather.
They come across what looks like it could be the entrance – a gate half propped open with a giant stone.
‘I’m going to have to get out and move that, aren’t I?’sighs Nash.
‘If you wouldn’t mind?’
‘Oh, I really do mind.’
Still, he leaps out of the car, pulling his coat tightly around him as the cold mountain breezes try to tear it away.The expensive hiking jacket he’d bought for this trip was supposed to be for leisurely wanders up along the beach, not for wading through snowstorms, and its capability to keep him warm in the middle of one is really being tested.
Wading through the white, Nash desperately peers around for signs confirming this is actually the turn-off for Pentre Farm, and not a potentially dangerous mountain road that will lead to their untimely deaths.Luckily, he spies something attached to the top of the gate.With the sleeve of his coat, he wipes the snow away to read a sign that says ‘Pentre Farm’.At least it’s the right place.Who knows, it couldstillbe a terrifying murder road, but what choice do they have?He moves the rock to the side and opens the gate fully so Christopher can drive straight through.
He’s about to get back in the van when Christopher shouts frantically through his open door, ‘No, you have to close it behind us!’
‘Why?’
