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SHORT STORIES
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SHORT STORIES
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COLD CALL
It was as though the road had been converted into an ice-rink.
Jane Whelan pressed her foot against the brake pedal but the car kept on going.
Oh, no...
She slammed the pedal flat against the floor, but it was no use; she and the car continued
to slide forwards, along with her portfolio which toppled from the passenger seat.
The tyres groaned as they fought to gain purchase on the slippery road surface, but failed
miserably.
Jane braced herself for the inevitable impact, turning her head away, as if to ignore the
collision would make it go away.
It didn't...
The right front headlight of Jane's Escort crunched into the rear brake light of the parked
BMW and with a loud pop the glass shattered. A high pitched wail ripped through Jane's
senses, assailing her tortured nerve-endings even more.
A second later, and she realised the wail was the alarm of the other car, the impact having
set it off.
When the car finally settled, the first thing - apart from the noise - that Jane became
aware of was that her hands were hurting. Fearing the worst, she forced herself to look
down...
...and let out a gasp of relief...
The pain was caused by nothing more than her own vice-tight grip on the steering wheel -
clutching the object as if she were trying to squeeze non-existent life out of it.
She tried to relax her grip, half afraid that she might leave the skin from her palms and
fingers behind on the plastic.
'Oh, God,' she mumbled, and noticed the tremor in her voice. Hardly surprising.
She had dreaded the thought of turning out on a night like this, and now her fears were
being realised.
This was to have been her last call of the night; the last client from which to collect their
monthly insurance payment. But what a finale! Oh yes, it was the last call all right, but the
first house that stood all by itself, along an unadopted road, where the weather was getting
worse by the second, the temperature plummeting rapidly, the fog rolling in fast.
Only her third day in a new job as an insurance agent and the first time she had ventured
into these unfamiliar surroundings. The place was well off the beaten track and several times
she had wondered if she had taken a wrong turning. The atrocious weather hadn't helped
matters; the fog reducing visibility; the ice making the driving unpredictable and dangerous.
But she had eventually found her way, only to experience this!
Okay... she tried to drag herself back to her senses, pull herself together... so the owner
will be out any second, wondering why on earth his car alarm has gone off. She would
apologise, explain that it was the road's fault - she wasn't to blame - the car had simply
refused to stop, but she was very sorry indeed. The owner would understand, would calm
down, would instead show concern and ask if she was all right, hope she hadn't been hurt.
She would smile and tell him that, thankfully, the only damage were to her nerves and to her
no claims bonus.
Jane reached out a trembling hand and fumbled for the door handle. She found it and
pulled. As she swung the door open, the wail of the car alarm filled her head even more and
she shuddered, not only at the noise but at the biting chill that suddenly swept in through the
open door.
Suddenly, the car alarm stopped wailing.
Jane looked around, expecting to find the owner approaching, key in hand, face ashen,
eyes questioning as he discovered the damage to his vehicle. But there was no one.
Jane's eyes narrowed. This was the only house for at least a mile; the owner of the car
had to be inside the building, surely.
She reached into her pocket for her mobile phone but didn't find it. Panic grabbed her for
a moment before she remembered that she'd left it in the car, on the dashboard. She blew out
a sigh, again trying to calm herself, and ducked back inside the vehicle.
'Chill out, Janey,' she whispered to herself. 'You're going to have a heart-attack at this
rate.'
She found the phone on the dashboard and eased herself back out of the car. She held the
phone before her, looking down at the display, trying to make it out through the darkness.
Her thumb hovered over the digits but she didn't know which ones to press. Who was she
meant to be calling?... her thoughts were tumbling one over the other as her mind raced
aimlessly, fueled by adrenalin.
Paul, of course. Got to call him - tell him what's happened. Call him first, let him know...
She quickly accessed the phone book and brought up Paul's number, then thumbed the
CALL button. She lifted the phone to her ear and waited...
And waited...
Beep.
Jane frowned. She lowered the phone and looked down at the display.
No signal.
Oh, great... Just great...
She ground her teeth, hissed between them.
It was then that she realised the car's engine was still running.
Letting out a grunt of irritation, she leaned back in through the open door, turned off the
engine and snatched out the keys.
The engine spluttered, faded to nothing...
Seconds later, Jane noticed just how silent everywhere had suddenly become.
So very silent...
Even the sharp gusts of icy wind that nipped at her face and neck and pricked at her
eyeballs seemed uncannily silent. She looked up at the trees, swaying quite obviously against
the night sky, but there didn't seem to be the familiar accompanying sound: the expected
swish-swish whispering of many leaves was strangely absent.
Jane frowned, lowering her gaze from the swaying branches. She blinked a few times and
tried to ponder thoughtfully, rationally; she gave her head a quick shake in an attempt to clear
the grogginess. The shock was obviously still affecting her, mild though it was. It had to be
that - the adrenalin twisting things, warping reality, pulling everything ever-so-slightly out of
shape...
She shivered and looked up and around again, scanning the street, her gaze coming to rest
once more on the one and only house that populated this lonely street. Then she looked over
to the BMW, its rear brake light shattered, fragments of red glass decorating the icy tarmac.
One house, and one car. They had to belong to each other. And yet no lights glowed
behind the windows of the house, and no other signs of life were evident within. And it was
still only...
Jane lifted her watch, squinted down at it.
...8:37pm.
She had been instructed by the insurance company that she could make her nightly
collections up to 9pm and no later, though she herself had thought even this was pushing it a
bit; despite popular belief, some people did still go to bed quite early and there were also
sleeping babies and children to think about. That's why she had intended to make this last call
before 8pm as she had done so the previous two nights. But the weather and the illusive
location had eaten away at the time, slowing her down, only allowing her to reach her
destination by 8:30 - before luring her straight into disaster.
Could the occupants be in bed? Was that it? But the curtains weren't closed, and surely
people would have been disturbed by the car alarm.
To hell with it!
Jane pushed the phone into her pocket and fished out her car keys. She closed the
driver's door of the Escort and locked it up, turning back to face the house.
This had to be sorted out; if only to exchange names and addresses for the motor
insurance. It would be so easy just to bugger-off and leave the damage done but she wasn't
that kind of girl. Besides, it might come back to haunt her if the client and her employers
managed to put two and two together: she'd be out of a job before she'd even started!
She braced herself and then set off up the short pathway that led to the front door of the
house. Her heels beat out a tattoo as she walked and she cringed, suddenly feeling loud and
conspicuous in the silence.
Jane lifted the knocker and brought it down gently. And again. She swallowed, suddenly
feeling very uncomfortable. She just hoped to God that she wasn't dragging anyone out of
bed. That, in addition to the bad news about the car might understandably provoke an angry
greeting, and right now she couldn't be doing with that. In fact, she was beginning to think
this wasn't such a good idea afterall.
Jane waited, nibbling at her bottom lip. She turned and glanced up and down the street
but could make out nothing beyond a distance of sixty feet or so. It was like peering towards
a cloud of dry ice that was slowly rolling in towards her; she could almost perceive the fog
getting thicker and denser as she peered into it. And the iciness that accompanied it rasped at
the back of her throat like sandpaper. She gave a sharp cough in an attempt to clear it and
pulled her collar tighter around her neck, adjusting her scarf at the same time. Though she
wore gloves the icy needlepoints were having little problem penetrating the thin leather and
were already pricking at her fingertips.
God... and she had yet to drive home in this. Any longer and her hands would be numb to
the bone making it near impossible to drive.
Jane snapped out of her musings as she thought she heard a sound from behind the door.
At first she thought it was someone approaching and her heart starting beating faster in
anticipation. But in the next instant, silence returned once more. She frowned, leaning her
head slightly closer to the door. Had she heard anything?...
... No, she could hear nothing now. What was going on?
She was beginning to lose patience with the whole thing. Whoever the car belonged to
there didn't seem to be anybody at home here. Either that or they were very heavy sleepers.
She needed to get home. Any longer and the fog would be impenetrable, making it
impossible to drive. As it was, she would still have to be extremely careful behind the wheel.
Jane reached into her inside pocket and fished around for one of her business cards. The
gloves and icy fingers made the task harder than it should have been but eventually she
managed to scissor a card between her fingers and pull it out. She took out her pen, clipped
out the nib, turned the card over and started to scribble. She could barely see and she was
shaking from the cold, but she angled the card to catch what little moonlight there was and
used block capitals to make her writing legible.
SORRY ABOUT THE DAMAGE TO THE CAR. MY FAULT. THIS IS MY NAME
AND NUMBER. TRIED KNOCKING BUT NO ANSWER. CALL ME AND WE'LL
SORT OUT THE INSURANCE. APOLOGIES AGAI-
A sudden click from behind startled her and she jumped, almost dropping the card and
pen. Then she heard a creak. She instinctively whipped her head round...
The door that only seconds earlier had been firmly closed, was now ajar: a narrow slit of
solid blackness had appeared between the door and frame, and the door itself was still
moving - just; settling itself.
Someone had opened it?
But there was no welcoming or curious face peering out from between the gap, and the
door didn't open any wider.
She frowned.
'Hello?' she whispered, but the word didn't seem to form on her lips. She swallowed and
coughed in an attempt to clear her throat and leaned a little closer to the door.
'Hello?' she said again, this time a little louder, more assertive, but again the single word
seemed feeble. It was as if the house, via the pitch black slit of the ajar door, were sucking
the very word out of her throat before it had a chance to sound on her vocal cords.
'Anybody there?'
Cautiously, she took a step forward and slowly lifted her hand up towards the door. She
paused, as if unsure that its surface might burn her fingers if she touched it. But then she
gently pressed them against the door and felt only icy coldness from the freezing paintwork.
She shivered, suddenly feeling even colder than she already did.
'Hel-lo-oo?' she warbled the word this time, trying to sound friendly and relaxed.
Still no reply from within; only stone silence.
She gave the door a gentle push. There seemed to be slight resistance, but then it creaked
inwards another few inches. 'Is any body home? I'm really sorry, but I've had a slight
accident...' she allowed the sentence to trail off, becoming increasingly convinced that she
was talking to no one but herself.
She pushed the door some more and it opened wider, the hinges squealing like a
distraught cat, making her cringe. But despite her apprehension, her curiosity was coaxing her
forwards.
When she opened the door fully the darkness enfolded her like a shroud. If the slit of the
door had seemed to be a strip of solid, impenetrable darkness, the wall that now wrapped
itself around her like a heavy blanket seemed to smother her, so tangible and thick was its
pitch blackness.
Jane drew in a sharp and deep gasp, as if she were about to hold her breath before diving
under water. She closed her eyes and blinked a couple of times, then opened them wide and
tried to focus on anything in front of her, but she could make out nothing.
What the hell was this?
Part of her mind was now telling her to turn around - to run back out, slam the door
closed behind her and drive away fast; yet the other part was telling her to continue forwards.
She didn't know what it was but she felt like the proverbial moth being drawn to a flame;
unable to resist; destined to continue forwards whether she liked it or not........
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