Misfortune: Christmas With Scrooge (3 page)

“What idiot would have taken that road on
such a night?” he muttered to himself.

The road ran parallel to the deep valley
nicknamed Hungry Hollow. Admittedly, the chasm was worthy of its
name. Over the centuries since it appeared in the earth's surface,
it maimed many, while consuming the lives of others. When the north
road had been built, the foundation was difficult to lay because of
the hard minerals beneath the rocky surface, so the result was a
very winding, and at points, steep decline along the gorge. A
popular spot for sightseers in the summer with its spectacular
view, but only a fool would attempt the road in the winter.
Especially an icy night as this.

Dex found himself swinging his vehicle around
and heading down the north road, shaking his head at his own
stupidity as he went. What dim-witted notion forced him to follow
those tracks, he had no idea. All he knew was he continually told
himself to turn back, but discovered his instincts were completely
ignoring that practical portion of his brain.

He had not gone far when the tracks suddenly
veered to the left and disappeared. Dex pulled his vehicle to a
stop and hastily jumped out. Running over to the shoulder of the
road, he peered out into the darkness. Shock, mingled with immense
horror, swept over his stunned form as he stared down into what
could only be the black and deadly abyss of the Hungry Hollow
gorge.

Then he saw it. Barely visible through the
thick descending bush and the black of the night, was a tiny glow
of red light.

A nightmare he had long repressed into the
back of his memory suddenly resurfaced. A night, very similar to
this one, fourteen years earlier where he stood frozen in fear,
unable to command his frightened limbs into action.

Dex stared down at the small red light. The
night around him seemed to go completely still. The only sound was
the low rustle of bare branches. A chill crept up his spine and it
wasn't from the below zero temperatures.

Then he heard it, a cry for help. And the
nightmare came back to horrific life, transporting him fourteen
years back when he was an eighteen year-old boy. He could hear his
father calling out for help as he desperately clung to the cold
jagged ridge of a gully. His car had just plunged off a bridge and
while his son had miraculously thrown himself free before going
over, Wallace O'Reilly had not been so lucky.

The vehicle nose-dived into the hard surface
of the rock, tossing the remaining occupant out, before
disappearing into the dark brush below. Dex ran over to the steep
edge of the incline to find his father clinging fiercely for his
life. He called for his son, his hand stretched out begging for
help, but to Dex's horror he found his feet incapable of moving,
gripped with fear. Instead, he stood and watched as his father, no
longer having the strength to hold, disappear. The night around him
had gone deathly silent.

A second cry for help pierced his conscious,
drawing him back to the present. A force greater than any he
experienced before, told him he had to go down that ravine. A
descent, fourteen years before, he was unable to make. In an
instant, he knew he could not make that mistake twice. Someone was
still alive down there and in desperate need of help. Gingerly, he
plunged downward.

* * *

Laura pushed her hands hard against the
dashboard, while at the same time tried to give herself enough
leeway to reach over and undo her seat belt. To no avail. She
grunted in frustration before lifting her hair to peek outside her
car window. The last of her dying headlights left just enough light
for Laura to survey her surroundings. Her vehicle had landed in an
awkward position, a near ninety-degree angle, wedged between two
trees. The hood had been forced to a grounded halt down a steep
embankment overlooking the gorge. The gorge itself was blocked from
view by a wall of bush and trees and the night itself, which Laura
figured she should be grateful for. She was already horribly
terrified.

When the vehicle finally came to a complete
stop, to her amazement, she was still alive. But her feet, she
discovered were trapped under the crushed area of the floorboards.
She was incapable of freeing them due to the seat belt having her
securely strapped in, and because she was basically hanging from it
like a wilted plant, she was powerless to reach behind to unfasten
the latch. She pushed again on the dashboard and tried to pull
herself back into the seat. With both hands occupied, she could not
free herself at the same time. She would need an extra pair of
hands. With a frustrated cry, she allowed herself to drop back
against her restraints once again.

The only alternative for her at that moment
was to cry for help. Which she had been doing with no success. She
wondered how long she had been down there. At least forty minutes
she figured but, with a resigned sob, she knew no one would be
leaving the party for another three hours. The snow had begun to
fall steadily. No doubt what was left of her tracks would be
completely covered within the next hour. And the fact remained, no
one would be missing her.

Her situation appeared resolute. The thought
of dying a slow and agonizing death in her seat belt had her
attempting her efforts once more. She refused to give up. Pushing
as hard as her tired arms allowed, she pulled with all her effort
to free her feet. With no luck. Frustrated, she cried out in anger,
slamming her steering wheel with her fist.

“Hello? Are you in the car?” A male voice
broke through the still night.

Completely taken by surprise, Laura remained
speechless, until it registered in her brain. She was being
rescued. With a sob of relief, she responded, “Yes, yes. I'm in
here.”

She heard someone moving about outside and
then a huge form loomed out of the dark beside her driver side
window. She gasped in alarm before she realized it was her
rescuer.

He bent down and peered into the darkened
vehicle. Even in the blackness, Laura could make out the thick mat
of dark hair, the square jaw, and the cold steel of his narrowed
eyes. Recognition was swift.

Dexter O’Reilly. Of all people to save her
life, it had to be him.

Through the glass window, he squinted his
eyes to get a better glimpse of the car’s occupant. It was a woman.
And, non-too-gracefully, she hung like a fern from her seat belt.
She turned her head in his direction, raised a hand and swept a
curtain of chestnut hair from her face.

Something hit him hard in the pit of his
stomach. It was the woman from the party. He noticed her right
away, the moment he walked in the hall. It had been a long time
since he registered the beauty of a woman, but it only took seconds
where she was concerned. Actually it surprised him, and admittedly,
scared him.

Quickly, he buried those hazardous thoughts,
not wishing to explore them. “Are you all right? Have you been
injured?”

She shook her head. “No, but my legs are
trapped.”

Surveying the situation, he began pulling on
the door handle. It didn't give. Glancing at the vehicle's front
end, it was impossible to see the extent of damage due to the dark
of night. “I'm going to have to break the window. Turn your head in
the opposite direction.”

She did as was told. In the next instant, she
heard a loud smash before a cascade of broken glass rained down on
her. He quickly reached inside and began brushing the broken pieces
away. Then leaning through the broken window, he examined the
extent of injury to her legs. He could see that they were bare and
scratched, coated in blood, with only tattered pieces left of her
torn nylons covering them. As she had said, her feet were trapped,
disappearing under the crushed portion of the hood of the car.

“Didn't you wear boots?” He began tugging at
her legs, trying to free her feet.

Startled by the irrelevant question, she
mumbled, “I didn't give it much thought.”

He turned to give her a look of disapproval.
“They could have saved you some deep cuts.”

Nerves already pulled taut, she began to feel
the aches in her legs and the sores in her trapped feet, and simply
wanted to start crying all over again. She had successfully ignored
the pain in her feet since the imminent danger of death was more
pressing, however now he only reminded her of their aches and
pains.

Stepping back from the vehicle, he began to
talk to no one in particular when he said, “I can't get you free
from this angle. I'm going to have to come in there.”

“How? The door is stuck—” she broke off as
she realized he already had a plan.

He leaned forward and suddenly began
squeezing his body through the broken window. Since there was only
so much space in the tiny opening, she was crushed as far back as
her seat would allow, permitting sufficient room for him to enter.
His broad shoulders crushed her chest and cut off her circulation
momentarily as he propelled his body forward. At last he gathered
his body into the passenger seat then turned to study her
closer.

“Can you feel your feet?”

She wiggled her toes, then quickly nodded her
head unnecessarily fast. “Yes.”

Glancing into her face he noticed her eyes
beginning to glisten with distress and her voice was coming
alarmingly close to hysteria. He knew he should say something to
help calm her nerves but he was coming up empty. Instead he turned
his attention back to her feet.

Laura heard the shaking in her voice and felt
the onslaught of convulsions. She bit her lip hard in an endeavor
to quail her fears. Post terror was making its ugly appearance. The
reality of what she barely escaped and the terrifying predicament
she found herself in now, was becoming alarmingly clear. She
recognized the symptoms and attempted to suppress them.

However, it was his hands that were having a
calming effect. Oddly, for a man who appeared to be so harsh and
uncaring, his hands were strangely gentle as they reached under and
unbuckled the straps of her sandals. He tossed them carelessly
behind him and returned to her feet where he startled her
completely by gently massaged them back and forth.

“Wh-what are you d-doing?” Her voice
stuttered both on the lingering hysteria and the unexpected
intimate touch.

He ignored her, continuing in an attentive
manner until without warning her feet slipped freely from their
trap. Feeling utterly disorientated, she muttered a thank you
before reaching down to rub them gingerly. Indeed, what she
surprisingly wanted was the continual touch of his soothing
hands.

Dexter O'Reilly didn't even bother to
acknowledge her thanks but simply turned to the seat belt next, and
with a quick touch of a button, she was free of that restriction as
well. As she fell hard onto the steering wheel, however, she was
knocked all at once from her short panic attack, and peevishly
thought a warning would have been nice.

Rubbing her shoulder, she looked over at her
rescuer, and remembered who he was. Nice, she sincerely doubted,
was not in his vocabulary.

“We're going to have to stay the night.” It
was simply stated, not a trace of emotion.

“What?” Laura's hand froze. “You're kidding,
right, because I don’t think I can do that if I don't have to.”

“I don't kid.” Which hardly surprised her.
“And, yes, you do have to.”

“But somebody is sure to drive by and see our
tracks in the snow.”

“The snow has started to fall again, they
will be completely covered soon if not already.”

“What about your car? Somebody is bound to
see it parked alongside the road and realize you're in danger.”

He shook his head, the smallest hint of
irritation creeping into his face. “No. No one will, because you
see, you used a road not used during the winter months.”

Laura's face went pale. In a small voice, she
muttered, “The fork in the road. I should have turned right, not
left.”

He simply nodded. “And there is no way I will
be able to get us up the ravine in the dark. It would be like going
blindfold.”

“But we can’t stay down here. We’ll freeze to
death.” Her eyes grew with alarm, hysteria beginning to bubble back
to life once more, as she reached out and clutched his coat lapels
in earnest.

He studied her distraught face and was
annoyed by that same emotion which had surfaced earlier with his
mother. Perturbed, he thrust her hands away. “We have the shelter
of the vehicle, our coats and each other if need be. Do you have an
emergency box in the hatch?”

She shook her head, her voice still unsteady
as she replied, “No, but there’s a blanket on the back seat.”

The panic in her eyes had only eased
slightly. But it was really in the revealing tremble of her bottom
lip that gave her away. It wouldn’t stop quivering fiercely as if
she were sitting in a meat cooler, which wasn’t far from how it
felt. He wouldn’t admit it, but her concerns were probably
warranted. It was horribly cold and the broken window only made it
even worse. His eyes shifted back to her face and noticed her chin
was beginning to join her bottom lip in trembles. She didn’t even
attempt to control her fears.

He sighed, turning away. “I'm going to try
and get some sleep. The sooner morning arrives, the better. I
suggest you do the same.”

He threw himself into the back seat and
stretched his taut muscles on the cramped bench. Retrieving the
blanket she mentioned, he tossed it to her in the front seat. She
snatched it but continued to stare at him with her eyes wide and
distressed. That foreign emotion nagged at him again. He hated any
show of emotion and this woman certainly produced a lot of them and
had no qualms openly showcasing them. The quicker he got out of
there, the better. He was beginning to regret his decision to come
down the ravine. Aggravated, he squelched the little voice that
told him otherwise.