Lost in the Mountains

Rain blasts the windshield, hammers the roof as I drive along a winding mountain road. A wall of rock, marked here and there by cascades of muddy water, looms to my left. On my right is a drop-off so steep that all I see is blackness. 

I squint my stinging eyes and struggle to see past the frenetic back and forth of wipers. The tank is half-full, but my phone died an hour ago, and damn if I didn’t forget to bring a car charger on my trip. Shame on me.

All I recall, seconds before the screen went dark, is that rural route ten leads straight through Cinder Hollow. It’s past ten o’clock, so I hope some motel or boarding house there might still have a room available. How long until I get there in this fierce, autumn storm, I have no idea.

Minutes later, I weave cautiously between fallen rocks, all the while praying that some massive boulder doesn’t tumble down and crush me and the car like a tin can.

Soon the rain eases, and, a few minutes later, ceases. But now the wind rises and buffets the car with great wooshing gusts. Storm clouds stream away in the rear window, and a bright smudge of moonlight glows through a thin layer of clouds.

I spin through the FM frequencies, trying to find a station, but I get nothing. So I’m fiddling with AM, when, around the next turn there’s a man stands in my lane – tall spindly, waving gangly arms above his head. 

“No!”

I slam the brakes, the anti-locks chattering, and lurch to a stop. I blink, and he’s gone. 

What the hell? My heart still pounding, I peer through each window. No one’s there. 

I’m about to drive off when the car stalls, and the dash lights goes black.

Seconds tick by as I sit in silence – the engine and electrical system completely dead. The car is angled about thirty degrees off center, the front bumper just a foot or so from the abyss beyond.

In the moonlight, I see only an empty road, its surface still awash, in places, with water rushing down the mountain. Then a sharp rap on the passenger window. I shout out and look to my right. No one.

Fearing that someone is pinned underneath, I undo my belt and open the door. It’s a struggle against the gusts to open it, but I finally make it onto the pavement as my face goes numb with cold. The wind slams the door behind me, as I squint my tearing eyes and check under each wheel. No one. I drop to my knees on the wet pavement and look underneath. Empty. Thank God I didn’t run him over.

Getting to my feet, I shout out for whoever might be nearby, but only the wind replies. So I climb back into my seat, slam the door, and struggle to relax and bring down my heart rate, my breathing.

“Goddamnit!” I shout, as I slam the wheel with both hands. A few more curses follow as I realize I’ll be spending the night up here on this mountain. After all, I haven’t passed a single car on this road in close to an hour. I’m alone up here…

“Thanks for stopping,” a man says, and terror grips me.

I glance into the rear view mirror and see him in the back seat. He sits there, silhouetted against the moonlit landscape beyond. I can’t make out features, but he’s tall. With a long, narrow head.

“What are you doing?” I demand while spinning around to face him.

There’s a prolonged silence, as the car rocks in wind and my thoughts race about anything in my luggage – in the trunk, of course – that I might use as a weapon.

“Doesn’t matter,” he says at last. “But you’re still alive. That’s what I care about.”

“What, you need a ride? Get stranded up here?”

“Yeah. Gotta reach my wife. She’s probably in labor by now, and she’ll have a rough time of it. Can’t let her face this alone.”

His monotone speech trembles as he speaks, and I can tell that he, too, is afraid. 

“Believe me, I’d drive you to her, but my car died when I slammed the brakes.  Honest. Look!”

I turn the key as if to start it, but nothing happens.

“I’d already be there if those bastards hadn’t driven me off the edge.”

“Who? What?” I’m still off balance, and I sound incoherent.

“Dennis and his sons. Jealous of me and my missus for years. Got outta prison last month. Doesn’t matter now. My own car is stuck halfway down the hill.”

I realize that whoever Dennis is just tried to murder the man behind me.

“You hurt?”

“I’m okay.”

I glance through the windshield, where barely visible stalks of fuzzy-headed grass whip in the wind.

“Here,” he says. “I’ll show you.”

The next time I blink, he’s gone. Suddenly, a rap on my side window. He stands just outside my door. Now I can make out his features, glinting in the moonlight. Deeply set eyes. Pronounced brow. Tall and thin, in muddy-looking, soaking wet clothes. Looks to be in his late twenties, maybe thirties.

I open my door against the wind, struggle out, and soon we’re standing just beyond the road’s outer edge. A steep hill, mostly rock, with occasional scrubby trees, drops off below us. 

“You wanna see? Follow behind me, and I’ll show ya. You have to believe me, or it won’t work.”

His suggestion dumbfounds me.

“Listen, there is no way I’m climbing down that hill!”

“You believe my car is down there? That I’m telling you the truth?”

For the first time, I see the urgency in his eyes.

“How did you climb all the way up in that storm?”

“Because I had to,” he says, and takes a step closer to me. “But this won’t work if you don’t trust me. You have to invite me.”

Vampire legends flash through my mind. One has to invite the demon in before he can enter, and… I push such nonsense out of my mind. This is reality, here and now. We’re both stranded up here, high on a mountain, and this man’s wife might be near death.

“Look, I trust you enough, okay? Enough to take you into town, or wherever your wife –”

“Coal Hollow,” he says.

“Right. But my car is deader than a door nail,” I say as I point at the vehicle for emphasis.

“Get in the driver’s seat. Listen, we’re running outta time! She’s alone at the house!”

“Then you better be a mechanic. You want me to pop the hood?”

“Please,” he says. “Please…”, and I can see the tears in his eyes. “Just get in your seat?”

So I walk to the car, pry open my door, and climb in. With the door shut, I watch as he moves to the front of the car and spreads his hands out until they hover a few inches above the hood.

Then a miracle. The dashboard lights up, the headlights spring on, and static blares from the radio. I nearly cry out with joy when the engine starts and idles calmly.

Where’d he go? He’s gone. Again!

“Okay,” he says, and he, or whoever, is already sitting beside me.   “Let’s go!”

----

A half hour later, after the fastest driving I could muster on winding, unfamiliar roads, we pass the sign “Welcome to Coal Hollow”. We’ve shared no conversation on the way. Instead, he’s been praying Hail Mary’s under his breath, his eyes tightly shut, his hands clasped.

Coal Hollow is run down – obviously an old mining town whose best days are long gone. After passing through two intersections on narrow, deserted streets, I realize I haven’t heard him praying for a while.

I glance to my right.

He’s already gone…