I'm getting tired of living in the countryside where every body knows your business.
What does it matter if I put up an electrified fence to keep intruders off my land?
I think the locals are pissed because they don't like my windmills and frankly I'm pissed because I don't like them—bloody Morlocks—you need to come out of your caves into the 21st century!
Yeah, that's what I should tell them... but here I am playing nice and even taking my neighbour Stella on a tour of my property to calm her fears—mind you, I'm not stupid—the girl is beautiful and I don't want to ruin my chances with her.
So, twenty minutes later, I’m at her farmhouse to fetch her and the snow starts coming down like a blizzard.
I beep the horn and wait for her to come out.
She’s thirty, a year younger than me, and lives alone on a farm her parents left her. She’s beautiful, university educated and a total pain in the ass.
I might even consider asking her out if she were half-ways civil. I think she’s one of those feminists or something.
She finally comes out in jeans, boots and a lumberjack coat. I can never figure out how she can look stunning dressed like that, but she manages.
She gets in and shakes the snow from her long, blonde hair.
“Better keep to the main roads,” she commands me.
“I wasn’t intending to go as the crow flies.”
I put that in as a snide way of reminding her I know who’s tipped her off about my fence and been sending her smoke signals—yep, good ole Jim Crow, my Cherokee hired-hand and the asp in my bosom.
“Not a great day for off-roading without snow tires,” she quips back.
I do an inward eye roll, but say nothing. I mean, really what's the point?
I drive the long way round to my back twenty and park beside my woodlot.
“We’ll have to hike in from here,” I tell her.
She shrugs and hops out into two feet of water.
“Damn! " she fumes, "Why’d ya park so close to the ditch?”
“Did you want me to park in the middle of the road?”
She stares at me as if looks could kill—and believe me, in her case, they could. She’s got these soft brown eyes that go black as coal when she gets mad—and right about now, those eyes are about as black as Frosty the Snowman’s.
We wander around a bit—more like flounder around.
It’s snowing hard and the usual contours of the land are hidden.
I’m looking for markers and then—ZAP!
“Urgh!” I fall backward over a pile of logs and get my leg jammed.
She gasps and looks really worried.
“Jed, Are you all right?”
She’s hovering above me, her fragrant hair cascading into my face as I look up into those soft brown eyes.
“I’m okay,” I lie. My right arm feels numb and my right leg is wedged tight beneath a heavy oak log.
“You idiot!” Her eyes flash fire. “Didn’t you mark and sign the fence?”
I blink. I want to make an excuse—we didn’t have time—or were coming back tomorrow. It’s useless—she knows.
“Naw, I didn’t mark it. I’m an idiot.”
she doesn't dispute my assertion.
“Let me move that log.”
She strains as hard as she can—it won’t move. Finally, she gives up.
“I can’t budge it. What should we do?”
“Maybe you can back the truck up—I’ve got a chain and winch—you can wrap it around the log and pull it off me.”
She looks at me with sudden admiration. “That’s a good idea. Hold on.”
She runs back to the truck and as she goes I admire her cute derriere and feel pretty good about myself and my suggestion.
I hear the truck start up and hear the growl as she tromps the accelerator and breaks through the brush. She stops about two yards from me.
She loops the chain around the log, gets in the truck and inches forward till she feels resistance. She then gives it some gas.
The back wheels spin. She gasses it some more and they slip again and then bite. The truck lurches forward and the weight of the log comes off me.
“Okay,” I yell, “I’m free.”
She shuts off the motor and comes back and squats down to check my leg.
“Don’t move until I make sure it’s not broken.”
I let her play nurse and lean back and let the snowflakes melt on my eyelashes. I’m hearing funny whuffling noises from the woods around us.
“Looks okay,” she says, “But probably sprained. Be careful when you get up—try not to put too much weight upon it.”
I grab her arm. “Can you hear that noise—what is that?”
She listens and I watch her brow furrow and then her eyes go wide. “We need to move fast.”
“What is it?” I demand.
“Coyotes—and they’re all around us. We’ve got to get inside the truck.”
A wave of panic rolls through me, but I numbly get to my feet as a shot of pain from my right leg almost causes me to faint.
"AHHH!" I groan. I bend my knee as much as I can to take the weight off and lean on her. She almost falls under my weight.
“Shut up!” she hisses in my ear. “Don’t excite them—they’re already calling to each other and surrounding us.”
“Great!” I hiss back, my teeth clenched and eyes closed.
We stumble the ten or twelve feet through the snow to the passenger door of the truck. She opens it and I realize I can’t get in.
“Lean forward on the seat and I’ll boost you.”
I obey and she gets her hands on my behind and pushes with all her strength. The pain is blinding, but somehow I manage to wedge myself into a crouching position in the cab.
It takes all my strength to maneuver my leg so she can shut the door. She then runs around, climbs in the driver’s side and slams the door, just as three coyotes emerge from the pines beside us.
“Not a moment too soon,” I moan.
She starts up the truck and gasses it. The tires spin. She tries again and the tires spin more.
“Just tromp it!” I order.
She stands on the accelerator and the truck slides sideways and I can feel it stuck in a rut.
“Okay! That’s enough. I guess we’re stuck.”
“Guess you don’t have snow tires,” she growls. “Do you have a cell phone?”
“Yeah—at home, charging.”
She pounds the steering wheel with her fist.
The coyotes howl, the snow covers the windshield and it starts to get dark.
“Just lovely.” She hisses.
She's not even looking at me. Guess I blew this chance with her too.
