Stranded Christmas

The Miller's get stranded in a snowstorm that turns out differently than father John ever imagined.

Stranded Christmas

 

                The Miller’s family car sped along on a deep snow-covered, tree-lined road as the snow fell heavy and the wind blew hard. Gripping the wheel, father John Miller stared out into the snowstorm, composed wife Jane sat by his side as their two children, Sarah and Ross continued at each other throats.

                “Oh crap! My phone lost service,” Sarah said, tossing her phone aside.

                “Just as well, I’m tired of listening to you,” said her brother Ross. “You have been gabbing on that thing ever since we left home.”

                “At least I have some friends and not some lame loser without any friends,” she retorted.

                “You calling me a lame loser, you, you hussy!”

                “Hussy?! You low-down creepazoid,” Sarah shouted, as she jumped across the back seat of the family car and put Ross in a headlock. Ross let out a howl and started punching her in the side. She then started going after him with her nails.

                “You two cut it out back there, and you’d better behave at your grandparents on Christmas,” their mother Jane scolded. “Do you want me to put one of you up here between your father and me?”    

“We have enough problems,” John, their father said under his breath, “without you two fighting or worse yet, having a fight between the front and back seats.” He raised his voice. “Sheesh! Look at the snow blowing out there; I can hardly see where to drive.”

                “I told you not to turn back there,” Jane said. “This didn’t look like a well-traveled road and look now�"it isn’t even a two lane road anymore, I think. I can’t even tell out the side windows.”

                “The GPS said this route would shave off an hour and a half in getting to your folks. We were already late when we left home because you took so long to get ready.”

                “We will only shave off time if we make it out of here alive.”

                “Oh, come now, it isn’t that bad.”

                “John, isn’t it?”

                “Jane. Let’s not start too. Oh, oh!”

                “What!?”

                John tapped the car’s info screen.  It read: U.S. Meteorological Services has issued a severe weather warning for blizzard conditions including high winds and moderate to heavy snow and a travel advisory. Travel will become difficult or impossible due deteriorating road conditions and poor visibilities.

                “Humph! Lots of good that is, it was issued an hour ago. Oh no!” He said, his brow furrowed.

                “Does it say something else worse?”  

                “Didn’t you feel that in the car? We’re losing traction; the snow is piling up in front of the car�"see how the headlights flicker off and on from the snow?” John’s knuckles went white.

                “I didn’t want to admit I noticed.”

                “Dad, are we lost?” Sarah said, suddenly concerned and serious. “Are we going to get stranded out here?”

                “No,” John said low and drawn out. The car bucked and swerved and so he slowed down.  

                “You don’t sound very reassuring. If it’s so bad then why don’t we just turn around and go back?”

                “Where? Where can we turn around? Besides look at the GPS�"we’re right here on the road.” John said, pointing at the screen.  “Oh shhhh�"now it tells us that it’s a seasonal road.” He added with a tone of defeat.

                “OH! WATCH THE ROAD!” Jane screamed.

                The little car abruptly listed to one side and instantly headed toward the trees that appeared closer and bigger than before in the whipping, billowing, and blinding snow. John spun the wheel to counter steer and the front wheels furiously clawed to get back on high ground, but the rear of the car went wide and sank deeper into the ditch. John gunned the engine which only exacerbated the condition with snow spraying up from the tires and the car viciously fishtailing for traction in the deep snow.  Sarah screamed while Jane and Ross white-knuckled the door handles as the car went sideways and slowed though the engine screamed at high rpms. John jammed the car into reverse and then drive and the car moved begrudgingly. Abruptly, in the dark swirling blizzard, the car stopped moving at all. John let off the gas and defeated, he rested his forehead on the steering wheel. He thought of their freezing to death in the middle of nowhere.

                “Now what’ll we do?” Jane asked, remarkably calm considering the situation they were in.

                “We call for help,” Ross said calmly.

                “No service out here, dummy,” Sarah said smartly.

                “I’m not a dummy, you�".”

                “Not now, kids,” John said, quietly trying to think out a logical strategy but his mind went elsewhere unproductive.

                “You packed the survival kit in the car this fall, right?” Jane asked.

                “No,” John said meekly. “All we have is the flashlight in the glove box.”

                With the car idling quietly, they sat there several long minutes without a word. The wind outside howled and the snow rose, billowed, and blew. The four stared out their individual frosty, snow-encrusted windows.

                “I’ll walk out to get help,” John announced, breaking the silence. “You three can stay warm by running the engine once in a while. Ross, go out and keep the exhaust clear of snow, ya’ know keeping the car clear of carbon monoxide and poisoning�" .” Jane glared at him.

                “Dad, I can go with you to get help,” Ross volunteered with a trembling voice

                “No, you stay with mom and Sarah.”

                “NO,” Jane said sternly. “We all go�"we stay together.”

                “But Jane�"”

                “Come on kids, get all your warm clothes on, we’re taking a walk in the snow,” Jane said.

                They got their coats and gloves and boots on. With a deep breath, John turned on the flashlight, turned off the car lights, and shut off the engine. The darkness closed in around them. The cold and the storm and the severity of their situation hit them like a hammer as they got out of the stuck car. Sarah shrieked when she found the snow was up to her waist.

                “Come on,” John shouted over the din of the wind while leading the way. “Keep moving in a close single file so we don’t all have to break trail. The main road isn’t far ahead.” He and Jane met eyes in the dim light of the flashlight as he calculated the length of time before hypothermia would set in.

                The saving grace of being in the woods was that the wind wasn’t as strong as it could have been and the snow wasn’t drifting as if it was any better with consistently thigh-deep snow. They plowed ahead.  John thought his jogging as part of his fitness plan would help him break an easy trail in the snow, but in a matter of minutes he was winded. Internally, he beat himself up.

                “I’ll lead for a while,” Jane said, catching her own breath.

                “No, I’m okay.”

                They pressed on. The flashlight cut a twitching tight beam through the swirling snow but only reaching out a few meters ahead.

                “How much farther, dad?” Ross asked.

                “Not sure.” A heavy breath. “We’re not moving that fast. Slow, steady though,” he added, trying to sound upbeat.  He glanced at his watch. Only forty five minutes had passed and his face felt wet and frozen with the cold long seeped into his fingers and toes. He knew the kids weren’t doing well when he flicked the flashlight back to look at them. He wondered what frostbite looked and felt like. His negative thoughts went to gangrene and amputations.

                An hour passed and they trudged on.

                “I can’t keep going, dad,” Sarah finally said with a whimper. “I can’t feel my frozen feet and my legs are tired, but I’m sweating like a pig at the same time.”   

                “We can keep going,” Jane said bravely.

                They trudged on for a half hour more. Ross fell face first in the snow, and they kept walking until they heard his muffled screams. John bounded back for him, brushed off Ross’s face and picked him up.  Already bone tired, John went to go first, but Jane held him back and took the flashlight. John thought the beam was dimming yellowish from the cold deadening the batteries. They began again. With trees seemingly stretching forever on both sides, nothing changed until ten minutes of Jane’s leading. An opening in the trees appeared on the right where they couldn’t see any trees, only dark and snow. They trudged past, but Sarah cried out.

                “A light! Mom, Dad a light back there!”

                They stopped and looked but saw nothing.

                “Just the snow reflecting the light and your eyes are playing tricks. Come on, Sarah.” John’s worse fears hit him hard wondering if the cold was affecting Sarah’s perceptions�"disorienting her.

                “NO!” She shouted. “It’s there. A house�"or something, I swear.”

                She started plowing a diverging trench in the snow and began disappearing into the snowstorm.

                “Sarah, no! Come on, stay with us.” John dreaded that they’d be separated.

                “You’ll see,” she shouted, trudging through the deep snow into the dimness at the reach of the flashlight. “

                “We’ll waste energy going that way�"maybe get lost,” Ross said, his teeth chattering when John set him on his feet, but Sarah kept going. John wondered if they’d really got lost off the roadside they’d find their four frozen bodies in the spring. He shook it off.

                “Jane?” John asked, as Jane started to follow Sarah.

                The three ventured after Sarah.  Jane shone the flashlight on Sarah as she began dashing toward the tiny unseen light. Gradually, the opening in the woods expanded into a clearing and a cabin materialized in the falling snow.  All four dashed up to the rustic cabin’s porch and without knocking they rushed inside the unlocked door.  John knew it was a heaven-sent refuge.

                “Whoa! A hillbilly shack, but at least it’s warm.”

                “Be polite, Ross. We don’t know if anyone is home besides, this little cabin may have saved our lives. Believe it or not this place isn’t heated,” John said pointing to the woodstove. The rustic cabin did feel warm and homey to him.

                “Oh, yeah.”

                “No heat, but look the stove and there’s plenty of wood on the porch.”

                They looked around the austere cabin and didn’t find anything to eat or drink, but within minutes, they had a fire blazing and the four cozied up close to thaw out. They poked here and there to find out what the cabin had in way of stocks.  A small, spindly cedar tree stood next to the opposite wall from the stove.  Sarah found an old steamer truck and pointed out to Ross the brass ID plate that only had the initials S.C. on it. Ross’s eyes grew large, but Sarah gave him her totally perturbed look. June found a cooking pan, then went outside and packed it with snow to melt on the stove.

                “Well, no electric, no running water, no food, we’ll just starve here, but at least we’ll be warm when we die,” said Sarah snidely.

                “Now you should be thankful for this,” Jane said, holding up a plastic bag of oatmeal. “Now we won’t starve.” John recalled hot oatmeal from his childhood and grinned at his wife.

                “I’d rather starve,” said Ross sticking out his tongue.

                “You two! Snap out of it. We’re going to be thankful and make the best of the little we have. While I make hot, nourishing oatmeal you three can make some decorations for the Christmas tree.”

                “Christmas tree?” The two children chorused pointing. “That is a Christmas tree?”

                “Yes. With a little imagination and artistic flair we can make that little cedar a Christmas tree. Get to work,” John said. “You can make this little tree beautiful and this Christmas Eve special!” He placed a catalog and scissors on the floor. “I’ll make a little batch of flour paste so we can make paper chains.”

                The children groaned.  “You do know we aren’t in kindergarten anymore, dad?”

                “Get to work; it’ll be fun once you get going. Look, an L.L. Bean catalog and Eddie Bauer and I don’t know some others here. Cut out what you want for Christmas, and we’ll stick it on the tree.”

                The children started cutting with John and Jane adding moral support and motivation for the endeavor. When the oatmeal was cooked, the four ate it without complaint and instantly returned to cutting and pasting and hanging homemade ornaments without complaint. The little cedar began to appear like a Christmas tree when suddenly, they heard a faraway noise they couldn’t place over the whistling and whining wind.

                “What’s that sound like thumping�"a helicopter searching for us?” Ross said, grabbing his coat.

                “No, listen. I hear a jingling. Maybe tire chains?”

                “Santa Claus on his way.” John said deadpan.  

                “No dad, a rescue truck with tire chains.”

                The thumping and jingling grew louder until they knew it was pulling up to the cabin. They all threw on their coats and emerged from the cabin to behold the scene. The snow fell in big fat fluffy flakes that tickled John’s nose when they stuck there. He smiled at the sight they saw. There was an older gentleman with long white hair and a bushy white beard wearing a parka and bib Carharts driving an old time sled drawn by�"a pair of horses who snorted and pawed and steamed out hot breath from their nostrils.

                “Ah ha!” said the man all a glee. “Must be the Millers! Glad you found my place in this nasty storm. Made yourself at home, I hope? Sorry, I wasn’t stocked, but I got some groceries that’ll make your stay a whole bunch better.”

                “Sir? Yes, thank you! You have us at a�"disadvantage. Yes, we’re the Millers�"I’m John, you are�"”

                The children stood their mouths and eyes wide open waiting for the answer, but the rotund man hesitated with a big smile on his bushy white-bearded face.

                “I love when children jump to conclusions, though I never experienced this sort of situation before. My name is�"” He winked. “Glad to meet you, Miller family. The reason I know that is because I called in your plates on your stuck car back there.”

                “What kind of�"communication do you have�"sir?” asked Ross. “Magical?”

                “Well, sort of,” the man said with a grin. He pulled out a heavy looking phone with a flexible rubber antenna. “Technological magic, you may say in way of satellite phone. Expensive, but I can call from anywhere to anywhere.”

                The horses stomped their hooves and blew out steamy breaths.

                “Young man, would be up to giving me a hand putting the horses away?” The man asked.

                “Sure thing!” Ross said enthusiastically.

                “All right! Let’s unload the sleigh and then we can put these tired and impatient critters to bed. They had a lot of heavy snow to plow through.”

                The family pitched in to carry several boxes into the cabin.

                “I knew you’d be hungry so I stocked up at the local store.” When John glanced at him with a quizzical look, he added. “The store is only a couple miles away�"as the crow flies�"” He paused for dramatic impact which the children provided by looking up into the swirling snowstorm. “Or through the woods on logging trails and not on the road you were traveling. You’ve got several miles to get to the main road in the direction you were headed, so we’ll have to ride out the storm in my humble cabin. It’ll be awhile before a plow truck comes.”

                “Thank you so much,” Jane said. “Your cabin saved our lives.”

                “You were lucky to get stuck where you did and turned into my clearing. Very lucky indeed.”

                “Sarah saw your light, and we followed it.”

                “What light?”

                The Millers turned back to the cabin to realize there was no light when they had gone inside. Silently, they glanced at each other.

                “Come Ross; let’s put the big guys in their stalls out back. Hop aboard. I’ll let you steer.”

                “How awesome!” Ross said, hopping into the seat. The two rode the sleigh around back to a shed barn and after several minutes returned.  Ross was all agog with excitement. “I fed the horses! You should see ‘em eat oats. Better than me with that oatmeal, mom!”

                Meanwhile, the three Millers inside the cabin had discussed the possible identity of their benefactor, but they weren’t sure how to broach the subject of his identity that he didn’t seem to want to divulge. Sarah, however, didn’t hesitate after the cabin’s owner pulled off his snowy coat.

                “So just who are you?” She said, with hands on her hips. “It’s Christmas Eve, you saved us, you look like�"ah�"mmm, Santa Claus,” she blurted out. “Soooooo�"are�"you? Fess up!”

                “Sarah!” Her parents shouted.  

                “Ho! HO! HO!” the rotund fellow laughed. “Yeah, I get that a lot. I fill in as a mall Santa down in Florida in past years, but this year I decided to spend Christmas playing in the snow in this, my summer cabin. Looky there, you decorated my tree. How beautiful and innovative. Good job, Millers! Ho!”

                “So, what do we call you?”

                “Sam, if you please�"name is Samuel Clark,” Sam said, grinning behind his beard. “But never mind that; we have to cook something good. How would you like some salted pork, taters, roasted carrots, and some cider?”

                Sounds great!” John said, hugging Ross and Sarah. “Sam, I think this rustic Christmas in your summer cabin will be the best Christmas these two kids will ever experience.”

                “And how!” Ross and Sarah chorused.

                The Millers and Sam Clark spent Christmas Eve and Christmas together eating, sharing stories, laughing, and playing old time games some recalled, some made up. John sat back and felt good.

                               

Reviews

[Erin S]

Warm and fuzzy Christmas story!