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| Sam
Whitman, a seasoned
snowplow contractor in Northern Ontario, prides himself on being the
first on the scene after every storm. But this storm is different. A blizzard has dumped record snow, and visibility is almost zero. As Sam plows the last driveway on his list, his truck’s headlights reveal something unusual, half-buried under a mountain of snow lies a dog, frozen solid. But it’s not just any dog; it’s wearing a bright red collar that matches the one worn by Bear, the missing dog of the mayor’s son. Finding Bear should’ve been a bittersweet victory, but there’s something off, the dog’s positioning is unnatural, almost like it was placed there. As Sam steps out and inspects the scene, his breath misting in the frigid air, he spots tire tracks leading into the forest. “Who the hell would drive out here in this mess?” he mutters to himself, rubbing his gloved hands together to keep warm. He clicks on his radio, trying to get some answers. The mayor’s voice crackles through the static. “Sam, you’ve gotta finish that driveway and get outta there. Now.” “What’s going on, Bill?” Sam asks, frowning. “Found Bear... but something’s not right.” “Just finish the job and leave,” the mayor snaps, his voice strained. “It’s for your own good.” Sam’s unease grows. Why is everyone so desperate to get him off this property? Determined to find answers, Sam follows the tracks, his plow moving cautiously into the woods. The snow keeps falling, relentless, erasing his trail behind him. The truck’s headlights cut through the dense forest, and then he sees it, a car, half-buried in snow. It’s still running, faint wisps of exhaust rising into the air. The driver’s seat is empty, and the door is ajar. Sam leans into the car, calling out, “Anyone there?” His voice echoes eerily against the silent woods. The only response is the wind howling through the trees. He digs through the snow and finds a cell phone on the passenger seat, its screen flickering with a half-typed text: “It’s done. Meet at...” Sam’s breath catches as he spots a figure slumped in the back seat, a man dressed in heavy winter gear, unconscious or worse. It’s the mayor’s son, Jeremy, and he’s not just passed out; he’s handcuffed to the seat. Sam fumbles with his phone, trying to call for help, but there’s no signal. The storm’s too fierce. The plow’s clock blinks at him - 6:00 PM. He remembers the news: the storm will worsen in the next two hours. If Jeremy isn’t freed by then, he’ll freeze. “Jeremy,” Sam shouts, shaking the young man’s shoulder. “Wake up, kid!” Jeremy’s eyes flutter open, dazed. “Sam? You... you shouldn’t be here.” “What’s going on? Who did this to you?” Jeremy glances around, panic flickering in his eyes. “I messed up. I was supposed to... I didn’t... there’s no time, Sam. You’ve gotta get me outta here before...” A sudden noise, a crunch of footsteps on snow, snaps Sam’s head around. Two figures emerge from the forest, their faces obscured by balaclavas. Sam’s truck radio buzzes again, this time with an unfamiliar voice. “Sam, leave the kid and walk away. No one has to know.” Sam’s heart pounds. “You’ve got the wrong guy. I’m just a plow driver.” “Last warning, Whitman,” the voice growls. “This is bigger than you. Bigger than him.” Sam looks at Jeremy, whose lips are turning blue. He made a promise to his own son years ago, never leave anyone behind. Not again. Sam grabs an old crowbar from his truck, but his hands shake from the cold and fear. “Hang tight, Jeremy,” Sam says, his breath ragged as he pries at the cuffs. “We’re getting out of this.” Jeremy stirs, eyes wide with fear. “Sam, they’re gonna kill us!” Sam forces the cuffs off just as the men advance. Jeremy bolts, grabbing a snow shovel from the truck bed and swinging it wildly. One of the attackers fires a shot, but it misses, sending a spray of snow into the air. Sam seizes the moment, slamming the plow into reverse. The truck skids but manages to push through the snow, knocking one of the attackers off balance. They manage to plow back toward the main road, the SUV struggling to follow in the worsening storm. Sam’s plow skids dangerously close to a ditch, but he keeps control, adrenaline pushing him forward. Finally, they break through to the highway, and the SUV falls back, disappearing into the blizzard. “Sam,” Jeremy pants, still gripping the shovel like it’s a lifeline. “I’m so sorry. I got mixed up with the wrong people. They... they wanted me to help move some... stuff, and I couldn’t do it.” Sam shakes his head, his grip tight on the wheel. “No more talking. Let’s get to safety.” Hours later, safe in a nearby diner, Sam and Jeremy sit quietly, warming up over hot coffee. Jeremy finally breaks the silence. “You saved my life back there. I had made a deal to clear my debts but failed, and now I am paying the price.” Sam cuts him off, sliding the red collar across the table. “Promises are hard to keep, kid. But sometimes, that’s all we’ve got.” Jeremy stares at the collar, tears welling up in his eyes. “I thought I could fix it all. But I was wrong.” Sam doesn’t need to hear more. The storm outside has finally subsided, but the storm within both of them will take longer to settle. As Sam heads back to his plow, he glances one last time at Jeremy. “Get it right next time, kid. Not everyone gets a second chance.” And with that, he drives off, the snow-covered roads stretching endlessly ahead, as silent and unforgiving as the secrets buried beneath them. |
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