by Louise Keating
“Wish I was him!” Martin said, gazing through the snow speckled windscreen at the eagle as it circled overhead.
Maireen snorted. “Why? So we could just fly out of here?”
The car was not going anywhere. Their digging and straining had only helped to push it more deeply down the embankment into the snow.
“How long more before someone comes by, do you think?” Martin said, peering through the ice crusted glass of the passenger window.
“How the hell would I know!”
The words, frosty as her breath, were out before she could stop them. The fact was, she knew maybe no one would come by at all. Not today anyway.
“Sun’ll go down soon,” she said. “It’s getting colder.”
“Try your celphone again,” Martin suggested.
“God, Martin, I told you. It’s dead!!!”
Martin’s lips pressed tightly together, then relaxed. He tilted his head and looked up at the eagle.
“Creepy,” he said.” Reminds me of those movies where the vultures circle, waiting for you to die!”
Maireen shivered. “Try the engine again.”
He turned the key in the ignition once more. The car chugged, then coughed, then sighed into silence.
Maireen blinked away a tear. “It’s no use,” she whispered.
Martin’s arms were around her then, his cheek against hers.
“We’ll keep each other warm,” he said. “They’ll find us. I promise. Someone will come.”
Only the cold came as darkness fell. Icy numbness lulled them to sleep, all trace of them disappearing beneath a blanket of falling snow.