She turned off her desk lamp in hopes of getting a better look. The light outside disappeared, and for a moment, Wylie thought she must have imagined it, but then the air stilled as if the storm was taking a deep breath. The snow parted, and a ball of fiery orange lit up the sky at the top of the lane.
It was the wrecked truck engulfed in flames.
Maybe a power line came down atop it, igniting the gas tank? That’s what had to have happened.
There was nothing to do but let it burn.
The storm exhaled, obscuring the road and enveloping the fire in a whorl of white.
Another flash of orange broke through the dark. Wylie could hear the crackle of flames through the wind. She thought of the glove box and any paperwork that might have been stored inside that could have told her the truck’s owner’s identity, literally now up in flames. She should have taken the time to check when she first found the wreckage.
Above her, the lights blinked. Wylie held her breath, but the lights stayed on. She needed to get more flashlights, more batteries.
There was nothing that Wylie could do about the truck now. She had to worry about the things she could control. Like keeping herself and the boy warm and keeping the darkness at bay.
Wylie turned away from the window and juggled the lantern and a handful of batteries as she moved through the hallway to the stairs. Just as her foot hit the first step, the house was plunged into darkness.
Wylie froze. Her fingertips tingled and her heart raced. A wave of dizziness rolled through her and she dropped the batteries. They clattered down the steps, disappearing into the dark as Wylie stared down into the black abyss below her. Her rational mind knew that she had nothing to fear, but she couldn’t think. Beads of cold sweat popped out on her forehead and a low hum filled her ears.
Unsteadily, she sat down on the top step. She couldn’t catch her breath; the air wouldn’t fully enter her lungs. It was blocked by something that had lain dormant for years. Something black and oily slid into place and took hold.
Wylie pressed her fingers to her throat as if she could pry away its cold grip. Night had finally found her unprepared, and Wylie felt she might suffocate.
Until now, she had learned to control light and dark. She couldn’t outrun it any longer. She squeezed her eyes shut.
A stream of coughing, sharp and harsh like seals barking, scattered the buzzing bees in her head and Wylie opened her eyes. “Hey?” she called out. “Are you alright?” Wylie asked, trying to keep her voice steady, even.
A beam of light bounced against the walls, filling the stairwell with an eerie glimmer. The dizziness subsided and the world righted itself. There was light. Everything was going to be okay.
“I’m coming,” Wylie managed to say, waiting until her breath steadied before getting to her feet. Feeling came back into her limbs and she felt the smooth wooden banister beneath her fingers. Her legs felt heavy, but with the gleam from the boy’s light, she was able to move slowly downward.
Seeing the worry on the boy’s face, Wylie murmured, “I’m fine, I just don’t like the dark very much.”
The boy reached over and flipped the switch on the lantern in Wylie’s hands, and the room was flooded with a soft light. Tas, unconcerned, was stretched out in front of the fireplace. The black knot in Wylie’s throat slid away.
Wylie set the lantern on the cedar chest. “It could take a few days for crews to get the power back on, but we’ll be okay. We’ve got light and food and wood,” she said with weak conviction.
Wylie glanced at the dwindling pile of kindling next to the fireplace and her heart dropped. Wood. They needed more wood for the fire, but there was none in the house. She would need to go out to the barn. This was the last thing she wanted to do, but what choice did she have? They needed logs for the fire. “We need more wood. Do you want to help me?”
The boy looked down at his shoes.
“My arms are going to be filled with wood, so maybe you can open and shut the back door for me. But first, we need to make sure you’re warm enough. It’s going to get cold in here fast, especially when the door opens. How about it?” Wylie asked.
Finally, the boy nodded, and Wylie gave him a grateful smile.
Wylie was tempted to turn on every single flashlight she had gathered but knew that would be a waste of batteries. She would have to make do with her lantern. Together, each holding a light, Wylie and the boy made their way to the mudroom. First, Wylie tested the outdoor lights hoping the back yard would suddenly become illuminated. Nothing happened.
Wylie found an old sweatshirt and pulled it over the boy’s head. It fell below his knees, and Wylie had to roll up the sleeves several times, but it would do the trick. She rifled through a basket filled with outdoor gear, found a stocking cap, and pulled it down over his ears.