The Day She Almost Died
Cold steam blasted from the back door of the taxi. Maybe the driver cackled. She leaned back in the seat. Decided that diabolical laugh was a trick of the wind. And the snow. The wind and snow.
Crusty wipers scraped across glass, a howling tunnel of a white world visible through the cracks front and center. Sides opaque. Back blurred. She held her husband’s hand as the cab driver merged onto the interstate, with two new souls in tow.
Blind.
Ten miles per hour.
A horn blared, and everything lurched sideways. The world was dark. And slippery.
“Is this hell?” She whispered it.
“Je ne sais pas où je suis,” muttered the cab driver.
“Jesus Christ!” The husband shouted.
Another car. The width of a credit card between them. Perhaps it was a single snowflake that saved them from eternal damnation.
“Où suis-je?” The cabbie was mumbling again.
The car inched forward, into the swirling inferno of white. Lost in the wake of every other car/truck/van/lorry/moped/bicycle/bus going anywhere.
“Est-ce le chemin de l’aéroport?”
“How are we supposed to know the way to the airport?” The doomed couple shouted in unison. “You’re the cab driver.”
Always remember this: when stuck in a dastardly situation, it is a bad idea to yell at the driver.
Especially when the driver is Satan.
For Lucifer rotated the wheel. The errant taxi careened into a snowdrift. Stalled. On the interstate. In a pile of white where no one could see.
Lucifer turned around. Enveloped the couple with frozen eyes. And, flashed an icicle smile.
To be continued……….
Oh dear! This doesn’t sound good. I don’t ever want to get into a cab with Satan. And then in a blinding snow storm?
I don’t either, Debra. Unfortunately, lots of fiction is inspired by life……
I am glad you didn’t die. That would be a poor ending to the story.
Although that would kind of be what you get for traveling to such a cold inhospitable northern climate. Totally uncivilized.
If you were closer to me right now, I would hit you Carnell.
Nanny nanny boo boo! You can’t get me!
Thhhhhpppptttt!!!!
Just you wait, Carnell. Just you wait.
At least he’s speaking French in Quebec, which is normal. The taxi drivers in New York speak in languages from countries that haven’t yet been given names:)
Ah, New York. A city I have yet to visit on this never-ending flight.
When I was in NYC a few years ago I finally got to see something I had only dreamed of – a wreck between two cabs! It was awesome. And funny.
I am glad I did not see such a sight on Thursday. It likely would’ve been us.
Suddenly totally cool with the fact that we get no snow here. Also I live near a bunch of cowfields so that pretty much takes care of the devil cabbies, too
I wish I could send that cab driver to the cow field.
L’homme de l’homme des glaces et revendique son prix, l’succomber deux au diable glace.
I hope not, Lou. This poor couple’s saga has yet to see an end.
And the next words out of Satan’s mouth were “Voulez-vous marcher?”
Tune in tomorrow, Chuck. It will really depend upon what kind of mood I am in when I write the post.
Don’t accept rides from strangers . . .
Tell me this isn’t you and MTM, Andra
Sounds a lot like my daily commute for sixteen winters. This could get interesting…
So glad NOT to be in the middle of falling white stuff.
Guessing your ride to the airport wasn’t the greatest… love the ‘icicle smile’.
Of course the devil is French. Payback time for those Freedom Fries.
Yup, yup, yup. I’m content to travel vicariously through you and MTM…this seals it! Rides with Lucifer…hey, that’d be a great bumper sticker….
I feel absurdly lucky to have missed all the ridiculous weather in my holiday travels; past years sounded all too much like this!
We are absurdly lucky in general, Annabelle. It really is a miracle that cab driver did not kill us.