Snowed In: Ross and Ashton

Ross fought to keep his SUV on the road. Another massive gust of wind rocked in from the north, threatening to knock him over. Ice caked the roads, hidden by blowing snow, and they were going to stay that way until the storm wound itself out. According to Weather Center Power Five or whatever they were calling themselves these days, that could be two days from now. The emergency arteries would probably get cleared at some point, but even clearing that much would be a fight for plows. With any luck, news about the travel ban would have spread and people would have engaged their common sense. No one needed to be out on the roads at a time like this.

He grabbed his radio. “Huber to base, checking in from Route 27 near the Maynard-Sudbury Line. No stragglers that I can see. Over.”

The dispatcher’s voice crackled back to him right away. “Bring it on home, Huber. No need to risk getting stuck out there.”

Ross hated to admit it, but he relaxed a little in his seat. He had no problem doing the job in front of him. He’d give his life to protect the people of Massachusetts if he had to, just like he’d sworn in his oath when he took the job. He just didn’t see a point in making that kind of sacrifice without good cause. It was much better to head back to the State Police barracks in Framingham. At this rate of speed, with this kind of visibility, it would take him about two hours at best to get back to base, and the storm was only going to get worse between now and then.

He’d be sleeping at headquarters, but he could live with that. They’d all prepared for it anyway, having known about the storm days in advance. They had food, they had coffee and hot chocolate. They had plenty of cots and blankets and whatnot. They’d be fine, and he’d rather it be him than some of the guys who had young kids or aged parents at home

He inched his way along, eyes as alert as they could be for any sign of people or animals in distress. As he drove, visibility steadily got worse. The snow was bad enough, but the wind blew it around so much it was impossible to see. He could only hope he made it back to State Police headquarters at this rate. Between the wind, snow, and ice, he couldn’t be a hundred percent sure he’d make it.

Some guys farther west didn’t make it back to their barracks. Ross heard it on the radio, every time they checked in. Most of them called it quits when they got to someplace relatively safe to hole up until things died down. A couple of them decided to bunk down in a grocery store with stranded workers. Another took shelter in a Dunkin Donuts, living the stereotype but at least finding safety (and donuts.)

One just parked his cruiser under the shelter of a self-serve car wash and hoped for the best. Ross didn’t envy him at all.

If the stranded car hadn’t had its flashers on, and its wipers, Ross would never have seen it. He threw his lights and blinkers on and pulled in behind it. It was entirely possible that whoever had left the car there had already been picked up and rescued, but Ross couldn’t take the chance of leaving someone in the vehicle. Not when he could see that the tailpipe had already been covered.

He picked up his radio again. “Base, this is Huber, still on Route Twenty-Seven, probably somewhere in Sudbury. I’ve come upon a stranded vehicle, tailpipe buried, lights flashing. Intend to check for passengers. Over.”

“Roger that, Huber.” Dispatch always sounded calm and collected. “Be advised your road has not been cleared and ambulances cannot pass. Over.”

“Roger that. Making contact now.” Ross didn’t need someone sitting pretty in their socks in Framingham to tell him the miserable road he was driving on hadn’t been plowed. He knew it was just for the recording, in case someone tried to sue later or something, but it still rankled. Or maybe he was just cranky because of the weather.

He slipped his gloves and hat on, grabbed a window breaker just in case, and headed over to the other car. It was a Volkswagen Golf with summer tires, completely inappropriate for this kind of weather, and the motor was running. Now that Ross was on the ground and closer to the vehicle, he could better guess what had happened. The driver had skidded out and gone halfway into a snowbank, and then he couldn’t get out again.

He used his forearm to brush away snow from the driver’s side window. He hoped he wouldn’t find anyone inside, just some dim bulb who’d left the car running when he jumped into the rescue vehicle of his choice. Once he’d cleared enough snow to see, he knew he wasn’t going to be that lucky. He fumbled for his radio, no easy task with his gloves on. “Dispatch,” he shouted trying to be heard over the wind. “This is Huber. We have one adult male, unconscious, and one canine, semi-conscious, in the vehicle. Over.”

Dispatch came back to him right away. “Extract from vehicle if you can, but we cannot send a truck. Repeat, no truck is coming. There is a tree down two miles from your location.”

Well, shit. “I’ll deal with that once I extract the victims, over.” He took his window breaker, found an appropriate location, and smashed the driver’s side window.