White Out (working title)

White Out
Chapter 1

Lost in the Vermont wilderness

“Snow…man I hate this stuff.” Tom said to no one as he rolled his window down slightly allowing fresh cold night air

into the cab of his tractor trailer. He has been driving for the better part of a day through the slushy white stuff,

and still it came down in ungodly measures.

Tom Willoby is a thirty year old over the road truck driver, who crisscrosses the country for a living. For twelve

years now he has loaded, unloaded, and met his deadlines on the wide open highways of these United States.

He started as slightly more than a boy hauling livestock out of New Mexico. Eventually graduating to produce,

hand picked and loaded by others, which he was glad of. He no longer had to deal with the hardships of making

sure his cargo was fed and watered. Oranges never complained that they were hungry.

Now he makes his living wild cat-ing. That’s the act of owning your own rig and calling your own shots. You tell

them what you’ll carry and which way you’re heading. This suited Tom’s style much better. He never liked being

told he wasn’t fast enough or what he had to do at any certain time. Yes, this was the life for him, he thought as

he kicked the radio on and gave the tuning knob a few quick turns. He found nothing but static and turned it back

off without taking his eyes off the dark winding road before him.

Tom was hauling four thousand, three hundred pounds of bedding this trip. He had stacks upon stacks of

mattresses, strapped down and squeezed in the back of his rig so tight, he thought he wouldn’t be able to force a

tooth pick between them, which he would soon prove himself to be thoroughly wrong.

His truck had been slip sliding its way down Interstate 95 west out of Maine, heading to Illinois. He started his

recent journey by coming up from Florida, then through Virginia and made a drop off at a furniture store that was

closed for the night. He swapped trailers in the back of the lot and was off again heading to Maine. Once again,

he dropped the trailer off in the yard after hours and picked up another, now he was in Vermont and supposed to

be in Chicago by Eleven o’clock tomorrow night. It was starting to look to him that making this trip on time may not

be possible. The road was closed three miles back and he was forced by state troopers to take Rt. 2 West.

After he made a few turns onto unmarked winding roads, he wasn’t exactly sure where he was now. His loneliness

made Tom realize how much he had been missing the voice of another real live person since he hadn’t talked to

anyone for days.

The small two lane back road he was now on, was twisting though snow covered peaks and valleys. Evergreens

and large leafless brown trees weighted down with snow, lined the lonesome road and seemed to engulf he and

his rig on both sides.

Tom was glad he had thought to put the chains on his tires at the last weigh station, before it started getting

real bad. He knew there was no way he could climb some of these grades had it not been for them helping his

trucks tires to grab traction.

The wipers were barely able to keep up with the snows bombardment even at their highest setting. They were

throwing the slush four feet off the left from the windshield every time they rose and fell again. He had a cigarette

sticking out from his mouth, puffing away like a condemned man awaiting the electric chair. His cap turned

backwards on his head which read, ‘Lynyrd Skynyrd’, and a blue and white checkered flannel shirt and blue jeans.

He squinted out the windshield trying his best to see beyond the headlights that were straining to cut though his

darkened path. But they only revealed ten feet out into the darkness in front of him. He picked up his trusty CB

radio and made sure it was set to channel nineteen, which was the trucker’s channel. Many were the nights that

channel kept him awake and sane, talking through it to his ‘good buddies’.

“Breaker, Break come on an talk to this old boy, this here’s Freebird looking to dig up some pass the time, anyone

got a copy?”

There was nothing but static answering him.

“Breaker one nine, got to be some good old boy out there near Bean town who wants to holler.”

The radio crackled in the darkened cab. Over the C.B. Tom suddenly got a weak and static filled response.

“Go ahead Freebird; Coondog has some ears on for ya.” Came the reply.

“Hey Coondog, old Freebird is fighting the white on route two heading west to the windy city. What is your twenty?”

“Ole Coondog is double nickeling it out of Bangor on 95, almost to the cloverleaf heading south in my Bulldog. Got

me a load of steel pipe and supposed to hit bean town on the backside.”

Tom knew the man said he was in a Mack truck, picked up a load in Maine, and was supposed to go to Boston,

then back on the same route.

“You getting any white on your tires over there? It’s almost a blizzard over here in Vermont.”

“Just little flurries here, not too bad yet. God help us though, looks like the weather is going to start getting real

crazy. Are you bobtailing it?”

“No Coondog, I got a trailer full. But I am crawling; I doubt I see my big hole before morning.” Tom said, telling the

man it was snowing so hard he probably wouldn’t be able to put his rig into high gear until he could see better.

“Well, I am going to back down Freebird, I am getting ready to pass a pickle park, and I got to go bad. I aint a

gambling man so I am not going to drive through the night; I am going to overnight here and see what happens. I’ll

catch you on the flip side, keep your tires turning partner, and watch out for that snow.”


“Ok Coondog, you take care and give me a holler later if you can, I may need you to call rescue for me if this

keeps up.” Tom said, half jokingly but still wary of his situation.

“Will do, this is Coondog, over and out.”

Tom hung the receiver back on its clip on the dashboard. Tom’s spirit was renewed slightly at hearing another

human voice, even if it was only for a minute.

He was having a harder time holding his rig on the icy road with every complete rotation of the tires.

‘What chances was Coondog not going to take? Crazy weather?’ Tom thought to himself. That made no sense but

he soon shrugged it off and got his mind back on this deadly road he was winding through. The trailer kept

fishtailing through the snow as it tried its best to follow his cab down the desolate winding deathtrap.

After two more slow and wet miles up the snow beaten path, the road totally disappeared. He now could only

judge where he thought the road should be. He was calibrating as best he could, by the trees on both sides of his

truck and trying to stay somewhat in the middle. He hadn’t passed a car since he turned onto this dark hellish trail

through the mountains, and was growing more nervous with every passing second.

As Tom and his rig were rounding a wide spot in the next bend, he noticed the sky growing brighter. It changed

in seconds from pitch black to a splendid white as if looking into the sun. It was such a brilliant light it casted

shadows momentarily off everything around Tom and his truck. As he shielded his eyes from the brilliant sky, his

truck violently jerked to the left side of the road. Not the trailer, nor the cab, but the entire truck had violently

moved across the road at least fifteen feet, from one side of it, completely to the other. As he was in the process

of sliding he saw with the help of the lighted sky that the trees were bending over in the same direction his truck

was moving. The trees that weren’t snapping, were throwing their snow and ice off of them in the opposite

direction upon whipping back into their normal position. He gripped the wheel hoping the snow on the side of the

road would stop him and not send him flying down the embankment. As quickly as the sky had lit up, it went totally

black again. Whatever it was that caused the momentary blinding light was now gone. The night sky was back to

black and the trees stopped their gruesome dance.

As his truck came to a rest on the roadside, he pushed in the clutch and stared into the blowing snow through

his windshield. He was still unsure of what just happened and didn’t want to stick around to find out. Tom sat there

for a moment simply dazed and confused.

“What the hell was that?” he said out loud to himself. He didn’t see any damage done to his rig. Except all around

him there were now snapped off trees in his path and more snow that had been thrown onto it from the

evergreens. It was going to be tougher going now, than before.

He kicked the truck down to her granny gear and slowly pulled away picking his way through the dark snowy forest

aiming for the clear spots in the road ahead.

After a few more miles, the snow had won the battle with the trucks wipers. They had managed to build up a

layer of ice and packed snow so tightly, that it wouldn’t allow them to clear it off the windshield. Tom was going to

have to stop and dig it out from under them with his hands. He knew he had to pick the perfect spot to pull over,

or he would be buried and not be able to get moving again.

He needed to find a high spot on a hill somewhere, that way the weight of the truck would be in his favor. He

could simply put it in gear once restarting his journey, and let it roll down the grade so he could be on his way

again. He could barely make out a hill in the distance through the darkened forest. He wasn’t that far from it and

thought that would be his safest bet.

As his rig fought to climb the grade, he pushed in on the clutch at the perfect spot, and let the truck roll to the

very top. He stopped and set the brake while turning on his emergency flashers. Preparing as best he could for

the cold, Tom put on his thick jacket and insulated gloves. He grabbed a flashlight his wife had gotten him last

Christmas from under his seat. It was a spotlight with five million candle power. That baby would light up a path at

midnight making it look like noon with its intense beam. He wanted to take a quick look at the trailer while he was

outside, and make sure she had no snow or ice built up on her axles or rims too. If he had to be out in this

weather, he wanted to do a thorough check on everything just once.

He opened the door of the big truck and was instantly met by howling winds that bit at his face as it passed.

Snow was hitting his skin and felt like bb’s from an air rifle attacking every piece of his exposed flesh. The wind

that whirled around him caused him to involuntarily squint his eyes as he stepped out and shut the door of the

cab. Then he climbed up on the step hold in the fender and using his hand, he grabbed the ice and snow from

under the wipers pulling it loose. He then threw it on the ground beside him. He cleared one side then jumped

down and moved to the other to complete his mission. After he had gotten the windshield in tip top shape he

pulled the flashlight from his back pocket and walked to the rear of the truck. He kicked on the mega light and

knelt down looking under the trailer for any ice or snow that was trying to stow away under it.

He moved half way under the trailer and cleared some built up snow and ice from the trucks axle where it had

been trying to hide and grow bigger. After clearing it, Tom moved around to the back of the rig and knelt there

with his brilliant light. As its beam passed the trees he saw the full extent of the damage that almost swamped him

earlier. Trees that he could see around him were lying on their sides throughout the forest. Then he suddenly

thought he heard a noise in the distance but with the winter winds howling in his ear he couldn’t pinpoint its

direction, nor did he know exactly what it was. He got up and moved to the back of the truck, still listening to the

low rumbling sound.

Tom shined his light back down the road from the direction he had come moments before; there was nothing

except his quickly disappearing tire tracks in the snow. He then cut the light hoping it would make his ears sharper

to detect exactly what it was he was straining to hear. But that didn’t help; he did notice however, that the ground

below his feet began to tremble. He quickly peered around the rig facing the direction he was heading. Looking

as best he could through the swirling winds and snow, he noticed a distant light that was bouncing crazily from the

trees to the sky and then back, disappearing intermittently. It was as if a searchlight was being flashed wildly in

every direction through the jet black, snow covered wilderness over the next hill. He kicked his light on and as it

came to life he pointed it toward the light show to his front.

At that moment he saw the giant noise maker and gulped hard in disbelief. It was a wall of water jumping over

the next hill and filling the valley in front of him in an instant, set directly on a crash course for him and his beloved

truck. He thought it looked alive and serpent like the way it crawled over the mountain in front of him and rushed

toward the spot he was standing from the blackened distance, gobbling up everything in it path. Being pushed in

the front of it were trees as big as skyscrapers he had seen in New York City. There was a car mixed in among

other debris that still had its headlights on, and was still sending its bizarre light show in every direction. Tom knew

he wouldn’t have time to make it to the cab of the rig before he would be hit. He hurriedly jumped on the back rail

of the trailer and pulled the door open on one side. He then dove into the back of the truck and laid on top the

mattresses that were tightly stacked there on their sides. He started digging his way in between two that were near

the middle and after forcing them apart was now buried like a ground squirrel nestled for the winter in its borough.

He waited quietly in disbelief as his heart pounded under his flannel shirt. What was this amount of water doing

in the wilderness of Vermont, he wondered. It wasn’t the season for flash floods this early. And this amount of

water would have to…,

it hit him.

The entire truck was violently picked up and forced to join the sickening thrill ride. He was being shoved into the

trees to his right. He could hear them screaming out into the night as they cracked and speared the sides of the

trailers walls. It seemed the wind and water joined into an evil chorus of earth shattering noise. He thought he

could hear every sound bounce off the hills and echo through the valley as the mountains around him seemed to

laugh at his puny rig being raped by the wave. Suddenly he heard an enormous crash and was now falling into

another valley somewhere close by. Tom and his rig were being pushed up this mountain and down another

quickly tossing and spinning him wildly through the cold dark woods. He now had no idea where he was or where

this black reptile of water was taking him. He tried to move higher out of his borough, to kick his light on and see

what was happening. Just as he was about to raise his head clear from the soft cushion of his den, he was hit by

something that slammed him back down into the bottom of the trailer floor, everything in his small, cold, wet world

went black, and his mind soon followed.