I barely made it home in time. One minute I was singing along to
the radio, and then next I was staring slack jawed at the most menacing
storm clouds I had ever seen as someone born and raised them for a month.
I was no strange as the snow squalls, but there was something foreboding
about the dark clouds blowing in over the mountains. After reaching my house,
I opened my car door and stepped out into a cold evening. The wind
lashed at my face and made a terrible howling in my ears as I raced
up the steps and slipped through the front door to my house just in time,
Luke said to me and greeting. My husband was staring in front of
the living room window, surveying the mountains beyond our city. By the time
I walked over to him, I could barely see two streets down. Seemed
like we would be spent the evening inside. Came out of nowhere, I
commented. Before I so much as set my bag down, I heard the
doggy door open. We didn't own any pets, but we often entertained visits
from a neighborhood cat, whom Luke had called RIGATONI sure enough an old orange
cat soon appeared in our living room, leaving a trail of muddy, poor
prints as he trotted over to Luke. Ah, the serial couch surfer returns
too cold out there for you, he asked, the cat currently rubbing her
head against this shin, whom he owed as if in affirmation. Tony wasn't
terribly fond of most people, but Luke had away with animals. He reached
down to Petter, eliciting a melody of purs from the contented cat. Come
on, he said, standing, I'll fix you some dinner. Thanks,
Thank god, I'm starving. I wasn't talking to you, Luke said,
with a warm laugh, walking into the back of the house to vetch some
cat food for Tony. Half an hour later, just as Luke and I
had finally sat down to eat, we heard the doggy tour open once again.
I raised the brow at my husband. Tony was our only regular four
legged visitor. I wondered who else could have let himselves inside our home.
I didn't have to wonder for long. Seconds later, a border Collie tore
into the dining room, barking and whining with urgency. Luke and I rose
sharply to our seat to the table, watching the dog as it came to
a stop in the corner of the room. I realized as the poor creature
lowered its head and tucked its tail between its legs that I recognized it.
Hey that's missus Johnson's dog, I said, rounding the table to check if
the dog was hurt. Tucker, Yeah, I'm pretty sure I see her
walking him all the time. I crouched down next to Tucker and slowly reached
out my arm. To my surprise, the usually sweet tempered Border Collie pulls
its lips back in a snarl, lunging forward slightly and snapping his teeth.
It was a warning, not on an attempt to hurt me, but I
backed off all the same. Luke shot me her worried look, he's a
usually more mild mannered I'll give her a call and let her know he's with
us. Luke left the room to grab his phone while I studied Tucker from
a safe distance, looking for signs of injury. His frantic barks had been
replaced by occasional mournful wines. He was no longer racing around, seemingly content
with his place in the corner, but his posture remained fearful and defensive.
It was hard to tell with the way he was carrying, but I saw
no visible wounds on him. Do you have signal, Luke shouted from another
room. I took my phone out of my pocket to check, and to
my surprise, I didn't. We had generally reliable coverage, and I couldn't
remember the last time I'd lost cell service. I tried restarting my phone,
walking around at different spots in the house, and turning airplane mode on and
off. Nada. Unfortunately, if it was affecting both of us, it
was probably an issue with our service provider, meaning there was little we could
do. I was about to ask if he still had WiFi on his phone
when a light, but urgent tapping sound filled the I listened for a moment,
trying to place the origin of the sound, and soon traced it to
the bathroom, or more specifically, the bathroom window. When I got there,
I saw a small, fuzzy animal standing on the window sill and scratching
fervently at the glass. What in the world the little creature didn't seem to
notice my presence. I took another step forward into the bathroom, and I
realized as I approached that the animal had torn right through the window screen.
No cell service, no Wi Fi, no nothing. At least the lights
are on. Luke trout off as he entered the room, looking over my
shoulder at the frantic creature. Is that a weasel? I asked my resident
animal lover, who shook his head. Pretty sure, there's a Martin neat.
I was about to compliment his identification skills before I looked over and saw
the look in his eyes. Don't ask me what I think you're about to
ask me. Please, they're endangered. You know this isn't Noah's Ark,
Luke, we can't shelter every animal in Vermont. I swear the rodent took
a break from ripping through my window screen to glare at me. Ay glared
right back. Besides, this little thing here looks rabid. Luke and I
spent a couple minutes arguing. I wasn't keen on taking in any more impromptu
guests, but Luke was adamant on saving it from the storm. There's something
off about how desperately he's trying to get in, he said. It might
be on the verge of freezing to death. Or something. After a while,
he convinced me to take pity on the Martin. I had to admit
the way it was throwing itself against the glass was little unsettling. Reluctantly,
I opened the window and allowed it to squeeze through the hole in the screen.
However, I didn't realize that the marten wasn't the only creature waiting to
get inside. Before I could shut the window, a flurry of about twenty
mice searched into the bathroom from the hole. They must have been sitting on
the sill as well, but I guess I overlooked them, mistaking their fluffy
white bodies for snow. I jumped backwards, swallowing a shriek as one of
them landed right on my foot. Eventually I managed to shut the window without
stepping on any mice, but not before a red bird, a cardinal I
think, squeezed this way in as well. Stunned, I hurried after the
animals as they made a beeline for the center of the house. When I
entered the dining room, I saw not only Tucker and the animals who had
just burst in through the bathroom, but also a cat and two dogs that
I didn't recognize cursing. I realized that they must have entered through the doggy
door, so I yelled out to Luke to lock it. As I tried
to make sense of the scene in front of me, the animals gave each
other a wide berth. The cat didn't so much as look at the mice,
nor did the dog seem at all interested in the cat. All of
them were carrying, shivering as they pressed themselves into corners or squeezed into whatever
hiding spot they could find. The dogs whined, the mice squeaked. Even
the cardinal was making a strange, almost mournful sounding chirping noise. The only
one who was behaving normally was RIGATONI, who I had to show away from
the trooper mice hiding under the china cabinet. The hell is going on?
Luke asked, and I had no explanation to offer. We didn n ast
these storms before, but never had I seen one inspire such desperation in our
local wild life. After another failed attempt at coaxing Tucker out of his corner,
I made my way to the living room and stared out the large window.
A total whiteout stared back at me. I could only see a few
feet out in every direction before the world was swallowed up by darkness and snow.
It was hereye, but it was beautiful in a strange way, hypnotic.
It was easy to loose myself in thought as I watched the snow fall.
What could have spooked the animal so much? I wondered? Could it
really be the cold alone? The weather hadn't seemed all that bad. Sure,
I'd been cold outside, but not a blizzard cold. When I had
opened the bathroom window. I'd been distracted the mice, But when I thought
about it, I didn't remember a freezing cold wind sweeping into the house alongside
our animal guests. I raised my arm, pressing the back of my hand
against the glass, and then stilled. Loo, I quietly called out.
He appeared around the corner. Seconds later, Tony cradled in his arms.
Is it just me? Or it's the glass warm? Luke stepped closer,
shifting to hold the cat in one arm and placing his free hand against the
pane. He didn't respond, but the way his mouth set into a thin
line told me that he felt the same thing. What does this mean?
I don't know. We both stood in silence for a while. The wind
howled outside, but either said that if I opened a window and stuck my
hand out, it wouldn't feel cold. I didn't want to find out,
though, opening any windows or doors at that point seemed like a bad idea.
In fact, I was about to check that all entry points to our
house were secured when Luke pointed at something outside. A large black mass ambled
its way towards us. At first, I didn't understand what I was looking
at. Its shape and gait were so strange that I thought I was looking
at a brand new animal, But once it stepped fully into the faint glow
emanating from the porch light, I realized that it was a black bear.
Its lower jaw on one of its hind legs had been ripped off, and
from the trail of blood it had left in its wake, it was clear
that the wounds were fresh. The bear stumbled closer, stopping only inches from
the glass, and with every wary step I could make out another laceration on
its body. I watched in horror as the massive creature stared directly at us,
with a look in its eyes that it could only be described as pleading.
I held its gaze for a few seconds, and then the creature collapsed
onto its side. A puddle of dark red pulled outward from its body,
and soon the strangest expansions and contractions of its rib cage ceased. Never once
did it look away from us as it bled out and died. There was
a long silence before Luke and I dared to speak. You think, Luke
began. You think that's what the animals were afraid of. I hoped so,
but something in my gut told me that it wasn't. After all.
Even if that was the creature that had been running from, the question still
remained what could have inflicted that level of trauma on a black bear of that
size. I think we should get away from the windows. As we made
our way to the middle of the house, the lights flickered once twice,
and then abruptly went out all together. We were plunged suddenly into darkness,
and it seemed to put the animals even more on edge than before. The
squeaks and wines increased in volume. As I procured two flashlights from our kitchen
cabinet, I handed one to my husband, and then the two of us
tug to the dining room, sitting on the floor with our backs against one
of the walls. Luke was calm on the surface, but I could tell
that the strangeness of the situation was causing him to say stress. At least,
Tony's presence seemed to bring him some peace of mind. For some reason,
she was unaffected by whatever ailed the others. I studied her as she
relaxed in loose lap, her eyes closing, as he absent mandily stroked her
fur. Why was it that she was unafraid? She had come to our
house right before the blizzard set in, whereas the rest of the animals likely
had been outside for longer. Had they seen something out in the storm?
If they had, could it have been the same thing that killed the bear?
Hey, Luke's shaky voice broke through my thoughts. Do you hear that?
I didn't hear anything? And then I realized I didn't hear anything.
No wailing of the wind, no sounds from the animals. Nothing. It
was like the whole world had suddenly gone quiet. I looked around the room.
All of the animals were so still, it was as if they were
afraid to move. I clicked my flashlight off wanting to attract as little attention
as possible, and Luke followed suit. For a moment, we just sat
there in the dark, listening, and then I heard a voice. Hello,
clear as day, the voice of a person was calling to us from
outside our house. Hello, anyone in there, it asked. It's tone
far too nonchalant with someone weathering the full brunt of a blizzard. I need
some help out here. Next to me, Luke shifted as though you were
about to stand up. I reached out and grabbed a hold of his arm,
grabbing Tony and pulling Luke back down to the floor. There wasn't a
chance in hell I was about to let him investigate the voice. It was
so strangely quiet that I could hear the crunching of footsteps in the snow as
the person moved outside. Please, the voice said, it had gotten closer,
like it was circling the house. Please, I really need help.
Can I just come in for a minute. It's so cold out here.
My grip tightened on Luke's arm, the complete lack of emotion in the voice's
tone sending a chill up my spine. He reached over, holding my hand
in his as the source of the voice moved even closer. Come on,
now, don't you have room for one more? It was right outside the
dining room window. I closed my eyes like a coward, not wanting to
see whatever it was about to step into view. Next to me. There
was a single, sharp intake of breath for what felt like an eternity.
Neither of us moved, and then there was a light chuckle from outside the
window. There were more footsteps, but this time they were moving away from
us, and they seemed to be taking the silence with them. The wind
remembered itself, returning with a howling vengeance in the visitor's absence. Luke's hand
had gone slack in mind, but I held on to it for a long
time, sitting there with my eyes shut tight. It must have been an
hour before I dared to open my eyes and breathe normally. Again, Are
you okay? I finally asked. No response. I tried asking again,
a little louder, and still my husband didn't respond Luke. When I clicked
on the flashlight, I saw Luke staring at the window. His face twisted
into an expression of horror I'd never seen before. His skin was pale and
his body was rigid as a corpse, and try as I did, I
couldn't get him to respond to me in any way. His look of sheer
terror never once changed, even as I carried him to the car and drove
us as fast as I could to the hospital. The doctor said it was
a stroke. Of course, I was incredulous that such a thing had happened
to my fit, non smoking, twenty nine year old husband, but no
one could offer me a better explanation. For the next few days, I
waited for a recovery that never came. Then the days turned into weeks,
the weeks into months, and the months into years. While Luke regained some
very minimal motor control, blinking and twitching his fingers, it was clear that
he would never be the same. I became his full time caretaker, spending
my days attending to all of his needs and my night's praying that he would
make a miraculous recovery. As of this evening, five years have passed since
the storm. Old Rigattoni is still alive and kicking somehow, and her visits
always seemed to make Luke perk up just a little bit. She's sleeping on
his chest as I tell this, taking care of him in her own way.
I'm glad to have her around, but even though I try not to
be superstitious, her presence always brings me back to the night of the blizzard.
I think about Tucker, who ran away after the storm passed and was
never seen again. I think about the Martin and the mice and the bear,
and the way all of them acted like they were fleeing from something terrible.
I think about the look on Luke's face, and I can't help but
wonder if they all saw the same thing. Maybe Luke saw something he wasn't
meant to, something that his brain had destroyed itself trying to comprehend. I
look at my husband, the love of my life, and can't help but
mourn what was taken from me that night. If I had opened my eyes,
if I had been brave enough to look, would I have met the
same fate. What did you see? I asked him, like I have
a thousand times before. I never get an answer.