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Faith and Love

by N.J. Kailhofer


The challenge: to create an expression of love between two speculative fiction characters. Entrants had to include a snowstorm, a golden Buddha idol, & a metronome

Faith leaned her blonde head on Jimmy's shoulder and pulled her legs up on the wide seat of the pickup. "Tell me you love me, baby."

The wipers swept aside the thick snow on the windshield, marking the moments they spent in this storm like some relentless metronome. "You know I do."

She snuggled against his chest. "Do you remember the first time?"

His hands were tight on the wheel. "Honey, this is harder than it looks. It's really coming down."

"My big, tough man can handle anything." She smiled and put her hand on his knee before sliding it up the inside of his thigh. "Don't you remember anything about that night?"

#

Jimmy's eyes would not open at first. Something pushed against his face, and his head ached. Every breath was agony, an intense stab of pain. Forcing himself up, he saw the blurry steering wheel. Sunlight splayed in at him from the windows and he could hardly bear to look out. The hood of his blue pickup wrenched upwards into a pine tree. Snow was up to his window.

On the floor of the cab, Faith lay on her back, one arm over her head and the other across her chest, as if resting. Both her legs bent awkwardly to the side. Her lifeless eyes stared up at him.

"No!" He scrambled to her, pulling her up against his chest. Cradling her head in his hands, he brushed the hair from her eyes. Tears blurred his vision and sobs wracked his frame.

#

He laid her across the seat as if she was asleep and forced her door open.

The snow on her side was knee high. Looking around, he found they were at the bottom of a steep ravine, wedged into a stand of trees. The front of the truck was smashed, and would never run. The ice-coated walls of the ravine were steep, and extended up a hundred yards. He doubted anyone could see them from the roadway, and he knew he was not much of a climber.

He shivered. His lightweight jacket was fine for the city, but the cold stabbed at every part of him, especially his bare hands, and before long he had to climb back into the cab to try to get warm. He shook as he sat next to her until finally exhaustion forced his eyes closed.

#

A hand touched his. "Still with me, baby?"

Faith sat next to him, leaned against his chest. Dried blood was caked to her temple, matting her hair to the side of her face. Her eyes were dark and tired, but full of joy.

He kissed her. "I thought you were gone."

"I'd never leave you." She hugged him. "You were out for three days. How do you feel?"

"Better. Not so cold, anyhow. How about you?"

"Starving. Those weird, raw appetizers at the party were almost five days ago."

They had no food—it was just going to be an evening out with friends in the mountains when the storm hit. Both her legs were broken, and walking was out of the question. She said she ate some snow that she could reach from the window, but that was it.

Outside, he spied a hare nibbling grass that stuck up from a snow bank, a hundred yards away.

"Do you think you can catch that?" she asked.

He dug as best he could under the seat. There was not much there, besides an old pair of boots with broken shoelaces and a tire iron. Outside, there were broken branches from their crash, so he opened the door as quietly as he could. He tied the iron to a branch with the laces, and made a spear.

The speed and silence with which he moved through the woods surprised Jimmy. He had never been much of a hunter, but somehow he knew to circle behind the rabbit. The stillness of the woods pounded in his ears until when the hare stepped forward, he swore he could hear it. Closing in, he imagined he heard the beating of its heart, the in and out of tiny breaths.

The snow turned crimson as it died.

#

Faith's hands were shaking as he handed it in.

"I've got to find a way to cook it," he said. "No matches. No lighter."

She could not wait, and he had to look away. "Jesus, honey."

"Jimmy, you have to eat something," she said. "You need to keep your strength up. I won't make it without you."

It turned his stomach, but he knew she was right. The window scraper from the glove box had a thin brass blade along the front, and he pulled it out of the plastic with his teeth. Using it as a knife, he cut some.

The salty flavor trickling down the back of his throat was unlike anything he imagined. Swallowing it, he felt himself coming alive… like maybe they could make it after all.

#

"That's what I remember," Jimmy said. "The taste of that blood and the hope it gave me."

He turned the wheel, moving the fan belt he used to connect the steering column to the wipers. The blades swung to match his turn, and then back again as he reversed it. The sweeping of the snow from the windshield made the storm look just like it had, ten years ago that night, when he stopped being dead, too.

"I still love you, honey. You're such a good provider." She rubbed his tummy like he was a golden Buddha doll before looking down at the leg braces he made for her. "Every kill makes me better, but will I ever heal enough that we can climb out of this canyon and go home?"

Outside, the howling snow swallowed the rusty fender of the pickup, but it didn't matter. He had Faith, and love.

"We are home."


© 2007 N.J. Kailhofer

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