The Anniversary

Amelia feared she was going to be stuck in her car overnight. She was only five miles from the cabin but the way the snow was coming down now, five miles or a hundred did not make much difference. Even when she'd set out, three hours before, the sky had threatened snow. The clouds had that special iron-grey dullness that speaks of something more than rain. Any other day she'd have stayed in her comfortable, warm suburban house, curled up with a book and watched the weather from the other side of her double-glazing. She'd loaded up with thermal gear and a large flask of coffee, just in case.

Amelia was in her mid-thirties, fit and a very experienced driver - that went with her job. The prospect of a long drive with some snow did not concern her much, but the forecast was for a lot more than just 'some' snow. Heavy snow, and high, gusty winds the forecaster had said. Amelia had driven enough to respect the dangers that implied. Nonetheless, this was the day she had to drive.

The closer she'd got to the cabin the more the clouds seem to loom out of the sky at her.
"Up in the hills, along roads I don't know, to a cabin I've never seen. I must be mad." Amelia started to berate herself. That was as much part of the day's ritual, its tenth repetion, as the long drive. She knew she had to do it. She couldn't really say it helped, but dared not find out what would happen if she skipped a year.

Ten miles from the cabin there was still no snow, but the wind had picked up. She was almost there but the remaining miles were up deep into the hills, the forest, and towards those ominous clouds.

"Nearly there - but I mustn't tempt fate." It was tempting fate had got her in this mess in the first place. In educated company she did not believe in fate or in her ability to tempt it, but privately she had become very careful. Too many coincidences can shake ones faith in rationality. It was just then the snow started to fall, huge flakes whipped into a wild flamenco by the gusting wind. Amelia knew it was going to take every ounce of her concentration and skill to reach the cabin.

The last five miles were exhausting. The four-wheel drive coped well with the snow, but distinguishing road from ditch in all the swirling whiteness was really taking it out of her. Now the light was starting to fail. She'd set off in good time, but progress had been painfully slow for the last few miles, and the thick cloud cover brought its own twilight.

This was so different from the clear, crisp day ten years before. Then the sky had been cloudless and purest winter blue. Amelia rejoiced to be alive on days like that. She'd just been given a raise a work. That had allowed her to move into the house she had wanted since she was child. It had come on the market at a ridiculous price just when she could afford it. To cap it all, an uncle she hardly knew had left her a car in his will. Not just any car, but a classic Cadillac which he had loved like a child. It still smelled new even though it was twenty-some years old. The winter sun glinted off her Cadillac as she drove to her next appointment that day, exactly ten years before.

In the half light and hypnotic whiteness Amelia almost missed the sign for her turning. Relief swept over her as she read it. Her cabin was just a hundred yards off to the right. The snow looked pretty thick on the track though.

"Well I could walk it from here if I really had to."

She didn't have to. The snow was thick but along the track it had not drifted and the car easily forced a way through right up to the door.

Five minutes of feverish activity had her and her bags securely in the cabin and the door sealed against the perilous beauty of the blizzard outside. The cabin's owners had a fire laid ready for her. All it needed was one match. The fire took straight away and within a few minutes flames were leaping up the chimney and cutting through the cabin's chill. Amelia sat and watched, mesmerised by the growing blaze and the pleasant heat on the skin of her face, as the incense fragrance of wood smoke filled the air. Minute piled on minute. Amelia stared into the fire and listened to the groaning of the trees as they fought with the blizzard. She felt safe, snug and very sleepy.

Amelia did not remember where the TV remote had come from, but like a lab rat she automatically pressed a button. The image which half-heartedly illumined the room was that face, his face. The eight year old on the bike had suddenly appeared right in front of her newly acquired Cadillac. She had no chance of stopping. The bike crumpled like tissue paper beneath the wheels of her great iron monster. The boy landed face down on her windscreen. His blank, blooded face was looking right at her. He would be eighteen now - if she hadn't killed him. His lifeless face was staring at her from the television. Amelia's own screams awoke her from the nightmare. She sat bolt upright. The fire had almost burned out and a chill was returning to the air. Another anniversary had started.