The Ravine

Night descended upon them. A chill in the air stuck to the two like the heat had earlier that day and darkness settled in so black that they could barely make each other out, let alone anything else. Carol’s stomach grumbled and Jameson’s came to match. The smell of urine from his diaper had hung in the air long enough to be ignored; relegated to just another woodsy smell. With her leg the way it was, but knowing Jameson would need changing sooner than later, she’d have to brave the pain and get to the trunk somehow to retrieve the diaper bag. Carol felt around her and touched something that crumpled: Plastic from the box of animal crackers she had managed to find in arm’s reach earlier that late evening. It was a quarter box’s worth when she found it and now there was even less; her and Jameson had been gingerly feeding on them. Carol knew that they had to conserve the crackers until they were rescued. But that wasn’t the biggest of their concerns. She knew that they could survive for a while without food. It was dehydration that preoccupied her mind. And Jameson’s thirst always came first.

Jameson fidgeted in his sleep. His wet diaper was irritating his skin, no doubt. In the morning Carol would have to check for a rash. Meanwhile, she held the water bottle up to her ear and shook. Disappointed with her findings, she felt around and put it back into the cup holder between the seats and went thirsty.

Please, please, God, have somebody find us.

Carol closed her eyes.

Before long, she was awakened by the sound of something above her. There were click, clicking noises coming from the roof of the car. She tried to turn her body in an attempt to see what was causing the noise. Her leg throbbed as she moved.

“Ah, son of a—”

Out of the darkness beyond the car she heard snarling. Above her she heard scratching and sniffing. And growling. A few twigs broke from the darkness beyond them.

Oh god. It’s back. And it brought friends.

Jameson fidgeted in his seat next to Carol. Her eyes grew wide and she put her hand to her mouth.

Don’t wake up, Jamey. Please, just stay quiet.

Jameson settled and grew quiet again. Carol held her breath, waiting in silence. The movement outside diminished and the click, click sounds above them quieted along with the sniffing and growling.

Oh thank God.

Carol put her head on the steering wheel in relief and the sound of the horn blared sharply, waking Jameson. Carol cursed herself in her stupidity.

There was another loud bang on Jameson’s side and another and another. Above them the scratch grew hasty and persistent, as did the growling accompanying it. Jameson cried out again and Carol broke out in screams. Out of the void in the window jaws snapped at them. This time, Carol had the sense of mind to grab Jameson right after the horn blared. She kicked at the heat and stink of breath, hitting something blunt and furry. It cried out as before and the attack at that vicinity momentary stopped. Carol tucked Jameson under the steering wheel, crying out in pain as he brushed up against her broken appendage.

Fuck you, leg!

She reached for the front passenger window and cranked it up. To her luck, only the top part was compromised and the intact half looked strong and substantial enough to add to the metal barrier between them and the monsters beyond. And with that accomplished, she pulled her body to the rear passenger side where another beast was intruding and rolled that window up, too.

“Fuck you!”

The monster on the other side snarled and snapped at Carol from the other side of the door, as if understanding her expletive. In the distance there was a howl and the one on the top of the car dismounted, hitting the ground beyond the sedan with a thud. Sounds of footprints skittering away into the darkness followed.

Did I hit the alpha? Was I that lucky?

Jameson’s crying shook her out of it and back to his tending.

“Hush little Jamey, don’t you cry, I’m going to hold you close each night,” Carol sang.

“And when you’re scared or if you cry, Momma’s gonna always make it right.”

Before Carol drifted off to sleep alongside the cradled Jameson, she reminded herself of the great differences between the monsters outside and the people inside.

“We are not animals,” she repeated to herself, as if singing a lullaby. “We are not animals.”