Black Infinity

by Stuart Ziarnik

Every light but the tree was off. Jen had turned in once the kids were asleep, and I was at the window with a drink, watching the storm. They were calling for a foot overnight. If I focused my eyes past the tinsel of frost and the reflection of the tree I could see it, already coming down heavy in the black sky.

I was lost in thought, or perhaps not thinking, when a falling cinder in the woodstove stirred me. I went to the kitchen to rinse my glass, the ice cubes clinking into the drain. When I got back to the living room, I paused. The tree had gone out, and now the only light came from the woodstove.

It was as I felt around for the light switch that I saw it.

Out the window. A sedan, idling on the road.

I froze. The snow was already three, maybe four inches deep and the plows wouldn’t make it out to us till well past midnight. What was it doing there?

Its taillights lit the snow red, and beyond it I could see the ribcage of trees reaching up into the black sky. Exhaust slowly wafted out onto the snow.

It looked like an Infiniti. I didn’t recognize it from town. For a moment I thought it could have been my mother-in-law dropping off a last pile of gifts, but she drove a 4Runner, and besides, she wouldn’t be out in this snow.

No one would be out in this snow.

I listened for any sound, watched for anything. Five minutes passed. Ten. The car didn’t move.

No, there was no reason for a car to be there on that night, in that storm. Were they stuck, I wondered, or did they mean to be there? It occurred to me that I could call the police, but what would I say? They weren’t clearly distressed, there wasn’t an obvious danger to me. They were just there. Waiting. And even if I did call, the station was miles away. They wouldn’t be there for at least a half-hour, maybe longer.

My breath began to fog the window, the car nothing but a red smudge. Then there was the hush of another cinder falling, and I moved away from the window and into the hall. When there was no sound from upstairs I slipped on my boots, flicked on the outdoor light, and stepped out into the cold.

The floodlights lit the perimeter of the house, but the lawn and driveway vanished into blackness. I stood under the awning and watched the car. Exhaust steadily billowed out across the road and into the yard. There was no sound from its engine, no wind in the trees: just the endlessly falling slow.

After a minute the chill had crept through my shirt. I had to do something. Should I wave and let them know I was there, either to help or to scare them off? But they must have seen me once the lights came on.

Why hadn’t they moved?

I sucked in a breath of cold air and started down the steps. In the driveway the snow already covered my boots, and I realized I could barely make out my arms in the darkness. All I could see was the car. The glow of taillights lit a red circle in the snow, but even as I drew closer I couldn’t see into the cab.

Halfway down the driveway I stopped. I had left the front door unlocked.

What was I thinking? I had left my family asleep, the door unlocked, and I hadn’t brought anything with me: no phone, nothing to defend myself with. Now I was there, frozen in the dark.

And then the floodlights shut off.

I spun around, my feet crunching in the snow. I could no longer see the house.

Suddenly I noticed a fog moving in on either side of me, and I turned back to face the car. Its passenger door was open and thick white mist poured out of it, swirling across the yard towards the house. Through the mist the taillights were getting brighter and brighter. Beyond the trees glowed red, monstrous above us, and then through them a deep, infinite black. The fog whirled around me, wrapping my arms and legs in cold.

I ran.

I turned and tried to sprint back up the driveway, but the snow had gotten impossibly deep, already past my knees so that I had to run in slow leaps, the fog closing in behind me. As I reached the top of the driveway I slipped. Snow filled my eyes and my mouth but I pushed back up and scrambled onto the stairs on all fours. Grabbing for the railing I hauled myself upright, then as I reached for the doorknob the floodlights flicked back on.

Before I opened the door, I looked back.

There was nothing. The fog had cleared, and the car was gone. The snow on the road was white and even.