Free The Biting Cold: A Winter's Horror Tale by Graeme Clark Page A

Danny is verifying that the stern entrance-way is set at the optimal opening for the task in hand to ensure that the salt can be distributed in such a fashion as to optimise coverage of said salt.' The radio clicked into silence, Peter smiled at Danny. There was no reply. 'Tosser,' Peter said. Danny laughed and snorted, releasing a glistening clump of snot; he wiped it with the sleeve of his jacket.
    'What's happened?' Danny asked.
    'Couple of cars stuck up the hill, police asking for the number one gritter driver to assist.' Peter stuck an index finger into his barrel chest. 'It's ten now, get this done in an hour, travel back to depot, you can clean down and I’ll be home by midnight, sorted.' He didn't expect, but he did hope.
    Peter thre w the lorry into second gear and started up the hill. Although it was more sleet than snow here, he had enough experience to know the second he left civilisation and headed up the slope out of town, it could quickly turn. There was always hope though.

From Rain to Snow
     
    The fully laden twenty-six tonne lorry took some pulling. It was a long gradual climb but the engine still seemed to labour. The sleet was getting whiter and whiter by the metre and Peter squinted through the driving white that sparkled in the roof lights beam. The yellow beacons flashed in front and at the side of him and he could see the yellow bouncing around the cab, given the banked snow on either side an eerie glowing orange tinge.
    'Peter?' Danny said through a mouthful of crisps .
    'Yes dear.' Peter answered throwing the steering wheel first right then left around the bends.
    'Why do we call it gritting when actually we are carrying salt?'
    'Because salting sounds stupid.' A simple answer for a simple mind. Danny nodded and carried on munching and swigging juice from his plastic bottle. This on top of all the energy drinks he had drank so far tonight, Danny would be buzzing for days, every hundred metres or so he would launch an empty can out the window with no care where it landed.
    'It's starting to lie again,' Peter said. 'Fuck.'
    The fields that surrounded them were still white from an earlier fall. The road had mainly stayed black except for the single streak of white that ran the length of the road in the centre where the white road marking should be. Peter had thought he would get that with the scraper later, as a final clean up, but now the glistening black road was beginning to fill up again. The dirty slush that had soaked this road earlier was beginning to turn white. The snow fell faster and faster; the flakes getting bigger and interlocking into what would eventually form one big formidable mass.
    'Put the scraper down Danny,' Peter said. 'We'll start here, won't bother with salt just now , think we might need the weight later.'
    Danny did as was told and pushed the small lever on the control box forward. They could see the scraper from the cab when it was raised in travelling, they watched as it slowly descended in silence as the hydraulics were rele ased. They heard the roar as the rubber blade set down on the asphalt, slicing through the lying snow fall. The rumble was almost deafening as it vibrated through the cab. Peter didn't want to spin out salt just now because he might need the weight behind him later, and pretty pointless to throw salt down on twelve inches of snow anyway. As the road climbed, visibility lessened; the driving snow battered the windscreen and the roof lights just bounced back from the white, directly into Peter's eyes. He turned the wiper blades up a notch and slowed his speed to only twenty miles per hour.
    'Did you see that?' Danny asked. His head was out the side window watching the snow shoot off the side of the scraper onto the verge.
    'It's only snow Danny, don't get over excited.'
    'No, no.' He shook his head and pulled it back in the cab, water dripped from his face and his hair was dabbled with snow. 'Stop the motor, I saw something, in the snow.'
    'Can't stop