I will not die like this.

A repost of my most popular short story - posted here on the correct publication. Enjoy.

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In a quiet house, an old house, you can hear the seconds tick on the clocks.

Especially if there are two. Opposite sides of the house or just next to one another, even though they tick at the same exact time, you can always tell that there are two.

The snow crunched under my boots - my breath kept the pace in rhythm as I spoke my mantra in my head to help keep time.

“In - one, two, Out - one, two, In - one, two, Out - one, two..”

I recalled running cross-country in my high school in Alabama. My little mental mantra to keep time as I ran never left my mind, even years later.

We did not get cold like this in Alabama. Ever. The cold there was bitter - as we were close to the water and the air was always humid - so the cold stuck to you and went right to the bone. That only lasted a couple weeks.

Here.. The cold was hostile. Each time you’d step outside you were reminded of the magnitude of Mother Nature and how, if you were not careful each and every time, she would not hesitate to see you killed.

My lungs burned.

My face hurt. My mouth was sour and dry. My lips stung.

“In - one, two, Out - one, two, In - one, two, Out - one, two..”

I ran in the dark. My boots crunched the snow in rhythm. The moon lit the snow every once in a while through the trees - just enough.

I did not need to look behind me to know it was still there.

“In - one, two, Out - one, two..”

I did not know how long there was to go.

Twenty-Two miles of trail, I knew that much.

But it drove us a ways off the trail back there a couple miles ago, maybe four miles after we set off.

John-Paul did not scream - he began to but..

The only thing I knew to do was just.. Go.

“In - one, two, Out - one, two, In - one, two, Out - one, two..”

I knew that it was getting tired.

We started in a dead sprint off the trail and when I knew John-Paul was got, I just went and went fast.

The lookout was gone. Already burnt up and about to fall.

That girl who drove the supplies up to us a day before, we saw her little Ford Ranger up the trail about two miles on its side.

Didn’t stop to check, we just went.

He’d understand. I think he would.

I found the trail again maybe eight miles ago. I ran maybe two in the woods.

“In 1, 2.. Four.. On the trail plus.. Eight.. Plus two in the woods.. Or was it.. Was it four.. 1, 2.. In 1, 2..”

Maybe I had 10 miles to go. I was getting tired, but so was it.

We started off in a dead sprint and I just went, I went fast and didn’t look and haven’t looked since.

But I heard it catch up.

My Grandma had these clocks in her house, small ones all over, and a big Granddaddy clock.

Her house was quaint and quiet.

When you got up at night to pee or get a drink, the whole house was still and silent, but those clocks would beat in time.

You could always tell the difference of two at once. You didn’t know where the second clock really was in the dark, but you knew - even though it kept the exact same tick as the other, louder clock - that it was somewhere.

The snow quieted the woods. There were no animals here. John-Paul and I remarked on how odd that was a couple days ago. Suppose we thought it was that time of year.

“In - one, two, Out - one, two, In - one, two, Out - one, two..”

I was getting tired.

My legs felt like logs, I could barely move them as-is, not to mention having about 10 pounds of layers on me.

The minutes all meshed together now. I’d lost my place. I don’t know how long I ran now.

I couldn’t have been at a 10 minute pace, maybe.

Hours in the woods, in the dark.

It was close now.

When I close my eyes today, I am there again.

I am running in the dark.

I am in the woods, in the snow, the snow insulates everything and you can hear a twig miles off.

I close my eyes and again, I am running and I hear two clocks ticking.

The minute I stop, the other clock will not, and I will die like John-Paul and that supplies girl in the Ford Ranger.

“In - one, two, Out - one, two, In - one, two, Out - one, two..”

The highway is what saved me.

I heard the low hum of a truck - quiet at first and then the sound of it passing.

The first hope I’d had, the first salvation I’d had in hours.

I split direction fast, I think I caught the thing off-guard, maybe.

I thought I saw it out of the corner of my eye when I turned to head towards the road but I knew that if I looked, I’d be dead.

Mother Nature, if you were not careful each and every time, she would not hesitate to see you killed.

“In..”

Fuck it, it was a dead sprint again.

The fatigue that ate at me was gone and adrenaline took over.

The clocks did not line up.

It was faster now.

It was toying with me - it was fucking toying with me.

It was going to catch me.

The road was ahead and the cars, one behind the other, passed.

The tarmac was the finish line - a black river in a dead forest of white.

Headlights were my waving flag.

I was in a dead sprint and jumped for salvation.

If I was going to die, it wouldn’t be from this.

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The doctor said that if I hadn’t hit the center of the windshield, I’d be long dead.

It caved in and broke away inside the car.

I had a broken collarbone, a cracked skull, a fractured orbital bone, did a couple ribs and my arm was fractured in 3 places. Not to mention the concussion. I was asleep for 8 days, they said.

Every moment - every single moment - I was there again. For however long I slept.

I was in the woods. Dead woods, covered in white snow, the moonlight..

“In - one, two, Out - one, two, In - one, two, Out - one, two..”

I do not keep analog clocks in my house now.

I moved back to the south, away from the snow.

I am in the city, there are people here.

I keep music playing and I do not like the woods.

But once a year or so, around that time of year..

I drive up there. I take the road trip and get up into the mountains. I take my guns and what-have-you, but all I do is drive through.

I don’t get out of the truck.

Up and back, couple times over.

Just in case someone in the woods needs to hear the sound of the road.

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