Silver Bells (Open)

[Tarak Rana]

The lake was already covered with a thin sheet of ice, enough for those with boats to have them hauled up onto the banks or in docks covered for the winter, but not yet strong enough to support skating across. As December drew nearer the ice would thicken; Tarak knew this from time spent at Hammel years before.

The trees had lost their leaves. barren branches looking forlorn against a sky dark with the promise of rain. While snow dusted the ground it hadn't yet begun to provide a winter coat to replace the leaves the trees had shed, and it was only sticking in places pooled in shadow.

It was his lunch break, and he should have been spending that time eating lunch rather than contemplating the scenery. Instead, he was shivering beside his Suburban, clutching his winter coat about him and cursing his luck. His battery light had come on during his trek to lunch, and he'd limped his car over to the closest parking lot, which happened to be by the lake, where his car had shuddered and gasped and finally ceased to run.

He had forgotten that his AAA card had expired before he'd moved, however, and he wasn't sure who he should call for help. Not the emergency number, that was for sure, but he didn't have a directory with him and he didn't have the number of a towing agency in his phone. Yizel hadn't answered, so he'd left her a message. Nobody from the office had answered.

Which meant he was at the mercy of the whims of his wife and colleagues, stranded until one of them called him back.

Or until some kind passerby came and helped him out.

He could always hold onto that hope.

[Nicole Gallagher]

Classes were finally over, and seeing how she'd had to get up early that morning to make it to the university on time for several meetings before her classes, there was nothing Cole wanted to do more than curl up under her covers and fall asleep. At least her bed would be nice and warm and comfortable rather than the cold plastic chairs that the school insisted on making people sit in for classes. Probably something about it being uncomfortable was supposed to keep student alert and on task and paying attention to the professors as they spoke, but for Nicole, it was one more distraction to deal with. Then again, warm comfy chairs would have probably put her to sleep.

Fatigued as she was, Nicole had climbed into her own car, bundled in colorful scarf, ear muffs, and a very fashionable marshmellow jacket to keep out Vermont's late autumn chill. She couldn't wear mittens or gloves since it would affect her driving, but she cranked the heat in her car on as soon as she was in, and pulled away from the parking lot, teeth chattering until she was well on her way and everything had warmed up. At least the drive back to her apartment was scenic, and didn't involve listening to droning professors. Interesting droning, but at eight in the morning, absolutely everything sounded like droning.

Down the wood-lined highway into Pilot Ridge, and then through the forests, around the lake and past the car on the side of the road. No, wait. That was not a part of the normal scenery, and the man standing outside looked cold enough that Nicole pitied him. She was sure she would regret it when she exited the warmth of her car, but Nicole pulled over and opened her door. "Hey, are you okay? Do you need some help?" She stepped out of the car and breathed on her hands before walking over. "Any idea what happened to it?"

[Tarak Rana]

His savior came in the form of a very colorfully dressed young woman. She wasn't the first car to drive past, but she was the first to stop and inquire after him, and he was grateful to her for it. He still hadn't received any return calls from anyone; Yizel perhaps was busy with a friend, but his coworkers had no excuse as they were supposed to be at work. They couldn't all be too busy to return his call, no matter how much prodding Mrs. Morgenstern required.

"I'm okay, but I do need help." He admitted, looking at his Suburban forlornly. Unfortunately, he couldn't answer her third question. He hadn't the foggiest idea why his engine had sputtered to it's death. He was sure he hadn't left the lights on over night, as it probably wouldn't have started in the morning at all. And in any event, while he was capable of a certain amount of car maintenance (he could change a tire, he could check his oil, he could change his air filter) he wasn't a mechanic; his passion in school had been management and social relations with a healthy side of political science. If only he could ask the car questions and use its goals and motivations and personality to encourage it to work again, he would have. Instead he was stuck having to explain to a girl who looked at least ten years his junior that his car had died and he didn't know why.

"I don't know. The check engine light came on and it started shaking badly and then," He gestured at his vehicle in despair, "It just died. My wife and my coworkers aren't answering their phones so I'm sort of stuck here."

He was sure it was rather sexist, but he wished she had been male. It wasn't that he doubted her ability to understand cars but reputations were put at risk when men and women were alone together. Even if nothing happened it didn't really look good, and he didn't want to have to defend his reputation solely because his car engine had died.

Not that he had a choice in that matter, and as his other option was to stand in the chill of winter freezing while waiting for someone to call him back he decided not to verbalize these concerns. Instead he asked, "You don't happen to know the numbers of any towing companies, do you?"