The Day It Snowed Forever
Part 1: Mr Barnes
The Army trucks were packed with people, squeezed onto the benches and the floor. They revved their engines, spewing thick black exhaust, and rumbled across the playground, one after another, falling in behind the truck with the snowplow, which scraped across the tarmac, making a gritty, grinding sound. John Ray grimaced and clamped his mittens over his ears until they were gone.
We examined the pile of discarded luggage in the playground.
“They’re gonna get buried under the snow,” Johnny Ray observed.
“They sure is. I wonder if they’ll be able to find them again.”
Johnny Ray frowned. “My butt’s freezing.”
“Well, if you’d been more careful climbing over the fence, you wouldn’t have a hole the size of Nebraska in your ski pants.”
Johnny Ray twisted around to look at the hole. “Mom’s going to kill me,” he said, looking pleased.
I could feel the cold seeping into my snow boots, and, like Johnny Ray, I wanted to get somewhere warm. People were milling around outside the school’s main entrance, and we could see more people inside, through the windows, occupying our classrooms.
“Let’s go have a look inside.”
“How is Mr Barnes doing?” Dad asked, over his shoulder.
I shrugged, “He’s the same.”
Dad was distracted by the sudden slewing of the car on the icy track of the road, making me spill hot tea onto Mr Barnes's head. He didn’t react at all. Dad wrestled the car back into the two lines of tracks the Army trucks had left behind and hunched forward over the wheel, staring with concentration out of the windscreen.
The snow had started again, big flakes appearing out of nowhere, swirling about like they didn’t know which way was down. They made little slapping noises against the windows as we ran through them. The only other noise was the sound of the engine revving when the wheels lost grip, and Dad swearing under his breath every time they did. There was no one else on the road or off it, although it wasn’t possible to see very far in any direction, because of the falling snow.
I glanced at Mr Barnes. He looked better with his eyes closed, and I kind of felt good I had closed them for him.
I took a drink of the tea from the flask Mom had prepared, so she wouldn’t get angry that I hadn’t managed to give any to Mr Barnes. I had tried, but it all just spilled down the side of his face, making the blankets he was wrapped in wet. The tea tasted funny and smelled funny, too, like Mom had put some of Dad’s bourbon in it. I pulled a face, but it wasn’t so bad that I couldn’t drink some more.