of emaciated fir trees lined the front of a slight slope, which in turn turned into a deep roadside ditch.
This wall of towering trees seemed to tighten ever closer around the road, narrowing it and enclosing it. In the prevailing darkness, these ordinary fir trees, growing incredibly close together, took on the dark shapes of mysterious, hooded sentinels. They observed everything and everyone around them, imposing their downward, expressionless gazes. Under the cover of darkness, everything can take on a different meaning and dimension.
Huddled between rows of dark trees, the faint road stretched straight ahead, refusing to take any turns, eager to reach open and safe ground, free from this dark gathering. Compared to the forest, it was but a narrow, fragile stream, knowing it was merely a guest amidst this vast expanse of dark scarecrows.
A car sped along this gray thread. The bright light of the headlights disappeared after four meters, trapped in the depths of falling snow.
The engine's power also didn't travel very far. The gusty wind entangled these mechanical sounds in its frenetic dance and threw them far away.
The overall darkness inside the vehicle was accentuated by the orange rectangle of bright light that was the radio's display.
Music played in the background, but the driver seemed preoccupied with something else. He gently eased his foot off the gas, allowing the rising revs to calm.
He didn't need the engine's hidden power now, ready to spring to life at the slightest pressure from his boot. Slowing down slightly, he switched on the interior light and grabbed the unfolded map from the seat beside him.
He tried intuitively to determine how many kilometers he might have traveled in the last forty minutes. Concentrating, he heard the wipers, whirring back and forth, scraping rubber against the windshield.
After some very subjective calculations, he convinced himself he must be about twenty kilometers from the border crossing.
He looked ahead. White snowflakes were still energetically advancing, limiting his vision, advancing relentlessly one after another like tiny paratroopers, only fleetingly brightening in the headlights.
He switched off the headlights, which made driving even more difficult by reflecting off the windshield, and tossed the map onto the seat next to him, breaking it in pieces in the process.
He grimaced slightly. His taut cheeks, regular features, and freshly cut hair still betrayed his youth. He now assumed a lost expression, biting his thin lips. This weather had most likely led him astray, and who knew if he'd finally make it anywhere.
He added a little gas to get off this still straight and unpleasant road as quickly as possible, but it wasn't a satisfactory speed. He still had to remember the gale outside, playing out the climactic and dramatic aria from the opera, directed by Mother Nature.
At that moment, the right-hand wall of hooded guards suddenly disappeared from the landscape, allowing the left-hand row to continue running along countless fir trees. The car emerged into a slightly brighter area, as a stretch of white field emerged to the right, rising higher into a large, expansive clearing surrounded by trees.
Surprised by the sudden disappearance of the monotonous scene, the driver stared at the expanse of white fluff.
When he returned his gaze, he suddenly noticed that the road had slipped slightly from under his wheels and was now veering further to the left, giving way to the ever-widening field.
Disoriented, he quickly swerved the steering wheel, and the car lurched violently at full speed. The right wheels had passed a few centimeters from the ditch, and he managed to get back on track, but the car began to struggle.
Fresh snowfall caused the tires to slip off the track as the driver's actions became more violent.
"Damn!" he shouted to himself, trying to steer the car onto a straight line.
He braked and shifted gears to bring it to a safe stop, but the rocking car was getting increasingly sloppy.
The taillights glowed blood red in the impenetrable darkness, the brake pads locked the wheels to slow their enraged master, the tires scraped across the snow, placing the car in an increasingly precarious position.
After several quick rescue attempts, the car was already sliding diagonally, setting a new course for the right-hand ditch, where it crashed into with a thud.
The impact was sudden, and just as sudden, it ended. The front of the car collided with the frozen ground, and the surroundings were dominated by the various sounds of a slamming hood, bumper, and wheel arch. There was a sharp jolt in the seat, and for a moment, the view became like a roller coaster at its climax, from which the only path ahead was downhill. The roar of the engine abruptly subsided, and the black wheels rested
, one in the ditch, the other on the road. Once the car was safely at rest, snow from the edge covered the black hood. The man opened his eyes, which had involuntarily closed. He returned to his upright position. His forehead almost hit the windshield, but his fastened seatbelt had managed to give him those few vital centimeters.
He unbuckled them and, without a second thought, leaped out.
A powerful gust of wind suddenly blasted his face. The wind whistled in his ears.
He hadn't expected this. Until then, he'd been watching this mad dance from the comfort of his car, and now he suddenly found himself at the center of nature's omnipotent madness.
For a moment, he was breathless. Cold swarmed his body like murderous ants on its prey.
He tried to push through the thick layer of snow that had sunk his legs.
After a few agonizing seconds, he reached the wrecked front of the car.
"Fuck!" he tried to shout, but he barely heard the outpouring of anger that had now stirred within him. A freezing wind forced itself into his lungs without invitation. He stared at the destruction wrought by the impact. There was no way he could get out. Moreover, he suddenly realized he was still in Slovakia.
He glanced around anxiously. A little further ahead, the asphalt road that had emerged from the depths of the forest. Behind him stretched a white field, slowly transforming into a mountain clearing, where the wind softly swept snowdrift.
He climbed into the car. Sitting down, he began rubbing his hands, reddened by the cold.
He didn't know what to do. He glanced around the interior. It was quiet again and relatively cozy.
After a moment, he grabbed the key and turned it. The car panted sickly, but that was all.
"Great," he commented, slapping his hands on his thighs.
He glanced back.
If he stayed here overnight, he'd pass out from the cold. The chill was already beginning to seep in. He readjusted his position in the seat, leaning forward.
He placed the fingers of both hands together against his mouth.
Before his eyes stretched the empty clearing, climbing higher and higher, surrounded by dark trees. Thick snow lay on the hood.
Suddenly, instinctively, he pulled the handle that opened the trunk. He leaned back against the steering wheel, remaining so focused for a long moment, and then jumped out with a burst of energy.
His legs sank into the snow. The wind whipped unpleasantly around his head and face. Nervously, he scrambled to the trunk as quickly as possible.
A moment later, he had his winter jacket on, wrapped it as tightly as possible around him, and slung a small black backpack over his back.
Not wanting to waste time, he slammed the trunk, removed the keys from the lock, and climbed out of the ditch, bracing his leg against the front wheel. One of his hands touched the cold snow.
He hissed with cold. The fact that he didn't have gloves on him was perhaps the most painful part. Dug his hands deep into his navy blue jacket, he set off, hoping to find a farm somewhere nearby...
3.
The wind howled hollowly, and the louder whistles resembled a hollow, penetrating cry, announcing that the lord and master was here, wreaking havoc that no one could resist.
The snow was storming down from above in countless units, like Indian arrows during a siege of a fort, and the black Audi A5, left in the ditch, was growing smaller and smaller. As he struggled through knee-deep snow, he saw the clearing curve somewhere beyond a small forest on the left.
He approached the edge of the forest, comforted by the thought that the trees would shield him from the gale.
He finally reached the first pine tree. He peered through the trees, through which he could glimpse what lay on the other side. He realized that just beyond this small group of trees, the clearing sloped downward, and perhaps there was even a road there.
To the right, the wind raged relentlessly across the field, and a strip of trees stretched ahead.
It was clear he would choose this direction as his next destination.
He quickly passed through the trees and suddenly emerged onto hard ground, marked by the frozen tracks of a tractor wheel or some kind of track.
He rejoiced in the sight.
For a dozen or so meters, the road continued straight, gently descending, before turning sharply to the right, disappearing from view. The wind was no longer howling here.
Adjusting his backpack, he set off at a brisk pace. Darkness enveloped him more and more, and the freezing cold seemed to enter into a parasitic symbiosis with his body.
Trees began to grow to his right, and around the bend, quite a few were already swarming.
It seemed to him that the blackness of the night was watching him. He broke into a run.
He realized that he was running quite well, even if he ignored the cold air.
As he advanced, he noticed fragments of torn chain-link fence that had probably once formed a larger, cohesive whole.
He kept running. He knew that these tattered rusty fences certainly weren't signs of a living farm.
In the thick of the night, he could only hear his own movements.
The emptiness here seemed tangible.
The road began to descend lower and lower, and after a moment he was even running dangerously down it until he found himself at the very bottom.
He placed his hands on his knees, unable to catch his breath. His ears were throbbing red from the cold. His face paled.
He looked around.
As the image settled in, his expression grew increasingly grim, and his nervousness grew.
The road led somewhere into the forest, or rather, close to its border, while in the middle lay a field, with a mountain looming in front of it.
He screamed
, utterly furious. He sensed it wouldn't be that easy. He was clearly in the middle of nowhere, and who knew if he'd find even a small piece of a thriving community here by morning.
He hated being powerless. That was the one thing he'd truly hated in life: the knowledge that he might be powerless. He stood staring at the oval-shaped mountainside.
He'd almost gone mad trying to make his way through the windy field, and now he'd lose at least another twenty-five minutes to get around that large hill.
There was no way he could get there. He'd drown in the snow.
He glanced to his right.
The trees were close together, sloping behind the mountain.
There was no way out; he'd follow the road into the forest, maybe he'd finally get somewhere.
He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and was about to set off when he spotted smoke on the bald, oval peak of the mountain. It seemed to be coming from behind it, or rather from the opposite side, which he couldn't see.
If the path through the forest led him there, then it was worth the effort. It didn't matter how long he walked, at least he knew where he was going.
After a moment's hesitation, he set off, entering the irregularly overgrown forest. As he walked, he felt like he was circling the mountain, but in the darkness, it could only be an illusion.
After a few minutes of walking, his eyes caught sight of something shimmering in the distance: a small, round drop of yellow light, situated somewhere on the summit.
There had never been a scene like this in his life. An event like the one he was experiencing.
The steam from his breath seemed to freeze in the air in its final stages. The black landscape, with the forest at its forefront, resembled a cemetery, and only somewhere in the distance, beyond seven tons of snow, a single flame of hope dimly glowed. A single lantern that could bring a sense of security. The man was fascinated by this moment. It passed through his entire consciousness and nested somewhere deep within his soul.
A moment later, the wind whipped a glass of water in his face, ripping him from his reverie, but the moment was long remembered, and the man simply smiled, pulled his jacket a little tighter, and broke into a run, defying the frosty air...
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