Sammy the Snowplough Driver's Arc

Chapter 1 of 4

Sammy pulled into the maintenance lot at four in the morning and knew right away something was wrong. Half the roads through Ice World were already buried under drifts tall enough to swallow a car. The other trucks sat empty in their spaces, engines cold. No headlights cut through the dark. No one else had shown up. He climbed into his orange plough and turned the key. The engine coughed, caught, then settled into its familiar rumble. He flipped on the space heater wedged between the seats. It glowed orange and red through its metal grill, throwing heat across his knuckles. The warmth wouldn't last long once he dropped the blade and got moving, but it was something. He was here. The roads needed clearing. That was enough. The first snowbank rose up ahead like a frozen wave, twice the height of his hood. He angled the blade and pushed in. Snow exploded off the steel in white clouds. The plough shuddered but held. He carved a path ten feet wide, then twenty. Behind him, a single lane opened where there had been nothing. The heater rattled on the seat beside him. His breath fogged the windshield. By the time the sun came up, he'd cleared the main route and started on the side roads. His phone hadn't buzzed. No one was coming to help. He thought about Jason and Johnny waiting for the school bus, about Amy with her backpack. The roads would be clear by then. He'd make sure of it. The blade scraped against asphalt, and the sound filled the cab like a heartbeat.