The small, rusted car finally died before it could crest the hill, as Tim pumped the gas pedal and punched the steering wheel in frustration. Fruitlessly he tried to re-start the car as no lights shone on the dashboard, and the car sat in darkness on the incline of a small road passing through a thickly wooded area. A cold autumn rain pelted the landscape. Finally he gave up and turned to his mom, who was quietly sitting beside him with a worried expression on her face, "It's no use, mom. Here, get behind the wheel, I'll push us up to the top of the hill, maybe we can get the engine going while the car rolls downhill."
"But you'll get soaked!" his mother said, but Tim was already outside. Denise shifted over, raising her body over the gearshift between the seats, and settled in behind the wheel. As she signalled back and forth with her son, who slowly started pushing the car up the small distance to the top of the hill, she thought about how they'd gotten into this dilemma.
She'd taken a daytrip out to Tim's college to pick him up for the weekend. A distant relative had died, and, as his mother had told him over the phone, "They're leaving you some money, the least you can do is show your face at the funeral." It wasn't someone they'd had much interaction with, but knowing they were meeting for the occasion of someone's death made the atmosphere between them heavier on this gloomy last day of October.
Denise had hopped into her old car and quickly travelled the distance to the college where Tim was in his first year, and Tim just hopped in with a small bag of clothes before they were off again. On the way back they discovered that one bridge had been closed for maintenance work that would take all weekend - all the freeway traffic was directed onto a small detour route that was packed with cars. At this point Tim studied the map and decided to take a small country road that would cut across a rural area and bring them back home much quicker than the jammed and detoured freeway. Which is how they ended up on this small, winding road travelling through foothills, with the sun having dropped behind the trees almost an hour ago.
Tim managed to push the small car up to the crest of the hill, though his muscles ached and his clothes were soaked through with sweat as much as rain. It was the one time he was thankful that as a single mother, his mom could only afford a small, light rustbucket for transportation; he would have died trying to push a heavier car. He opened the passenger door and gave the car another gentle push and then hopped in, "Ok, mom, try starting it now! No breaks. While it's coasting downhill!"
The were almost entirely quiet as they both listened for the sound of the engine starting, for any noise or sign at all other than the car speeding up downhill, and then slowly slowing down as the ground levelled off. As the car slowed to a crawl again Denise just steered it to the gravel shoulder. They were both dispirited and out of ideas. Then Denise spoke up.
"Look! A house! And, Tim, is that a light in the window?"
Tim looked over to where his mother was pointing. There did seem to be the dark outline of the house in front of a line of trees, and something was showing in one of the windows, though it was faint enough that it was hard to tell if it was a light from inside, or just reflected off an external source. Closer to the road Tim's eyes now made out a driveway with a mailbox on a post and a low steel gate.
"Yeah mom, it is. We can call for help!"
"Hold on, maybe that's just the moon reflected in..."
"There's no moon out, mom, it's pouring rain. And even if they're asleep, we have to wake them, what else can we do?"
Denise shrugged her shoulders and agreed that it seemed to be either this choice or no choice at all. Tim got out again and pushed the car til it was against the gate. The metal gate was either locked or just rusted shut, it was hard to tell in the darkness of night. But beside it part of the wire fence had been bent and torn down til you could just step over the lower portion. And so they both got out of the car, Tim carrying his small bag, and Denise with nothing since she hadn't brought anything along, and they began to walk towards the house, neither of them with an umbrella or even a rainproof jacket.
Halfway there they passed a large old tree that overhung the gravel driveway that led up to the house. Denise glanced up again.
"Tim! The light isn't on in the house anymore!" She almost had to yell to make herself heard over the sound of the heavy rain lashing everything in sight.
"Um...well...I don't see how we have a choice, mom." Just then thunder rumbled and a half-second later lightning flashed in the sky, illuminating everything, illuminating with a cool white light mother and son with their hair soaked, wet clothes stuck to their bodies. Then it was dark again, and the rain intensified. "Run, mom!"
They finally found shelter under the roof of the front porch. The house looked very different up close, with lots of weeds grown up around it, and most of the floor-level windows smashed and boarded up.
Tim knocked hard on the heavy wooden door. "Helloooooo?!? HELLOOOOOO? Open up! We need help!" He found a heavy old metal knocker and used that too, then went back to pounding his fist on the door. "We just need to use your phone!"
Denise stood behind her son and shivered. She saw the pile of leaves blown up against the door, the paint peeling off all the woodwork. "This was a nice house in its time, Tim, but I don't think you'll get an answer now. It's obviously abandoned." Indeed it had been a nice house, two stories and a cellar, a solid cube whose owner must have been quite well off, possibly with even some live-in hired help.
They looked at each other as they dripped water, illuminated by the occasional lightning strike. Tim had grown to be almost a full head taller than his mother, his wet shirt sticking to his lean frame, and his brown hair, slightly unkempt and in need of a cut, now laying flat against his skull.
His mother had dark hair that was soaked through as well, and would have fallen all over her face during the run if she hadn't had it in a ponytail that dropped past her shoulder blades. Her body was fit but with significant curves, something she regretted in times like this, when her wet jeans clung awkwardly to the crack of her prominent thick round ass, and her shirt had gotten so wet that every little lace detail of the strong bra underneath clearly showed through as it supported her generous breasts. They looked at each other and shivered. Then Tim got the unspoken hint, and turned the doorknob as he charged his shoulder against the door: Bam! - Bam! - BAM! - craaaaaacccckkkkk.
As the door gave way Tim stumbled through, and his mother followed. There was a musty smell around them, but it seemed otherwise dry. It felt a lot warmer than the air outside, and Denise closed the door behind her. It was entirely dark except when lightning flashed, illuminating the interior for fractions of a second.
