The Passenger by Olivia Salter | Quintale Story

 

The Passenger

By Olivia Salter

Word Count: 846

The road stretched endlessly ahead, the setting sun casting long golden beams over the asphalt. Cassie Daniels hummed to herself, barefoot on the accelerator, savoring the freedom of the open highway. But when something cold and zigzagging brushed against her foot, the melody died in her throat.

Cassie glanced down, her heart leaping into her throat. Coiling around her ankle, its glossy black scales catching the sunlight, was a tiger snake.

She froze, her breath hitching. The snake’s triangular head lifted slightly, its forked tongue flickering out, tasting the air. Her first instinct was to jerk her foot away, but she stopped herself. Sudden movements would only make things worse.

“Okay, okay,” she whispered, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “Stay calm, Cass. You’ve got this.”

Her mind raced. Tiger snakes—she remembered reading about them before her trip. Among the deadliest in Australia. A single bite could kill if untreated.

The snake tightened its coils slightly, and her chest tightened with it.

Cassie kept the van steady, fighting the urge to slam on the brakes. The last thing she wanted was to jolt the snake into striking. She eased her foot off the gas slightly, her hands trembling as she scanned the road ahead for a safe place to stop.

As the van slowed, her thoughts flashed to her father.

“You’re going alone?” he’d said when she told him about her road trip. “In the middle of the bush? Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”

He had spent his life avoiding risks, always choosing the safe path. Cassie had grown up under that shadow of caution. It wasn’t until her thirties that she realized she was living her life the same way—safe, stagnant, suffocating.

This trip was supposed to be different. Her declaration of independence. But now, with a deadly snake wrapped around her leg, her father’s voice echoed in her head like a prophecy.

A curve emerged ahead, and Cassie forced her eyes back to the road. The snake shifted, its head lowering closer to her calf. She bit back a cry, her pulse hammering in her ears.

There—a small gravel pull-off just beyond the curve.

Cassie signaled instinctively, her muscles taut with fear. As the van coasted to a stop, the snake lifted its head, its beady eyes fixed on her.

She kept her movements slow and deliberate, her breath shallow. The snake seemed to mirror her tension, its body coiled tighter around her ankle.

Her hiking boots sat on the passenger seat. If she could just reach one…

Cassie eased her right hand off the wheel and inched it toward the boots. The snake hissed softly, its head tilting as if to warn her. She froze.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” she murmured, her voice trembling. “We’re both just… stuck here.”

The snake’s tongue flickered, but it didn’t move. Slowly, she grabbed the boot and brought it to her side.

The next part would require precision. Cassie angled the boot toward the snake, intending to nudge it gently toward the open driver’s door.

Just as she moved, the low rumble of a truck reached her ears.

She glanced in the rearview mirror. A semi-truck barreled toward her, its headlights slicing through the growing dusk.

The vibrations shook the van. The snake’s body tensed, its head snapping toward her thigh. Cassie’s breath caught.

“No, no, no,” she whispered, gripping the boot like a lifeline.

The truck roared past, its gust of wind rocking the van. Cassie felt the snake’s coils loosen slightly, its attention shifting back to the floor.

Taking her chance, she leaned toward the open door and tapped the boot against her leg. The snake recoiled, sliding off her ankle and onto the floor mat.

Cassie’s heart thundered as she nudged it again, this time toward the open door. It hesitated for a moment before slithering out, its glossy body disappearing into the tall grass by the roadside.

For several long moments, Cassie sat motionless, staring at the empty mat where the snake had been. Her hands trembled as she set the boot down, her chest rising and falling in shallow gasps.

She glanced at her leg, half-expecting to see bite marks. There were none. Just a faint red line where the snake’s coils had pressed against her skin.

The road stretched ahead, bathed in twilight. Cassie thought of her father again, his warnings and fears.

He was right—there were dangers in the wild. But he was wrong, too. Danger wasn’t something to be avoided; it was something to be faced.

With a deep breath, Cassie started the engine and pulled back onto the highway. The weight of the snake had been lifted, but it had left something behind—a strange, exhilarating clarity.

Life wasn’t safe. It wasn’t meant to be.

The moon rose high as she drove, its silver light casting shadows over the landscape. Cassie’s bare foot rested on the pedal, steady and sure.

She smiled.

For the first time in her life, she wasn’t afraid.