Snow

by Sherman Ondine

  ‘Is everything okay?’ she asks.

  ‘Totally.’

  ‘Sky?’ She turns to me.

  But I don’t answer, instead following Jaxon to the truck. He ignores me, expression blank, hard, no twinkle in his eyes, and no smile. Without a word, he starts the engine, slams the door, reverses out and drives off, skidding slightly on the turn.

  I’m feeling sick with worry as Miriam and I get back in the taxi. Where’s Jaxon going? What did his father tell him? Will he be okay?

  Miriam digs for information, but I don’t feel right about telling her. Instead, I reassure her it’s just one of his father’s bad moods.

  ‘I’ve heard about his father,’ she says. ‘Are you sure I can’t help?’

  I shake my head.

  I try calling my father, but the line doesn’t even ring, going straight to voicemail. If only he were here to make sure Jaxon’s all right.

  I have a hard time concentrating at the museum. My grandmother knows a lot about art history and she’s great at explaining everything. The oil paintings of Alaska are beautiful, and there is a room of photographs with foxes, jackals, African wild dogs, and even dingoes in Australia. There’s one that looks like the wolf we saw. If Adam had his camera from Chicago, he could have taken it.

  I check my phone constantly to see if Jaxon’s replied to my messages, and I call him again and again. I even ignore a video message from Oliver, I’m that stressed out. In between trying Jaxon, I call my father repeatedly, hoping he might wander onto a hill that has reception. I wonder if he has the satellite phone—but I’d need to get hold of Jaxon to find out the number.

  Back in the taxi, I ask my grandmother, ‘Do you mind if we stop so I can make sure Jaxon’s okay?’

  ‘I’ll come in with you, dear.’

  ‘No, that’s okay.’

  ‘I insist.’

  It’s dark by the time we arrive back at Jaxon’s. As I knock on the door, I’m nervous at the thought of meeting his drunk angry father, or my grandmother seeing him, but no one answers.

  The taxi drops us back at my father’s house and I’m happy to see Jaxon’s coat by the front door, boots kicked off in the corridor, splatters of snow melting on the carpet. But there’s no sign of him in the kitchen or living room. I run up and knock on my father’s door. No answer.

  I inch it open and see Jaxon sitting on the floor, his back resting on the bed, head in his hands.

  He looks up.

  ‘What happened?’ I ask.

  ‘The usual, vodka.’ He slumps down further. ‘He told me to pick up two more bottles from his buddy at the liquor store. I’ve done it a million times before; his friend doesn’t even care I’m underage—they have an arrangement or something weird. But this time, I couldn’t. Stood in front of the store, his friend waved me in, but I left. This time I just couldn’t.’

  I sit next to him on the bed, not knowing what to say.

  ‘I got back and told him I didn’t buy it,’ Jaxon continues. ‘Asked him to please go to AA. That fired him up worse, not surprisingly. He wanted the car keys, but I wouldn’t give them to him. So he marched outside and started knocking on all the neighbours’ doors, swaying, asking nicely at first—but when they refused, he literally started screaming at them to give him their booze. Someone called the—’

  The door swings open and Miriam peeks through. ‘How are you, Jaxon? Is everything okay at home? Do you want me to call someone?’

  ‘Everything’s fine. I’ll go back home in the morning, if that’s okay? Thanks for asking.’ He smiles, and I can tell it’s an effort for him to fake it.

  She raises her eyebrows. ‘Is your father …?’

  ‘He’s just had one too many,’ Jaxon says.

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘He’s sleeping it off. Be good as new tomorrow.’

  She looks him up and down. ‘I thought you were picking up some clothes?’

  ‘They were all in the laundry. My dad did a big load when he got back.’

  ‘Did he really?’ She looks at me but I stare at my feet, giving nothing away. Then she closes the door with a hmmph.

  ‘They called the police,’ Jaxon says as soon as we hear her footsteps going downstairs. ‘Put Dad in handcuffs with a crowd forming on the street, watching and whispering. I just took his car and left.’

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘I don’t know what to do … Adam would know. He always does.’ Jaxon takes his phone out and puts the call through, but it goes straight to voicemail.

  ‘I tried him already,’ I say. ‘A hundred times. No luck.’

  ‘Yep, the valley around the hunting lodge is a dead zone.’

  ‘You know where he is?’ I ask.

  He shakes his head.

  ‘Can you call someone else?’ I say.

  ‘Last time Dad was arrested, nobody helped out. Seriously.’ He mumbles into his hands before raising his head to look at me. ‘Trent tried to ask his father, but he just gave him a lecture. Then Adam sweet-talked the police, got him out, and next thing my dad was crying into a cup of black coffee, apologising …’

  ‘Wow. So we need Adam.’

  Jaxon sighs. ‘Yep.’

  ‘Well, let’s find him,’ I say. ‘Screw the fifty grand. This is more important.’

  ‘But that’s a lot of money. I don’t want to ruin it for him.’

  ‘Adam will be super pissed if you don’t tell him. Don’t you think helping you and your dad is more important to him than killing a grizzly bear with some stupid Southern hick?’ I hope so, anyway, I don’t add.

  ‘Not all Southerners are hicks, FYI. Or hunters. And they’re after a bull moose, anyway,’ Jaxon says. ‘Can’t hunt bears now, wrong season.’

  ‘If there are moose in the city, why does he have to drive so far away?’

  ‘You can’t hunt in the city. They’re driving to a preserve now where it’s legal.’

  My phone beeps—another message from Oliver. I put it on silent; there’s only so much I can deal with at once.

  ‘You don’t need to come, Sky.’ Jaxon stares at me. ‘It’ll totally freak you out.’

  ‘I’ll be okay,’ I say, not sure if I mean it.

  He gets up and puts his hand on my shoulder. ‘It’s my stupid dad and my stupid problem—you stay here.’

  Jaxon, Melody, Autumn, Oliver, Lucy and her dad … I think of all the people who helped me, rescued me, when I had my stupid problem with my stupid father, and wonder what to do. I can’t leave Jaxon to handle this alone.

  Over dinner, Jaxon tells my grandparents his father is asleep and will be fine by morning. Really, he’s planning to leave at midnight and get to the Lodge, catching Adam and Ralph before they leave pre-dawn. I divert my grandmother’s attention, asking her about the conservatorium, and soon she’s draining the last of her rosé, chuckling with memories.

  If they really knew what was happening, Mike would be pissed we’re messing with Adam’s income and my grandmother may think gaol would do Jaxon’s father good. And they’d be worried about the whole Jaxon-driving-in-the-sub-zero-snow-to-find-Adam situation. Better they don’t know.

  My grandparents go to bed at about ten, leaving Jaxon and me watching TV. He’s banging his knee frantically, clearly not concentrating. After a while, he tells me he’s going to try and catch an hour of sleep before leaving. When I go upstairs, there’s a noise coming from my father’s room. When I press my ear to the door, I hear crying.

  Chapter 16

  I don’t bother trying to sleep. Instead, I gather my warmest clothes, write a note to my grandmother explaining—I have to help out Jaxon, don’t worry, I’ll call later—and tiptoe downstairs to raid the cupboards for snacks. I even throw a first-aid kit that I found in the pantry into my bag. By the time Jaxon comes down, I’m ready.

  ‘I’ll grab the other snowshoes,’ I whisper. ‘For me.’

  He rubs his eyes, clearly too distraught to argue about me coming along.

  The sky is coal black as we use st
icks to push off the snow that almost buried the car overnight. We work silently, our breath billowing smoke like dragons, not wanting to wake the neighbourhood dogs and cause my grandparents to stir. With the engine barely warm, Jaxon backs out of the driveway slowly, headlights off. Stealthy. There’s no music or singing as we head towards the wilderness. With the heat on full blast his father’s car smells horrible, and I make space for my feet among the mountain of beer cans, chip packets and empty packs of cigarettes. We pass the now-familiar signs—Target, Walgreens, Carl’s Jr., Subway and Taco Bell—but lit up in the dark they look spooky. The beauty of the landscape is lost, all romance gone. Half of me hopes we don’t find Adam; I don’t want to see him hunting.

  Why does everything suck so badly right now? Jaxon got a father who’s a drunk. My father may be Jaxon’s saviour, but he’s hardly who I hoped for. If my mum were here … I just want to see her, hug her. Why was she taken from me when I still need her?

  I rest my head on the dirty, cold glass and feel myself deflate, like my spirit’s tired. It’s the same feeling I had after Mum died and before I trusted Paula with my feelings. Alone.

  ‘Sky?’ Jaxon breaks the silence. ‘Let’s play a game. Gotta keep my mind alert, it’s so dark and I’m really tired. How about truth and lies? Know that one?’

  ‘You mean truth or dare?’

  ‘Yeah, because that’d be smart. We’re out in the middle of the woods, in winter. What am I going to dare you to do? Dig an ice hole?’

  ‘Ha ha.’

  ‘Truth and lies. We each have to say four things about ourselves, something the other person wouldn’t know. And one of those things is a lie. But don’t make it all melodramatic and suspicious sounding. Something small, but just not true.’

  ‘Okay.’ My mind starts racing as we come to a halt at a stop sign. ‘But you go first.’

  ‘Hmm …’ He pauses to think. ‘All right. I once had a drink from my dad’s vodka but then regretted it and spat it out. As a kid, I was obsessed with Ernie from Sesame Street, and even had his poster on my bedroom wall. My first crush was this girl in sixth grade; I passed her a love note but she just laughed at me. Last one— sometimes I wear eyeliner at my music gigs.’

  I contemplate all the options. Spitting out vodka sounds valid given his father’s history. Ernie sounds reasonable, and although he was never my thing he does have a high, squeaky voice that kids like. Trent wears eyeliner, and with Jaxon’s emo style I can see it happening. The girl? That must be the lie.

  ‘The love note is the lie,’ I say.

  ‘Wrong!’ He smiles.

  ‘Really? Which one?’

  ‘I lied about the vodka. Well, half lied. I did drink it, but I didn’t spit it out. It actually tasted okay with Sprite. But I ended up freaking out that I liked it too much and would get a taste for it. So I made a vow, like a monk or something, never to touch it, or any alcohol, again. Ever.’

  ‘And the girl? Did she really laugh at you? That’s mean.’

  He takes a left turn onto a highway and we pass an enormous fireworks store, the only thing to see out the window. ‘Sure did. I passed her a note that said, I like you. Tick yes or no if you like me back. And I drew two little boxes. She showed it to her friends and they all laughed. She never even gave me the note back, I was worth that little to her! Broke my poor eleven-year-old heart. I had a serious girlfriend at the end of high school. But I never quite recovered from Candy.’ He glances at me for a second.

  ‘Her name’s Candy?’

  ‘Yes.’ He sighs. ‘I stalked her a couple times on Facebook. She still looks the same, minus the pigtails. But seriously, that’s a secret you have to take to your grave. Okay, your turn.’

  ‘My mum once tied herself to a tree and—’

  ‘About yourself. Not your mum or anyone else. Those are the rules.’

  I pause again to think. ‘My favourite animals are pandas. I’m terrified of snakes. I once ate chicken, just to fit into a popular group at school. And …’ I think. ‘My first crush was a boy on the bus—I was obsessed with him but never said a word.’

  ‘The chicken one. You’re way too perfect, I mean, authentic, to do something just to fit in.’

  ‘Wrong!’

  ‘Really? You did that?’

  ‘Not my finest moment.’

  ‘Wow.’ He shakes his head like he doesn’t believe it. ‘So what’s the lie? The boy?’

  ‘Nope. That’s real. His name was Evan and we never spoke to each other. But every day I waited for him to get on the bus, three stops after mine. There was almost always an empty spot next to me, but he always sat second row from the front. So I watched the back of his head and dreamed.’

  ‘Okay, the pandas then.’

  ‘Seriously? No, it’s the snakes. Not scared at all. I actually quite like them.’

  ‘Me too. Never met a girl who does, though.’

  Eventually we pass through a gate and pull up to a large wood-panelled building.

  ‘This is it,’ Jaxon says. ‘Adam’s a guide at this lodge. But since it’s winter, most of the guides have gone to soak up the sun down south. Summer is high tourist season here—you can hunt, like, twenty-four hours a day. But in winter, obviously, it’s a bit harder and there are no bears around either.’

  I stay in the car, heat on high, as Jaxon goes inside. After about ten minutes, he returns.

  ‘They’re not here—not answering the radio either,’ he says, his brow creased with worry. ‘I told the manager we’ll go back home—we’re not allowed to drive around looking for them, it’s too dangerous. Should we go back?’

  ‘No,’ I say. ‘We’ve come this far. We need to find him.’

  Jaxon nods and turns the car around, and we drive away from the Lodge. After a few minutes, when we are well out of sight, he stops. The headlights illuminate a grove of trees ahead but, apart from their tall ghostly trunks, the world is blacked out, erased from sight. No signs of a rising sun. He opens the huge paper map. ‘Where the hell would they be?’ He stares at the map for a while, turning it this way and that, and then seems to make a decision.

  He turns right going east, then left, west, then doubles back, apparently deciding he was wrong. He checks and rechecks the map. West it is. Every so often, the headlights flicker slightly, and after more changes of direction I can no longer tell left from right or up from down. I have a crawling feeling inside of danger, fear. We are in a junk of a car, in the middle of nowhere, and who could even find us if we didn’t return? I check my phone: no signal. At least the battery is three quarters full, not that it would help.

  Eventually, Jaxon points out the front windscreen. ‘There it is! His truck. Behind that tree.’

  Unbelievable. My hands unclench as the headlights reflect off a bumper. Behind it, I see another large truck with roof racks, spotlights and a rental sticker on its back window.

  ‘We have to be careful—don’t want to surprise them and end up shot in the face,’ Jaxon says casually, making my heart leap.

  ‘Stop freaking me out,’ I say.

  ‘Sorry.’

  We layer on clothes, put on snowshoes, turn on our torches and start following their tracks. The snow is deep and it’s slow going. Jaxon calls out, whistles and calls out again, but there’s no response. I see a glow of light on the horizon—dawn. We walk through a valley, up and down a hill, and lose the footprints for a while in a cluster of trees. The sky is brightening, and soon we turn off the torch beams and with them, my fears of the dark. We find the tracks again. My head is spinning from lack of sleep and the cold.

  ‘I hear something.’ Jaxon stops dead and when I hold my breath, I can hear it too. A metallic sound, something shutting and clicking. ‘Let’s go to the top of the hill and try to get a better view,’ Jaxon whispers.

  At the top of the small mountain, my breathing is rapid. Jaxon squints through his binoculars and suddenly freezes. He puts his hand out, pointing.

  The light is still low, but I see them
clearly, my father and Ralph crouched behind a tree in full camouflage gear. Adam is wearing a big backpack and Ralph holds a large gun. I follow their line of sight and see the head of a moose.

  He’s absolutely huge, chocolate brown, long legs, shoulder hump and long snout—twice the size of a cow. A beard hangs from under his chin, and his antlers look like giant tree branches. The early morning sunlight makes his fur glow. He’s bent over, nibbling on the twigs of a small bush. A bird calls out.

  I need to shout out. Tell them not to shoot. But for a moment, I just watch the moose, mesmerised.

  Bang!

  Chapter 17

  ‘No!’ I shout, but my voice is drowned out by another bang! As the noise explodes, the moose falls onto his front legs.

  ‘Damn!’ Ralph yells. ‘Where did I get him? I still don’t think I got the neck; this snow is too damn deep, can’t keep steady.’

  I wave frantically at my father and Ralph, but they don’t see us. The moose exhales a groan, deep as buried bones.

  And then I’m running, my legs moving so fast I trip over myself, lose my snowshoes and roll down the hill.

  ‘No!’ I hear myself scream again, jumping back up. Despite the knee-deep snow, I’m next to the moose in seconds as he slowly falls to his side like a felled tree. Snow sprays up around him.

  ‘Sky!’ my father cries. ‘Get out of there!’

  But his voice is a dream. A nightmare. I’m crouched beside the moose and all I hear is the sounds of his breath and my own. His eyes are open, but he’s not moving. There’s a pool of red on the white snow. I put my hand out to try and stop the flow. It’s hot and I pull back in fright.

  ‘Get the hell away from that damn bull, girl!’ Ralph screams. ‘I need one more shot; it’s not dead yet!’

  ‘Sky!’ my father yells, running towards me. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Come here, Sky,’ Jaxon shouts. ‘Let’s wait up the hill while they finish.’

  ‘No,’ I shout back. ‘I’m staying here.’