The Field

by Tracy Richardson

  “I haven’t exactly seen a lot of Will lately,” she says. She brings her hands to her mouth and blows on them, shuttering the expression in her eyes with her lashes and closing down her face.

  “Join the club,” I reply. There’s a long silence while the three of us, who used to be the four of us, contemplate the change in Will.

  I’m impatient to find Renee, so I tell them that I’m going to look for her in the barn. As I wander through the crowd talking to people and being congratulated, I have a growing sense of unease. Where’s Renee? Why hasn’t she texted me? I start to shrug it off, but then I think—Trust your gut. Something’s wrong. The skin on my arms and the back of my neck is crawling and I feel an urgent need to find her. I push past a group of girls and see Anna and Emily standing by the food table. I rush up to Emily and grab her by the arms.

  “Hey!” she cries out. “What’s your problem?”

  “Where’s Renee?” I’m breathing heavily. I probably seem like a stalker, but I don’t care.

  “She and Miles went inside to find a bathroom,” Anna says with a dismissive wave of her hand.

  “Where inside?”

  “Up to the house. On the other side of the hill.” She gives me a quizzical look, sensing my anxiety. “But they’ll be back any minute if you want to hang out here and wait for them.”

  “Ah, no, thanks.” I turn and move towards the barn doors. Miles. She’s with Miles.

  I can’t easily get past the people in the barn, but when I get to the open doors I sprint across the yard towards the low hill on the other side, shadowy in the flickering light from the bonfire. All I can think is that Renee’s in some kind of danger and that I need to get to her. Now.

  At the top of the hill, I pause and see the house over to the left down a gradual slope. I run down the hill, stumble and catch myself, and then tear across the gravel driveway, pebbles flying from beneath my feet. I pound up the stairs to the porch and the front door, yank on the knob to open it, but it doesn’t budge. Locked. Shit. I look around for another door, but don’t see one, so I leave the porch and jog around the side of the house. There’s a small side door next to the garage that opens when I try it. I enter a dimly lit back hallway and there’s a hand-printed sign on the far wall that says BATHROOM with an arrow to the right. I rush down the hall, turn and come to another sign on a closed door—BATHROOM.

  It’s locked. I shake the handle and pound on the door. “Renee! Are you in there?”

  “What the hell?” A guy’s voice says from inside. “Hang on a minute.” It doesn’t sound like Miles. I hear the toilet flush and then the door opens and a guy I know from the football team comes out.

  “Can’t a guy take a piss in peace?” he says angrily, and then he recognizes me. “Hey, great win tonight,” he says and holds out his hand to shake mine. “It’s all yours, dude, but there’s no Renee in there.”

  “Have you seen a guy and a girl come in here? Is this the only bathroom?” I shake his hand and run my other hand over my face in frustration.

  “I’ve seen a lot of guys and girls and I’m sure this isn’t the only bathroom,” he says, laughing. “Chill out, dude. Go find another chick.”

  Of course this isn’t the only bathroom. I turn away from him and move down the hallway toward the house. Upstairs. The sound of the television comes from the family room beyond the kitchen. I walk silently through the dimly lighted kitchen to the doorway at the side of the room and I find it leads into a dining room and then the entry with a staircase leading up. I take the stairs two at a time. At the landing I stop and listen.

  At first I only hear my heart pounding and the blood rushing through my ears. Then I hear her.

  “No! Miles, stop!” Not loud, but definitely clear to my ears. Down the hall to the right. I see the light under the door.

  “Renee!” I grab the knob, and it’s locked too. “What’re you doing to her? Open the door you bastard!” I pound the door with both fists.

  “Get the hell out of here Horton. This is none of your business,” the little shit yells at me.

  “Eric, help me!” Renee calls out, sounding really scared. It’s all the invitation I need.

  I move to the other side of the hallway and then slam my body into the door. The jamb makes a loud cracking noise, but holds. I try another tack and brace my back against the wall and then kick the door with my punting leg as hard as I can right next to the doorknob. The wood of the door jamb splinters and splits and the door flies open slamming against the wall. Miles has Renee shoved up onto the sink and is standing between her legs with his pants undone and his hands up her shirt. She’s trying to shove him away and is pulling at his hair, but it’s not having any effect. When he sees all six foot two inches of me in the doorway practically breathing fire, his eyes go wide and he frantically tries to do up his pants. But it’s the relief in Renee’s eyes that I’m focused on.

  “You sonofabitch,” I say in a low voice as I advance on him. He backs away, but I grab the front of his shirt with both hands and shove him back against the wall, lifting him off the ground to look him in the eye. “She said ‘no’ and no means no.” I slam him harder against the wall and the back of his head connects with a thud.

  “I thought she wanted it too,” he’s pathetic.

  “I should beat you to a pulp. What don’t you understand about ‘no’ and ‘stop’?”

  Renee grabs my arm and I look down at her, the cloud of anger leaving my eyes. “Eric, don’t hit him. That’ll just make it worse. It’ll be worse for you. He’s not worth it,” she pleads with me. Anything for you.

  “Okay, for you I won’t beat the crap out of him, even though he deserves it.” My anger dissipates as I let him slide down the wall and crumple to the floor. “If I ever hear that you’ve harassed another girl, I will come looking for you. Depend on it,” I say and punch him in the gut. He doubles over but has enough sense to grab his pants and get out of there as fast as he can.

  I turn to Renee and cup her face between my hands. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you? I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.” I pull her to me and wrap my arms around her. She buries her face in my shoulder and starts to cry.

  “No, I’m okay. I’m sorry—you were right,” she gulps out between sobs. “I thought you were just jealous of Miles. I thought he was harmless. I always thought if I got into a bad situation I could defend myself, get myself out of it, but I was wrong. He totally overpowered me and there was nothing I could do. It was like I wasn’t doing a thing. I was so scared. And then you came.” She stops crying and looks up at me. “You knew, didn’t you?”

  I brush her hair off her forehead and kiss her eyelids, tasting her salty tears. “I’m glad you’re okay.” I pause and take a deep breath. “He just always gave me a bad feeling and tonight … When I found out you were with Miles … I can’t explain it, but I’m glad I paid attention.”

  “So am I. Thank you.” When I start to open my mouth to speak, she puts her finger to my lips to silence me. “You should always pay attention to those feelings. I was wrong when I said they aren’t real.” She moves her finger and kisses me, which also has the effect of silencing me.

  We stand together for several minutes while Renee collects herself. I run my hand down the back of her head, stroking her hair, not sure of the best way to comfort her. I’m so relieved that she’s okay, but for some reason I still have a sense of unease. Like a low undercurrent of foreboding. I want to shake it off, but I can’t.

  Renee rinses off her tear-stained face and fixes her makeup at the sink. She turns to me and asks, “Do I look okay? Are my eyes puffy?” She’s a little pink around her nose and her eyes are especially green, and maybe a little puffy, but I think she looks beautiful.

  “You look perfect,” I say. “You’re beautiful.” I put my arm around her and kiss the top of her head. “Do you feel like staying or do you want me to take you home?”

  “No. Let’s stay and have fun. I don’t want to let Miles ruin
the night.” We quietly make our way downstairs and walk back across the hill toward the barn.

  “Let’s stay outside by the bonfire,” Renee says. Cole and Bonnie are still there, but they’ve moved to sit on one of the hay bales. Some of the guys from the team are also there, enjoying the attention from the other kids. We go over to talk to Cole and Bonnie.

  “I see you found her,” Cole remarks.

  “Yeah, I did.” I have my arm around Renee’s waist and she’s staying pretty close by my side.

  “We have marshmallows and sticks if you want to roast them in the fire.” Bonnie picks up a bag of marshmallows from one of the hay bales. “There might still be some chocolate and graham crackers on the table over there if you want to make s’mores.”

  “So what’s been going on?”

  “You’re seeing it. Everyone’s hanging out and celebrating the big win. The soccer players are all rock stars now, as you’re probably aware. Will’s been especially enjoying the attention,” he says sarcastically.

  “Yeah, well he deserves it. He played great D tonight—all season really.” Sometimes Cole’s snarkiness can get irritating. He’s always trying to shoot somebody down.

  “There’s also beer stashed in the woods and a bunch of people have been going over there and coming back really happy, if you know what I mean.”

  “Will’s the ‘happiest’ one of them all,” Bonnie chimes in. “He’s being really loud and obnoxious.”

  “I guess he’s just having a good time. I mean, he’s not really hurting anyone, right? And we did just win the championship.” I’m not sure why I’m defending him, except that it seems like someone needs to take his side.

  “He’s just been acting really stupid lately,” Bonnie says quietly. I can’t argue with that, because it’s totally true.

  We hang out with Cole and Bonnie until it gets late. Renee makes us each two s’mores, and she and Bonnie sit together talking intently about whatever it is girls talk about.

  Behind them I see Paul coming purposely towards us.

  “Have you guys seen Asplunth? He’s totally wasted and out of control,” Paul says when he reaches the group. “I think we should do something.”

  “Like what?” Cole shrugs.

  “I don’t know. Take his keys or something.” Paul runs a hand through his black hair—as a senior, he didn’t have to shave his head for the tournament. Will and I refused to shave ours even though we’re juniors. “Did he drive?” he asks.

  “Yeah, he did,” I say. “I saw his car when I came in.” The undercurrent of foreboding swells into a tight knot in the pit of my stomach.

  “That’s not good,” Paul says. “He shouldn’t drive. He’s wasted.”

  As if on cue, we hear a loud commotion on the other side of the yard by the driveway. Will is there with his new buddies. We can’t really hear what they’re saying, but one thing is clear. Will has his car keys in his hand.

  “Shit,” says Paul. “We’ve got to stop him.”

  “Let’s go. I’ll try to drive him home. Renee can take my car.” We gather up our stuff and follow Will as fast as we can. He’s already out of sight down the driveway. By the time we catch up with him, he’s gotten into his car and started the ignition. I knock on the window to get his attention.

  “Hey, was’up dude?” he says when he rolls down the window. His smile is crooked and his words are definitely slurred.

  “Why don’t you let me drive you home? You’re drunk. You shouldn’t be driving,” I say.

  His smile disappears. “No. I’m fine. I’m not going home, anyway. There’s another party over at Steve McMahon’s house that we’re all going to.”

  “I’ll go with you. Move over and let me drive.” I move to open the door, but he’s already got his hand on the automatic door lock and I hear a click before I can pull the handle.

  “I said ‘No.’” He jams the car into gear, revving past me out of his spot and doing a U-turn in the drive around us. Paul yells and tries to stop him by getting in front of the car, but Will just veers around him onto the grass and takes off fast down the driveway, spraying gravel from his tires.

  “Crap—what should we do now?” Paul asks. “Call the cops?”

  “Let’s follow him. We can try to get him to pull over. My car’s right here.” I’m already moving towards the van and unlocking the doors with the remote. Now that uneasy feeling has turned into full-fledged fear. “Come on, I don’t want to lose him.” We all pile in, Renee sitting in the front next to me and Paul behind me, leaning over the back of my seat. Bonnie and Cole squeeze into the back together. I do a quick U-turn and follow Will down the drive. He has a pretty good head start on us, and I just see his taillights flash red briefly as he brakes before making a left onto the road.

  Once I get to the road I try to make up the distance between the cars. Will’s driving erratically and weaving all over the road. The Vickery’s place is out in the country and it’s really late, so fortunately there aren’t any other cars on the road. We get to within a few car lengths of the Taurus—I don’t want to get any closer. I start honking the horn at him and flashing my brights. He speeds up. Not the response I was hoping for.

  “Man, this is crazy,” Paul says over my shoulder. “I don’t think this is such a good idea.”

  “Be careful,” Renee cautions as I speed up to keep pace with him. I look over at her and see that her knuckles are white from gripping the arm rest so tightly.

  Will turns onto the road that goes past the lagoons. He takes the corner so fast that his car fishtails before straightening out on the road. I see the headlights of another car approaching. Not good. My heart is pounding. How can we get him to stop? He’s acting totally irrational. Maybe we shouldn’t have chased him. But calling the police seemed so extreme and they’d just chase him, too. Would he have stopped for them?

  We see the Taurus go off onto the low shoulder and then jerk back onto the road, but Will’s overcompensated and the car careens into the other lane, directly in the path of the oncoming car. Then the Taurus jerks to the right, missing the other car, but this time it goes completely off the road and into the field. It appears to be totally out of control, careening and bumping across the uneven ground and heading straight for a huge tree directly in his path.

  “Oh my God!” Bonnie screams from the back seat.

  “No!” yells Renee. She’s leaning forward in her seat and Paul has my shoulder in a vice grip. I skid over to the side of the road and jerk to a stop. We watch in horror, helpless as Will’s car speeds closer to the tree for what looks like a head-on collision, and then at the very last minute the car jerks to the right, skidding away. The front end narrowly misses the tree, but the back end on the driver’s side swings around, slamming the side of the car into the trunk with a sickening crunching sound that jolts it abruptly to a stop.

  We’re all out of the car and running towards the crash. I hear Cole on his cell calling 9-1-1.

  Steam and smoke are pouring from the hood of the car when I get there. I try to yank open the front passenger side door, but it’s still locked.

  “Find a rock or something to break the window!” I yell. Through the window I see Will slumped over the airbag, apparently unconscious. The white material of the airbag is smeared with blood. The driver’s side door is smashed up against the tree, pinning him in.

  “Here!” Renee runs towards me with a grapefruit-sized rock. “Hurry, I smell gasoline.” I meet her eyes and I see the fear there.

  Realization hits me. “My dreams,” I say. “The explosions.” Dread constricts my chest. This can’t be happening.

  “Yes,” she says, nodding. “Hurry.”

  I take the rock from her, step back, lift it high over my head and launch it at the window. The safety glass shatters, sending a thousand sharp missiles showering over us. Reaching through the jagged hole, I unlock the door and pull it open.

  “Can you get him out?” Paul yells.

  “I don’t kn
ow.” I crawl onto the bucket seat of the Taurus and see that Will’s chest is rising and falling. At least he’s not dead, I think, but I can’t tell how badly he’s hurt. The blood on the airbag is coming from a gash on his forehead. Amazingly, he’s wearing his seatbelt. He’s wedged between the airbag, the seat and the driver’s side door, which is pressed up against the left side of his body from where it collided with the tree.

  I don’t want to hurt him any more than he already is, but I know with certainty that I have to get him out of the car before it explodes. The smell of gasoline is getting stronger and the seconds are ticking away. I’m not really thinking, just going on autopilot; doing the next thing that needs to be done, pushing back the panic.

  I unlatch his seat belt and kneel half on the seat half on the center console. Hooking my left arm over his shoulder and under his left armpit and my right hand under his right arm, I try to pull him towards me. At first he seems to be coming free, but then I feel resistance and he starts to groan. I’m afraid to pull too hard and can’t really see the lower part of his body, but I think his left leg is stuck where the car is smashed in, pinning him inside.

  “I think he’s stuck!” I yell over my shoulder to Paul, who’s practically on top of me in the door of the car.

  I pull harder, trying to see if I can somehow free Will’s leg, but he groans louder, his eyes flickering open and then rolling back in his head, and I can’t get him loose. “This isn’t working. We have to try something else.” I just haven’t figured out what.

  “I’m coming out,” I tell Paul, who moves out of the way and I scramble out backwards after him. Cole, Bonnie and Renee are huddled together to one side. There’s a middle-aged guy standing behind Paul who must be the driver of the other car that Will almost hit.

  “His leg is stuck on the other side of the car where it’s smashed against the tree,” I tell them. “I can’t pull him out from this side. We need to free his leg first.”