The Unwanted Winter - Volume One of the Saga of the Twelves

by Richard Heredia

  “Why?”

  He turned and looked back at the nine-year-old. He knew, the moment he closed the door, she was going to run down the hall to her room, get her jacket and follow him. This was something he couldn’t allow. At least, until he knew a little more about he was already beginning to suspect. He turned around facing her fully. His face set serious, an expression he knew she wasn’t used to seeing.

  “Elena, you are not going to follow me. I have an idea, but I need to search for more information, before I’ll be ready to talk about it. Now, you are going to wait until I come back, ok? I promise I will explain what I am doing at that time. I promise. Do you understand?”

  “But –“

  “No ‘buts’, Elena, I don’t want you or Mikalah to get hurt and that’s final! Stay! Here!”

  With that, he spun on his heel and stepped out into the growing wind and cold, closing the door with a heave.

  At his back, Elena stood there, just beyond the portal to the living room, stunned to the very bottom of her feet, to the very tips of her fingers. Her scalp was tingling, her eyes bulging out of her head. All the while, Anthony’s reply played repeatedly in her head…

  “…do not want you or Mikalah to get hurt…”

  “…do not want you or Mikalah to get hurt…”

  “…do not want you or Mikalah to get hurt…”

  She had been right after all. Her brother had indeed made a decision about something earlier that afternoon, something big, something dangerous. Again, she felt herself shiver, though it was a balmy 72 degrees in their house.

  This had nothing to do with the temperature.

  The wheels of something huge had just begun to spin.

  She could feel it.

  ~~~~~~~~<<<<<<{ ☼ }>>>>>>~~~~~~~~

  ~ 25 ~

  Worth a Shot

  Monday, November 22nd, 4:14 pm…

  Anthony reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped onto the sidewalk. With a jerking motion, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He did a quick search of his digital phone book and made a call he never thought he’d make in a million years.

  He glanced around as the electronic representation of a phone ringing toned in his ear, hoping the number of the person he was dialing hadn’t changed. It had been nearly seven years since he’d last called it.

  The wind continued to pick up as the day progressed. Now, with the sun waning, dark, ominous clouds could be seen above, ever-more menacing with each passing gust. All about, leaves and small branches were swirling around the parked cars in the street, whirling and swooshing up and down Milbur Drive. Even, back and forth, from one side of the street to the next. It was as though the currents of air were a part of some gigantic slow-moving vortex.

  Then: “You gotta be kidding me, Anthony, are you actually calling me?” said the voice on the other end of the phone, extremely incredulous, on the verge of insult.

  Well, I guess the number is still the same after all…

  “Yeah, Drew, it is me,” Anthony replied, warily, not sure if this was a good idea after all.

  “After all this time, you just decided to up and call out of the blue?” the sarcasm was beginning to leak toward anger in the other’s voice.

  Anthony knew this wasn’t going to be easy. “Well, sort of yes and no.”

  “What kind of stupid ass answer is that?” Now, the sarcasm had a forged an edge.

  Anthony knew his long lost friend from elementary school still held a grudge. He blinked a few times, willfully keeping his own anger at a simmer. This thing he had to do was too important to let ancient differences resurface and ruin what he’d planned. “Look, Drew, I wanna say that everything that happened back in the day, happened a long time ago and shouldn’t be this big, idiotic road-block between us, especially if neither of us really cares about it anymore,” he ventured, hoping to cross the necessary bridges between them as swiftly as possible.

  “That’s you’re ‘olive branch’, enough time has passed, so we can both ignore what went on back then? Is that what makes it easy for you? Yeah, let’s just pretend it never happened. What kind of fucking idiot do you think I am?” There was real anger in his voice now, but also hurt.

  Anthony knew this was the real crux of the issue - Andrew still felt hurt by what happened way back in the fifth grade. “Drew, ok, man, I’m sorry I told on you, alright,” began Anthony; letting some of the frustration he’d tried so hard to suppress seep into his voice. He was angry with himself for letting Andrew get under his skin so quickly. “What the hell else did you want me to do, man? You sneaked half a quart of Jack Daniels onto campus. You were about to let dumb ass second graders get drunk off it! Do you realize how dangerous that could have been for them? You stupid jerk, I saved you from hurting some innocent kid real bad, saved you from the real trouble you would’ve been in and the guilt you would still be carrying today if you had hurt someone. You might’ve killed them, if I hadn’t stopped you.

  “You don’t think it hurt me to have to sacrifice our friendship, so I could keep you out of the kind of trouble that can cripple a person’s life? You don’t think I haven’t thought about it, man. We’d been friends since Kindergarten. We had six years of the same classrooms, the same teachers, the same friends, the same everything. You don’t think it was hard for me? You used to come over my grandmother’s house for sleepovers. You don’t think all of that meant something to me. Of course, it did, dude –.”

  “Hey, hey, alright!” interrupted Andrew, more than a little guilt in his voice as well.

  Anthony stopped to listen, a little out of breath from what was likely the longest grouping of sentences he had strung together the entire day.

  “I get it. I get it. You don’t have to pound the shit out of me. Fuck, dude!”

  Anthony chuckled in spite of himself. “Dude, I had to, because sometimes you just don’t listen. Sorry, though, for that and for what happened back in the fifth grade. I wish it never happened, but I’m glad still we both survived it, so it is possible for us to be friends again.”

  There was a long silence.

  “I guess I can live with that,” the other boy replied in an honest voice, straightforward just as Anthony had remembered from the past. He began anew. He wasn’t stupid. “But that’s not why you called is it?”

  “How do you know that?” Anthony knew his surprised retort would sound higher-pitched over the phone.

  “Because all this time you’ve been content to let things lay as they are. You know, you go your way and I go mine. With all of your casual waves or nods of your head, you never had any real intention of going beyond that. I know you just about as well as you know me. You’re always trying to be unaffected by anything that happens, trying to be bigger than any given event in your life, so why, suddenly, alter the playing field? What has suddenly changed?” A short silence ensued. “Am I right, right?”

  No one ever said Andrew wasn’t intelligent. He might act stupid from time to time, but one could never second-guess his brainpower.

  “So, tell me, what has tipped the scales, my long lost friend?”

  Anthony laughed at the melodrama, shaking his head at Andrew’s perceptiveness. “Well…”

  On the other end of the phone, Drew was laughing uncontrollably, prolonging Anthony chuckling. “I knew it!” exclaimed the other.

  Anthony could almost hear him pumping his hand through the phone. He laughed a bit more, then: “Ok, ok, you got me –.”

  “And you didn’t even ‘have four kids to feed’!” Andrew was laughing louder now, so hard and so fast Anthony couldn’t make out anything over the phone. Other than a constant racket, sounding more like a dozen chattering squirrels than some sixteen-year-old teenage kid.

  Why was it always old ass Total Recall lines with this guy? thought Anthony. He waited for a few minutes for the other to calm down.

  “Dude, you ready for me to answer your question or what?” asked Anthony finally. The cacophony of Andrew had lessened.


  Slowly, Andrew quieted, and Anthony tried again, “You ready?”

  “Yeah, man…, go… ahead,” was his strangled reply as he tried to talk through the levity that kept bubbling to the surface. “Man…, I hadn’t… laughed like that… in like years!” Then he almost burst into another round of guffaws, but was able to contain himself, barely.

  Anthony waited a few moments longer, while Drew got himself somewhat under control. “Well, it’s really more of a request than an answer to a question,” ventured Anthony his voice more plaintive than a moment before.

  On the other end of the phone, Andrew seemed to pause. “What kind of request?” he asked. His voice was just as tentative as Anthony’s.

  One false move and all the mending they’d managed in their relationship in the last few minutes would disappear in seconds.

  “Well… I need to kinda check something out, something a little more unusual than most things and I wanted someone to go with me. You know, someone to act kinda like a deterrent.” Anthony nearly swallowed his voice by time he quit talking, wishing he didn’t come off sounding like a dork.

  “You want back-up?” asked Andrew, both surprised and uncertain.

  “Yeah, well, yeah, I guess that’s the best way to put it,” replied Anthony, wondering if Andrew was game or not. He pressed on. He couldn’t convince him if he didn’t try. “You see, there’s this new girl in my sisters’ class –.”

  “DUDE!” was all Andrew had to say, interrupting.

  Anthony felt embarrassed instantaneously. “No, man, that’s not what I mean!” Unwarranted self-consciousness flooded his tone.

  “You totally had me freakin’, freaked out! Those are little girls, bro...,” he trailed off in order to make his point stick.

  “Eewww, dude, that’s gross! Jeez, man what kinda guy do you take me for? Wait! Don’t answer that, ok? So, umm… here’s the deal. AND, don’t interrupt, got it?” pleaded Anthony.

  “Ok, shoot, man.”

  “Alright, now, as I said, there is this girl in my sisters’ class. She’s new kid from like Norway or Finland, someplace far away.”

  “Yeah, ok, a place that’s all jacked up. Got it.”

  “Yeah,” continued Anthony, a little annoyed that Andrew couldn’t keep quiet. But, that was Andrew, so what else could he do. “Anyhow, she says to Mikalah –.”

  “Is that the younger one?”

  “Come on, dude!” Now it was Anthony’s turn to show his exasperation.

  “Ok, ok, sorry. I got it, be quiet, don’t interrupt.” Andrew promised, while Anthony smirked.

  Yeah right! You couldn’t stay quiet if your life depending on it!

  “OK, so she says to Mikalah on her first day at school that she lives on top of the hill above Milbur Street. You know our street. But, you and I also know that Milbur doesn’t go up to the summit of the hill. It goes like just four fifths of the way up, then it dead ends,” explained Anthony. “You follow?”

  “You want me to talk now?”

  “Whatever. Forget I asked, ok?” Damn, Andrew could be an ass when we wanted to act like one. “So, check this out. So, like today when I scooped up the girls from their school and we were walking home. Elena, that’s the older one.” He interposed to stave off any further interruption. “She tells me this chick, Nixy - I think that’s her name - says she had a knife on her and she wanted Elena to go somewhere with her. Of course, this made Elena feel kinda scared, even though she really didn’t believe the girl was carrying a shank. Right? I mean, what kinda a third-grader brings a knife to school? Well, at least, that’s what Elena figured and I agreed with her.”

  “A pretty messed up one if you ask me. I mean shit, I brought booze and that was bad enough, but this… this is like coercion or some sort of terrorist threat and shit, dude,” answered Andrew much more serious than he was before.

  Anthony frowned in surprise. Wow, Andrew’s been paying attention in English class. “I know, right, but she also told Elena, she wanted her to help ‘slay’ a pigeon. I think that’s the way Elena said she put it.” Concern was beginning to creep into Anthony voice.

  Worry that Andrew echoed. “She wanted Elena to go and help her kill a bird?” His voice almost cracked, the concept so outrageous, it seemed to have transported him back to the onset of puberty.

  “Yeah, man, that’s what got me weirded out over this little chick,” admitted Anthony.

  “So what do you want to do?”

  Anthony almost sighed with relief. After all of this time, after all the bad blood between them, Andrew was still down when he needed him most.

  “I wanna walk up to the top of the hill and see where this little freak-a-zoid lives. Maybe, see if I can’t get her parents to like get her to chill. You know what I mean?” Finally, the plan was out and in plain view. He had been thinking about it for over an hour. It was a huge load off his chest just to get it expressed properly. Explaining it to someone other than himself made him feel he like was no longer alone.

  “You wanna do this now, right?”

  “Hell yeah, I’m out on the sidewalk, in front of my house, right now, ready to go,” replied Anthony steadfast. He was resolved to get this done and over with. “I don’t want the situation to escalate any more than it has already. I mean what’s next, is the stupid girl going to come to school strapped or something?”

  “Alright, bro, I’ll be there in five minutes.”

  “Cool.”

  Anthony heard the phone “click”. He pressed the “end” button on his cell. He pocketed it, glancing around to see it was a few shades darker than it had been when he’d initiated the call. He peered up, knowing the drop in luminance had little to do with the sun dipping below the horizon. No, the clouds overhead appeared blacker, obese with moisture. He guessed at any second, rain would begin to fall and the storm would start in earnest.

  He walked a few paces up the street and leaned against the retaining wall, keeping his front yard from falling into the street, content to wait for Andrew while standing up.

  He had just rested his backside and lower back onto the rock and mortar structure fully when the wind abruptly strengthened from a constant breeze to a stiff blast. He turned his head against it. It subsided for a second, then kicked up anew. The sheer force of it made his ears pop, the pressure had changed so suddenly. He lowered his head against the raging push of air. His left hand covered his eyes. He watched larger twigs, even branches rip away from the trees farther down the hill. He saw them bound uphill, hitting trashcans and parked cars, fences and any other obstructions barring their way - all of debris tumbled toward the end of the street.

  This one is going to be a big time FUBAR of a storm, he thought as he heard a number of items crash and fall throughout the neighborhood. In his mind’s eye, he could make out lawn chairs, top-heavy potted plants, clotheslines, and patio canopies all toppling, tossed or shredded under the onslaught of the wind.

  He glanced up the street instead of down, because to look down it, he would’ve taken the full blast of wind in his face. A cat ran, from one side of the street toward the other, almost reached the middle of the street, when the wind seemed to grab a hold of it. To his amazement, the feline was tossed six feet further up the hill before it came back to earth, the wind dying. He thought instantly, the poor animal would be hurt, but, to his delight, it landed easily. It streaked off, the same way it had intended to go from the get go, scampering under some porch to safety and out of sight.

  Damn, that was weird!

  This, of course, led him to think of his own cat, back at his grandmother’s house, the male tabby he had named Garfield. The cat everyone said looked like an old man with a beer belly. In spite of what he allowed others to believe, secretly he agreed with them. He was a fat-assed cat. There was no other nice way of putting it. And yet, just as well, he was a good pet. He had tons of personality and many ridiculous quirks capable of keeping any master interested, if not in love with him. He was a good hunter
too, though he looked Babe Ruth after an ambush on a buffet dinner. And, he was fastidious about his surroundings. He would never lie atop anything dirty or overly odorous or of unusual texture. This was even more funny when juxtaposed with his own personal hygiene, which, when measured against other felines, was atrocious. He was clearly the dirtiest and most sloppy cat the Anthony had ever seen. His fur was often matted and ungroomed, and, from many days of neglect, was often stained. If he’d only take the time to lick the dirt free from his own fur, he wouldn’t have half the issues with cleanliness. Rather, Garfield was content to be himself, energetic when needed, lackadaisical as prescribed, but, above all else, a real good – filthy - pet to have. Anthony was about to laugh silently.

  Instead, he was nearly scared out of his skin.

  “HEY, ANT!” said a voice, so close to his ear and so loud, even the growing storm could drown it out. Anthony froze like a deer in the headlights.

  However, when the terrifying sound evolved into a hand, grasping him firmly on the shoulder, Anthony exploded in revulsion. He twisted as far as he possibly could from the horrible creature latching onto him. If it hadn’t been for a familiar face before his, he might’ve struck out with the most violent intentions he could muster. Yet, there was no need to defend himself. He recognized the person before him, though he had grown and aged in the last seven years.

  It was Andrew Ibarra, his one-time friend from grammar school.

  “Holy shit, Drew, you scared me half to death. I almost sharted big-time!” exclaimed Anthony trying to gather himself, physically shaking off the desperate fear threatening to consume him.

  He glanced back at his friend. With the wind blowing his hair all over the place, it took him a few seconds to get a clear view. Andrew still looked the same, except, he was tall, lanky now with long arms and legs, and much bigger hands and feet. His head was plopped upon an elongated neck making him appear a bit awkward, but it was something he’d grow into once his man-weight began to kick in and he filled out. Aside from that, he was just about the same everywhere else. His dark eyes still matched his dark hair, though he’d cropped it shorter than he used too when they were younger. His face was bigger, of course, but still narrow and ended in a pointed chin, his nose the most prominent feature. He wore a light jacket, despite the chill with black, high-top Nikes, black jeans, and a black thermal shirt. If Anthony had to guess, he’d say overall Andrew resembled more of the man he would become rather than the child he had once been. That said though, he would turn out to be one of those people who didn’t change much as they aged.