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

by Richard Heredia

  When it reached the doors Hyun had secured minutes prior it began to feed upon the glass, or try at least. Horrid smacks and sucks were so loud they could be heard inside the mall, though it was difficult to see from whence they came. Even when peering through the transparent surface it tried to consume, there was no real mouth or aperture for eating to be seen. It was as though it suckled from its very flesh.

  After a time, it appeared to grow bored and writhed back underneath the snow where it joined the hundreds of its’ brethren that littered the parking lot beyond.

  ~~~~~~~~<<<<<<{ ☼ }>>>>>>~~~~~~~~

  ~ 64 ~

  Real Platinum

  Day Two, Friday, 8:22 am…

  It had been almost an hour after Mr. Patas had informed them a blizzard of historic proportions was battering the landscape outside the cave and about twenty minutes after Kenai and the rabbit-man had returned from their foray beyond the furniture pad. They had insulated the cave from the cold outside by literally walling them in behind a huge mound of snow. Kodiak had complimented them on their ingenuity, while the rest of them, alone or in groups, had walked up to turn the heavy blanket aside and gaze upon the sheer white face of the snow a few feet beyond. The narrow passage beyond was completely filled in, the way was entirely blocked. They were safe, for the time being, tightly snuggled in the warmth and relative comfort of their underground sanctuary.

  The enemy would be hard pressed to locate them now.

  Anthony had watched his sisters saunter off toward the beds, picking up stray twigs and branches, intent on making something they could play with. It was one of things he liked about his younger siblings; they could find play in just about anything.

  Andrew had skulked off, after he had stopped crying out of frustration and had picked up the mess he had made. He put everything in a small bundle, wrapping it in one of the blankets he used to cover himself with and had placed it next to him. He was sitting crossed-legged, leaning against the wooded logs Kenai had stacked along the rear wall. He had his head leaning against the veritable wall of wood, his eyes closed. He looked asleep, but Anthony couldn’t tell if that was true or not.

  Jason, Joaquin and Louis were all working on making a kind of screen out of the longer branches that had belonged to their makeshift bedding. They were using some of the nylon rope they had pilfered from the supermarket and three more of the throw blankets they’d brought back with them as well.

  Jason, once he realized they might be there for a while, had said they were going to need a place to wash. Since there were girls with them, he rationalized they were going to need a space providing a degree of privacy.

  Mugzy and Kodiak had gone over to watch and give advice.

  With so many of their party around the contraption, Anthony had decided moved back toward the fire, intent on staying out of the way. He’d chosen on of the logs from which to watch.

  Garfield had curled up near the fire and had fallen asleep. Anthony figured the great cat, realizing his ranging skills were not needed at the moment, had most likely thought it prudent to get as much rest as possible. He knew his talents would be in demand later. The cat was smart, Anthony had chuckled to himself, watching as Mr. Patas and Sophie had begun to reorganize their supplies some more.

  They had cleaned everything they’d used earlier in the morning for a second time. They had staged various items for greater efficiency, so when they prepared their meals in the future, things would be easier to get to and the process of cooking their food wouldn’t be as arduous.

  It’s like camping, Anthony stated silently as he gazed at the teenage girl. She was conversing with the rabbit-man. The young man’s eyes danced over her athletic form, his mind drifting in thought. She had been a cheerleader, right? The question came to mind as the image of him walking through the back gate of his school frothed to the top of his consciousness. He had just happened to turn and see, through the fence surrounding the football field, the cheer squad jumping and tumbling as the football game played out on the field before them. He remembered her hair. Yes, that was what stuck in his memory. The blonde hair so blonde it was nearly white. He recalled he had smirked then, figuring her for one of those girls so emasculated with how she looked she’d eventually turn herself into a monster. Whether it be through dying her hair too much or wearing too much make-up or were willing to go under the knife and have plastic surgery. She had to be one of those girls, right? He had watched her for a second or two, because, even at a couple hundred feet away, she was captivating.

  Then he had remembered his grandmother was picking him up. It was Friday and he had a clan meeting scheduled for later on that afternoon. He had turned from her, more important things on his mind. Or so, he’d thought at the time.

  And now?

  Well, maybe it was no longer the truth, especially since he’d seen her close up and had got to know a little about her…

  …And he’d held her hand.

  He had stared after her the entire time she’d been working with Mr. Patas, and almost got caught when they’d finished.

  She had turned abruptly to look in his direction, almost as if she’d known he had been looking at her for an extending period.

  The third time she glanced his way, he looked away, frantically trying to find the fire, though it was right there in front of him. She said something unintelligible to Mr. Patas and walked toward him, promptly sitting down next to him.

  He remained silent and so did she, though she was gazing unabashed at him. He could feel her eyes boring into him and the self-consciousness rise, flushing him with warmth and embarrassment.

  They remained that way for a few minutes, until she finally spoke, breaking the awkward silence. It had stretched for so long it had to break at some time. “Why are you staring at me, Anthony? Don’t you know that’s kinda rude?”

  Anthony, still looking into the fire, felt his eyes involuntarily widen at her question. His reply caught in his throat. His mind was a jumble of thought. He couldn’t control it, as if his nervous system was misfiring, as if he were in a pure state of shock. He sat there rigid, frozen for a more than a quarter of a minute before he even breathed again.

  At his side, he could sense Sophie was suppressing her laughter, though trying not to be ornery about it.

  Anthony turned toward her, his expressions written plainly upon his face. He saw her mask her levity, trying to compose herself. Though the expectant cast of her face didn’t make her appear all that serious.

  Sometimes the truth is the only answer, he thought a moment before. “I guess I couldn’t help myself… sorry. It wasn’t my intention to be rude. I mean, I wasn’t staring at your…,” he trailed off, the topic suddenly too nerve wracking to broche.

  She giggled and half turned away with the back of one of her hands covering her mouth.

  “Well, I wasn’t,” ventured Anthony, his voice straining with sincerity.

  The cracking of his voice made Sophie laugh out loud. She turned toward him, her eyes sparkling. Her cheeks were slightly pink. “I know that, Anthony! Oh my god, you’re so funny!” More laughter followed hidden behind her hand. “It’s just every time I looked up at you, I saw you look away at the last second. I know you were trying to hide the fact you were staring at me. I could feel your eyes on me every time.”

  Anthony nodded. “How did you know I was staring at you?” His eyebrows came together.

  Now, it was Sophie’s turn to hesitate. “I… I got goose bumps every time,” she said quieter than before, but was brave enough to continue to look him in the eyes.

  “Cch, really?” said Anthony a touch incredulous, peering back, trying to discern if she was messing around or not.

  “Yeah, I did.”

  Anthony harrumphed in mild surprise, glancing back at the fire once more.

  “What?” she asked gazing at his profile.

  His cheeks seemed to heat up of their own accord. “Nothing, I just never heard of that before, that’s all,” he repli
ed truthfully. Abruptly, he peered back at her. “I mean, not that I think you’re yanking my chain or anything.”

  She chortled softly. “Well, it’s true.”

  “Ok.”

  The silence grew then – not awkward like before, but more introspective than anything else.

  “You are… or were a cheerleader, right?” inquired Anthony, out of the thoughtful stillness between them.

  Sophie frowned for a moment as if she was contemplating where the question might’ve originated in his mind. At the last moment, she decided to ignore it. She placed her hands in her lap, twiddling her fingers. “Yes, I was one of the co-captains on the squad, which is rare for a sophomore to be nominated, or so I have heard, but… I guess the other girls liked me enough.”

  “I thought so,” he admitted. “I saw you once, from a distance, cheering during a football game after school.”

  “You did? How did you know it was me?” she queried with a tilt of her head.

  “Your hair, it sort of stands out. I had heard of you too, though. You know, how people talk. One day, I just happened to see you and in my head, I was like ‘Oh, there’s that girl with the white hair’,” he explained with a shrug of his shoulders.

  “How people talk, huh? And, what they say? Wait, don’t tell me. They said I dye my hair to get attention, right?” she asked with a little heat in her tone.

  Anthony smiled warmly at her. “Yeah, something like that, but to me it doesn’t matter – if that’s what you do, then it’s your business and nobody else’s. You’re entitled to do whatever the hell you want, right? Although, I think your hair makes you look even prettier.”

  “Yup,” she retorted just above a whisper and looked at the floor of the cave, making Anthony lean down to get a better look at her face. There was a degree of hurt in her voice that aroused his interest, because she’d completely ignored his compliment.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked quietly, not wanting to make her feel pressed into divulging more than she was willing.

  “It’s always been a bone of contention - my hair. All my life people have been making assumptions about it. For the most part, it doesn’t really bother me, because I’m used to it. I think now, it just feels like a burnt topic, you know - old and stale. I wish people would come up with something new.” She stopped and looked at him, while the fire popped and fizzed next to them. Her eyes were wistful now, not hurting.

  “Really, wow,” he began, “but you know how people always feel jealous of other people when they don’t have what the other person has. Whether it’s money or beauty or just about anything, for that matter, the envy is always there. They just feel inadequate for whatever reason and lash out, even subtly, but the negativity is there nonetheless. That’s all it is, Sophie. They don’t hate you or want to really hurt you beyond making you feel bad. They just want to take you down a few pegs and maybe make your day just a little less fun. Envy is a messed up emotion, because it comes from so many negative origins… easy to find, hard to get rid of…” He fell silent, his eyes delving into the flames of the fire once more.

  She sighed heavily. “It’s my real hair, you know?”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “How do you know?” her question was pointed and direct.

  “Because, the more I think about it, the more I’m convinced it is your true hair color. I mean, if you had been dyeing your hair all your life, you would look like Amy Winehouse on too much Cocaine. Your hair would be all frizzed out and spindly looking, like spiders have been nesting in your wig for like five years or something,” he explained with a growing smile.

  Sophie bounced with laughter. “Eewww! Thank god for that!”

  “Tell me about it, then I’d have to be all scared just sitting here next to you, hoping nothing jumps out of your hair and bites me.” Anthony joined her, laughing as well. He settled down after a short time. “At least you won’t have to worry about any of that stuff now. I guess being here, in this place, has its perks after all.”

  Sophie glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes. “I think I’d have preferred to have stayed by home, less dangerous, less people trying to kill me.”

  With a loud huff of agreement, Anthony said, “Yeah, when you put it that way, I think I would too.”

  “So what did you do in school, any sports or activities?” she asked.

  Anthony caught sight of the progress Jason and Joaquin (and Louis) were making on the “bathing” area. He was pleasantly surprised to see they had actually managed to construct a decent, four sided screen about six feet by six feet, between the farthest end of the woodpile and the backmost sleeping area near the deepest recesses of the cave. The use of the throw blankets and the long branches that Kenai had collected, tying them securely with bits and pieces of the nylon rope seemed to have done the trick. Even now, Louis was gathering two of the largest buckets and some sponges as well as a few wash cloths and towels, and of course shampoo and body-wash. It seemed as though the last of the preparations were under way.

  Wow, he thought, more than just a little happy. Soon they’d have a place where they could wash off some of the grime of the last day’s toil.

  “Anthony, did you hear me?” tried Sophie for a second time.

  Anthony snapped out of his reverie with a shake. “Oh, sorry, I was just looking at what the guys are doing. It seems like very soon we’ll be able to take a sponge bath.” He pointed toward the newest structure within the cave.

  “Oh,” Sophie replied, startled when she saw the screen. She hadn’t realized what the boys had been doing all of this time. “Jeez, I thought they were just ‘monkeying’ around or something like that. Wow, a place to have a sponge bath… oh my god, doesn’t that sound nice?” She looked down at her clothes, which were still muddy and stained from her time in the snow with Louis, when he had broken down and needed comfort the day before.

  We could all use some cleaning up, thought the boy as he glanced at himself, seeing he too could use a bit of polishing. “Yes, it does sound nice,” he agreed. His brow furled in concentration when he remembered she had asked him a question. “So, umm, what did you ask me?”

  “Ah, I just was curious as to what you did at school – sports, school government?” she repeated her question.

  Anthony shook his head. “Naw, none of that stuff. I’m more into music more than anything else. I hang around a bunch of musicians most of them time. We kick it by the bungalows on the picnic table they have near the tennis courts, you know where that is?”

  “I think I do, is it toward the back of the school?” she wondered, again tilting her head in question.

  “That’s it,” he affirmed with a lopsided grin. “We usually just sit on the table or the benches and listen to each play on our instruments. It’s kinda cool after having to sit in class and think all the time.”

  Sophie perked up. “Oh, you play an instrument, which one?”

  Anthony shriveled as he had when Joaquin had asked the same question of him the day before. “No, I don’t play anything, I always wanted to play the guitar, but I never got around to actually doing anything about it. I do practice a little with my friend, Richard, but I don’t have my own or anything like that.” He could feel the self-consciousness creeping back again.

  “Just haven’t got around to doing it then, huh?” she soothed, his discomfiture obvious to her.

  “I just procrastinate too much, Sophie. It’s one of my ‘things I should work on’, or so says the school counselor, not to mention my parents and my grandmother, and just about everyone else,” he said in a rush. He wasn’t sure why he was being so forthcoming with the girl, but there was just something about her that made him not want sugar coat anything. He wanted her to know, for some reason, the real him, especially since she was a real platinum blonde. Thus, he wanted to show her the real Anthony Herrera.

  She put a tentative hand on his shoulder, her small fingers firming, giving him a small squeeze. “Don’t worry about all of
that crap, Anthony - .”

  “Tony, call me Tony. All of my friends call me that,” he said in a rush, enjoying her touch.

  “Ok… Tony… like you told me before, most of that stuff isn’t going to matter much here in the Melded World. I have a distinct feeling our lives are about to be irrevocably altered by the time all of this is done. Either we’ll all be dead or we’ll be changed into something quite different than what we were when we came to this awful place. So, whether or not you wasted time back home, I’m pretty sure you’re gonna be making up for it here.”

  “Why do you think so?” he asked thankful for her kind, encouraging words.

  “You’re the Kring-Hël, remember?”

  Anthony rolled his eyes. “Do I have too?”

  Sophie chuckled.

  Anthony was sure she was about to say something about destiny or fate, when Louis came running up, his face flushed with excitement.

  “Hey, you guys, you guys, the shower thingy is all ready, either one of you wanted to wash? I sure know I do! I feel gross after running around this place for a day. How about you guys?”

  Anthony and Sophie glanced at each other, nodding at the same time.

  “We should probably make a schedule of some sort, so we all can sponge off some the nastiness, huh?” asked Sophie.

  Anthony nodded and raised his eyebrows a few times in rapid succession. “Ooo-la-la,” he mouthed quietly.

  Sophie half-smirked and half-pretended at outrage, she struck him playfully in the shoulder, following his train of thought. Yet, she didn’t break eye contact as they stared after one another.

  “Well, you guys going to get cleaned up or what?” asked Louis, already impatient.

  Sophie broke eye contact first. “Yes, Louis, we sure are. Let’s go and figure out how we are going to organize the bathing, shall we?” she said, standing and leading him off toward the screened off area.