For as far back as I could remember, I’d always hated heights. In high school I had stood with my feet firmly planted on the ground while my friends all paired up and hopped into Ferris wheel cars at the country fair grounds. I would have been content to wait it out until everyone had gotten their spin on the wheel if not for Andrea’s hand finding mine and dragging me onto a vacant car. While she had gabbed about her disappointment that some guy she had a crush on had picked another girl to ride the Ferris wheel with, I had white-knuckled the bar sitting lightly across our laps. Not even Andrea’s proximity had been able to ease my discomfort.
“We should get going,” I murmured, still eyeballing the Ferris wheel with contempt.
“Corndogs,” Nora muttered beside me. “Why am I suddenly craving corndogs?”
I gave her a wry smile. “You from a year ago is crying right now.”
“I know,” she laughed. Her good mood managed to shatter my feelings of foreboding. “What’s wrong with me?”
“I guess when you’re starving even corndogs sound good,” I shrugged.
“Let’s look around,” she suggested. “Maybe there’s something here we can use.”
I hesitated. Even when frozen in place that giant Ferris wheel was like a giant beacon to anyone within a mile radius.
“Just a quick look,” I relented despite my misgivings. “But then we really have to leave.”
She nodded crisply, aware as well of the unnecessary danger this detour put us in. My dad never would have stopped here, I thought to myself. But this was no longer a dictatorship with him in the lead. Nora and I were partners in this. We’d both be responsible for our bad decisions.
We passed the Midway with its rows upon rows of carnival games. Giant stuffed animals swung stiffly from their hanging places, adding a new sound to the crisp snap of stale snow under our feet. Their black beaded eyes stared blankly ahead.
Nora stopped in front of a one of those booths where you throw a softball and try to knock down milk jars filled with sand. She hefted a neon yellow softball in one hand, tossing it from one gloved hand to the other.
“Don't you dare throw that,” I warned her.
She smiled mischievously. “What are you gonna do to me if I do?” she taunted. She lifted her arm as if to toss the ball at the neatly stacked milk bottles.
I lunged for her and she let out a girlie shriek, immediately dropping the yellow softball. We both tumbled to the ground, the thick snow breaking our fall.
“I wasn’t going to throw it,” she huffed. “I'm not an idiot.”
I’m sure a part of me knew that. But another part, a bigger part, had wanted an excuse to tackle her.
Her aqua blue eyes stared up at me. I realized I was practically on top of her, one leg thrown over midsection. I also realized I was breathing heavy. But after all the walking we’d done over the past few weeks it had nothing to do with exhaustion or overexertion. It had everything to do with her proximity and an unexpected emotion reflected in those expressive, wide eyes.
My head snapped up when I heard a sound I didn’t recognize. I rolled off of Nora and crouched low. Her eyes, which had previously mirrored something else, now looked scared. I held a single finger up to my lips.
I wasn’t sure what my plan was, but still in my crouched position, I shuffled in the direction of the unfamiliar noise. Nora grabbed me by the leg of my snow pants and shook her head. I gestured with my hands that it was going to be okay and that I was just going to take a look.
I started to slowly stand up so I could see over the half-wall of one of the carnival booths. The wind was knocked out of me though when I found myself being tackled from behind. Arms wrapped around my waist and when I hit the frozen ground – hard and face first – I landed on balled up fists that forced the air from my lungs.
“What’s your problem?” I hissed to the woman now on top of me.
“I had to stop you from doing something stupid,” Nora’s voice filled my right ear.
“So you decided to do something stupid instead?” I charged.
If anyone had been lurking in the area, they certainly would have heard the noise I’d made when I face-planted. When no one came investigating, my worry that bandits were in the area abated.
Nora rolled off of me and I pulled myself out of the snow. I yanked off one of my gloves and gingerly pressed my fingers to the side of my face. My right cheek was stinging where it had made contact with the solid ground.
“Did I do that?” Nora’s gloved hand moved toward my face, but I jerked away so she couldn’t touch me.
“Yeah. Thanks for the face-wash,” I complained. I shoved my hand back into my glove.
She frowned and looked guilty. “I’m sorry, Sam. I wanted to stop you from being a hero.”
I tried my jaw, opening and closing it a few times. My lower jaw was sore, but nothing was broken and I still had all my teeth. My face, however, was another story. I could feel the sting of tiny cuts on the right side of my face.
“Duly noted,” I clipped. “Don’t be a hero.”
“We should stay here tonight,” Nora pronounced.
“We might not be alone.”
“Do you have a better idea?” she challenged. “It's not going to be light for much longer and we still don’t have a tent.”
I knew she was right, but that didn’t mean it was a safe option. But if we kept moving who knows what we’d find out there for shelter.
“Okay. But we have to leave as soon as it’s morning.”
Nora nodded. “Agreed. Now let’s go find some corndogs and someplace to spend the night.”
We didn’t find any corndogs – every concession area we came upon had already been picked over by someone else. But we did find someplace to spend the night. It was a small trailer, maybe belonging to whomever had overseen the daily operations of the carnival. Inside was an old couch, an office chair and desk, and a primitive kitchenette with only a sink, small refrigerator, and some storage cabinetry. More importantly though it had a single window and a door that locked. If someone really wanted to get in, the locked door would only keep them out for so long, but it gave me enough security that I’d be able to sleep that night.
I unrolled my sleeping bag on the floor. The carpet was probably dirtier than most surfaces I’d slept on, but it was dry enough and warm enough and soft enough to be an improvement over the cave from the previous night.
“You can have the couch,” I offered.
“Thanks, but I’ll pass.” Nora curled her lip. “I don’t even want to think about all the gross things clinging to that couch. I’ll rough it on the floor, too.”
She dropped her pack and started investigating the contents of cabinets and desk drawers.
I finished setting up my sleeping area. There was still enough daylight coming in through the trailer’s single window to illuminate the space.
I sat down on top of my sleeping bag, choosing to avoid the couch, too. “Find anything?” I asked.
Nora held up two empty glass bottles. “They’re out of alcohol.”
“If you’re really desperate, we’ve still got that moonshine,” I reminded her.
“I’m convinced you’re trying to poison me,” she quipped in return. She hugged herself when a brisk wind shook the trailer. “I don't suppose we can build a fire in here.” The trailer was little more than a tin can and every time the wind blew, the temperature seemed to drop a few degrees.
I slapped my palm against my forehead. “Oh my God,” I exclaimed. “I can't believe I forgot about that.”
Nora gave me a confused look as I dumped my backpack on the floor and began rummaging inside for three essential items. I pulled out a sealed can of green beans, the can opener, and my fire starter. “Hand me one of those candles from your backpack, will you?” I instructed.
I looked around the trailer for something to empty the beans into. I found a Styrofoam cup that didn’t look too disgusting. I caught a bit of paper on fire with my flint and
steel and used the flame to melt the wax at the bottom of one of the candles. The wax stayed hot and soft just long enough for me to adhere it to the bottom of the empty bean can. I then lit the wick on the opposite end.
“Ta da!”
“What am I supposed to be impressed with?” Nora blinked.
“The candle will heat up the can and the can will heat up us!” I beamed, proud that I’d remembered one of the winter survival tips my dad had taught me.
I set out to make a second tin can fire so we would each have one.
Nora looked skeptical. “A tin can and a candle is going to keep me warm?”
“We won't need much heat,” I remarked. “This trailer is pretty solid and we’ve got our sleeping bags. The cans will be just enough to take the chill off.”
She still looked unconvinced.
“Put your hands around it,” I urged.
“That sounds like a line from a porno,” she deadpanned.
“You’re gross.”
“Oh!” Her eyes lit up. “It's warm! It’s like I’m holding onto a cup of coffee.”
“Just don't get confused and take a drink of it,” I laughed.
“God, I miss coffee,” she sighed. She kept her hands wrapped around the tin can while I made one for myself.
“Looks like it’s going to be green beans and sliced peaches for dinner tonight,” I said, holding up the second open can. “Do you have a preference?”
“Green beans, I guess.” Nora sighed and sat down next to me on my sleeping bag. “I don't suppose you have any of your grandma’s beef jerky left?”
“Not worried about the size of your ankles anymore, huh?” I teased.
“I think that was more force of habit than a genuine concern.” Her shoulder pressed into mine as she rested her weight against me. “I was on a diet everyday once I got into middle school. I was a fat kid. And then I was a fat teenager.”
“I can’t picture you ever being fat.”
“It wasn't pretty,” she snorted as she fished out a few green beans and popped them into her mouth.
“And I can’t imagine you not being pretty.” Damn it.
She made no comment. Maybe she hadn’t heard me or maybe she was one of those girls who ignored compliments. I stared into my can of sliced peaches. They floated in a sugary syrup goo that I’d always hated.
We finished our unfulfilling meal in silence as the sun dipped below the horizon and another day came to an end. Soon, moonlight floated through the single window of the trailer and our canned candles provided another layer of illumination. We both wiggled into our respective sleeping bags. Even though we had the entire trailer to ourselves, I couldn’t help but notice that Nora had set up her sleeping area so that our sleeping bags practically touched. I tried not to let my brain over-think it and make too big of a deal out of it.
“What’s the most shallow thing you miss from the way things used to be?” Nora asked.
“I don’t know,” I said, not really giving her question meaningful consideration.
“I’m serious,” she prodded.
“I don’t know. It’s a complicated question.”
“That’s not an answer,” she complained. “Just be human for once.”
I was silent for a moment, thinking. “I miss the beach,” I said finally. “I miss the feeling of wet sand squishing between my toes. The smell of the water.”
Nora shifted in her sleeping bag and reclined on her side. “They had beaches in North Dakota?”
“It wasn’t like Florida or anything, but there were a few sandy shorelines near my hometown.”
Nora’s features had taken on a faraway look. “I miss the scent of fresh cut grass. And I miss laying in an overgrown field of tall grasses and wild flowers and staring up at the sky and looking at the clouds make shapes.”
“That’s a good one,” I approved.
I used to lay for hours on a grassy hill in a nearby park with Andrea. I remember laying next to her in the summer months, our bare arms just barely touching. I’d lose track of time and conversation just from that innocent contact.
“I miss that first day on campus in college when spring has shrugged off the winter winds and everyone wears shorts and skirts and flip flops,” she continued. “All that bare flesh exposed to the sun for the first time in months.”
“I wish I’d gone to college,” I said, thinking aloud.
“What would you have majored in?”
“I have no idea.”
“Did you have an occupation in mind?”
“Not really,” I admitted. “I just know I didn’t want to end up like either of my parents.”
“What did they do for a living?”
“My dad worked at a bank and my mom was a school teacher.”
“How very wholesome and middle class,” Nora remarked. I couldn’t tell of she was teasing me; her face was too serious to tell what she was really thinking.
“You said I was pretty.” Okay, so she had heard me earlier after all.
I cleared my throat uncomfortably. “I have eyes, don’t I?”
Our small homemade lamps reflected against her strawberry blonde hair, making her natural highlights look even more red than usual. Her pale pink tongue appeared between two lips and slowly made its way along the length of her lower lip. I found myself fixed to the spot and unable to look away.
“You know, you can kiss me if you want.”
I snapped out of my daze and recoiled. “Someone’s full of themselves.”
She shrugged, nonplussed. “You just had this look in your eyes.”
“Sorry, but I’m not that desperate,” I snorted defensively, immediately hating myself for the cruel words.
She cocked her head to regard me carefully. She didn’t look offended. “Did you have boyfriends in high school?”
“I wasn’t allowed to date,” I told her truthfully.
“Were you in some kind of religious cult?”
“No.” The idea made me chuckle. My family was about the most irreligious family I knew in Williston. “My parents just wanted me to wait until college.”
I hadn’t been allowed to date in high school, but that honestly hadn’t bothered me. None of the boys had interested me and the girls just scared the hell out of me.
Nora seemed to wiggle closer if that was even possible. I knew I should move back a bit to put more space between us, but I didn’t want to lose this game of chicken. I was naturally competitive and she seemed to bring out the best (worst?) in me.
“So have you ever kissed anyone before?”
I found myself self-consciously licking my lips. Her eyes darted to where the tip of my tongue darted out. I swear I saw her nostrils flare, but I couldn’t be sure in the dim light. “Reggie McFarland.” I said the first, safe name that came to my head. “Junior Prom.”
Reggie was a nice guy whom I’d know since preschool. I had no intention of going to Prom, but at my mother’s urging I’d said yes. Reggie had held my hand the entire night. I could still remember how sweaty his hands had been. When Prom ended a group of us had gone to a friend’s family cabin. Most couples had used it as an opportunity to split off from the group to different respective rooms. Reggie had been bold enough to suggest we do the same, but I’d asked him to take me home as soon as I’d seen Andrea go off with her date, some guy on the football team who I knew wasn’t smart enough or kind enough or cute enough for her. After Prom I stopped pretending. I knew I was gay and there was no use putting on a show for everyone else.
“So you don’t like girls?” The look she gave me was challenging, daring me to tell her she was wrong about me.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked. My voice wavered of its own fruition.
“Doing what?” Her aquamarine eyes blinked back at me.
“Go to sleep, Nora.”
“I’m just making conversation.”
“You’re just making trouble,” I growled, my voice harder than I wanted it to be. “We need to sleep. T
omorrow will be a long day. Everyday is a long day,” I unnecessarily reminded her.
She made a huffing noise and promptly spun away from me. I thought about rolling away, but I knew the extra body heat would do us both good. When she wiggled backwards and pressed the roundness of her backside into my pelvic area, however, I second-guessed sticking around.
“Night,” she clipped.
I punched at my makeshift pillow. The zippers on the backpack were digging into my head. “Night.”
+++++
CHAPTER TWELVE
The next morning, I changed our strategy. Up until this point, we’d been following the sun and going west. It was a safe plan – conservative – but there was no guarantee that we’d ever find a town that way.
“We have to follow a road,” I announced when we’d finished our breakfast of snow and a can of fruit cocktail divided between us.
Nora raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that breaking one of your dad’s rules?”
“Spending the night here was breaking one of his rules, too,” I pointed out. “We don’t really have a choice.” I had actually slept pretty soundly compared to our night in the cave, a mixture of discomfort from the solid rock floor but also the disequilibrium of being without my father.
The longer we were on our own, the more I began to appreciate that rules were ineffective. When it came to survival, sometimes you had to throw out even the most well-intended yet prudent guidelines.
The closest town, Plains, Montana, was 5 miles away according to a green marker we found after walking on County Highway 28 for a few hundred yards. The road wasn’t going to bring us east, just a little south and west, so I felt better about our plan. At least we weren’t going to have to backtrack and waste a day of travel. Now I just had to hope that Plains was big enough to have a gas station with a convenience store so we could find a road map and hopefully some more supplies. Dr. Allyse had mentioned it as being the closest town with a hospital, so I thought our chances were good. It was too much to hope, however, that we’d find another tent at this point, but maybe we could at least find a tarp or something we could turn into a makeshift emergency shelter.
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