by Randy Ribay
Dante grabs a piece of firewood from a nearby pile and places it into the flames, sending a puff of embers drifting into the air. They burn out, and he relaxes a bit as he senses Sam’s energy flagging.
“Good talk. I’m gonna go throw up now,” Sam says, rising from his chair unsteadily.
“Here, let me—”
“You gotta stop being so fucking nice all the time,” Sam says, pointing a wavering finger. “I mean. Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate your concern and all. Like I said, I love you for it, big guy. But I’m not too bad. Just had one too many. So sometimes you need to help, and sometimes you just need to let people vomit by themselves in a corner.”
“Is this one of those times?”
“It is.”
And with that, Sam stumbles away, leaving Dante by the fire. Dante listens to Sam’s progress through the trees, resisting the urge to help. He relaxes once he hears the house door creak open and then slam shut.
He sits by himself for a moment longer, considering whether he should head into the house and go to sleep, wait for the others to return, or join them at the lake.
Finishing his beer, he stands and decides to leave the warmth and light. He follows the voices down a narrow dirt path through the darkness and trees to the dock. Lit by the moonlight, he sees six heads bobbing in the calm, dark water.
“All right! It’s Heavy D,” Archie says. “Jump in, man.”
“Yeah, jump in, Dante,” Mari encourages.
Clark starts chanting, “Jump in! Jump in!” The others pick it up, their voices loud enough to wake everyone around the lake.
Dante shakes his head and sits at the end of the dock next to several small piles of clothing. He removes his shoes and socks, and dips his feet into the water. It is warmer than the air.
“Boo,” Archie says.
“Hey,” Mari says, “leave him alone. He’ll get in when he’s ready.”
She then jumps on Archie’s back and tries to push his head into the lake. The struggle takes them both underwater. They break the surface a moment later, dripping and sputtering and laughing.
“I’ve got something to tell you guys,” Dante says, eyes fixed on moonlight glimmering in the water’s surface.
“What’s that?” Archie asks.
Dante hesitates. He doesn’t know why. If there’s anywhere he can say it, it would be here, tonight. Instead, he lifts his feet out of the water. “Um . . . it’s Sam.”
“He all right?” Zaius asks while treading water next to Lamont. “He seemed to be hitting the bottom of that cup pretty hard. I should probably be a responsible adult and cut him off.”
“Oh, he’ll be fine. Went inside to get some of it out of his system and then sleep. Just thought you should know.”
Zaius nods. “Make sure you keep an eye on that one, alright? He seems fairly bent on self-destruction.”
“What’s his deal?” Clark asks, arms clinging around Adam’s wide neck.
“What do you mean?” Dante asks.
“He’s kind of a dick is what I mean.”
“Oh, that. Long story.”
“No it’s not,” Archie interjects. “He’s just sad. He got dumped. We’re on our way to help him win her back. The end.” He turns to Mari. “We just should just get him a t-shirt that explains that.”
“So do you think it’s going to work?” Clark asks. “Not the t-shirt. The girlfriend thing.”
Dante and Archie and Mari exchange skeptical glances. Nobody speaks, and their silence is enough of an answer.
Zaius asks, “So why go with him?”
“He’s one of us,” Archie says.
“Well,” Zaius says, “in my opinion, there are only two kinds of travelers: those who are going somewhere, and those who are running from something. Sam is clearly the former. Which kind are you guys?”
“We,” says Mari, “are here.”
Archie nods, head bobbing just above the water’s surface. “We are here. Hundreds of miles from home, under a sky full of stars, going for a midnight swim with four gay dudes—no offense.”
“None taken. We are, in fact, gay dudes,” Lamont says.
Then Mari says, “The world is so much bigger than it was on Friday.”
Lamont nods. “Travelling helps you see that. The world is bigger than you think.”
“You know what else is bigger than you think?” Archie asks, grinning.
Everyone groans and Mari swats at him. Archie blocks it and then wraps up her arms in a bear hug to prevent another attack.
“Think it’s about time we head in, guys. What do you say?” Zaius asks.
“I’m actually pretty aw—” Lamont starts to say but is interrupted by Zaius’s elbow. “Oh, actually . . .” Lamont yawns. “Yup, time to hit the hay.”
Zaius shoots a meaningful look at Clark and Adam, and they echo Lamont’s sentiment. All four swim to the dock and pull themselves out of the water. Dante averts his eyes, but the moonlight helps him realize that they’re all nude.
As they gather their bundles of clothes, dripping onto the dock, Archie and Mari start swimming back in. But Zaius holds up a hand. “You two should stay out here for a little longer. Let yourselves in the house whenever you’re ready. The couch in the sunroom is all yours.”
Archie looks to Mari and then back to Zaius. “Cool. Um . . . are there, like, extra blankets so I can sleep on the floor?”
“Nope,” Zaius says and winks at Mari. “You’ll have to share. Come on, Dante. Let us retire to the smoking room.”
Dante looks at Mari and Archie, who shrug. He lets Zaius lead him away.
“Just watch out for the bats,” Lamont offers over his shoulder.
A few moments later, Mari and Archie find themselves completely alone. An immense hush settles over the lake. They breathe in the silence, feeling as though they’ve outlasted the insects and animals. The world is vast, and it is theirs. Religions have been founded upon less.
“They seem happy,” Archie says, breaking the spell.
“Who? Zaius and the others?” Mari asks.
“Yeah, them.”
“Why wouldn’t they be?”
Archie lets himself sink a little, until his chin touches the water. He thinks of his own father. “I don’t know . . . but, hey, I was right.”
“About what?”
“I told you we wouldn’t be murdered.”
Mari splashes a bit of water at him. “Not yet. But we are swimming in the middle of the night by ourselves—isn’t that, like, the opening of every horror movie ever? Let’s hold off on celebrating our survival.”
“No,” Archie says, sending a return splash her way. “As long as we’re alive, let’s never stop celebrating the simple fact that we are alive.”
Mari laughs and then stares at Archie, wondering if he somehow knows about her mom. Deciding his words were coincidence, she drifts away with a lazy backstroke. “So is that your grand epiphany?”
“Is that what?” he asks, closing the distance between them.
“You should be freaking out about missing school. Realistically, we’re probably not going to make it back until next week. Aren’t you concerned about your GPA? Your chance to reign as valedictorian at your new school?”
“Am I really that guy?”
“You were. But something’s different.” She lets her legs sink and starts treading water. “As long as we’re alive, let’s never stop celebrating the simple fact that we are alive,” she quotes, mocking Archie’s voice.
“Is that supposed to be me?”
“They’re your words.”
He laughs, caught in so many ways. “Don’t make fun of me. Just seemed like the right thing to say at the time.”
“It was.”
They let the quietness rebuild.
Mari drifts toward Archie until she is floating in front of him. She puts her arms around his neck, and their bodies press together as they tread water. Under the surface, Archie touches one hand to her hips. She does not pu
ll away.
They touch foreheads. Their eyeglasses clink together. Mari takes Archie’s hand and they paddle back to the small pier. She removes both their glasses and places them on the dock. Pulling Archie closer, she sits on the lowest step of the ladder so that they can hold each other in the water without sinking to the bottom of the lake.
“I’m sorry about the other night,” he says. “Whatever I did to ruin it, I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” Mari says in a whisper. “You just said something that made me remember something bad.”
“What?”
Mari hesitates. She looks up at the full moon. Finds the face in it. “My mom has cancer . . .”
Archie drifts closer to her. “Mari . . . I’m so sorry . . . is it bad?”
“Is cancer ever good?” Mari asks.
“That was stupid . . . I’m sorry . . .” Archie says.
“Stop apologizing. It’s okay. I mean, it will be okay. Hopefully.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not right now. It’s enough just to know that you know.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” he asks.
She shrugs. “We never really talk about that kind of stuff.”
“Yeah,” Archie says. “We’ll start, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Archie?”
“Yes, Mari?”
“Am I a terrible person?” she asks in a whisper again.
“Why would you ask that?” he asks, also whispering.
“Because I’m here. Doing this.”
“You’re helping a friend,” he says.
“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just avoiding her. Avoiding what she wants me to do . . . when she might be dying.”
“What does she want you to do?” Archie asks.
She lowers her eyes. Sidles closer. “It’s not important right now.”
Archie chooses his next words carefully. “You’re not a terrible person, Mari. You’re the most amazing person I know. And I don’t think your mom would want you to stop living life. In fact, just the opposite.”
She nods. “You’re probably right.”
Archie leans in to kiss her, but she pulls away.
“If we do this, it will change everything,” she says.
“I hope so,” he says.
She looks at him. He looks at her. Without their glasses, they are fuzzy to each other. That somehow makes this easier.
Mari leans forward. She presses her lips to his.
And, somewhere, there really are bats.
But not here, not now.
There is nothing except this.
Yes and No
Sunday, 5:45 A.M.
An overcast sky in the morning replaces the clarity of last night. A cool breeze rustles the leaves, carrying a suggestion of rain.
As they load the car, Mari and Archie exchange flirtatious glances, Dante is lost deep in thought, and Sam groans at the wrath of a hangover.
“I’ll tell the others you said goodbye,” says Zaius. “They would’ve liked to see you off, but you know how it is.” He gestures toward Sam. “He does, at least.”
Sam mutters his appreciation as he climbs into the front seat and rolls down the window.
Mari slams the trunk and hugs Zaius, kissing him on the cheek. “Thank you for everything.”
“Anytime.”
She moves back to Archie and slides her arm around his waist.
“Seriously, thanks,” Archie says, smiling.
Dante nods and shakes Zaius’s hand.
“Seriously,” Zaius says, “if you need a place to stop on your way back, you’re welcome here. The road can be a lonely place.”
Mari laughs. “But we’re not traveling alone.”
Zaius shrugs. “Yes and no.”
The Edge of the World
Sunday, 9:57 A.M.
As they cross the state line, the sky darkens into a greenish hue. Towering storm clouds push the late morning light into a sliver on the horizon. The rain picks up, and Dante sets the wipers swinging back and forth at their highest setting in a futile attempt to clear the droplets that batter the windshield.
He clicks on the headlights and tightens his grip on the steering wheel. He struggles to hold the road as gusts of winds push the car toward the shoulder. His visibility reduced, he slows the car to a crawl. He squints to find the dashed lines.
There are a few other vehicles on the road, and though they’ve slowed down, they’re still moving fast enough to overtake Dante.
None of his friends are aware of his struggle. Sam is fast asleep in the front seat. Mari and Archie sleep in the back, holding hands while her head rests in his lap.
Just as Dante’s about to wake them, the rain dampens to a steady drizzle, restoring his view. Flat fields of brown and pale green slide by on either side. The menacing clouds still hang overhead, flickering from within.
Suddenly, there’s a flash of red, immediately followed by a deafening crack of thunder that seems to shake the world.
Mari’s and Archie’s eyes pop open. Sam remains asleep.
Mari removes herself from Archie’s arms and sits up. “What the hell was that?” she asks, her voice groggy. “We hit something?”
Dante tilts his chin in the direction of the road ahead. “Storm. Looks pretty bad.”
“Where are we?” Archie asks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and stretching as best as he can in the confined space.
“Crossed into North Dakota about half an hour ago.”
Archie puts on his glasses and then leans forward for a better look. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
Another thunderclap booms overhead. The rain’s intensity redoubles. The sky grows even darker, giving the impression that it’s midnight instead of midday.
“I might need to pull over,” Dante says.
“Fuck that,” Sam mutters, eyes still closed. He hugs his pillow and sinks back to sleep.
“I hate to say this,” Archie says, “but I think this might be a tornado.”
Dante looks at him in the rearview mirror. “Tell me you’re joking.”
“I used to be really into meteorology,” Archie says. “Weather patterns are fascinating. Probably some of the most complex math there is. So many variables and—”
“Get to the point, Arch,” Mari interrupts.
Archie points out the window. “Look at those clouds. Dark. Low hanging, but towering. They’re cumulonimbus. They make tornadoes.”
“Maybe it’s just a really bad thunderstorm,” says Mari. Dante shakes his head in disbelief. He steps on the gas.
Archie puts his hand on his shoulder. “Slow down. If we do see a tornado, the worst thing you can do is to keep driving.”
“Then what should I do?” he asks, gazing at the threatening clouds.
Archie leans forward and clicks on the radio. Immediately, a woman’s urgent voice fills the speakers.
“—Richland, Ransom, Barnes, Cass, Steele, Traill counties until one P.M. Multiple touchdowns have been sighted. If possible, seek shelter immediately. If you are outside, lie flat in the nearest depression, ditch, ravine, or culvert.”
There’s a series of screeching beeps, and then the message restarts. “The National Weather Service has issued a tornado warning for Richland, Ransom, Barnes . . .”
As the voice loop continues, their eyes all shift to the shallow ditch that runs alongside the road. It does not seem to promise much in the way of protection.
Sam finally opens his eyes. “A warning isn’t that bad, right? Watch is the bad one.”
“No, a warning is the bad one,” says Mari.
Sam shakes his head. “Think about it. Like you watch something that’s happening. So if there were an actual tornado, it would be a tornado watch.”
“No, you watch for a tornado,” Mari says. “Once you see it, you warn people.”
“Mari’s right,” Archie says.
“Maybe they’re not around here, though,” says Sam. �
��That was a lot of county names they read.”
In the distance, they hear an emergency siren whir to life. The pitch of its prolonged whine rises and falls, rises and falls. Though faint, it’s a testament to its volume that they’re able to hear it through the storm and from within the car.
A few moments later, the sound of the rain transitions from a steady thrum to a sharp staccato. The droplets become little white spheres that bounce off the hood and pavement like golf balls.
“Hail,” Archie says. “Big-ass hail. Definitely not a good sign.”
“So should I pull over?” Dante asks.
“Keep driving,” Sam says, watching the hail fall. “There’s not even a funnel-shaped cloud.” He closes his eyes again, apparently bored.
Archie points to the north. “You mean like that?”
Dante takes his eyes from the road to see a shadowy smear upon the lighter clouds in the yellow distance beyond a farmhouse. At first, it seems motionless. But after a few glances, Dante notices what looks like a dusty cloud. He quickly realizes that it’s gathering into a slow spiral. Each time he glances over, the cloud looks more like a funnel.
Mari takes Archie’s hand. “Maybe it’s moving away from us.”
But then the farmhouse disappears within the dark, spinning cloud.
Dante pulls the car onto the shoulder and slams on the brakes. “Everyone out!”
It takes some effort to push open the doors against the wind, but Dante, Mari, and Archie eventually succeed and push into the storm. The world is roaring and shifting. They shield their heads with their arms, sprint to the shallow ravine, and throw themselves into it.
They fail to notice that Sam is still in the car.
The sky flickers with lightning. The thunder grows to an unceasing rumble. Heavy gusts of wind whip dirt and dust through the air. Hail pelts the earth.
Dante lifts his head for a moment and sees what looks like a dark wall of clouds approaching. It is as if he is looking at the edge of the world. He glances at the others to make sure they’re still safe. But he only sees Mari and Archie, huddled against each other.
He looks back to the car. Just as he feared, he spots Sam’s head pressed against the glass of the window, somehow still asleep.