by Eric Arvin
“I don’t know,” Ashley replied, looking back to Dash and the chapel.
Sarah turned back to Ashley with a quick twist of the neck. “It’s us against him,” she said. Ashley had her full attention once more. She smiled with a mischievous grin. Sarah bent down, molded a perfect ball of snow, and heaved it at Dash just as he turned to shut the chapel doors.
KNOCKED ON my back by the damn kicker!
Tony ridiculed himself as he lay staring up at the sun, blinded and cold. In a moment of humanized slo-mo, he felt the fall, heard the crunch of snow beneath him. He lay for an instant in complete awareness of a state of serenity and acceptance. Noise was eclipsed by the hollowness of the passing seconds. It was the sound of the sea in a conch shell. He lay inches deep in the snow, with the sun breaking on him like a newborn day, the ice crowning his clipped hair.
Tony had awakened confused and sick, as he had predicted in his last moment of lucidity the night before. He had gotten too drunk. He got up with a pounding headache and an acute need to absolve himself of any sin he had committed at the party. What embarrassment occurred? What will be talked about that I should be ashamed of? All he got from the other guys in the house were sly smiles, pats on the back, and “Man, you were wasted last night!”
Still, he knew he’d done something that could come back to haunt him, damaging his public figure. Nothing too tawdry, but embarrassing and worthy of a couple of tongue clicks.
He was nude when he woke up that morning. He didn’t remember taking off his clothes or even getting to bed, for that matter. Certainly not nude. And he had a strange stickiness on his chest and face. It was uncomfortable. Like a layer of dead, dry, flaky skin. Where did that come from?
He took some aspirin to allay the throbbing in his head, then walked to the shower naked, indifferent to whether or not there were any girls still in the house. His cock swayed, relaxed and heavy between his strong legs. He really didn’t notice the water was lukewarm as it came over him. His whole body felt weighed down, dirty and used. Standing under the water, he let it and the aspirin cleanse him of unseen or unknown filth and pain.
But at the war, the snow did him good. The snow woke up every nerve with a loud screech. He was finally coming to. Tony would have liked to lie in that drifting ever-moment for the rest of the day. He was safe there. It was warmer, snow and all. He didn’t feel eyed or judged. If only he could blend into the snow and people could just walk over him.
But the moment of awareness and awakening passed. Yanked away. Time came back in a furious roar, hurled by the clock-keeper.
Gabriel Herring, the kicker, cast his shadow over Tony and held out his hand. Tony boosted himself back up on two legs. Gabe smiled and ran off to help in another battering. Tony stood silent for a second as the world swirled around him. A flash of silver and blue wings flittered through his mind. Snow dust and half-formed balls flew through the air over him, raining down their glittering debris.
Tony heard Dash. He spun around in the clumping snow to see Dash laughing and running, his face crinkled up into a state of sheer joy. Tony could not contain his own pleasure at the sight. Sarah and Ashley were right behind him, chasing him with huge gobs of shining snow, the dust trailing after them as if they were faeries. Tony took off after them, feeling the sudden need to be caught up in the chase.
The deep snow hindered his speed at first, but he soon found his footing and gained ground, pushing his legs with unmatched strength. As he caught up with Sarah and Ashley, he felt a strange and kindred connection. They didn’t seem to think his chasing Dash with them was unusual. In fact, they both looked at him and smiled, accepting his help in apprehending Dashel. Even slowing a bit so he might be the captor.
Dash looked back and saw that Tony was in pursuit, too. He laughed louder and was slowed all the more by his felicity. They were suddenly young children without their mothers and fathers telling them to be careful, they might fall.
In no time, they had chased Dash to the Point, pursuing him across the scenic road to the grand old tree. Tony leaped and tackled him to the ground with a pronounced jungle-boy holler. They landed and rolled over and over in the snow down the steep hill of the Point below the lookout of the tree.
Finally they used their own body strength to stop the descent near the edge of the bluff. Snow covered them both. Tony lay on top of Dash, and they breathed heavy as they laughed and sputtered out incoherent half sentences. After their excitement had subsided slightly, Tony found himself looking deep into Dashel’s eyes and watching the trembling of his full lips. He felt himself stiffen, his inner heat rise, and knew Dash felt it as well.
Tony stood up in a nervous fumble and looked at Dash for a moment. He finally offered a hand, remembering himself. Dash gently grasped the outstretched palm, and they both stood quiet, their smiles replaced by a serious tone of expectation and clarity. Dash breathed deeply, coughing lightly, then looked up at the large old tree. Tony caught sight of Sarah and Ashley peering down at them from beside the tree, still smiling broadly, their chests still heaving from the chase. Ice hung like ornaments from the imposing tree.
Then Tony saw another countenance. Through a trick of perspective, Wilder’s bold face seemingly appeared from the hill above them as if he was being born from the earth, coming out of its deep, stinking, hot inner core. Wilder looked directly at Tony. Tony sensed something knowing about the stare, secretive and cryptic. Dangerous, he thought.
Tony turned back to Dash, and they climbed the hill together, headed for the tree, helping to steady one another through the inches of snow.
A SORT of madness took root behind Wilder’s calm demeanor as his anger grew from an unintentional slight. The sight of Tony with Dashel on the slope of the hill was innocent enough to everyone else, but Wilder knew things the rest of the group were unaware of. He could see a spark in the air that floated between Dash and Tony. Attraction, affection, the connection entwining about them.
He saw Tony glance up at him coldly as he approached. Wilder sensed in Tony’s stare that he knew of Wilder’s motives. Wilder did not appreciate another, weaker person delving into him so. Tony had an enigmatic energy that caused Wilder to feel not in control, not on top. The unexpected turn was terribly distracting to Wilder.
Wilder had spent the early morning hours developing film in the journalism lab. He savored the images as each appeared magically on the large white sheets of paper, like the reappearance of a forgotten memory. He was proud of this conquest. It could be put to good use when needed, and that time might come very soon.
Upon leaving the dark room, Wilder stepped out into the bright gleam of the sun and the snow. Morning on the campus. He shielded his eyes at first. The glare of the light from the powder was unforgiving. He quickly made his way to his room, where he hid the photos away in a folder beneath his bed, among other similar folders containing his sexual history. His conquests, rapes, and pillages.
At the time, the adrenaline wouldn’t have allowed him to sleep even if he had tried to lie down, so he walked and reveled in his victory, perambulating all over campus until the sun shone high and some of the students organized the usual snow fight in the quad. He stood and watched from a safe distance, his hands in the pockets of his coat. It was nothing to him. The frivolity didn’t even warrant a smile.
He closed his eyes tightly to clear the gleam of the white snow from his head. When he reopened them, he saw Dr. True walking timidly into his office at the side of the little chapel. Wilder quietly walked a little closer and bent to shovel up a mass of snow. Once it was balled perfectly, he hurled it with all his ferocity at the chaplain. Dr. True turned just in time to avoid the missile, and the ball hit the side of the chapel with a thud. True looked to see Wilder give a foggy nod. The chaplain grinned politely and slipped into his office. Wilder was upset he had missed, but then he was also unsure why he had attacked True in the first place.
He stood motionless, not really thinking, lost in his own desolate nothingness.
Then Dash leapt from the steps of the chapel, and Sarah and Ashley took off after him. Wilder followed them as they screeched and cackled through the crisp morning air.
Dash seemed different. Stronger. Not so weak. He was happier than Wilder could ever remember seeing him. Wilder watched in consternation as Tony Votts raced into the fun. Wilder’s heart went numb, hard, and heavy.
Tony is chasing Dash! He was in the lead to catch him, and Dash seemed to be enjoying and encouraging it.
Wilder walked faster, appraising the scene. He was a wraith, carefully observing them. They were headed to the Point, where that horrible tree stood. Wilder watched from the shrubs as Tony tackled Dash and they rolled down the hill, snow flying through the air.
He couldn’t take it anymore. I, of all people, am not the one who should be hidden. He was not the weak one. No, not Wilder Rawls! So, he let himself be seen. But what should have been a formidable warning to Dash seemed to mean nothing. In fact, Dashel didn’t even notice him. Tony had glared at him with reproach, dislike, and disapproval. Wilder’s face resumed its handsome and docile camouflage, but behind his eyes was a seething animal.
As Tony and Dash made their way up to the tree where Sarah and Ashley waited, Wilder again felt the uncontrollable urge to cause harm. A chord of malice struck inside his soul, hate that could crack open the earth and drain the river. Unlike his assault on Dr. True, this time fury was behind his action. He had evidence and reason. He knew who he hated. And why.
He slowly reached down and grabbed a heap of hard-packed snow with both hands. The four cheery comrades talked and laughed beneath the twisting limbs of the old tree. It stood above them like a mother, a protector with ancient, crooked arms. Wilder stood erect and focused on Dash. Heat was welling inside of him. I will hit my target this time.
And then, in a dreamlike second, it was all over. The compacted snow hit Dash directly in the stomach. The ball was packed so tight, it stayed whole as it fell to the ground. Dash doubled over in twisted, excruciating pain.
Wilder felt the power again return to him, that surge of rushing blood. Ashley and Tony jumped to Dashel’s aid. Sarah glanced in Wilder’s direction as he turned and walked away.
Wilder smiled as he heard Dash’s groans of pain behind him.
THE WORLD whirled around Sarah. She was drunk on panic and terror as Dash threw up blood onto the pure snow. The redness seeped deep into the inches of melded flakes and ice.
Ashley and Tony each held an arm as they steadied Dash, who rocked and surged violently on his knees with each new wave of pain. So much blood was coming from his mouth, Sarah knew it was not simply from the impact of a hard snowball to the gut. It was what Dash had referred to hesitantly the day before when he had seized up in anguish on the sidewalk.
Sarah’s eyes clouded up, and her hands shook at her sides. Dash had ceased vomiting at last, but he still hung his head over a puddle of red ice and moaned in confused discomfort.
Tony snatched some fresh white snow from the ground. “Here,” he said, feeding it gently to Dash. “You need some water. Take it, Dash.”
Blood and mucous mixed with the snow, creating a gross mixture that strung from Tony’s hands as he withdrew it from Dash’s mouth.
“I’m going to get some help,” Tony said. He wiped his hands with more of the fresh snow and ran to the chapel.
Dashel looked at Sarah with reddened eyes, his face that of a lost and beaten boy. She wanted to cradle him, to explain it all away as a nightmare, but she had the feeling he had known worse.
“Guess there’s no hiding it now, huh?” Dash said, panting. A strand of tinted drool hung from his lower lip.
“Hiding what?” Sarah responded. “That you’re sick? We knew that much yesterday. Why didn’t you tell us before?” She didn’t want to sound confrontational. She was doing her best to calm her voice.
“I’m not just sick,” Dash said, trying to stand. He leaned heavily on Ashley. “I’ve got it, what my father died of. They said I was at risk. Now I got it. I’m going to die. Probably soon.” He smiled. “There’s no way to say that without making it sound like a scene from a Lifetime movie. Where’s the cheesy music score?” he joked.
Sarah stared at him, her mouth agape. A tremor overtook her, as if her joints were breaking. Ashley was at a loss for words, too.
Dash swallowed hard to defend himself against the silence. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’ve come to terms with it.” Still nothing from the other two. The world felt hollowed out and breathless. Finally, Sarah put her arm through his. There they were. Ashley, Dashel, and Sarah, arm in arm in arm. Sarah held tight to him as they moved slowly along the path up to the chapel. Dashel’s legs shook with uncontrollable spasms.
“Come on,” Sarah urged gently, trying with all her intensity and magic to project more strength on to him. She was now beginning to tremble so ferociously that Dashel regarded her with some concern.
“How is it?” Ashley asked. “I mean, is it this bad all the time? Has it been like this for long?” He looked at the ground before him, unwilling yet to understand what he had been told.
“No,” Dash said, his breath struggling to carry the words out of his mouth. “Not long. Most days were fine up until a few weeks ago. Most days were ordinary days. They were labeled so clearly they could be packaged and shipped.” The attempt at levity elicited no reaction from his friends. “But then one day, I felt the pain for the first time,” he continued. “I finally understood my father’s face as he died. He had this awful grimace. This look of grief and agony.”
Ashley tightened his grip and inhaled deeply. Sarah made a slight whimper. Tears were forming in her eyes.
“The days with the pain are specific. You can’t miss them or forget them.”
They walked on. Slowly. Barely gaining any ground at all. “There’s only one comfort on these days. It’s maudlin, but on days with the pain, I have to remind myself that one day I will die, and it will all be over. No more days, ordinary or specific.”
“Dash, no!” Sarah whispered.
“Don’t cry, Sarah,” Dash pleaded as he watched a tear trickle down her cheek.
They crossed the cold bluff in a profound silence, as if everything were listening, taking in Dashel’s words so they might be repeated at some later date.
“It was a fun day. I mean, overall,” Ashley managed as he swallowed.
“It really was,” Dash said. “I don’t think I’ve ever laughed that hard.”
Sarah tried to calm her emotions and agree with the assessment. She noticed he was still having difficulty breathing.
Tony came running back to them with Dr. True in tow. The football player paused and waited every so often for the chaplain to catch up.
“We’ve called for an ambulance,” Tony reported as he and Dr. True arrived. “They’ll be here soon. Just let him rest.” The sounds of the snowball war could still be heard in the distance. On the quad, cheer still held sway.
“I’m fine,” Dash objected. “It’s something I have to deal with. It would have happened sometime today anyway. Even if I hadn’t been hit by that snowball.”
“Still,” Sarah said, as she and Ashley helped lower Dash onto a stone seat. “We’ll wait.” She wiped some spittle from Dash’s cheek.
“Oh dear,” Dr. True said as he saw the bloodied snow in the near distance. He put his hand on Dashel’s shoulder and waited with them for the ambulance. “Just hold tight,” he said.
THE AMBULANCE came soon, blaring through snow-covered streets. Dash was loaded in and accompanied by Dr. True. Onlookers flooded onto the Point from the campus community. The violence had put an end to the war.
The roads were impassable except for emergency vehicles, so Sarah and Ashley had to remain behind.
“We’ll call the hospital tonight and get him on the phone,” Ashley said.
Sarah watched, trying to focus on anything but the look of peaceful resignation on Dash’s face. “He wants to die,” she said under sob-
laden breath, letting the sudden chill wind carry her words down into the valley. The fact that Dash looked peaceful and content was disheartening.
Why is he ready to give in and let some disease take over? Why not fight? Surely something else can be done. Something to keep him here….
Ashley took Sarah by the arm, and they walked up and around the quad. The news of the bloody snow had reached its way around the breadth and width of the small campus. It seemed everyone was watching as the ambulance tried its best to make a speedy exit from the college.
The crowd dispersed soon enough, and Sarah and Ashley were the only ones left in the area. They didn’t speak. Not even the obligatory rumbling about the rubbernecking of the college students. They walked instead in silence and snow, each difficult to wade through.
Sarah was still shaking uncontrollably as she thought of the blood mixing in the snow, how the colors were so bright. White and red. The clean slate of icy morning snow marred by a dagger. A lusty, bloody dagger. But it was Dash’s blood, so it was as pure as the snow. Just as clean, only a different color. Red and white. Clean slate and bloodred lusting life.
As they approached the chapel, something flashed past the corner of Sarah’s eye. A familiar form stood by a window in the chapel for a second. A heinous figure. A villain. Did it see me? Did Ashley see it? Without looking again to confirm her suspicion, she put together a great sphere of snow, packing it with ice and pebbles and twigs.
“What’s wrong? What are you doing?” Ashley asked, confused.
Sarah stood up and, with the form of a pitcher at the mound, wound the ice ball up so hard, the delivery was sure to hit the mark. As she threw it, she realized there had been no form there. It had been an illusion. A trick played by her grievous mind and the gleam of snow and sunlight on the glass. The ice ball sped through the air and struck the window of the chapel. The glass fragmented into a thousand lovely shards, some of which knifed into the snow below. Sarah stood shocked, the pricking of wrongfulness inching up her spine.