by G Sauvé
She frowns.
“Is that it?”
I nod. “It’s more fun than it sounds, especially when you’re a big group of people. You create teams and strategize how to defeat the others. You—”
I’m interrupted by a snowball to the face. Part of it enters my mouth. Some flies past my eyes, barely missing them. A few flakes even make it into my nose. In other words, it was a perfect strike.
“Not bad,” I say, “but—”
I’m cut off by a projectile to the stomach. It doesn’t hurt, but I play along and double over, groaning in imagined pain.
“Are you all right?” asks Kara, rushing to my side.
I continue playing the wounded card until she’s within reach. Grabbing her arm, I pull her forward and trip her with my leg. I then roll away and prepare another snowball.
“I’m fine,” I say as she pries herself off the frozen ground, face covered in snow. “Snowball fights are like war. All is permitted.”
At first, she seems upset, but then she starts laughing, and I know she has embraced the true nature of winter sports.
“You’ll regret doing that,” she threatens jokingly.
“We’ll see,” I shoot back.
I throw my snowball, but she dodges it with ease and retaliates with one of her own. I don’t know where it came from, and I don’t care. I dive out of the way, only barely avoiding a direct hit.
I scramble to my feet and face my opponent. We’re both unarmed, but that doesn’t make the standoff any less intense. We circle each other, retreating ever so slowly until we’re far enough to safely drop to the ground and build snowballs. My technique is better, but Kara’s years of combat training makes her more agile. In the time it takes me to build one, she has time to create two. Soon, a heap of snow spheres stands before her, ready for use. Mine is smaller, but the balls are perfectly round and will fly straight and true. In the end, that one detail may mean the difference between success and defeat.
Now both armed, Kara and I circle each other. I feign a few times, but she remains unfazed. She stands her ground, waiting for me to make my move. When I do, she reacts with lightning-quick speed. Throwing a projectile of her own, she knocks my snowball out of the air and throws a second one straight at my head. I dodge it but don’t see the next one coming and eat it right in the face. Destabilized, I topple backward. No doubt thinking I’m faking once more, Kara springs forward and pummels me with snowballs. I try to defend myself, but it soon becomes clear that won’t be possible, so I curl into a ball and wait for the pounding to stop.
It takes a while, but Kara finally runs out of ammunition. Taking advantage of this, I leap to my feet and tackle her to the ground. She sinks into the snow until all that remains of her is her face. I could easily bury her, but the sight of her lips distracts me. Forgetting all about the battle, I lean in and kiss her.
Our lips melt and become one. For a brief moment, the world fades away, and Kara and I are all that remain. But then my former girlfriend’s lips stiffen, and I know the magical moment has come to an end. The next thing I know, I’m flat on my back, staring up at Kara’s angry face.
“Why would you do that?” she snaps. “You know we can’t be together.”
Shame washes over me. I want to apologize, but my friend retreats before I can. All that remains is the sky, and the large astral body I have up until now failed to take into account.
Nibiru.
It hovers high in the sky, so massive it seems to fill the entire heavens. It glows softly, its red tint turning the nearby sky a beautiful shade of purple. It’s so beautiful I can’t seem to look away. I just stare at it, unblinking.
It’s hard to believe such a stunning celestial body could be the cause of so much misery. While Avalon is directly responsible for all that has happened, none of it would have been possible without the red planet. Because of it, we were unwittingly tricked into altering the past. Because of it, an entire generation of humans has been enslaved. Because of it, I’m trapped in the past, unable to return home.
I stare at Nibiru for a while before remembering I owe my friend an apology. Tearing my gaze from the red planet, I focus on Kara. She stands a dozen metres away, staring at the mouth of the tunnel from which we emerged. I don’t understand why until I notice the two tall humanoids standing within it.
Sentinels.
Memory 45
S entinels. They stand before us, dark and ominous. Their chests glow. Their eyes radiate yellow light. Their outstretched arms are tipped with glowing palms. I watch the expanding spheres with a growing sense of unease.
“Should we run?” I ask.
Kara shakes her head.
“Not yet.”
My focus returns to the glowing orbs. It’s only a matter of time before they are released.
“When?” I ask.
My friend doesn’t respond. It’s not until four sizzling orbs of energy come flying toward us that she finally speaks.
“Now!” she yells moments before they reach her. She dives out of the way, only barely avoiding the projectiles. The good news is Kara is safe. The bad news is the spheres are now heading right for me.
I react without thinking. I lean back, hoping to perform a Matrix-worthy dodge. While successful, the escape bears no resemblance to the bullet-dodging shots portrayed in the movie. I merely crumble, a pathetic grunt bursting from my mouth.
“Run!” yells Kara.
I look up to find her racing toward me. Skidding to a stop, she offers me a helping hand.
“Hurry!” she urges as she glances at the sentinels. I do the same and realize they’re preparing another assault.
I grab Kara’s hand and let her pull me up. Moments later, we’re speeding through the snow.
The second attack nearly takes us out, but Kara shoves me out of the way just in time. I stumble but remain upright. Pumping my legs, I focus on the path ahead. As we travel, the snow grows fluffier. Each step is more laborious, and our progress quickly slows. At this pace, outdistancing our pursuers will be impossible. Or so I think until I focus on them.
The sentinels advance through the snow. While powerful, their heavy frames make remaining near the surface difficult. Each step they take causes them to sink a little deeper. The farther they travel, the deeper they sink. Soon, their legs vanish completely, leaving only their upper bodies visible.
Escaping them may yet be possible. I wade backward through the powdery snow, keeping my gaze on the sentinels. Every once in a while, a blast of energy speeds toward us, but avoiding the glowing projectiles is easy.
We keep going, leading the sentinels into increasingly fluffy snow. Soon, all that remains of them are heads. Now that we’re safe from the glowing orbs, Kara and I focus our attention on the task at hand. Though easier for us than for the robots, wading through the snow is a slow, tiring process. Within minutes, I’m panting heavily. But still we keep going. And going. And going. By the time the protruding portion of the facility vanishes behind a snow-topped hill, I’m drenched in sweat. My muscle ache from the constant effort, and my breaths resemble the whimpers of a dying animal.
“I think we can stop,” says Kara. “We’re far enough.”
I collapse, my head momentarily vanishing beneath the surface. I welcome the refreshing sensation of the flakes against my skin. It feels heavenly after so much effort, but like all good things, too much of it soon grows tiring. Grunting, I dig myself out of my white coffin and inhale the cold air. It feels refreshing, invigorating.
I glance at Kara, but she remains unaffected by our frenzied escape.
“Are you all right?” I ask.
She nods.
“You?”
I nod.
That’s the extent of our conversation for the next few minutes. We lie there, almost entirely submerged in the vast expands of frozen water crystals, and breathe in the cold air. Slowly, my strength returns. In time, we will have no choice but to return to the facility, but for now, I welcome the t
emporary respite.
I stare at the sky, expecting to find Nibiru, but the red planet is gone, hidden behind a thick layer of clouds. The grey expanse grows quickly. Before long, all traces of blue are gone. All that remains are the clouds. But then it starts to snow, and they too vanish.
“It’s so beautiful,” says Kara, staring at the falling flakes.
She’s right. Watching millions upon millions of frozen water crystals floating down to Earth is a sight so magical it makes most other natural phenomena pale in comparison. I used to take it for granted, but now that I see it through Kara’s eyes, I manage to recapture the magic of my first winter.
We watch in silence, unbothered by the cold. But as time stretches on, it begins to seep into my body. My sweat-drenched clothes turn against me and cease to expel the cold. I start to shiver, but I ignore it. Returning to the facility isn’t an option. At least not for a while. Once a few hours have passed, we can venture back to the abandoned housing structure. Until then, it’s in my best interest to do whatever I can to distract myself from the cold.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“Why?”
“For kissing you.”
A heavy silence settles between us.
“I forgive you.”
Another silence.
“It’s not easy for me either,” says Kara.
“I know.”
“I just couldn’t forgive myself if something happened to you.”
“Me either.”
“So, we’re in agreement? We can’t be together until Avalon is stopped.”
The last thing I want is to agree, but I know from experience nothing short of a dramatic event will change my friend’s mind.
“Yes,” I say. “We’re in agreement.”
Silence returns and persists as the snowstorm intensifies. Before long, I’m cocooned in a thick blanket of snow. While insulating, the flakes will make finding our way back difficult.
“We should go,” I say. It’s my first time speaking in nearly an hour, and my voice is hoarse.
“What if the sentinels are still there?”
“We’ll have to risk it,” I say. I sit and look around. The snowstorm is far more intense than I originally thought. In fact, it can no longer be categorized as a storm.
It’s a blizzard.
Gusts of wind pick up entire snowbanks and carry them vast distances before allowing them to return to Earth. Flakes of varying shapes and sizes fill the air, making it impossible for me to make out the nearby facility. I can barely see my own hands. But it’s not until I notice the thick layer of snow that has fallen that I realize how precarious our situation has become.
Our tracks are gone. We’re stranded.
Memory 46
W hat’s wrong?” asks Kara. I don’t know how she can see my worried expression through the blizzard, but it doesn’t matter.
“We have a problem,” I say, but the wind steals my words, and I’m forced to repeat them.
“What problem?” asks Kara, yelling to be heard over the howling wind.
“If we move, we risk getting lost.”
There’s a moment of silence.
“What can we do?”
“We stay put. Wait for the storm to die down, then head back to the facility.”
“What if it doesn’t stop?” asks Kara.
“It will. It has to.”
Kara nods. We turn our backs to the wind and settle in for what could prove to be a very long wait. The snow keeps us warm, but the wind seeps into our clothes, causing us to shiver. At least, I shudder. Kara seems unaffected by the cold. Still, she agrees to cuddle to converse what little body heat we retain.
Hours pass, and the blizzard persists. Snow gathers around us, giving the impression we’re sinking. I lose track of time. Instead of hours and minutes, I now calculate the passing of time using the various body parts that get entombed. Feet. Shins. Knees. I lose track for a while, but start counting again when the snow coffin reaches my shoulders. By then, it has become clear the blizzard won’t let up. To make things worse, the ambient light has started to decrease, indicating the day is coming to a close.
“We can’t stay here,” I announce.
“Why not?”
“It’s getting dark,” I explain. I hesitate for a moment before adding, “I doubt we can survive the night out here.”
My friend says nothing, but I can tell she’s concerned.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “The facility isn’t far.”
I stand, and the snow that has up until now encased my frame falls away. The wind slams into me with such force I nearly topple. It seeps into my clothes and assaults my bare skin. Goosebumps appear across my entire dermis. I begin shivering, each muscle spasm a miniature form of torture. My teeth chatter, making it difficult for me to speak.
“T-take my h-hand,” I stutter. I grab Kara’s gloved hand and help her to her feet. She doesn’t seem inconvenienced by the cold, but I can tell by her narrowed eyes and wrinkled nose that she isn’t enjoying herself.
“I changed my mind,” she says. “I don’t like snow.”
I chuckle, but the joyful outburst is momentary. Once I’m back to my shivering self, I scan my surroundings, using my free hand to shield my eyes from the vicious wind. The blizzard rages with such intensity that determining the proper direction to take is impossible. Given what I remember of our journey, I can guestimate the approximate direction to take, but that’s about it.
“I t-think it’s t-this way,” I say, pointing ahead.
“Are you sure?” asks Kara. She isn’t shivering, but her words appear to be toppling from her lips with diminished celerity. I guess she isn’t impervious to cold after all.
“No,” I admit, “but we c-can’t stay h-here. We will f-freeze to d-death.”
Kara nods.
“I trust you.”
Her faith should fill me with pride, but the truth is all I feel is guilt. If I’m off by more than a few degrees, we will miss our destination. If that happens, finding shelter in time to survive the night will be impossible, and we will freeze to death. But the alternative isn’t better. By staying here, we’re guaranteeing our demise. If we venture into the storm, we at least increase our odds of survival. Still, it’s with a sense of dread that I lead my friend through the blizzard.
The snow is deep, and each step is a struggle. The wind bites at our faces, making it impossible for us to see. Hundreds of miniature cuts appear across our exposed skin, courtesy of the snowflakes that speed past us in their hurry to get to their destination. But I can’t blame them. Like us, they are at the mercy of the wind.
Our progress is slow, but the mere act of moving warms us. My once stiff muscles have loosened. The produced heat spreads through me, repelling the cold that once gripped me. I continue to shiver, but it no longer bothers me. Just like I fail to care about the lack of sensation in my face. The cold has numbed my nerve endings, and I refuse to even take into account the potential damage currently being dealt to my exposed skin.
We advance through the blizzard for what feels like an eternity. Kara’s movements grow sluggish. Her words are now so slurred I can barely understand her. I’m worried she’s dying, but there’s nothing I can do for her. Stopping will guarantee our demise. But what’s the point of continuing? We should have reached our destination by now. The fact that we haven’t indicates I was off in my calculations. Continuing will only take us farther from the facility. But what if I’m wrong? What if we haven’t progressed as far as I think? What if our destination is just ahead? Continuing seems like the only logical approach. Not to mention the fact that admitting defeat will sap what little strength Kara has left. I have been supporting her for the past few minutes, and each step she takes is more sluggish.
We keep going. And going. And going. Finally, denying the reality of the situation becomes impossible.
We’re lost.
Accepting it drains what little energy I have left, and I crumble, taking
Kara down with me.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, her words so slurred I can barely understand her.
I hesitate for a moment before answering.
“We’re lost.” I’m no longer stuttering, though I can’t tell whether that’s a good or a bad thing. “We can either stay here and pray the storm passes, or we can keep going and hope we stumble across some sort of shelter.”
“We can’t stay here,” says Kara. At least, I think that’s what she says, but her speech is so garbled I only hear fragments.
“Okay,” I say. “We’ll take a short break, then we’ll keep going.”
Kara shakes her head. She tries to speak, but her words come out as mere mumbles. Annoyed, she grabs my hand and starts tugging on it. I don’t understand what she’s up to until she manages to grab hold of my glove and pulls it off.
The wind bites at my exposed skin, but I can’t even feel it. The cold has seeped into my clothes, and every centimetre of my frame is now numb. But I forget all about that when I notice the ring that encircles my finger.
That’s what Kara was trying to say. We can use the ring. We can reset and escape the blizzard.
Dammit! Why didn’t I think of that?
It doesn’t matter. I remove my other glove and grab hold of the ring. I try twisting the triangles that adorn it, but my fingers are so numb I can’t seem to get a grip. I keep trying until it becomes clear the issue is not my frostbitten fingers. It’s the ring.
It’s frozen.
I persist in my vain attempt at opening a portal, but nothing I do succeeds in warming the ring. In the end, I’m forced to accept the inevitability of our fate.
I collapse. Snow engulfs me, threatening to drown me. I’m tempted to give in to its cold embrace, but the prospect of giving up is too horrible to consider. I put my gloves back on and huddle with Kara. We sit in silence for a while before the cold begins seeping into me again. I start shuddering, and feeling gradually returns to my limbs. And with it pain. My nails feel as though they’re being ripped from my fingers. My muscles throb, and my head pounds.
It’s time to go, I decide. Willing myself to my feet is no easy task, but I eventually manage it. Kara, still as sluggish as before, has trouble standing, but with my help, we resume our journey across the snowy wasteland.