Authors: Bret Tallent
Teeter, BANG!
But it wasn't
tricks that were rocking the Jeep. And somehow, Marty knew that it wasn't men
either.
What seemed like
an hour to Marty was in fact a couple of seconds. The Jeep reached the point
of no return and landed on its right side. As it hit, the windshield burst
inward spraying a profusion of tiny glass particles that winked and sparkled in
the reflected light from the snow bank, showering Taylor. He shut his eyes
tight just in time to avoid any of the glimmering shards.
Their skis and
other equipment became dislodged and fell towards Taylor. A ski edge hit him
in the head and a thin line of red began to appear across his forehead above
the left eye. Taylor's world faded, and then went completely dark. A piercing
draft rushed in the opening and stung Marty's face and hands. But he was as
oblivious to it as Taylor, who was now unconscious. Martin Mayher was
terrified.
He looked down at
the passenger seat and noticed that his gun had become dislodged from beneath
it, where he always kept it. He called for Taylor to hand it to him but there
was no reply. Taylor did not move at all. He simply lay there on his side
against the passenger door of the Jeep, blood trickling down his forehead to
drip onto the window against the ground.
"Not dead,
certainly not dead?" Marty prayed. He was stunned for an instant at this
picture then remembered the gun.
Marty released his
seatbelt and fell hard onto Taylor. The gearshift and a ski dug into his thigh
and caused sparks of pain to shoot up his leg into his groin. He gritted his
teeth and grabbed the gun. He knew the clip was in it, that was how he carried
it. He picked it up and turned so that his back was against Taylor's shoulder
and he was facing the driver side door. He was just about to pull back the
slide to load a shell into the chamber when the door was ripped off its hinges
and disappeared into the night. Looking up at the opening, all he could see
were the stars, and the blackness.
The cruel wind
bellowed through the windshield and out the hole where the door had been.
Taylor came around to what he thought was the shriek of the wind. He quickly
realized that it was a scream. A scream unlike any he had ever heard before.
It started off loud, gurgled, then stopped abruptly as though it had been
caught in someone's throat. It was a scream of pure horror, a blood-chilling
cry that would have given him nightmares, had he lived to have any.
***
Nick Boscoe kept
glancing into the rear-view mirror, he had lost them again. It wasn't as if he
was trying to lose them, they just couldn't keep up. That old Jeep was useless
in this packed snow, he decided. He had lost sight of Marty's headlights a few
miles back but had continued on. They were all beat and wanted to get to the
cabin. Nick knew that Marty and Taylor both knew how to get to the cabin, so
Nick had decided to push on and wait for them there.
Nick was
thoroughly pleased with his car. This was the first time he had taken it in
this type of weather and it was performing well. The all-wheel drive made all
the difference, that and its low center of gravity. He could actually go
fairly quickly on these roads, as long as he didn't make any sudden moves.
Of course he
wasn't going as fast as he had this morning on the way to the ski basin. That
blowing snow was making it difficult to see and several large drifts had crept
out into their path. But, he was still going considerably faster than Marty.
He plowed through the drifting snow and felt it tug at the car, as though he
were being slowly pulled toward a hungry maw. It was as if the snow were some
leviathan creature trying desperately to grab and hold them before they could
pass. Its tendrils outstretched on the highway to catch unwary travelers.
Nick turned up the
stereo so that he could hear here above the wind and road noise. There was
only one station they were able to get up here, and it was some old ‘80s crap.
But, as his CD player was broken and his mp3 player had died earlier today, it
was better than nothing. The station was playing a block of songs from some
guy named John Mellencamp. Not half bad Nick thought. As Johnny was crooning
out, ". . . blood on the scarecrow . . .," Nick turned to glance at
Mike and Sarah. Neither of them stirred. Mike was asleep in the front seat
and Sarah was stretched out across the two semi-bucket seats in the back. Nick
turned back to the road. Obviously the music wasn't too loud for either of
them. However, Nick needed it to help him stay awake.
As he drove,
fatigue, and the night, and the music pulled together to make his mind drift.
His body was soon on auto-pilot and his brain was in the past. Somewhere off
in the distance he could hear a faint melody. Ole Johnny was saying it was a
lonely old night, and Nick had to agree with him. Although he was in Colorado,
his thoughts were back in Albuquerque. His thoughts were of his fiancée,
Debbie.
Nick stared
blankly out the window at the road as it unfolded before him, its textures
incongruent impressions on his mind. Its grain and web melded to form a face
that the part of our brain that is creativity and imagination held on to. His
right side brain pulled in the image and gave it depth and reality. Nick's
left side brain then concentrated on driving and allowed his right side to
wander with that picture.
Debbie was a siren
beckoning him, calling him back to relive the night before he left for this
trip. He missed her. His heart and his mind longed for her, longed to relive
any moment with her from the past, longed to be with her tonight. Nick
adjusted slightly in his seat, but he wasn't really there. He had already
transgressed to a point in time that his right side had chosen.
***
Debbie sat on the
unmade bed, its linens askew and rumpled. Her big brown eyes were full of hurt
as they followed Nick around the room. She couldn't believe he was going away
for two weeks and hadn't even invited her. Deep inside she was actually
seething, "How could he be so inconsiderate?" She loved him, but
sometimes he could be such an asshole.
Her aquiline
features were hard as she watched him move about the room in search of his ski
apparel. Her rectangular glasses sat large on her narrow face and emphasized
her eyes, adding to their puppy dog quality. But, they did not take away from
her anger. Her full lips were pulled tight and held close together in a thin
flat line. Behind those red lips were clenched teeth, as she studied him and
contemplated her next words.
She could see that
Nick was avoiding her and that made her all the angrier. He just kept looking
for his damned ski stuff. But she caught him catching a glimpse of her now and
then and she would just give him a steely eyed glance. She fully intended to
let him know that she was hurt. She was hurt and angry. They had been over
this several times before, but she decided that they needed to go over it one
last time. She wasn't about to let him off that easy.
"I feel like
you're going up there just to get away from me Nick. I feel that you just
don't want me around and it hurts!" Tears had welled up in her eyes but
she fought them back, her sharp features softening.
Nick stopped in
mid step and looked up to her, his heart melting. "I'm sorry honey, but
you have to understand . . .” Nick looked puzzled, trying to decide how to
proceed. It had hurt him to see her upset like this, and he nearly didn’t go.
At the last minute she had convinced him that he had to. Mike had come all the
way from California to go with them, and Marty and Taylor were his friends, not
Sarah's. They'd fought about it for three days. Even Nick's mother had chewed
him out for not inviting her.
"Listen,
Debbie. I didn't invite you because you don't ski, and we're limited on
space," he added, "before we decided to take two vehicles, that
is." He continued, "I just didn't think that you would have much fun
sitting around the cabin alone." He had walked over to her now, his head
low, and touched her leg lightly with his hand.
She looked up at
him with moist eyes, "I told you, I don't mind! I could read." She
paused for a moment then added aggrieved, "Besides, your aunt and uncle
are going to be there."
"I didn't
know that until yesterday!" Nick snapped. "Up until then it was just
going to be my cousin, Bryan." His face flushed a quick red then returned
to normal. He sighed heavily, then moderated his tone, "Anyway, part of
it is that I wanted to be alone." He considered for a moment then
continued.
"Debbie,
we're getting married in a few months and this looks like the last big fling
with the guys for me. You have to understand that," his eyes and his tone
pleading now, "this will probably be the last time that I'll get to do
this sort of thing with my buddies. I need it." He looked at her and
could see that what he was saying was registering, but that didn't ease much.
Nick continued,
"Sarah's going because she set the whole trip up with Bryan, she's on
better terms with him than I am. Then Uncle Bud and Aunt Ruth decided to come
too, I couldn't predict that." Still, there was hurt in Debbie's face,
but much of its hardness was gone. "By the time all of this had taken
place it was too late for you to get time off from the Day Care Center, so I
just didn't invite you altogether. I'm sorry." It was heartfelt and
Debbie could read it in Nick's face.
Debbie thought for
a moment then placed her hand over his on her leg. "I understand,"
she sighed, then squeezed his hand.
Nick sat down
beside her and brushed her long black hair away from her cheek and shoulder.
"I'm sorry," he said again, then kissed her lightly on the cheek.
"I love you."
"I love you
too," she replied, then turned to regard him. She loved looking at him;
everything about Nick was sensual to her. His long face and square jaw
reminded her of someone she couldn’t quite place. He even had the same cute
cleft in his chin. Dudley Dooright! That's who he reminded her of and she
smiled at the image. His hair was a dishwater blonde color with nearly
platinum blonde tufts at the temples. His eyebrows were soft and well-formed
arches above hazel eyes and she gently traced them with her fingers.
Nick looked long
and hard at Debbie. "I love you," he said again, softly. He then
climbed off the bed and made his way to the shower. Debbie followed close
behind. They washed each other in the warm pelting spray and kissed. As they
were toweling, they heard Marty and Taylor in the other room. Nick and Debbie
dressed quickly and walked out to join them.
Marty had
continued on into the kitchen but Taylor remained in the living room to meet
them. Taylor looked at the couple; hair still wet, and gave them a devious
smile and a wink. "Looks like you two have been doin' the
nasty
,"
he said to Nick. Debbie blushed then looked away. Nick only gave him a sly
smile. Then Taylor turned and started toward his bedroom at the back of the
house that he, Marty, and Nick all shared.
"What's the
plan tonight?" Nick called after him.
"Mike's
getting his sister to drop him off here and then we were going to meet Amy and
a couple of Mo's friends at the Cooperage to go dancing!" Taylor replied
from the back of the house.
Marty walked out
of the kitchen then into the hallway that lay between Nick's and Taylor's
rooms. "Yeah, Caroline and Jennifer are going to be there. The Mutz are
playin'." As if that was all the explanation necessary. Actually, it
was. The Mutz were a local group that always drew a great female crowd and
they were a lot of fun to dance to.
Marty had come up
to where Nick and Debbie stood and stopped. He was as tall as Nick, but
huskier. Both were six foot four with very broad shoulders, but Marty was more
athletic than Nick and it showed. His hair was brown tangled curls that
covered his ears and forehead, and forever looked to be in need of combing. He
wore thick rectangular glasses with rounded corners that really didn't compliment
his face very well. But, Nick had never seen him any other way.
Nick had known
Marty on and off for about four years. He met him through Taylor and Mike, and
they all got along well. Then, when Mike took the job at Google, he had asked
Marty to take over Mike's portion of the lease they had all signed on the
house. Marty looked like the typical little boy lost. Which explained all the
girls, Nick thought. He certainly wasn't mister handsome, but he was funny.
In fact, all of Nick’s friends were funny. That was what held them together,
their combined senses of humor.
"The Mutz,
huh? Sounds like a blast dude. I'm hangin' for it man." Nick did his
best California Surfer imitation, complete with facial expressions and tonal
inflections. This routine was something he had done with Mike, but Mike’s role
had mysteriously been taken over by Marty.
Marty replied,
"Awright! It'll be a totally bitchin' time dude! Mega babes, tasty
tunes, and some jammin' drinkin'!" His California was somewhat better
than Nick's but neither one cared. They just did a high five and walked fully
into the living room to join Debbie. She only shook her head in mock disgust.
From the back of
the house they heard Taylor, "Man! You guys need a new routine, that
one’s old!" Then he too emerged from the hallway and stood in the doorway
to the living room. Taylor was about five foot eight with a real blocky build
and broad shoulders. His hair was jet black and curly, and he reminded you of
a young Adam Sandler. Taylor was Jewish and very much looked it, with the
classic nose and facial features.
He stood there
with no shirt on, drinking a protein shake. He pulled it away and was left
with a white mustache above his five o’clock shadow. Taylor was very hirsute
and had a difficult time keeping up with it. His face seemed to break out
daily, his skin sensitive to the razor. Debbie only glanced at him then looked
away. She thought that all of that hair was a little repulsive. She looked
back at Nick and smiled, although he didn't see it.