Cold Dead Past (2 page)

He didn’t realize it, but he’d wandered out into a minefield.  Near the edges, where the blank surface of the frozen pond met the dry reeds along the shore, the ice was thick enough to support the weight of a large man or two Tommys.  Near the middle, though, where Gene had firmly posted himself, hands on hips and legs spread in a defiant pose, it was thin.  So thin that it was transparent in the places where the snow had been scrubbed away by the wind.

Six feet past the flags, the ice was sagging under it’s own weight and with every movement the boys made, water bubbled up through small cracks and air holes to form a slick, thin film on the surface.

When Gene saw the mix of fear and uncertainty on Tommy’s face, it was like waving a cape in front of a bull.  He began taunting him.

"C’mon, you big girly.  What are you afraid of," he sneered, as he bounced up and down on the ice.

It squeaked and hissed under his weight as small cracks began to slowly spiderweb out from the center.  There was now a chorus of voices as Frank and Jay joined in with warnings of their own, yelling for Gene to come back from beyond the flags.

"Gene!"

Tommy looked down at his feet.  A crack that pointed at him like an accusing finger began to inch its way from the other side of the warning line.  He backed away as if it were some poisonous snake, but with each jump Gene took on the ice, it struck at him with renewed vigor.

"Gene," he pleaded, "Get back!  The ice is crackin’!"

All this did was cause Gene to become contrary and jump even harder and higher.

"You big sissy.  It’s fine out here.  Look at me!"

And as his full weight came down on the ice one last time, there was a loud report, like the sound a .38 makes as the bullet exits the muzzle headed straight for your heart.

A hush fell.  Gene’s jaw dropped in dumb horror as a semi-circular crack shot from his nine o’clock and made a one-hundred-eighty degree arc between him and the line of warning flags.  It gave out a squeak and he could follow it in the ice as if it were a lit fuze.

"Run, Gene, run," screamed Frank.

It was too late.  With one last groan, the ice settled by what seemed like a foot, tossing Gene to his stomach.  He scrambled to get back onto his feet, but the more he fought, the more the ice sagged beneath him.

All the while, the cold, clear water rose from myriad small holes until it formed a shallow pool.  It was a vicious cycle.  The more water on top of the ice, the more weight, the more Gene scratched at the slippery surface, the faster the water creeped toward him.  It was like one of those carnivorous plants where the more the prey struggled, the faster it was drawn to its death.

Tommy stood shivering in shock.

Jack turned to Frank and Jay and said, "I’m going to the house for help."

"No no no," said Frank. "If we wait for you, he’s gonna be drowned.  We’ve gotta think of something now!  Look at it!"

"Frank!  Help me!  Frank!"

Gene’s shouts started them running, but they were stopped short within just a few feet of him as the edges of the crack began to split apart.  Gene was in the water up to his knees.

"What are we going to do?," asked Jay, turning to Frank.

Frank’s eyes darted back and forth between his brother and the welling crack in the ice.

"I saw something once on TV.  Something about some kid who fell through the ice.  These firemen, like, a human chain.  Somethin’ about spreading your weight out on the ice," he said.

Tommy sobbed.

"I didn’t mean it.  We were jus’ havin’ some fun.  I didn’t mean it when I told him I hoped he’d die."

Frank got down on his belly at the edge of the crack and motioned to Jay.

"Come on.  Grab my ankles and hold on."

Frank began to slowly inch forward as Jay joined him down on the ice.

"Gene," Frank said as he held out his hand, "Grab on, Gene, and we’ll pull you out."

Gene reached as far as he could, but was still almost a foot away from Frank’s straining outstretched fingers.  Even worse, letting loose with his hands caused him to slide further into the freezing water that was now up around his hips and still rising.

 
"I can’t feel my toes!!"

Jay felt the surface undulate beneath him.  When he looked down, nose almost touching the surface, he could see large globules of air rushing past him under the ice.  His knuckles began to turn white as he tried to keep a firm grip on Frank.  Perspiration was pouring from him.  His shirt felt damp and clammy, clinging to his skin.

"We need to get closer.  Loosen up a little so that I can move, will ya?"

Jay released his grip and they shimmied farther out onto the ice.  Frank was now over the line and Jay’s chest rested right at the seam in the ice.  He could feel the sharp, cold edge pressing into him.  Frank’s hands were just inches from Gene’s now.

Frank’s voice cracked nervously.

 
"Just a little bit more, Gene. You can do it.  Grab hold and we’ll pull you out."

Gene’s hands and feet scrabbled on the ice as he fought to gain the extra few inches.  Jay could feel the weight as his hands clasped Frank’s.  Then, he felt himself slide.  Adding Gene’s weight to the chain had tipped the balance and they were in trouble.

 
Jay tilted his head and called to Jack and Tommy, "Help us, you guys!  We’re going in!"

Jack grabbed the still-bawling Tommy by the arm and dragged him over to where the others lay prone on the ice.

"Grab his other leg," Jack commanded, as he grabbed one of Jay’s ankles.  Tommy grabbed hold and they began to pull.  It was hard work on the slick ice, but they made progress.  First Jay’s chest and then his elbows came back on the safe side.

Gene was mumbling "omigod omigod omigod" as if it were his new mantra.

Frank smiled and spoke in a calm, measured voice, "Don’t worry bro’, it’s gonna be okay."

And then it happened.  The weight of so many bodies and the rising surface water were just too much.  The ice collapsed and  Gene was back in it up to his waist.  He began screaming. Frank had to think fast.

"Quick!  Gene!  Pull yourself up over me!"

Gene clawed at Frank’s clothing.  It was slow-going as he crawled out of the freezing water.  His legs burned from the cold and he shivered uncontrollably.

"That’s it.  Keep going."  Frank knew that the only hope was to keep a calm tone.  Gene might panic and they could all be lost.

Jack and Tommy were face down, hanging on to Jay’s ankles for dear life.  In his panic, as he crawled, Gene ground one of Jay’s hands into the ice with his left foot causing him to lose his grip just as Frank’s head went under the water.

The ice whipsawed up, sliding away from Jay, and knocked his other hand loose from Frank’s ankle.  It was as if someone had flipped a silent butler to dump the ashes.  The ice rose up about a foot in front of Jay, almost brushing his nose, as Frank slid head first into the water, his elbows flailing and feet kicking until he disappeared completely beneath the surface.

It was almost majestic, the way the big patch of ice settled slowly back onto the surface of the pond and floated in to close up the opening.  The seam knitted back together almost perfectly and the outline of the crack and a few new, small holes were the only evidence that anything had happened.

Jay’s pounding heart in his ears was deafening in the silence that followed.  He didn’t realize it at the time, but they told him later that he’d clawed at the ice, trying to kick his legs loose as Jack and Tommy pulled him back from the edge of oblivion.

Gene just laid there, exhausted, soaked, and shivering.  Tommy knelt beside him, vigorously rubbing his legs in an attempt to keep him warm.

"Guys," he said. "We need to get him up to the house.  He needs to get warm fast!"

Jay got up on his hands and knees.  Frank was gone.  Swallowed up.  He began frantically crawling across the ice, brushing away snow and slush, looking for any sign of him.

"Jack!  Get over here and help me!"

Jack scrambled to his feet and rushed over to where Jay was searching.  He walked along the edge of the crack, or as near as he dared go.

"Jay!  Over here!  Oh, God!  Here he is!"

As Jay ran to his side, Jack began kicking the ice as hard as he could with the heel of his boot.  Jay looked down.  Directly beneath his feet was Frank.  His eyes were opened wide.  His face was drawn into a tight-lipped grimace.

Little bubbles of air floated from the corners of his mouth and the water around him had taken on a pink tint that Jay didn’t understand until he saw Frank’s hands.  The fingers were bent and the tips of some of them were raw from his attempts to claw his way through the ice.  Jay fell to his knees and began beating the ice with his fists.

Tears stung in the corners of his eyes as a sub-zero breeze whipped up icy granules from the edges of the pond and sent them swirling around him.  Below him, he could see Frank disappearing into muck stirred up from the bottom of the pond.  Jay kept pounding the surface until the sides of his fists had turned bright pink, long minutes after he’d caught his last view of the pleading look that seemed directed particularly at him.

Jack grabbed his arm. "He’s gone.  Gene’s here.  We need to get going."

He nodded, absently, and shifted his moist eyes to where Gene lay motionless on the ice.

"We need to get Gene indoors and call somebody."

Jack walked over to Tommy and Gene. Jay stood glued to the spot for a moment.  He felt a shock down his spine and wanted to throw up.

"Come on," yelled Jack.

As Jay turned to go, he heard a sound like shattering glass.  Hands, the fingers blue and waterlogged, clawed at his legs and clamped onto his ankles like vises.  He screamed, but the others couldn’t hear and kept getting farther away from him, half carrying Gene to the edge of the pond.

He was whipped off his feet and came down hard on his face.  The cold, wet ice numbed his skin as he tried to gain purchase with his fingernails.  The last thing he remembered as he was pulled down into the water was Frank’s voice, gurgling and tinged with bitterness.

"You left me."

Jay let out a howl and sat upright in bed.  His eyes blinked as he adjusted to the dim light coming through the drapes.  He let out a sigh as his body slackened.  Jay’s skin was slick with perspiration and when he ran his tongue along his lips, it tasted salted copper where he’d bitten down hard.

             
                                          CHAPTER 2

The grinding buzz of the alarm clock caused Jay to bite into his lip again.  Out of reflex, he came down hard on it with his fist and yelled, "Son of a bitch!" Pain shot up his arm faster than the realization that he’d driven a piece of cheap Chinese plastic into the side of his hand.

Thin, fresh blood welled up around the plastic and formed into a crimson bead which slowly painted a pinstripe down his wrist.

"Son of a bitch."  This time it wasn’t so much an angry exclamation as an expression of wonderment.

He jumped out of bed and ran for the bathroom, cupping his other hand around the wound in an attempt to stanch the blood and keep it from staining the carpet and sheets.

 
Jay reached the bathroom sink just as the blood started to dribble from between his fingers.  It speckled the sink and bloomed out into irregular stains as he reached over and turned the tap on full.

He picked out the plastic with his fingers and tossed it into the trash.  He had to rummage through the bottles in the medicine cabinet until he found the box of gauze pads and a roll of medical tape he’d bought when he’d first moved into the apartment six months before.

Jay wrapped the tape around his hand a couple of times to hold the gauze tight up against the cut and then tore it with his teeth.  There’d be time to do a neater job later.

The same nightmare every night for two weeks.  He didn’t know why.  He hadn’t thought about that day and what had happened for years.  Then, one night, in the middle of a great dream involving a blonde and a bottle of olive oil, it was like a fog had descended and he was back on the pond.  Over time, the dream had become more vivid and frightening.  It wasn’t just a dream anymore.  It was three-dimensional, HDTV, living color reality.

 
Jay banged his knee on the corner of the coffee table on his way through the living room to the kitchen.  The half dozen beer bottles he knocked over and sent rolling across the table to the floor reminded him how successful the party had been the night before.  Some friends, other people he barely knew who’d attached themselves like barnacles, some people he’d like to get to know more intimately.

When his book hit the best seller list, he’d suddenly become very popular.  By the end of the evening, he had four new phone numbers in his pocket and one offer to do some sexual tricks he he couldn’t picture without a twinge of pain in his lower back.

As Jay looked at the overflowing ashtrays and empty glasses spread all over the room, he made a mental note to hire a housekeeper with the money from his next royalty check.

If there was one.  He’d been waiting for his agent to call about that.  It was amazing how fast money could slip through your fingers.  He’d done without it for years and now that he had a bit of it, he found so many things that were impossible to do without.  The Piaget watch on his wrist.  The new car.  This apartment which cost him three times what any reasonable person would pay.

Money was his new drug of choice and his royalty checks were his fix.  Like any junkie, the further away he was from his last connection, the more his skin crawled.

He shoved aside the dirty glasses on the kitchen counter and pulled a clean plastic cup from an open package next to the sink.  As he ran the water to let it get cold, he dug through a cabinet full of odds and ends looking for a huge bottle of aspirin he’d bought.  Five hundred tablets, cheap, at the warehouse store.  Some habits of poverty died hard.

He found it behind the family-sized garlic powder and the double pack of Oreos.  He popped off the cap one-handed while filling the cup from the sink with the other.

The pain in his hand had been superceded by a hangover that was a motherfucker.  Just as he the tossed back the aspirin and put the cup of water to his lips, an ice pick of pain jabbed through his temples and ground and twisted into some raw, exposed nerve deep in his brain.