“Fast enough for ya, little bro? Woohoo!”
Kenny answered by tightening his grip around his brother’s waist. Despite what Robert thought, Kenny knew they were going too fast, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him from whooping it up along with his brother. Today was not the day to be scared of going too fast. Black branches whizzing by—coming perilously close to knocking Kenny’s noggin off—and cold excitement rushing through the veins in his slight body, this was the most fun he’d had with his older brother in a long time. He couldn’t believe that Robert had asked him to go out on the sled this morning. Ever since Robert had declared to the family he wanted to be called Robert instead of Bobby, his brother hadn’t spent much time with him, as if he’d come down with a contagious disease.
I’m a senior this year, Kenny. An upperclassman. Sports rallies to go to, girls to see, stuff to do. Can’t spend all my time hangin’ ‘round the house with my little brother. Know what I mean, little man?
Yeah, Kenny knew what he meant all right. Just because he was ten—soon to be eleven, though!—and small for his age, didn’t mean he was stupid. The little man got it loud and clear.
But today was different. Kenny didn’t know what had gotten into Robert this morning. Maybe it was because it was the first day of winter vacation, or that the folks were gone, or that the planets were in a special alignment that happened once every seventy-six years like Halley’s Comet. Whatever the reason, Kenny didn’t care. Robert had invited him out on the sled and here they were, just the two of them. None of Robert’s friends were around to mess things up, like that jerk Bud Hayworth who mercilessly picked on Kenny while Robert did nothing but laugh and tell Kenny to just shrug it off, or that stuck-up Corina Mueller who ignored him and draped herself all over Robert like a wet blanket whenever she could. Just the two of them, and Kenny was bursting with joy. The folks had been gone since late last night due to a family emergency in New Hampshire and were not coming back until tomorrow morning, so Kenny was going to suck all the marrow he could out of this day with Robert.
Which meant he would not allow himself to be afraid at how fast they were going. Or at the prospect of their father finding out they took the snowmobile without asking permission.
Never mind about that stuff, Kenny chided himself. Just have fun you big scaredy-cat!
Although, they should at least slow down a bit so as not to run the sled too hard and break something. That would be safer for the Cat, if they went a bit slower. It would also be safer for Kenny. He raised a gloved hand and tapped his brother’s shoulder. Robert eased up on the throttle, slowing the machine to a crawl, and twisted his head around to look over his shoulder at Kenny.
His brother yelled above the growl of the Arctic Cat. “What?”
“I think we’re going too fast.” As soon as the words escaped his mouth, Kenny winced, wishing the cold wind rushing past his face would blow the words far away behind them and scatter the letters to the farthest edges of the earth so that his big brother would never hear the cowardly thing he’d just said.
One hand on the throttle, his body twisted around, Robert cocked his head. “What’d you say?”
“Never mind.” Kenny breathed a sigh of relief. Why did he always have to be such a baby about everything? Why couldn’t he enjoy a harmless snowmobile ride without worrying about crashing and getting mangled up against a tree and dying? I think we’re going too fast. Kenny shook his head, disgusted with himself. No wonder Robert didn’t like spending time with him.
Robert turned back to the path ahead of them. He sped up a bit, slowed when they got to a sharp corner, then throttled up, not quite as fast as they had been going, but fast enough that Kenny retightened his grip. Robert made sure Kenny wore a helmet even though Robert himself had bypassed that necessity, but a helmet wouldn’t do Kenny much good if he took a header into a tree or a frozen snowbank. That most definitely would be a major bummer.
Kenny peeked over his brother’s broad shoulder to see where the needle on the speedometer was. No use. Couldn’t see it. Too much jostling and bucking as Robert coaxed the Cat over a bumpy part of the path. Relax kemosabe, he told himself. Stop being such a worrywart.
Robert looked over his shoulder at Kenny. “Hang on!”
Kenny leaned forward into his brother’s back and before he knew it they were not on the snow anymore. They were in the air. The couple seconds stretched into eternity as they sailed through the cold air, and then their bodies crashed into each other as they landed with a bone-shaking CRUNCH! The shocks and springs and skis of the snowmobile screeched under the impact. The treads caught the snow again and spit out a plume of white powder behind them. Kenny started to fall off, grabbed hold of Robert’s arm at the last second, and fought to keep himself on the sled.
“Woohoo!” Robert ill-advisedly took his hand off the snowmobile and pumped his fist in the air. “Yeah! How’s that for a winter rodeo?” Fist still pumping, Robert looked back at Kenny. It must have been the look on Kenny’s face that caused Robert to bring the Cat down to a safer speed. “You still with me, little bro?”
Little bro. Robert was the big guy and Kenny was the little bro. Or little man, depending on Robert’s mood. Good mood, little bro. Bad mood, little man. Funny how one could be taken as the highest of compliments, the other the lowest of insults. Little bro meant that big bro was talkin’ to ya and he was referring to you as his brother, acknowledging the relationship, even owning up to the responsibility of protecting little bro. Not so with little man. It might sound like he was calling Kenny a man, but not so. It was one thing to be a little brother, quite another to be called a little man. I’m a big man, Kenny. You’re just a little man. Which meant Kenny would never grow up to be a big man like his brother. At least, that’s how Kenny took it. So he was small for his age. What was the big deal?
Little man.
But Robert had just called him little bro. Kenny smiled at his big brother. “You ain’t getting rid of me that easy big guy!” Kenny’s voice cracked on the word that, both justifying Robert’s use of ‘little bro’ and betraying Kenny’s true feelings at the moment: that jump had scared the living crap out of him. Going fast was one thing. Getting airborne? That was a whole new ballgame.
Robert glanced back again at Kenny. “Sure about that? You look like you’re about to blow all your cookies and I’m in your direct line of fire.”
Kenny nodded at Robert. “I’m fine.”
Robert turned back to the path. If Robert stayed on this path, which he more than likely would, it would take them to the edge of the forest where it would open up onto Indian Head Lake which was located right smack dab in the middle of Wachusett Community Park, a section of the much larger King Philip State Forest.
Kenny let go of Robert’s waist and adjusted himself into a comfortable position. He stretched his arms, flexed his gloved fingers that were getting cold, and looked up at the clouds and wished for snow. Kenny loved the snow and everything that went with it: building snowmen in the front yard, building snow forts and having snowball fights with Scott, Pudgy, Tammy, and Ben, sledding at the golf course, sweeping out snow angels as the flakes drifted down from heaven and landed around him. Snow was the coolest thing. Pun intended.
Kenny looked straight ahead at the back of Robert’s hooded head. What he would give to switch places with his brother. Treasurer of the senior class (which meant Robert got to handle all the money), straight A student (Kenny would be lucky to pass fifth grade this year), star player on both the basketball and hockey teams, and, most importantly, in good with the girls. Yeah, Robert had it all going for himself. As big a pain-in-the-you-know-what as Robert could be, Kenny still looked up to him. No way would he ever admit that to Robert or anyone else, of course. No sirree.
Robert yelled over his shoulder. “I’m gonna open her up once we hit the lake.”
“OK.”
The lake. Normally the thought of riding over frozen Indian Head Lake would scare the living daylights out of Kenny. Not today. He wasn’t going to let it happen today. Robert knew what he was doing. He wouldn’t drive across the ice if it wasn’t safe. They’d be all right crossing it. It was frozen enough, had been for at least a month. There was nothing to be afraid of.
Kenny lifted his butt off the seat and chanced a glance over his brother’s shoulder. He could see the open space of the lake ahead of them. Up to that point the path was closely lined with tall pine trees, the lower branches having been cut years ago to make a clear path.
Nothing to fear.
But if Kenny was honest with himself, he would admit there was a lot of stuff in this life to fear. Like working in one of the local furniture factories and feeding gigantic pieces of wood into buzzing saw blades, hoping to god you didn’t lose a finger like Scott Boisvert’s dad who now had only seven digits. Or being a cop and working the late shift and pulling that red Corvette over for running a stop sign, only to get shot in the face at point-blank range by one of the local druggies flying high as a kite on LSD, like what happened to the police officer that used to come to Kenny’s school to talk about drugs and making right decisions.
Or watching your Dad cry like a little girl while Uncle Frank’s casket got lowered into the ground last year after losing his battle with the Big C, which was enough to make Kenny wonder if his dad, Uncle Frank’s little bro, also had the Big C hibernating inside his body just waiting for the right time to wake itself up and stake its claim.
There were plenty of things of which to be afraid. Snowmobiling across Indian Head Lake with your older brother should not be one of them.
They were now on the lake and Kenny figured Robert would wait until they were in the middle of it to really open up the Cat. Snow-covered Wachusett Mountain stood tall a couple miles to his left. To his right, Kenny caught a glimpse of something farther out on the ice. He blinked, squinted, and finally realized it was a bunch of ice fishing tip-ups with a couple flags waving, indicating dinner was on the other end of the line. He couldn’t see anyone near the tip-ups or anywhere else on the lake. Oh well. Someone would eventually come around to collect the catch of the day.
“Here we go!” Robert lifted his butt off the seat and opened it up.
Kenny locked his arms around Robert’s waist. Robert sat down, Kenny got a tighter grip, and then they really took off. Kenny felt alive. Free. Fearless. They zoomed across the ice. What a name, Indian Head Lake. Kenny had nightmares about how the lake might have got that name. He shivered in his snowmobile suit just thinking about it.
Kenny straightened, looked up, saw the gray clouds swirling overhead, then lowered his head and looked out at the frozen lake spread before them. Lone Man’s Walk cut into the forest on the other side, beyond that the darkness of The Pines, that part of King Philip State Forest that shrouded the ancient Indian burial ground in solitude and mystery, that part of King Philip State Forest that Kenny and the rest of the Mountain Men Gang (Scott Boisvert, Pudgy Tomlinson, Tammy Hockland, and their newest member Ben McNally) vowed they would never set foot in.
Standing at the entrance to the forest, on either side of Lone Man’s Walk, were two boulders. Next to the rock on the right was the lone sentinel, the monstrous beech tree that generations of Old Wachusett kids grew up calling the Initial Tree. It stood, alone against all the pine trees behind it, the only beech tree in the entire forest, its massive arms spreading out, its thick skeletal fingers extending ever outward and upward, seeking to grasp any wayward birds that might chance to fly within its reach.
Kenny tried to estimate how long it would take before they got to the other side of the lake, but math tended to trip him up whether he was in the classroom or on a snowmobile, so he gave up and figured they’d be there soon enough. It did seem to him, though, that when they reached the other shoreline they were going to hit land at a pretty good clip, provided Robert kept on the gas, which Kenny assumed his brother would do. And Kenny knew that where the frozen lake met the shoreline there would be a slight incline, which meant another chance for the Cat to get airborne.
Kenny tightened his grip around Robert’s waist, making certain his gloved fingers were locked together.
No fear.
Robert turned his head. “What?”
Kenny leaned forward and was about to tell Robert he hadn’t said anything when his brother turned his attention back to the shoreline ahead of them. Then the big guy said something that confused Kenny, something that Kenny would never have figured out even if he’d lived to be a hundred years old.
“OK, little bro. If you say so.”
Robert pumped his fist and belted out another “Woohoo!” He throttled up, pushing the Cat faster, faster than Kenny had ever gone on a snowmobile. Probably faster than he’d ever gone in a car even. Robert let out another war whoop. Kenny held on, screaming at his brother to slow down. Robert either ignored him, or didn’t hear him above the whine of the Cat’s engine. Either way, they weren’t slowing down. If anything, it felt like they were accelerating. Is he aiming for Lone Man’s Walk? Kenny wondered. Why would he do that? What’s he thinking?
“No fear,” Kenny whispered to himself with his head lowered and tucked against his brother’s back. Enjoy the ride, Kenny told himself. Have fun, stop worrying. Big bro’ knows what he’s doing. Stop being a baby for once in your life!
They approached the shoreline. In seconds they were upon it, and then they were sailing through the air, although this time they were not really sailing through it as much as flying through it, going much faster than they had minutes ago when they had got airborne. This time, there were massive, deadly obstacles ahead of them—the two boulders and the Initial Tree. It didn’t matter how tightly Kenny had wrapped his arms around his brother’s waist. He was bucked off the sled and sent somersaulting through the frigid air, his little bro body tumbling and twisting, mimicking his cousin’s Raggedy Ann doll that he used to throw up in the air to tease her when the families got together for reunions, arms and legs spinning and flailing out of control. That’s what Kenny was now—a life-sized Raggedy Ann doll at the mercy of the laws of physics.
Kenny screamed. A moment later, he realized it wasn’t his voice he’d heard.
A blue blur whizzed by him. He glimpsed his brother’s upside down face, an expression of surprise and sudden, terrified recognition pasted onto it. Then came the sounds. The metallic crash and crunch and scrape of the Arctic Cat slamming into something—one of the boulders or the initial tree or a hard-packed snowbank or one of the dozens of pine trees they had been headed toward—something big enough to stop the sled dead in its tracks, followed by the echoing crack of the blue blur hitting a branch, another scream—this time it was Kenny—and finally the sickening thud of the blue blur meeting a solid tree trunk.
Kenny’s body hit something, an immovable object halting his not-so-unstoppable body, knocking the wind out of him. He crumpled to the ground, the hard snow doing nothing to soften the landing. His head throbbed. His vision went haywire with white and gray and black and blue flashing in and out of focus. His head started spinning and his ears started ringing.
Snow started falling.
Kenny heard a rustling, or a muffled flapping, as if someone were waving a big, fluffy quilt above his head.
After that…everything stopped. There was…
…cold silence…
….and a wisp of a thought of what his dad would say.…
…..and stillness…..
……his eyes closing……
…….getting colder…….
……..no fear……..
………silence………
And then there was…
……..darkness……..