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THE BEST FRIEND
Then
Maire’s feet slipped on the slick ice and she went down hard, ripping the knee of her jeans, but Samuel was right there and yanked her back to her feet. “Keep going,” he huffed.
The man they had run off the road was coming after them. But how? He had died right in front of them, but somehow he had gotten to his feet and was coming after them with a pipe. She had been so stupid, so reckless dragging Samuel into the middle of the road and waiting for an unsuspecting car. She was trying to show off, trying to prove to Samuel that she knew how to have fun.
If they kept going, maybe they could outrun him and he’d give up. Maire clutched more tightly to Samuel’s hand. She had lost her mittens along the way and the weight from Damon’s flask was gone, but she didn’t care. They needed to keep running. The stars above were quickly being overtaken by snow clouds, snuffing out the little light they had. She felt the ice below her feet creak and moan. Would it hold them? They were nearing the middle of the lake and the water beneath the ice had to be at least thirty feet deep and bitterly cold. They had to keep running and get to the other side and up to the bonfire where the others were. The cold air burned her lungs and her legs felt like concrete. Was the man still behind them?
“I can’t,” Maire gasped. “I can’t.” She slowed, half expecting the man to strike her in the back of the head with the pipe. She needed to try to reason with him, beg for forgiveness. “You go ahead,” she told Samuel. “Keep going.”
Samuel slowed right along with her. “I’m not leaving you,” he said.
Maire dared a glance over her shoulder and nearly stumbled. The man was gaining on them. Samuel grasped her hand, urging her forward, but it was no use. He was going to catch them.
“I’m sorry,” Maire said, coming to an abrupt stop and turning to face their pursuer. “We didn’t mean it.” Cold air whistled through Maire’s chest as she bent forward, hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath, struggling to speak. “It was an accident.”
In front of her the shadowy figure slowed to a jog and as he came closer Maire registered that something wasn’t quite right. The man from the wrecked car was broad-chested. The one in front of her was taller, leaner, and wore a stocking cap.
It was Damon, breathing hard, eyes wide. “What the hell?” he gasped. Maire could smell the alcohol on his breath. “You thought no one would find out?”
“No,” Samuel said, weakly. “It wasn’t like that.”
“I saw you,” Damon said with disgust. His gaze flicked between Samuel and Maire. “You are so dead.”
“It was an accident, Damon, we didn’t mean for it to happen,” Maire began. “We tried...”
“Accident?” Damon repeated in disbelief. “You call that an accident? Lina won’t believe this. I’m going to tell.”
Damon would go to the police; they would be arrested. Samuel would never get into law school; Maire would never get into art school. Their lives were ruined. But they had killed a man. They were going to get what they deserved.
“No, no, no,” Samuel said in a rush, hands up in supplication. “Just wait. We can explain. We were just playing around. Things got out of hand and he crashed. We were going to get help, but it was too late. He was already dead.”
Damon looked back and forth between Maire and Samuel, his forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Dead?” he repeated. “Who’s dead?”
Maire’s head was spinning. Damon hadn’t seen the crash and what caused it? Hadn’t seen the man stumble from the wreckage and collapse? Then what was he going on about and what had he seen?
“You’re telling me there’s a dead body back there?” Damon asked, turning to look back across the lake. “You fucking killed a man? I thought you were just screwing around on Lina.”
But she could see the fear on Samuel’s face, the realization that Damon hadn’t seen anything and they had just told on themselves. They’d been caught.
“Shh,” Samuel said, sharply. “Listen.”
Maire cocked her ear, but all she could hear was the wind. A soft snow started to fall, drifting down in lazy circles.
Then Samuel’s face shifted from fear to panic. “Hold still,” Samuel said, grabbing her hand. “Don’t move.”
Damon was still prattling on. “How the mighty have fallen. Wait until everyone finds out you two killed a guy.”
“Shut up,” Maire cried and gave Damon a shove. He stumbled back a few steps, his arms windmilling. When he regained his balance, he still had that smug, hateful look on his face.
“Ouch, Maire,” he said, rubbing his shoulder. “I think you can add assault to cheating and murder on your list of fuckups for tonight.”
“Be quiet,” Samuel ordered, his voice low, frightened. “Something is happening.”
Then she heard it. A mournful moan beneath their feet. Spidery cracks shot out toward them and then Damon was gone, dropping into the lake with only the slightest of splashes. It was as if a trapdoor had opened. He just disappeared.
Maire looked down into the jagged black hole, hoping to see Damon’s gloved hand reach up or the top of his burgundy Tanglefoot stocking cap, but there was nothing. He was just gone.
