Shalini’s hand squeezing mine tight. Her face faded already from cold, turned ashen, as if we could walk here and become as bloodless as the snowmen. I was looking everywhere for them, at the edge of every tree, behind every snowbank. Small black eyes and stick nose all that we’d see, the larger outlines lost in all other white. Eyes and nose enough to imagine evil, all that’s needed for a face.
Sound of our rubber boots squeaking against the snow, so loud, drawing all of them near. I saw them shifting through trees faster than anything with blood could run, and I thought maybe they could hear blood, could hear our hearts beating, looking for warmth, needing it, come to carve out our still-beating hearts.
I screamed and ran, and Shalini screamed, and we charged through the snow, still holding hands, pushing away branches, stumbling and rising again, the sky the same as the snow, all white and blinding, and every tree hiding something, and we could never outrun ourselves.
We fell into a hollow under a large tree, deep into the snow, buried past our waists. Trapped and whining now with fear, no longer screaming, clutching at each other, looking everywhere, to all sides, expecting to see the snowmen rushing in. Exactly like sharks, invisible in their element, shadows and phantoms felt shifting and sensing the beating of your heart, and you want to believe they’re only imagined, and then suddenly it’s too late and you’re devoured.
I felt trapped in that hollow, tried to climb out but there was nothing to hold on to, only snow I kept sinking through.
We can’t get out of here, I whispered, panicked. We’re buried.
Shalini fighting at the snow, also, but we had these cheap rubber boots and rain pants that slipped, and we didn’t know what to do.
Caitlin! I could hear my mother’s voice, but muffled and distant, and not quite right.
Your mother, Shalini said.
It might not be her, I said. It might be a trick.
Shalini looked so scared. We listened and heard other voices now, too, that might be my grandfather and Steve or might not. Twig noses and soulless eyes, the snow itself come alive and hunting, sending voices into the forest like bait.
Don’t answer, Shalini said in a voice hardly even a whisper. Don’t answer, Caitlin.
We clutched at each other and tried to be silent and invisible, shivering in snow that reached almost to our shoulders. A numbness in my legs, the cold a kind of weight that took over flesh. Like a spider’s web, this hollow, and the cold a poison, slow, the snowmen reaching with fingers you could never feel, only some dull recognition that all was already given over. The blood in us cooling, and it would stop soon, and we’d have only our eyes left moving without a heartbeat, to see when they came for us.
Caitlin! I heard, and I could tell it was not my mother’s voice, not real. It was only the voice I wanted, worried about me, wanting to keep me safe, desperate with love. A voice to lure, but I kept silent. I knew it wasn’t possible.
Caitlin! As if I were all that mattered, and this is what the snow offers, a numbing and fading of the rest of the world until you’re all that’s left.
My grandfather’s voice too, high now and strained, not like him at all, sounding almost like a woman, old, or the high scree of sticks when they rub together in wind. The trees in collusion with the snowmen. Shalini and I pressed in close to the tree, rough bark, sharing our last warmth, but these bare lower branches around us curved in to form a thin cage. Sticks brittle but so many of them.
And then we heard footfalls, coming fast, the snowmen grown legs like wolves to travel faster, half element, half beast, water and air fused to blood, leaping at us from every direction, and we shrank down until our faces were in the snow, and we were almost fully hidden, and this was our only hope, that they wouldn’t see us, but then it was Steve, panting hard, and he collapsed to his knees. They’re here! he yelled. I found them!
He lay down on the snow and edged close enough for us to reach his hand. Caitlin, he said. Grab my hand. And hurry. Your mother can’t see this. She’ll kill me.
Shalini first, I said.
Okay. Shalini then.
I could feel Shalini shaking from cold and fear, and I let her go as Steve pulled her free, one of her boots missing. I ducked down to find it, lost inside the snow, hard grains against my cheeks.
I could hear Steve saying something but muffled, and then I found the boot and stood and could breathe and hear clearly again.
Take my hand, he said, and he pulled me sliding free. We all stood then, and he put Shalini’s boot back on, and took us by the hands and we ran away from anything my mother might see. Over here! he was yelling.
The forest not yet returned to anything normal. Like a dream you can’t wake from, and I think fairy tale is always waiting for us, that we can slip at any moment into forests and wolves and voices luring and believe in the shadow world. All that we fear embodied, all pattern and shape that hides somewhere within set loose.
~ ~ ~
My mother crushing me in a hug, her breath fast and hard. Have you lost your mind? You can’t do that. You can’t just run away into the snow.
I couldn’t see her face, and she could have been anyone. How do we know to trust any form?
Steve was just being an idiot, sweet pea. There are no snowmen. Come here, Shalini, she said, and then Shalini was mashed into the hug, the three of us standing in the snow while Steve and my grandfather waited at the edges, both probably in fear.
I’m sorry, Steve said. I just thought it would be funny. I didn’t know you could believe it. Frosty as some kind of evil clown. He’s just Frosty the Snowman.
Stop, my mother said.
He’s got a button nose, I think, not even a stick one.
I could see snowmen again, their stick noses and some with eyes not of stone but of buttons, larger and black and shiny.
Jesus, my mother said. Shut the fuck up about Frosty.
I’m just trying to say he’s not scary. He’s got his stick hands poking out saying hi. Steve laughed then. Okay, I’m sorry. That was too much. I just can’t stop, though. You have to admit it’s funny they ran from the snowmen.
Wow, my mother said, letting go of us. It’s really still funny for you.
Sorry, Steve said, but he had a grin. Sometimes a Frosty will have two heads and one can come off and roll around on its own.
I didn’t think to follow their tracks, my mother said. That’s how panicked I was. I just ran anywhere. And after doing that, running in circles, where are the tracks then? I could have lost them.
But we didn’t.
Yeah, my daughter and her little friend haven’t died, so it’s all okay.
Sheri. That’s a bit extreme. They’re okay, and they’ll laugh about this later.
Ha ha, my mother said. We’re going home.
Just let me get a tree.
They’re shivering. Hurry up.
Steve looked into the trees, all too large, an old forest. Let’s try along the road, he said. There are smaller ones there, I think, and I’ll just top one.
My mother held our hands as we walked back to the road. I was still looking around, and now not only for full bodies but for heads on their own, large snowballs that would roll to the side and reveal a face.
My grandfather walking just ahead in an old wool army coat, pea green, and a hat with earflaps. A heavy form through the snow, clearing the way, like some guardian, making everything safer.
I had snow down both boots, icy and hard against my shins. This is the farthest I’ve ever been from home, I said. Ever.
No, Shalini said.
It’s true. I’ve never gone anywhere. This is the farthest.
That’s embarrassing, my mother said. For me. Don’t ever tell anyone that again. And we’ll go places now.