by Hamill, Ike
Robby took a deep breath around the glove in his mouth and let go of his own mirror. He pushed up onto his toes and let himself fall towards Brynn’s tractor. His fingers locked around the cold steel and he jumped. The mirror’s support bent under his weight, but his feet landed on Brynn’s running board and he swung his torso up. Brynn’s window was closed, so Robby found nothing to grab. Robby wrapped both hands around the mirror and tried to balance himself as he reached for the handle.
The door was locked, and the tractor looked empty. The throttled was set and locked.
The glove tumbled from his teeth and hit the tracks of the tractor. The tracks rolled forward and threw the glove into the snow before rolling over and chewing it up underneath. Robby banged on the window.
“Brynn! Brynn, are you in there?” Robby yelled.
Over his shoulder, Robby noticed Pete steering away from Brynn’s tractor.
“Robby,” Pete shouted. Robby heard Pete’s voice from two directions—yelled over the sound of the tractors from behind him, and coming from the radio on the seat of Brynn’s tractor. “You’re about to go over the edge. You have to jump.”
The running board shifted under Robby’s feet. The sled began to shift off the side of the ice-ledge, tugging the tractor to the side. Robby banged his naked hand against the glass, cursing himself for not bringing something to break the window.
“Jump, Robby,” Pete yelled.
Robby looked down at the snow rolling past beneath him. The tractor jerked again and he nearly lost his grip. He’d have to jump far enough so the sled wouldn’t run him over as it passed.
“Brynn!” he yelled, slapping at the glass one last time. His bare hand ached in the cold. “If you’re in there you have to get out. This whole thing is about to go over the edge.”
Robby turned away from the door and set his legs for the jump. Movement caught the corner of his eye and Robby turned to see Brynn’s tiny hand appearing to unlock the driver’s door of the dark cab. Robby lost no time—he yanked on the door and fell backwards, tugging the door open. All his strength pulled him around the door and up into the driver’s seat. Robby unlocked the the throttle and eased it back to stop the rig. The tractor shuddered and groaned as the heavy sled kept slipping over the edge, dragging the tractor with it.
The radio erupted with Pete’s voice—“Robby, more throttle. Gentle acceleration. You’re still slipping.”
He nudged the throttle forward and the grinding and shaking intensified. He could feel the tracks slipping on the ice, failing to get traction. Robby clamped his jaw and pushed the throttle a little farther.
“That’s it.” Pete’s voice was nearly drowned out by the grinding. “Keep increasing speed, and don’t try to steer left at all. Straight forward.”
As the sled’s runner began to scrape its way back onto the edge of the ice, the tracks dug in and the tractor bucked with the exertion.
“Robby,” Brynn whispered. His voice came from the dark well behind the seat.
The tractor shook and rumbled. The engine groaned under the load. When the sled’s runners reclaimed purchase on the ice, the load shifted to the left, twisting the tractor and slamming Robby into the door. With the friction suddenly removed, the tractor shot forward. Robby wrestled the tractor to the left, away from the edge of the ice. They swung left and then overcorrected back to the right when they almost collided with Pete.
“You did it!” Pete called over the radio. “Nice job.”
“Good work, Robby,” Nate said. “Is Brynn there? Is Brynn okay?”
Robby turned on the lights inside the cab.
“Brynn? Are you okay?” Robby asked. He turned and looked down to find him curled up in the space where they’d packed their food and extra gear. He gripped his knees to his chest and tucked his head down to make himself into a little ball.
“What’s wrong?” Robby asked.
“They’ve come for me,” Brynn said. He pointed up.
Robby lifted his gaze towards the back window of the cab. He scrambled backwards away from the rear window, throwing his body against the dashboard of the tractor. His numb hand accidentally landed on a switch, killing the interior lights.
The image from the window was still burned in his eyes—a dozen or so eyeless faces were pressed against the glass. Robby fumbled with the switch until lights inside the cab came back on. The dead didn’t respond to the light, but they were moving. Their hands groped and slid across the surface of the glass. Some pressed their lips against the window, giving Robby an intimate look at the insides of their mouths. All of them, whether their faces were pressed against the glass or not, were smiling with big, toothy grins.
Robby remembered the throttle just as Pete’s voice came over the radio—“Robby, what are you doing? You’re headed for the edge again.”
He spun and sat on the very edge of the seat and regained control of the tractor’s heading.
“It’s okay, Brynn,” Robby said, trying to get control enough to keep his voice from shaking. “They’re not trying to get us. They’re not real people, they’re just shells.”
Robby picked up the radio. “Brynn’s fine. Everything’s under control here. One of the straps gave way and we’ve got some… um…”
“Should we stop?” Brad radioed from behind.
“No,” Robby said. “Keep going as fast as we can. We have to get to the light.”
“Put Brynn on the radio,” Nate said.
Robby handed the radio down to Brynn. He didn’t look around to see if Brynn was reaching to take it. He didn’t want to risk looking at those hungry, eyeless, grinning faces. Brynn took the radio from his hand. When the boy’s hand brushed his, the skin on Robby’s hand crawled and sent a ripple of goosebumps up through his arm.
Nate’s voice came over the radio. “Brynn? Are you there, Brynn?”
After several long seconds, Robby heard the click of the send button and Brynn’s soft voice whispering into the radio.
“I can’t hear what you’re saying,” Nate said, cutting in.
“They’re here for me,” Brynn whispered louder. “You said they wouldn’t be able to get me, but they’re here for me.”
“I’m so sorry,” Nate said. “You’re okay now. Robby is there. He’s going to take care of you.”
“He’s just a boy,” Brynn said. “He talks like a grownup, but he’s just a boy.”
“He’s smart,” Nate said. His voice sounded small over the radio; not nearly as strong as he sounded in person. “Don’t you worry. We’re almost there and then we’ll be together again. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you on your own.”
“You couldn’t have done anything,” whispered Brynn. “They’re all here for me.”
Up ahead, Pete pulled up behind Nate. Robby increased his speed until they re-formed their convoy.
Pete’s voice cut into the conversation—“How’s it going up front? Christine, are you okay? Still keeping to the center?”
“Yes,” Christine said after a few seconds. She left space between her phrases, like she expected someone to cut in. “It’s getting easier to follow the ice. There’s not as much snow up ahead.”
As they moved forward, Robby became aware of what Christine meant. Not only was the snow’s depth falling away on either side of the ice, but the thin layer of snow on top of the ice was decreasing as well. The miles rolled by under their tracks and the landscape changed. The snow on either side of the ice fell away and they drove their tractors down the middle of a wide path of blue-glowing ice. Robby’s shoulders ached, but he couldn’t stop hunching them forward. He would take a deep breath and try to relax his muscles, but soon they’d be bunched up again, burning hot from tension. Under the tarp on the back of Pete’s sled, the corpses writhed and squirmed, held down by the heavy strap. Here and there an arm would wrestle its way out of captivity and flop around. Robby sat on his bare hand until it warmed up, and then kept sitting on it. Occasionally the radio in Brynn’s hands would crackle
to life and the team announced their status, but it happened less and less often.
Eventually, Christine broke the monotony.
“I can see the top of the thing that’s giving off the light,” Christine said. “It’s like a ball, mostly under the ice. It’s so pretty, but so cold. It’s bright, but not as bright as the sun. You can look right at it. What should I do?”
Robby reached back and Brynn put the radio into his hand.
“Christine?” Robby asked. “Does the ice keep going right to the edge of the ball?”
“Yes,” she said. “As far as I can see.”
Through the side windows of the tractor, Robby saw other paths made of ice, all converging ahead of the tractors. They all pulsed at once with the same blue glow. Somewhere down in the snow, perpendicular to their road of ice, a line of orange light pulsed just before the blue. The orange light flared again just as Robby’s tractor passed over it. Robby held his breath; nothing unusual happened.
Robby lost track of time. It seemed like only minutes had elapsed, but it must have been longer when Christine spoke again—“I don’t think I can go any farther. The hill is too steep.”
Robby slowed his tractor. He was quickly approaching the rear of Pete’s sled.
They came to a stop on the plateau of ice.
“Everyone meet up front,” Robby said. “Be careful.”
He reached for the door handle and nearly leapt from the tractor when the hand grabbed his arm. It was Brynn.
“Don’t leave me,” he whispered.
“We have to go,” Robby said. “You come with me.”
“I don’t want to go out there,” Brynn said.
“Then I’m leaving you,” he said. “Come on.”
Brynn let Robby pull him from behind the seat. He covered his eyes and wouldn’t look through the back window at the squirming bodies pressed against the glass. Robby left the engine running. Over the low idle he heard their wet hands squeaking against the window.
Brad jogged up beside their tractor when they jumped down past the tracks. Robby slipped on the ice, but Brynn caught his arm and helped him find his balance. They joined Brad and soon met Nate, who was running back to meet Brynn. When he reached them, Nate swept Brynn into a hug and then pulled him by the hand up to meet the others.
Robby raised his arm to shield his eyes as he came around Christine’s crooked tractor and joined the group who were looking at the glowing ball in the distance. Robby understood why Christine stopped, and was glad she did. Just in front of her tractor, the ice began to slope down, and it looked weaker. Its surface was a spider web of holes and cracks. In the center of the giant ice crater, sat the top half of a giant ball of light. Its scale was impossible to judge because there was nothing else near to gauge its size against, but Robby guessed it must be at least a quarter mile in diameter.
Christine was right—it was beautiful, and cold, and you could look directly at it. In fact, Robby felt compelled to look directly at it. He began to lower his arm. To his side, Christine was reaching out towards the ball.
“Dad?” she said.
Robby turned away. He grabbed the jacket nearest to him and tugged. It turned out to be Pete’s arm.
“Don’t look at it,” he said.
“What? Why?" Pete asked. He looked at Robby and blinked hard several times. “God, it’s like that thing burned my eyes. It’s all I can see.”
“We have to let them loose,” Robby said, pointing towards the sled.
Under the tight straps the dead were a flopping, wiggling pile, struggling to get free.
Pete rubbed his eyes while Robby reached out for more of the group. He tugged on Romie’s sleeve and grabbed Lisa by the hand. They turned away from the burning ball reluctantly and listened to Robby’s commands. Pete moved towards the first sled, and Romie followed behind, but Lisa couldn’t mask her fear. She didn’t want to go near the pile of wriggling bodies.
“Then get the others to stop looking at the light. They’re hypnotized by it,” Robby said.
Pete tugged at the clasp to release the first strap. Robby ran around the front of the tractor so he could pull the strap free from the other side.
“Dad?” Christine asked again as Robby ran by her.
Robby slipped while rounding the far corner of the tractor. He landed with his bare hand on the sharp ice. It sliced a flap of skin from his palm and the pain shot up his arm. When he reached the straps, he saw the first two were loose. Robby tugged on one, pulling it hand-over-hand over the top of the pile. Blood flowed from his hand, down into the sleeve of his parka. Before he could move to the second strap, bodies toppled from sides of the pile, bringing the tarp with them. Robby scrambled backwards, away from the trailer, looking over his shoulder to be sure he didn’t slip down the side of the slippery ice embankment.
The first corpse to land, a bald man dressed in a pinstripe suit, flailed its arms and spun towards Robby.
Robby tripped and landed on his butt on the cold ice. The corpse pushed to its feet and spun towards the glowing ball of light. Robby watched it out of the corner of his eye to make sure it wasn’t coming for him. A cascade of bodies followed quickly on the heels of the bald man. The second strap freed itself and the tarp folded down under the weight of falling corpses. They landed on the ice and clawed over each other to begin their pilgrimage to the burning light.
Robby sprung to his feet and moved down to the third and fourth straps. This time he managed to move farther away before the bodies started falling. He glanced under the sled and saw a similar avalanche of corpses falling on the other side. Romie and Pete were working their way towards the back of the sled, freeing the straps. All the tarps fell on Robby’s side of the sled, and the corpses couldn’t gain traction on the slippery plastic surface. With the last tarp, Robby pulled it out of the way just after he pulled the straps, so the bodies would land on the ice.
Romie came around the rear of the sled.
“You need help over here? Pete’s all set with the straps,” Romie said.
“Yes, but I’m worried about the others,” Robby said. “Did Lisa get them?”
“I thought she was with you,” Romie said. “You’re bleeding, you know.”
“I know,” Robby said. “Can you pull the tarps out of the way? I want to go check on the others.”
“Sure,” Romie said. She moved towards the side of the sled. She called back over her shoulder—“Get a glove on your hand.”
“Yeah, right,” Robby said under his breath as he ran towards the other side of the sled. He tried to stop, but wound up sliding right into a pair of elderly corpses who popped out from behind Lisa’s tractor just as Robby came around the corner. He fell backwards as he hit them. He took their legs out and they landed right on top of him. The dead woman’s smiling, eyeless face was just inches from Robby as he tried to push and kick his way from under her. She wore nothing but a nightgown, and the male corpse was dressed in green coveralls. Robby could smell her old lady perfume mixed with urine and sweat, which combined to smell like rancid chicken soup.
He pushed his way free in time for a barefoot corpse to step on his bleeding hand. Robby pulled his hand back and tore the flap of skin even more. He clutched his hand to his chest and regained his feet to skitter away from the migrating corpses. Looking back he saw the procession coming from the loose pile on Brynn’s trailer.
When Robby arrived at the front of the line, he couldn’t find his group. Shield his eyes from the light, Robby looked down the slope of the ice. The light’s cold glow beckoned to him to lower his hands, but Robby held them up, focusing on the throbbing of the gash on his right hand to keep him focused on reality. Silhouetted by the bright light, he couldn’t make out individuals, just a group of people marching down the icy slope. One figure was running up the ice, crunching through the cracked surface.
“Robby,” the figure called. It was Brad.
“Where are the others?” Robby asked.
“I don’t know,�
�� Brad said. “Down there, I guess. It makes you slip down into your memories. It’s like the rock monster. You just get consumed by the past.”
“We have to get them before they get to the light,” Robby said.
“We can’t,” Brad said. “One look and you’re trapped.”
“Just look straight down then,” Robby said. He pulled his hood up over his hat and used it to shield his eyes. Then, he looked down and followed the line of broken ice, shattered like glass, left by the marching feet of his friends. He moved as fast as he dared, not wanting to fall again on his lacerated hand or bruised backside. He heard Brad tromping behind him. Robby recognized Lisa’s purple boots and reached out for the back of her jacket. He yanked her back and yelled her name.
“They’re all here,” Lisa said. She slapped at Robby’s hand and tried to push away from him.
“Lisa, look away,” Robby yelled. “Turn around.” He grabbed her waist and tried to spin her around, but she was determined to keep moving towards the light.
“No,” Lisa said. “They’re all here. Everyone. I belong here.”
“It’s not your time yet,” Robby said. He reached up and wrapped a hand over her eyes. As soon as she couldn’t see the light, she became docile. Robby turned her and pointed her up the hill towards the tractor. He spoke directly into her ear—“Don’t turn around. Don’t look at the light. Just get back to the tractors and don’t look back.”
“Okay, Robby,” she said. “I understand.”
Brad moved farther down the hill to catch up with Nate and Brynn. They were holding hands and walking towards the light. Brad took off his jacket, threw it over Nate’s head, and forced Brynn to turn around. Nate understood immediately. He picked up Brynn, clutched him to his chest and turned around.
Robby ran down the hill calling Christine’s name. She didn’t answer and her footprints were jumbled with those of dozens of corpses.
“Christine?” Robby called. “Where are you?”
