Driven Snow (15 page)

Glancing over his shoulder, he tiptoed into the laundry room off the kitchen.
No noise from the stairs yet. Good.
He peeked in the cabinet above the washer. Just cleaning products. Under the sink, a whole raft of pest control and garden fertilizer lined the shelves. Snow shook his head. He’d told the professor this stuff ought to go out in the garage, but he’d never moved it. Some of it was poison. Could he have accidentally ingested it? Most of the lids looked old and rusted. Not like they’d been—
wait.

He picked up a little brown stopper bottle nestled among the jars and boxes. Holding it against the light, he could see a small quantity of liquid still in the bottom. Somehow this looked newer than most of the stuff. The screw cap turned easily. He sniffed. Odd. Sort of a licorice smell. He didn’t remember—

Voices.
He put the bottle back in its place and stepped out of the laundry room. Damn. He’d left his water on the far counter. Quickly, he stepped to the window, put his face in his hand, and let his shoulders shake. Not hard to pretend he was distraught.

Footsteps sounded behind him. He raised his head and wiped at his eyes.

“Oh there, there. Things will be all right.” Anitra put a hand on his shoulder.

He nodded, sniffed, then walked over and retrieved his water. “Sorry. I have no right to be acting like a baby when you’re holding up so well.” He drank the rest.

“Yes, well, Hunter is ready to take you.” Hunter walked into the kitchen, looking at Snow with an expression of—what? He’d be inclined to say sadness. Maybe the guy really was concerned for his cousin.

Hunter tossed car keys in his hand. “Okay, let’s do it.” He walked out the back door.

Anitra had changed into a skirt and blouse, and her hair and makeup looked far less like she’d just gotten out of bed. “I’ll join you later. If they let you see him, please tell him I love him and I’ll be there soon, okay?” She smiled.

She’s so convincing. Why can’t I just get comfortable with her?

Maybe because, in the midst of her sadness, she took the time to withdraw you from the tournament. That might seem a touch suspicious.

You think?

“I’ll see you later.” Snow walked out into the morning sunshine and crisp fall air.
Cold today.
He shivered and wrapped his down jacket tighter around his shoulders. The old green car sat running in the driveway. Snow rounded the car and got into the front passenger side.

Hunter gave him a smile. “Buckle up.”

Hunter had some music playing, so it cut down on the pure awkwardness of the situation. “Uh, so you’re Mrs. Kingsley’s cousin.”

He snorted. “Yeah.”

Was he being facetious or not? Couldn’t tell. “She must be really upset. Just married and having this happen.”

“Yeah, well, she’s, shall we say, resilient.”

How did he reply to that?

Hunter glanced over. “You sure are beautiful.”

“Uh, thank you.”

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman I thought was as pretty as you. Man.” He shook his head and looked through the windshield as he made a turn.

Snow stared hard out the window. Where was this conversation going?

“You’re gay, right?”

“Yes. That’s pretty well-known. Are you?”

“Bi. I like it all ways.” He laughed. “You ever been with a woman?”

“No. I don’t have much experience, period.”

“I generally like females better. Not so much of a battle for supremacy, you know? But lately—let’s just say, I’d make an exception in your case.” Another laugh.

Snow stared at his own hands. Long fingers. Always made him think of sea plants. “I, uh, actually have a boyfriend.”

“Oh. Well, that’s disappointing. Anitra didn’t tell me that.”

“It’s kind of new. But why would she have been telling you about me anyway?”

“No reason. Just conversation.”

Hunter slowed, seemed to stare out the window hard, then suddenly turned onto a side street.

“Uh, I don’t think this is the way to the hospital. I go on my bike, but—”

“Yeah. I just have to stop at the drugstore. Need to get something to take to the hospital.”

“Oh. Isn’t that kind of coals to Newcastle?” He tried to laugh.

“Oh. Yeah.” Hunter barked a couple laughs. “There’s some candy thing that Anitra says the professor likes.”

“Oh.” Snow controlled his own frown. “That must be the chocolate marshmallow squares he loves.”

“Yeah. That’s it.” He pulled into the parking lot, stopped, and turned off the car. “Why don’t you wait here? I’ll be right back.” With a shove of his shoulder, he pushed the creaky car door open and got out, then slammed the door.

Why is he lying? The professor hates candy in general and marshmallows in particular. Maybe he plans something bad. He sure seems focused on you. He could be getting lube.

Damn! No, he wouldn’t, would he? Mrs. Kingsley may not like me, but rape?

You should get out of the car and run.

Seriously. Maybe he’s just buying liquor and doesn’t want Anitra to know.

Run!

Snow slid out of the car, closed the door softly—hardly noticed the step up behind him before he smelled the acrid odor—and everything went black.

“STAY DOWN,
fag. I hope I didn’t get any on me.”

The linebacker added an extra punch to Riley’s midback as he lifted off the pile of bodies that had taken Riley to the ground on his last carry.

Slowly, Riley collected his parts and managed to pull himself to his feet. One of his guards lumbered up to him. “You okay, man?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t add, “No thanks to you.”

“Sorry. I let him get through. I tried to stop him.”

Riley cracked his neck in both directions. “If you plan to have a quarterback for the rest of the season, you might want to try harder.” He laughed, but he couldn’t have been more serious.

The guard patted his shoulder. Weird game from start to now. When he’d trotted out the cheers had been strange, like some people were yelling louder to drown out others who were hollering nasty shit. Rog had caught his passes with gloves on and made a big show of wiping his hands when he handed over the football, which got some laughs from the crowd and some boos. The score at the moment reflected the squirreliness. Twenty-four to twenty-one with NorCal ahead, but the other team would never have gotten that far if Riley’s guys had been playing optimally.

Back on the line of scrimmage, he called the play. As the wide receiver ran out for the catch, Riley looked up in time to see a glance from his right guard, Junior Betz, full of humor—and hate. Betz and Rog weren’t friends, but man, did the expression look similar. Betz stepped back just that little bit, and two huge linebackers headed straight for Riley. Thank God he saw them. He swerved, tried to get the pass off and failed, and braced for the impact, but still, nearly six hundred pounds of mean hurt like a son of a bitch. His body slammed into the ground, head hitting so hard his ears rang, face guard plowing into the earth, sending pieces of plastic grass flying. Then, oof. The weight landed on top of him, and air rushed from his lungs until he gasped for oxygen.

Shit, bad.
Every bone felt compromised. His speed plus the talent of his linemen meant he seldom got his bell rung quite this hard. Vaguely he heard the time-out called. The ref ran over and knelt down. “You okay, Riley?”

Was he? Right at this second, it was tough to remember why he’d thought coming out felt quite so important. He took a deep breath.
Snow. Just think of Snow.
“Yeah, thanks. I’m okay.”

CHAPTER 14

COLD. REALLY
cold. Need more covers.

Snow reached out to grab another blanket.
Wet.

Wait—wet. Why wet? Why—

Open your eyes, idiot!

As though great weights rested on his lids, his eyes barely flickered.

Open, dammit!

Snow dragged his eyelids up.
Holy shit! Water. Everywhere. Where am I?

Icy water hit his chest. He gasped. His heart rate spiked, and adrenaline shot through him like speed.

Holy shit, I’m in a car. River. In the river. Car in the river—I’m going to drown. No! Oh God.
He thrashed against his seat belt and hammered at the passenger door beside him.

Water to his neck.

Gonna die! Die. Riley!

Wait. Stop. Take a breath.

What do you mean, wait? Are you nuts? Shit. Get out of here.

Snow inhaled deeply. His brain smoothed out like a big white cloud.
No point trying to get out until the water inside the car equalizes the water pressing on the door. Simple physics.

But—

He took another deep breath.
Maybe it’s not too deep.
Water to his chin.
Calm. Only seconds.
I have a chance.
His fingers found the release for his seat belt.
Breathe.
He raised his head as the water neared his lips and filled his lungs again.

Water closed over his mouth and nose.
Calm. Stay calm.
He unfastened the seat belt, pressed his lips to the ceiling for one last lungful.

Don’t panic. Wait.

The water filled the car.
Lungs. Pressure.
He pulled the handle and pushed against the door. Nothing. No movement.

Don’t panic. Try again.
He pushed the handle and shoved with his shoulder. A tiny squeak? His brain screamed,
Breathe!

Don’t listen.

Quickly he pressed his arms against the steering wheel and kicked with his legs.

Nothing—then—yes! It moved.

Lungs bursting.
The door suddenly swung open like some cosmic doorman had pulled it from the outside. Snow shot out, relaxed, and let the water take him.

Must breathe. Must.
His chest hurt like fire despite the icy water. The light got brighter but current carried him fast. He kicked hard with his legs against the force that dragged him in the same plane.
Must breathe. Must. Riley. Riley.

A light beamed in his head. Music. A blue door. Peace.

One last kick upward.

Ahhhhhhhh.
Light burst around him along with frigid air. He coughed, flailed his arms, and then sucked a breath into his lungs like elixir from heaven. Icy water dragged him in a swift current down what must be the local river.

Where am I? Besides freezing?
He turned on his side and stared at the bank as it moved rapidly by. Trees, a couple of rooftops in the distance….

Couldn’t last long in here. Too cold.

Wait. There.
Ahead, he saw a house built on the banks of the river. He kicked hard, sending one of his tennis shoes flying off into the water. He twisted to catch it, and something hard bumped his elbow.
Damn. My phone.
He grabbed for it and missed as it sailed on the current far away.
Forget it.

Stroking as powerfully as he could, he managed to cut diagonally through the fast current. He sailed right past the house but was closer to the banks now. Still stroking, he got near enough to grab a floating branch and stop his forward motion. The branch cracked with his weight and he grabbed another. His body bobbed, trying to pull him away, but he held on. Still, he couldn’t reach anything else to pull himself closer. Jesus, he felt like a wind sock, swinging helplessly in a gale. A freezing gale.

“Hey, do you need help?”

Snow couldn’t see where the voice came from. “Hell, yes. I didn’t go swimming in the icy cold in my clothes on purpose.”

“I’d watch the attitude unless you plan on staying in the river for quite a while.” A short, stocky guy with a full beard and glasses peered around the edge of the bush Snow clung to.

He had a point. “Sorry. I just about drowned. I could really use some help.”

The guy squatted down and surveyed the situation.
Don’t hurry on my account.
Finally he seemed to come to some conclusion, stood, and disappeared.

“Uh, don’t go, please.”

Silence.

Well, damn.
The fast-moving water ripped at Snow’s pants, and the soaked down jacket managed to hold the cold against his skin just perfectly. His teeth chattered so hard they could break.
Maybe just let go. Float off down the river. Stop the cold. Stop.
Slowly, his eyes closed.

“Bring it over here, you guys. Hurry. He could have hypothermia by now.”

The voices rattled in Snow’s brain.
Help. Please help.
Had he said that out loud?

The bushes in front of him rustled and waved.
Oh, great. Make it harder to hold on.
But then a long pole of some kind stuck through the undergrowth.

“Grab hold.”

What? Snow tried to get his hand to unlatch from the waving branch he held.
Frozen. Focus.
He stared at his fingers.
Move.
One at a time, they quivered until finally his whole hand began to straighten.
Funny. It didn’t used to be blue, did it?
His hand unwrapped from the branch, and his body began to slide away with the current.

“No, dammit, take hold of the pole.”

Oh, right.
He grasped the lifeline with his right hand, then let go of the branch with his left and transferred it over. As soon as he had both hands on the pole, it began to move.
Oh!
Bushes and branches that stuck out of the water ripped at him, scratching his skin and tearing at his clothes.

“Hold on. Don’t let go.”

Easy for you to say.
But his hands felt as locked to the pole as they had to the branch.

Suddenly his body, dragged by the pole and whoever was pulling it, burst through the dense reeds and bushes and hit ground. Wet, soggy ground to be sure, but not water.
Dear God, not water.
Vaguely he recognized some forms moving toward him. His eyes closed.