14

 

        The clerk at the Army and Navy store looked annoyed when I came in.

        He said he was hoping to close early on account of the snow and that I would have to hurry.

        I bought a back pack, two sleeping bags, Sterno, a portable radio, a knife, an ax, matches, batteries a flashlight, two pairs of brown work gloves, two knitted hats and an assortment of other items before leaving their to catch the bodega before it closed, too, where I was able to buy enough food to fill up both back packs.

        I also bought a newspaper, reading some of it while the bodega clerk rang up my purchases. It was filled with news about Puck, in particular, about the killings and the leap off the falls.

        I climbed back up the hill, the lights of the few nearby houses twinkling through the veil of snow. I could smell the scent of their wood fires. The icy prickle of snow pierced my wet clothing, soaking me through before I was half way back.

        The dark castle was largely invisible, a looming black shape beyond the falling snow, I could just make out and steer for until I spotted the subtle flicker of orange through the main window from the dull fire ongoing inside the main room.

        I had to open the front door with his foot -- only to get greeted by the click of a pistol's safety and the cold sting of the metal against my neck.

        "What the fuck are you up to?" Puck's weak voice hissed. "I sent you out to make a phone call and it takes you three hours?"

        "I had to get some things."

        "Why?"

        "Because Red Ball can't find you a place and you have to stay here.”

        “Son of a bitch!” Puck growled, withdrawing the weapon from my neck as he hobbled back to the fire place, his sweaty face visible by the reflected fire light. "I ought to go down and blow that nigger's head off."

        “You’re in no condition to go anywhere, even if there was no blizzard outside.”

        Puck  glanced out into the dark.  The glow of the city showed the growing cover of white and the streaking curtain pressing down on a slant, adding to the accumulation. Puck sagged a little.

        “You’re right,” he mumbled, apparently weakened even by his sudden outbursts. “I’ll kill him later Shut the door, will you, it's getting cold in here."

        I shut the door with my foot then carried the packages into the den, dropping them onto the floor near the fire place.

        "There are sleeping bags and blankets. You'd better get yourself wrapped up," I said. "I'll go get more wood and cook up some food."

        "I'm not hungry."

        "You'll have some soup."

        "Say, what do you think you are, my mother?"

        "No, I'm nobody to you," I  said. "But I'm certainly not going to carry your dead body off this mountain when this storm is over. You'll eat soup and take aspirin like I tell you, or I'll go back home and let you rot here."

        "All right, all right, go get your wood,"  Puck grumbled and weakly pulled open the brown paper that covered one of the sleeping bags. His fingers fumbled to unzip the bag, and eventually, I did it for him, covering over the shivering boy as he laid down, as if putting a shroud over him.

        After I unpacked everything, stoked up the fire, I made my way out into the storm again, figuring to do what I set out earlier to do, and why I purchased the ax.

        We needed wood, even wet wood at this point or we’d both die.

        When I returned, I dropped the twigs near the fire place, then fitted myself into the other sleeping bag and joined Puck in sleep.