The Pack was scattered in a formation that would have sent Arnie into a fit under normal circumstances. Randy was on his back, one hand steadying his body, the other covering his eyes. His lips trembled. Arnie thought he might be reciting some stupid prayer. He also thought what a pussy the guy was.
Simon was calling for him, flailing on his back like a fish out of water. His eyes were golf balls.
Way off to Arnie’s left, Tony struggled on all fours trying to steady himself. Like Simon, his eyes were all bugged out. He looked like he’d shit a brick.
Arnie did his best to keep standing. The ground rumbled beneath him. It sounded like some enormous beast in the throes of death … or anger. He had never experienced an earthquake firsthand, but knew exactly that was happening. It had to be. Still, he couldn’t help but think that there was something down there. Something he had no desire to see.
“Arnie!” Simon screamed. “Look out!”
“Holy shit,” Arnie said, and didn’t realize he had said it.
His eyes locked on the crest of the hill. The smooth rise began to contort, the ground rolling in fits and waves down the slope. Small trees thrust into the air. Thunder clapped below.
Someone screamed at Arnie to run. But for the first time in his life, he could not react fast enough. The shock rolled underneath him and sent him flying. He struck the ground twenty feet away in a grand belly flop, one that would make Tony Armano smile to himself from time to time for the rest of his life.
Arnie groaned as the wind left his lungs. A last, long rumble rocked the group, and then it was over. The park fell eerily silent, the only sound the rapid whispers of Randy Pillsworth.
Tony, who had managed to crawl out of harm’s way, made his way to Randy. “It’s okay, Randy. Randy.”
Randy took his hand away from his eyes. He was trembling.
“You all right?” Tony asked.
Randy nodded anxiously. “Is it over?”
Tony looked about. “I think so.” He helped Randy sit up. “You okay, Sime?”
Simon Kovacs was already sitting up and eating some snow. His toque was slightly off-kilter, but he seemed perfectly at ease. He nodded he was fine, then quickly pointed to his brother.
Tony turned. “Arnie!”
Arnie was on all fours, his head down. Tony rushed to his side.
Arnie threw up a hand. “Get the fush away from me.”
Tony moved back a step. He glanced back at Randy, and Randy shook his head. Simon grabbed another handful of snow.
Arnie stayed put. His gut ached. His lungs felt punctured and windless. He thought he might throw up. It took a moment, but the air began to slip into him. He began to feel his strength coming back.
Randy looked horribly shaken. As if he knew what had happened but refused to believe it.
“Earthquake,” Tony said, as if Randy had asked.
“Here?” Randy muttered. “In Minnesota?”
“I guess so,” Tony said. “I mean, I guess they happen anywhere. My old man said there was a pretty big one in the ’70s.”
“Jesus,” Randy said. “You okay, Arnie?”
“Better than you, Pillsworth,” Arnie said. He got to his knees, then his feet. His chest still ached, but the pain was bearable, ebbing with every breath. His gum had slipped out when he hit the ground and was stuck to his zipper. He peeled it off and stuffed it into his mouth. He glared at Randy. “At least I didn’t lay down and start praying like a goddamn pussy.”
“You weren’t there,” Randy said. “None of you were.”
“Yeah, yeah, we weren’t there,” Arnie said. “How long you gonna keep crying about that stupid trip to California? It’s not like you lost your mom and dad, for fush sake. He was only your cousin, Christ.”
“It was a big one,” Randy said, almost in a whisper.
“I’ll show you a big one,” Arnie told him, grabbing his crotch. “Faggot.”
“It was an earthquake,” Tony said. “Wasn’t it?” They were all looking to their leader now.
Arnie turned to the rise. His look of surprise was matched by the others. A few moments ago it had been relatively nondescript, a hill of pristine white. The smoothness of the slope was now a rugged mess of snow and earth. Several rows of model-scale mountains ran top to bottom. Young spruce trees that had been trying to make a life for themselves had been uprooted and trampled.
Tony stepped up behind Arnie. “It was … wasn’t it, Arn?”
Arnie didn’t respond. That insane feeling that something was down there still hounded him. When the ground struck him, sending him for a header, he was certain he had been touched. Not just from the earth, but … by a hand. Something enormous had reached up and grabbed his whole body, had given him the push that had set him airborne. It was a ridiculous notion, but that’s exactly how it had felt. And standing here in the aftermath, seeing the damage before him, he could not be certain that something wasn’t down there. Something huge.
“Yeah,” he finally said, and that was all he said.
“The snowman’s done,” Randy Pillsworth said. “Look.”
Their practice target had toppled. Its body lay in ruin. Its misshapen head, its dead eye looking up at Arnie, lay next to it.
Arnie ran up to it and kicked it. The head burst.
“Guess we’re done practicing,” Randy said.
“What’s that?” Simon said, pointing upward. The others followed his cue, gazing above the rise.
“Shit,” Tony muttered.
Randy did a double-take. “Holy shit … I see it.”
Tony turned to his right. “Tell me we’re dreaming, Arnie. Tell me we all bumped our heads during that earthquake.”
Arnie said nothing. Simply stood in awe at what his eyes were telling him. That big old oak, the one at the creek, the one his shoulder had slammed into two years ago when he had tried the Run himself while cutting math class, had grown. Before the quake, he couldn’t even see it from where he stood; all he had seen was gray sky. But now? A good five feet of it rose above the crest of the hill. He tried to tell himself it was just perspective, that none of them had seen it before because they’d been closer to the foot of the hill. But no. They were at the foot of the hill.
“Maybe it got uprooted,” Tony said. “Like all these little trees.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Arnie said. He didn’t believe it. All he could think was that something was beneath them, something that made that tree grow. And the more he thought about it, the more it stirred his curiosity. And while he could not help thinking Curiosity killed the cat, he gave the order anyway.
“Follow me,” he grumbled, and like the freight train he was, headed full steam up the hill.