Morgan Rice - Arena Two

It helps a lot, but provides little warmth in these awful conditions. I’ve never been so cold in my life. The cold seeps into my hands, my feet, my nose. It’s hard to think straight. I have to keep opening and closing my limbs, trying to keep my whole body from freezing over. I feel if I fall asleep, I will never wake up.

I can’t imagine how much worse it would be without the fire. I know that having a fire here is not the safest thing – it could attract the wrong kind of attention. But we are past the point of caring. If tomorrow’s like this, I don’t see how we could make it through another day. We will be frozen by the end of it – if we don’t starve first.

I look over at Logan, and he looks delirious. He sleeps, wincing in pain, and his leg looks stiff, frozen solid. I don’t know how we’ll be able to drag him tomorrow.

I lay with one arm over Bree’s shoulder, rubbing her as she leans into me, resting her head on my shoulder. I take some solace in the fact that, if we all die, at least we will die on our terms. Not as slaves, or prisoners. But together. Free.

Well, at least we had a nice run. I think of how far we came, how much we accomplished – escaping from the slaverunners, getting as far as we did. It is something, at least.

At least we have survived. And that is what I’ve learned. Every day of survival is a victory. That in itself is what we live for. And my hundreds of days of survival have been hundreds of small victories.

“Can you read me a story?” Bree asks.

I try to think, try once again to remember the words to The Giving Tree . This time, to my surprise, the words come back to me.

“Once, there was a tree, and she loved a little boy. And every day the boy would come, and he would gather her leaves, and make them into crowns and play king of the forest,” I say.

I feel Bree relax in my arms as I continue to recite the book from memory. Amazingly, it all comes back to me, line after line, and I recite the whole thing to her. I reach the ending:

“‘Well, an old stump is good for sitting and resting. Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest.’ And the boy did. And the tree was happy.”

I feel Bree fast asleep in my arms. It is a gift, falling asleep in this weather. I hope that she dreams of things, other worlds, other places, other times.

I look over at Logan, and see he, too, is asleep, in a fitful, painful sleep. Then I look over at Ben. He is awake, his eyes open wide, staring into the flames. I wonder what he is thinking of. His brother? What he could have done differently?

I cannot help but think back to that moment, in Penn Station, before we parted ways. When he leaned in and kissed me. Why had he done it? Had he really meant it? I’m no longer sure how he feels.

“Ben?” I ask softly, my teeth chattering.

He turns and looks at me. His eyes are sunken, as if they’ve just been through a war.

A part of me thinks we might not all make it through this night. If we don’t, I want to know how he really feels about me.

Now that he’s looking at me, I don’t know how to ask. I am nervous. But I force myself. After all, I have little left to lose.

“When you kissed me, back in the city,” I say. “Why did you do that?”

I look at him, searching into his eyes, waiting for his reaction. I don’t know why, but for some reason, now, here, of all places, it is suddenly important to me.

He opens his mouth and closes it several times. He looks flustered, as if he doesn’t know how to respond.

“I… I…um…” He looks down, then up again. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I wasn’t in my right mind.”

His words hurt me.

“So you’re saying you didn’t mean to?” I ask.

My heart is sinking. He looks down, then back up at me.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” he says. “I did mean to do it. I meant to do it. I wanted to.”

“So then why are you sorry?” I ask.

He looks at me, confused.

“Aren’t you upset that I kissed you?” he asks.

I think about that. I was surprised at the time. But not…upset. And now, as I think about…no, I’m not upset.

In fact, I want him to do it again.

But I’m nervous, and my words are starting to fail me. So instead, I shake my head.

Slowly, he gets up, snow crunching beneath him, and takes a few steps over to me.

He sits in the empty spot beside me, against the same tree, and looks into my eyes. He reaches up with one hand and places it on my cheek.

My heart is pounding.

And then slowly, Ben leans in and kisses me.

At first, I hesitate.

But then, I meet his kiss, kissing him back. My heart is pounding in my chest, and for the first time in as long as I can remember, I’m no longer aware of my surroundings, of the cold, the hunger, of the million things that are wrong in the universe.

I think only of Ben. And of my wonder that he can transport me from this place, this time, with just a single, magical kiss.

I awaken at dawn, slowly peeling open my eyes, colder than I’ve ever been. The cold is unfathomable. I feel as if someone has thrown me into a meat locker and slammed shut the door, and not let me out for a week.

The fire is long-extinguished, now ashes, covered in ice. I look up and see that the entire ground is covered in ice – and that all the trees are covered in ice, too. Everything, down to the smallest branch, hangs with ice. I can’t believe it. An ice storm.

The world is as beautiful as it is cold, everything frozen, shining in the early morning light. I feel as if I’ve wakened in Superman’s palace.

I try to move, and feel my body covered in ice, stuck to the tree. I raise my arms and shoulders, and I break off small particles of ice. Ben has fallen asleep beside me, leaning against the same tree, and Bree is asleep on my other side. Two feet away is Logan, lying exactly as I left him, against his own tree. Everyone is asleep but me. They all look frozen. In fact, they all look dead, and for a moment, I wonder if they have all frozen to death.

My heart beats wildly as I sit up. I shake Bree. Penelope wakes, looking up at me, her eyes sleepy, then, finally, Bree opens her eyes, too. I flood with relief. We’re not dead, yet.

I reach over and shake Ben, then get up and shake Logan. Thankfully, they each wake, although they all look frozen, half dead. I know we can’t lay here anymore.

“We have to get up,” I say. “We have to keep moving. If we don’t, we’ll freeze to death. Let’s go. On your feet,” I say, summoning my toughest voice, needing to mobilize them.

I help pull them up, and slowly, each of them begins to rise, the sound of ice cracking as they gain their feet. Logan tries several times, but can’t seem to get up on his bad leg, which is covered in ice. I’m hoping the ice helped reduce the inflammation, at least. I bend down and drape one of his arms over my shoulder, and Ben takes the other. Together, we hoist him onto his feet. My back reels as I do so: he feels like he weighs a thousand pounds.

Logan groans as he gets to his feet, and he wobbles, unsteady.

“I can’t stand,” he says.

“We’ll walk you,” I say.

I look at Ben, he nods back, and together, we begin to walk Logan, he leaning heavily on us, limping on one leg. Bree hurries up beside us, holding Penelope. I take one last look back at our little campsite, at the frozen fire, at the sparkling woods all around us. I’m glad to leave this place.

We hobble through the woods, the four of us, walking into the breaking day, each stiff and exhausted. We reach an open clearing, and find the train tracks and continue alongside them, our feet crunching with every step on the ice. It must be ten degrees. I’ve never been this cold in my life. It is a mind-numbing cold, one that prevents me from thinking clearly.