Veiled in Snow

    Anybody that tells you they love snow or rambles on about how pretty the new fallen snow is, has never spent an appreciable amount of time walking, or should I say wading, through a fresh snowfall that is piled up to their crotch. I hate the stuff. My reason for being up to my waist in snow today makes me detest it more. If that's possible. I haven't made it far from the house, just into the woods in fact, but already I am exhausted. I stop to catch my breath, leaning against a magnificent oak recently deprived of its leaves. Could it really be a week short of Thanksgiving? Still a month before winter starts! "Great! It’s going to be a long one this year. Just what I was hoping for", I mumble.

    Propped up by the tree I spew forth a constant stream of miniature clouds in an attempt to regain a normal breathing pattern. My arms swaying uselessly by my sides as if the sleeves of my coat were empty. I want nothing more than to sit for a few minutes but in a sitting position today I would be drowned by all this pretty new snow. I am already beginning to perspire from the exertion performed by my out of shape body and any prolonged period of inactivity will make the cold temperature an acute and unpleasant experience. I've had enough acute unpleasantness these last two days. No more is required.

    The lack of any detectable noise is eerie. A feeling enhanced by the heavy cloud cover which threatens more snow. The effect is such that the entire surrounding forest has a dull gray hue, almost as if the forest recognizes what had only recently taken place here. I knew I would be out here alone today, the police had given up late yesterday afternoon when the snow had begun falling with meaning. The police informed us that the snow made finding any further clues to my brother-in-law's death impossible. Waiting until the melting snow washes away any nearly imperceptible clues is no option either.

    There is something nagging at me and that internal harassment has dragged me out into this gloom. The feeling is something I can't explain but I have acted upon it nonetheless. Possibly it is nothing more than the search for the truth that has pushed me into action? Maybe it's the constant look of pain that has been etched on my wife's face from the moment I told her I had found her brother dead? Maybe I feel responsible because it happened on my property? Or, maybe I am just frightened because what happened so close to our house is still unexplained? Whatever the reason it is time to start moving before I am transformed into a frozen ornament for this oak.

    With a combination that is equal parts controlled slide and exaggerated stride I eventually make it down the last hill and to the creek's edge. Once again my lungs are doing battle with the frozen air in a desperate attempt to tear some precious oxygen from the air's icy grip. Thankfully there is a tree to hold me up at this location. For the moment I am going no further.

    From here my destination is plainly visible. A couple more minutes fighting for oxygen and I can make the last few yards. Just what I am going to do now is anyone's guess? I certainly don't know and the first pangs of despair begin to beat within my head in unison with my thumping heart. With trepidation I take the final steps to the tree where my brother-in-law, Jake, had lain rooted to the frozen ground only two days earlier. The tree is instantly recognizable, even the pattern of the bark has been etched into my memory from that previous occasion.

    An unexpected slip and I land in a heap at the base of the tree. The light snow forcefully displaced by my awkward bulk leaving a crater with me at it's center. Exasperated I curse the snow and thrust my head back looking to the sky for guidance. Suddenly it hits me. The sight of Jake as I had found him burns under my closed eyelids. I recall what he looked like upon first seeing his dead body. "That's it! He was looking up", I say. He wasn't looking back up the hill like the police had suggested but upward as if looking for something above him and the only thing around here to look up at is trees.

    This snow only began falling yesterday morning. I should have realized two days ago that no one could have snuck up on Jake with all the dead and dry leaves covering the ground. Anything coming through the woods then would have made more noise than a 747 taking off. I get up, brush my stupidity aside and clear the snow from the base of the tree then sit down in approximately the same position Jake last sat in. Tilting my head to look in the direction that he had been, hoping to see the last thing that he saw. My vision fills with an impressive evergreen. The meaning of this type of tree's name, evergreen, comes to me as surprisingly as if a pine cone had fallen from it and hit me on the head. If you don't want to be seen in the forest at this time of year there is no better place to hide than up in pine tree. I make my way over to that tree. If there is still any evidence to be found it is in or near that tree.

    At the base of the suspected evergreen I frantically brush and kick the snow away from its trunk. Cutting a drunken circle approximately 10 feet in diameter around its base. I'd like it to be bigger but without a shovel any further gains in size would require an effort my body isn't prepared to give. I still have to make it back to the house when I'm finished here. I have no clue what I am looking for or even how to go about looking for it. I should head back to the house and call the police to tell them my hastily drawn conclusions before I destroy whatever minute amount of evidence lies at the base of this tree.

    The police wouldn't listen to me, would they? Even if they did they certainly wouldn't rush right out to meet me. Most likely they would tell me to stay away from the area until they have a chance to properly investigate. Not the answer I'm looking for. The investigators will give me a hard time whether I look some more or not. So I might as well continue my amateur detective work while the job is still mine.

    Snapping out of my contemplative trance I decide to slowly walk the perimeter of the circle starting at the outer edge and working my way towards the middle in a gradually reducing circumference. I scuff away any remaining snow with my boots while scanning the array of frozen grass and branches littering the tree's base. I stop after what seems hours to stretch my hunched over back and to give my eyes a much needed break. They focus for the moment on a gray squirrel skittering up and down a nearby maple tree. When the squirrel hops out of sight on an unknown errand I resume the painful interrogation of the ground.

    My methodical search ends in the same manner as this day began, in aggravation. I look at the walls of the circle and will them to move, but to no avail. Nowhere to go now but up. The thought of climbing a tree no longer appeals to me in the way that it did 25 years ago. Satisfied that I am on the correct side of the tree, and will be able see the location where Jake's body had lain, the climb begins. I test the sturdiest looking branches by hanging my full body weight from them. Then struggle to pull myself high enough so that I am able to get a foothold on the remains of a branch that was chest high while I was on the ground.

    The climb is the first thing all day that goes smoothly. Like riding a bike. Then the climbing is replaced by a new obstacle. The numerous tightly spaced branches are making the prospect of finding anything up here about as likely as finding a needle in a snowbank. While anticipating another fruitless search the snowbank suddenly melts and I see my needle just out of reach. I scramble up a couple more branches and its within reach. A small black leather glove. So much for the theory of an accidental shooting by another hunter. No self-respecting hunter would be caught dead wearing gloves like these. Not even one gutless enough to run away.

    I study the evidence for a moment trying to decide weather or not I should take it with me. They have to be female gloves judging by the shape and size. At least that narrows the search down to roughly half the population. It has to have been left here recently because it appears to have suffered no damage from this climate. The glove looks as if it may still be slightly pliable and isn't completely frozen into something resembling a petrified hand. I decide to take it with me. I'd rather know where the glove is than hope it's still around when the detectives come back. I have gloves on so I don't believe I'll disturb this piece of evidence.

    I tuck the glove safely in the right hand pocket of my coat. Now there is nothing left to do but get myself down from this tree without breaking one of my own limbs. I'm annoyed at having to take it slow but I don't want to hurt myself at this point. The walk back to the house will be hard enough without an injury hampering me.

    "I believe that belongs to me."

    The voice startles me and I grasp for anything to keep me from falling to earth. I end up hugging the center of the tree until my balance once again feels secure. I had been too engrossed in my find to hear the approach of whomever belonged to the voice. I turn to face the soft yet menacing voice and find myself looking down upon a young woman. Her only distinguishing characteristic is a 9mm pistol protruding from her gloved hands. She is shaking and looks as frightened as I feel. The look on her face tells me that she wasn't expecting to find anyone here.

    "Looks to me like you have a matching pair already." Whenever I am scared I try to make light of it. I've never had anyone point a gun at me before so I don't know how I am supposed to act.

    "Give me that glove or you are going to have a matching pair of holes in you", she snarls, obviously not impressed with my attempt at humor.

    "Ok, ok, just let me get down from here."

    "No. Throw it down to me."

    There is no way I am giving her the glove. It's the only evidence to tie her to Jake's death. A detailed description of her would maybe be enough to track her down but I doubt enough to charge her with the murder. Besides I really haven't gotten a good look at her face since I'm too busy staring at the gun pointing at me. At the moment the gun seems more important than her physical features. There is only one thing I can think of doing, so hopefully cold-blooded killer isn't her full-time occupation.

    "Alright, its in my pocket just let me get it out."
   
    "Don't do anything stupid", she warns as she takes a step closer to the tree in anticipation of receiving the glove.
   
    The advice is too late in coming. I needed that warning this morning before leaving the house. As I deliberately reach for the pocket I pull both of my feet together and drop from the two branches that I am standing on. She is looking up, concentrating on my right hand, almost directly beneath me. The five feet separating us is traveled in a couple of seconds at most. In that time I hear branches cracking, her shriek of surprise and a deafening bang. My left arm is thrown over my face to keep the branches from raking it and I feel countless tree limbs thrust at me during my descent. Some make direct hits. Pain shoots through my lower right arm and I flinch from the impact causing me to turn onto my left side as I crash down on top of her.

    She reacts first and smashes her right elbow into the left side of my face. The blow momentarily detracts my attention from the screaming pain in my right forearm. I struggle to subdue her as she pounds her fists into my back then begins pushing into my chest in an attempt to roll me off her. It dawns on me that she no longer has the gun and I frantically scan the area for it. As she continues to push at me with her arms and now her legs I catch sight of the gun near my right foot and begin kicking at it. She is hurling a continuous barrage of obscenities as I strain to reach the gun while trying to maintain some semblance of control over her. Finally I catch the gun with a heal and send in spinning across the ground. It disappears in a mound of snow at the edge of the circle I had previously cleared.

    Now I am feeling lightheaded and notice the blood stained snow beneath my right arm. I attempt to stand up confident that she hasn't seen where the gun went. I only manage to get to my knees before my crotch is introduced to her left shin. Even with all the heavy clothing it curls me into a ball of nausea. She scrambles to her feet hesitating for an instant before leaping away from me into the deep snow. Doing her best to run along the path she had cut on her way out to this tree.

    As the pain in my crotch subsides I uncurl myself and lie flat on my back. Lacking any energy I don't even attempt to stand. "Friend of your's Jake?" I ask. "I can see why. She seems like a real sweetheart and good with a gun. You always did date some real winners didn’t you?"

    My eyelids bounce in a series of slow blinks as I fight to keep them open. As the forest dissolves into darkness I wonder if it could be sunset already? I hear voices calling my name. Among the shouts is a voice I recognize. My eyelids win the battle of wills and I drift off with the vision of my smiling wife bounding towards me over a forest floor covered with a thick blanket of pretty new fallen snow.