The Emperor of Ice Cream

from Wallace Stevens' poem of the same name

Call the roller of big cigars,
The muscular one, and bid him whip
In kitchen cups concupiscent curds.
Let the wenches dawdle in such dress
As they are used to wear, and let the boys
Bring flowers in last month's newspapers.
Let be be finale of seem.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.

Rachel and Leyne had almost made it to the more populated areas when a sound made Leyne glance back over her shoulder. She grabbed Rachel's arm in panic and pulled on her, eyes wide and lips moving but no sound coming out of her mouth.

"Cut it out." Rachel scowled and pulled her arm free. "What's wrong with you?"

With a hard shove, Leyne knocked Rachel over, dropped her bag and took off as fast as she could.

Rachel had a second to witness Leyne in her high-heeled boots and miniskirt bouncing down the street, before a rush of heat and fumes choked her as something flew by, almost hitting her head. "Hey!"

"AAAAAHH!" Leyne screamed, running straight down the sidewalk, boot heels clicking against the pavement. She looked back, saw Rachel almost run down, and tripped. "RACHEL!"

A hovertruck slid in a wide arc in front of her, blocking her view of Leyne as it turned toward her. She could see Don Gitlan at the wheel. "Oh hell!" Outrage flooded her as she rose. The bastard had tried to hit them! A quick look showed a nearby ditch and the woods, closer now, but still several blocks away. As the truck's engines gunned, Rachel ran for it, leaping the ditch and crashing into the underbrush on the other side. Briars tore at her pant legs and dry brown reeds and tall dry grass burst against her sleeves and legs as she raced across the untended field, the truck gaining on her. Things scurried to flee the thudding of her feet and the roar of the truck's engine. Two mourning doves rose in a startled explosion of flapping wings and squeaky warning cries from their nesting place.

Rachel had only gotten a third of the way across the field when her foot hooked on rusted metal. Some boxspring had been discarded and had been disintegrating there. Her sneaker caught in one of the red flaking rusted coils, and she fell headlong, her momentum twisting her foot free and sending her flying on her belly through the brush. She instinctively ducked her head and brought her arms and hands up to protect it from the briars and sticks before she hit the ground hard and slid to a stop. Everything darkened and the hot exhaust from the hovertruck burned her back and deafened her momentarily as it flew over her. Grimacing, Rachel jumped back to her feet, her sneakers slipping in the sunken muddy patch beneath her before she took off after the truck. Her ankle hurt when she put weight on it, but she ignored it. If she could make it across these two fields, she could reach the woods, and the truck wouldn't be able to follow.

"Raaaaaaachel!" Rachel jumped and swiveled at the sound. Leyne awkwardly scrambled across the field behind her, through the swathe beaten down by the hovertruck.

"Oh for crying out loud…." Rachel frantically tried to motion Leyne to go back, to run the other way, but Leyne kept coming. Rachel could hear the engine getting farther away, but knew it wouldn't be long before he managed to turn it again. To her left, a very dark patch amidst the thick briars might be a hidden rock or the main stem of the briars, and to the right, ahead of her, a rusted pipe jutted promisingly from the ground.

The truck scraped and screeched through the brush in a tight arc, the briars catching at the metal, slowing its turn.

With another glance at the briars on the left, Rachel limped for the pipe.

Don aimed for her and stepped on the accelerator.

"Noooo!" Leyne screamed.

Rachel dove for the pipe and the truck passed to the side of her. Standing, she gripped the pipe and pulled. It didn't budge.

Leyne jumped up and down and waved her arms frantically. "RUN!"

Don turned the truck around between them. As Rachel tugged on the pipe, he gunned the engine, making the truck lift and shimmy in the ragged field.

Rachel watched Leyne bend down, pick up a stone and throw it at the truck. It missed. She did it again, and this time, it hit and bounced off. Don glanced back, put his arm up on the seat next to him, and pedaled the rudders into a different position.

"Leyne don't!" Rachel pulled as hard as she could on the pipe. A whole matted section of brush and roots lifted with it, but it didn't come free. "Stay out of this! Go back to the road!"

"Ooooo!" Leyne shrieked as the hovertruck suddenly accelerated backwards toward her. "Aaaaah!" Hands in the air, she ran to the side. Don didn't have as good control backing up, and missed her. "Asshole!" she screamed at him as she ran up to the side of the truck and hit it with her fist. "Dickhead!"

Rachel knelt, grabbed a large rock, hefted it up, and smashed it down on one of the darker red, more rusted sections of the pipe. Then she did it again and again, desperation giving her strength.

Don stepped on the accelerator and the truck tore away from Leyne, who shook her fist at him as he drove the truck in a large circle, flattening a good part of the field, before aiming it at Rachel again. He revved the engine.

Rachel tugged on the pipe again, stepping on the part she'd hit. It lifted farther, but that was all. She tried to twist it free.

The hovertruck came flying at her. Rachel froze.

"Move!" Leyne screamed. "RACHEL! NOOOO!"

Rachel could see in agonizing detail the squint of Don's eyes, the cowlick at his front part, the redness around his knuckles as he gripped the wheel, the dulled silver bird design in the center of the hovertruck's grill, the shimmering dark space below the truck barely a foot high. She lifted the pipe and leaned back.

With a deafening shriek, the end of the pipe punctured the grill and screeched through the engine block, the force of the impact rippling the hood and shattering the windshield. A whole web of roots and brush had lifted with the pipe and the weight brought the truck's nose down to plow the dirt. The vehicle let out a loud, high-pitched whine and a long wheeze before the safety kicked in and shut it down. Sticks cracked and the hot metal ticked as the truck settled. Its fans whirred to a stop and glass tinkled to the ground before the field resumed its natural quiet. Clouds had dulled the sky into an opaque and indiscriminate whiteness.

Leyne's breath wheezed in and out as she reached Rachel's body, spread-eagle on the ground meters beyond where the truck had so violently subsided, and knelt down. She brushed Rachel's hair out of her face. "Rachel?"

Rachel opened her eyes and looked up at her worried face. "I'm having a bad day."

"Oh, thank God!" Leyne squeezed her shoulder.

"Ow." Rachel made a face.

"I'm so sorry!" Leyne lifted her hand away, using it instead to steady herself as she knelt. Nettles and stickers dotted her jacket, leggings and miniskirt; her hair bumped out on one side where she must have caught and tugged on it; and dirt smudged her cheeks, palms and knees. "Are you okay? Where do you hurt?"

"Everywhere." Rachel patted at her body. Everything seemed connected. "Help me up."

Leyne stood and offered her hand to Rachel, who winced as she pulled herself up. Leyne looked Rachel over, the dirty, torn pants and sweatshirt, the scratched face and cut up hands. "Well, at least you didn't ruin a good outfit."

Rachel snorted at her. Then she bent over, putting her elbows on her knees. She paused before brushing her knees off, Leyne's hand resting briefly on her back as she did.

"That was the stupidest thing I ever saw," Leyne admitted. "You should have run. That could have killed you. You may have killed Don."

Glancing at Leyne with a worried expression, Rachel hobbled over to the side of the truck and looked in.

Don stared at her wide-eyed. He pushed himself off the wheel, showing no visible signs of injury. "My truck, what did you do to my truck?!" he whined.

"I think what you mean is what have YOU done to your truck." Rachel looked back at Leyne, who seemed reassured when she gave her the thumb's up. Rachel went and leaned on the smoking hood of the truck. "Do you need help, Don? I mean, besides psychiatrically."

Glass fell off his clothes as he started to kick at the door with his feet to get it to open. "This isn't over! When I tell my brothers what you did to our truck, they're all gonna come after you!"

"One problem at a time, Don." Rachel limped away from the truck. "Leyne, I think it's time to go." With each passing moment, she felt stiffer. It was getting late. Panic nibbled at her at the thought of being stuck out after dark. No, no, no. She had to get back to the house before that happened.

Leyne went over to help her, putting an arm around her waist. "If you still want to go to the woods, there's a trail over there," she pointed to the left edge of the field.

Rachel wrapped her arm around Leyne's shoulder as she looked at Leyne in disbelief. "You're kidding me."

Together the two made it to the edge of the field and climbed a small muddy embankment. Looking back, Rachel saw Don had extricated himself from the truck's cab and had started to survey the damage. She turned and pushed through the tall reeds to find the trail.

They began to walk toward the woods. Leyne seemed remarkably steady in her heels, which had also proven remarkably sturdy. "You live on the other side of it, don't you, in Southies?"

"Yeah." Rachel limped along as fast as she could, trying not to lean too much on Leyne, trying to ignore the pain, and trying to keep her rising panic at bay. She didn't know what time it was, but it had to be getting late.

"My home would be closer." Leyne looked over at her. "It's in the other direction, though."

"No, I have to get back to the house." Rachel tried to limp faster. She grit her teeth.

Leyne looked puzzled. "I think you're going to need to see a doctor. My Dad could drive you. Plus, my bag's back there."

"My bag!" Rachel stopped abruptly. "Where's my bag?"

"You didn't have one." Leyne frowned. "Are you okay?"

"I did. I know I did. Crap! My keys are in there!" Rachel felt like crying. "I left it in the principal's office."

"The principal's?" Leyne's eyebrows lifted. "You are having a bad day."

Rachel shook her head. "It doesn't matter now. Do you want to go get yours, and go home? I can manage from here. I'm fine." It would probably be best if Leyne didn't see the house anyway.

"You are clearly not fine, and I'm going to make sure you get home safe. I owe you that much at least." Leyne's tone made it clear she expected no argument. "But if you don't mind, I'll run back and get my bag, if it's still there. Wait here?" She made sure Rachel was steady as she stopped supporting her. "It'll only take me a few minutes. Don't go anywhere!" When she was sure Rachel could stand on her own, Leyne trotted off down the trail.

"Stay away from Don. Don't let him see you!," Rachel called after her. For a while, she managed to stay still, but panic tore through her again as she noticed that the light was fading. Leyne was taking too long. With a glance back at where Leyne had vanished, Rachel hobbled off in the other direction. The sharp pain shooting up her leg every time she stepped made the woods seem almost impossibly far away. She forced herself on, terror rising in her with the dusk.

"Hey!" Leyne whispered loudly, and Rachel jumped at the sound, spun and fell on her butt. "Wow, you're white as a sheet. Why aren't you waiting for me?"

"I need to get to the house. I have to hurry because the door's always locked at night, and now I don't have my key." Rachel brushed sand out of the raw spots on her palms.

Leyne helped Rachel up and wrapped her arm around the other girl's ribs again, placing her shoulder under Rachel's arm. "Okay. We'll hurry." Huffing and puffing they made it to the edge of the woods. It was even darker in there. "Are you sure this is a good idea? The woods? At this time of day?" Leyne wiped the sweat off her forehead as they paused to catch their breaths.

Rachel just nodded and clutched Leyne's shoulder tighter. "Please hurry." The panic twisted knives in her gut. She'd always been afraid of the dark, but her Dad had helped her. Now, after that night, the terrors had returned worse than ever. The nights brought terrible dreams, ones that felt real, like she was there reliving that night over and over. Sweat plastered her bangs to her forehead. She thought she could smell smoke.

"I am SO writing a letter about not being allowed to bring our omnitools to school!" Leyne helped Rachel into the woods. They had a lopping rhythm, a rolling gait, and both were breathing heavily. "I could have taken photographs of the whole thing and gotten the police. My Dad would have kicked Don's ass. We'd have been picked up by now!"

Something huge fell from a nearby tree. Leyne screamed and ducked as huge wings unfurled and the thing swooped over them at the last moment. Rachel closed her eyes in pain as her bruised knees banged the ground again. The night was almost on them. Terror clawed at her. They were not safe. She thought she could hear the firecracker sound of gunfire, smell blood and urine.

"I did not make it through 9th and 10th grades to get taken down by wood monsters," Leyne muttered as they rose together and hobbled along again. She practically dragged Rachel along. "I don't know why there are woods anyway."

"It was only an owl," Rachel whispered, biting her bottom lip as her stomach churned. "It was only an owl." Sweat soaked her clothes. Her grip tightened on Leyne.

"You think I care what it was? Oh no, I don't care what it was. I am not going to get eaten by animals in this park. I don't care where they come from or who they think they are!" Leyne's face could hardly be seen. Night was falling. The trail in the woods was blurring, so too were the features of Leyne's face. "I'm bigger, I'm stronger…."

"We have to hurry!" Rachel pleaded, desperate to not be outside any longer.

"And I'm going as fast as I can! I don't need you bossing me around, Ms. Pantywhite. I don't know what's gotten in to you, but you can stuff it. I don't need you trying to scare me while I'm walking in the woods to the bad part of town! You're lucky I don't leave you on your own right now! If you think I have nothing better to do than run through fields and get chased by trucks and haul your busted ass home, you have another thing coming!" Leyne stopped to catch her breath, dragging Rachel to a halt.

"Ms. Pantywhite?" Rachel wheezed. "My busted ass?" She glanced over at Leyne and started to laugh, the terror a thin edge of hysteria away.

"Yes! I don't know what you think is so funny!" Leyne pushed Rachel down and bent over, wheezing. "Nothing about today has been funny. If you think…"

"…you care about what is out here or where it comes from, I have another thing coming?" Rachel offered, tears streaming down her face as she laughed helplessly. "If I think your candy ass is strong enough to get me to my house, I have another thing coming?"

"Hmmph," Leyne put her hands on her hips. Rachel could barely tell. "Your sorry ass is more like."

"What a pair we are," Rachel hooted. "We're scarier than anything else out here. I mean, did you see what had happened to your hair? Poof!" She mimed an explosion with her hands. "And I look like something from a zombie vid." It felt like a thousand needles were pricking her skin. It crawled. Not now. Please, please, not now, Rachel begged the terror silently.

Leyne was quiet for a long moment. "There's definitely something not right with you."

"You're scary when you're frightened," Rachel's giggles had deserted her as quickly as they'd come. She could feel it. She knew they were here.

"Get up," Leyne ordered. "Before I show you what scary really is." She helped Rachel back up, and they hobbled through to the edge of the wood without talking further. They stepped out into the dusk.

The trail emerged between the backyards of two small Cape-style houses with enclosed back porches. Sweat rolled down Rachel's face, but she felt cold. "You shouldn't be near me." They were hunting them. They would be found.

"Tell me about it. You stink to high heaven." Leyne wearily pulled her forward. "I want a hot bath, a nice hot meal. I even want to do homework. Today has been too exciting for me. So where's your house?"

"It's one down, the red and white one. Aah!" Rachel recoiled, raising an arm to defend herself as the backyard lights flared on, shining into her eyes. "They see us!" Through milky curtains she could see an orange glow in the house they were passing. "They've already set the houses on fire! Hide! I'll draw them off." She tried to push Leyne away.

"Don't play games." Leyne frowned at her. "Seriously, it's not funny."

Leyne practically dragged her, resisting, to the road. A red and white house one lot down had no lights showing in its windows, but large, very bright lights illuminated its whole seedy, unkempt yard. Two hovercars rested in the sand driveway, one old, one new, and a path, paved with large gray slate slabs, led to a small front porch, about 4 feet wide. Three cements steps led to a heavy gunmetal gray door. Dingy, peeling, once white, square beam columns supported a small roof over the front steps. In the center of it, a black metal eagle tilted askew, one of its wings no longer affixed to the wood there. The red paint on the small two-story house had faded to a pink and clung to the wood in shreds and tatters in many places.

The streetlights flickered on. "Not the tower! We need to hide. You're right. I see that now. We can't help anybody. They'll get us too." Rachel pushed at her, pushed her away. "Julia … please." She struggled in Julia's arms. She needed to get her to understand, to get her safe, to save her this time. "Please."

Leyne looked at her, appalled, released her and backed a few steps away. "Rachel? What's happening?"

The door to the new hovercar opened and a very tired looking Dr. Goldberger stepped out, with a rucksack in hand.

"It's too late." Rachel grabbed at Julia's hand. "I can't let them kill you. We must go to the woods!"

Leyne pulled back, shaking Rachel's hand off. "Stop it!"

Rachel moved toward her, stepped on her hurt foot and fell. She curled up on the ground in the middle of the road. "No! No! Hide! They're coming! They see us!"

Dr. Goldberger's shoes crunched in the sand, then scraped on the road as she walked briskly over to the pair and knelt down by Rachel. She glanced up at the other girl. "I'm Dr. Goldberger, the school psychologist. You are?"

Rachel rocked on the ground. "No! Not again!" Her sleeves muffled her voice.

"Leyne Hill. What's wrong with her? Why are you here?"

"Rachel left her bag at school, and I thought I'd return it to her. Rachel, can you hear me?"

"Yes. I'm not deaf, just crazy." Rachel clutched the sweatshirt to her and curled up more tightly. "This isn't real. This isn't real. They're all dead. That's what's real. This is Earth. I'm on Earth."

"What is she talking about?" Leyne sounded scared.

"Nothing you need to worry about. My omni is in the car. Please use it to call your parents and ask them to pick you up. They are probably worried about you."

"I think she needs to go to the hospital. She got hit by a hover truck and run over, and she hurt her foot trying to get away from it. She wouldn't let me take her to my house."

"You've been a very good friend. I can take it from here."

Rachel heard Leyne's boots retreating down the road. She heard the crackling of fires and the popping of glass, the terrible screams. "It's not real. Nothing is real." She could feel blood sticking to her hands and rubbed them on her sleeves to rub it off.

"Rachel. I believe you are experiencing a flashback. It's natural to have them when you've survived something like you have. It's a natural part of healing. It's okay to feel what you're feeling. It's safe to feel it now." Dr. Goldberger sounded very calm, untroubled by Rachel's behavior.

"It's not safe! They're going to kill us! They're shooting everyone. They shot Isaac!" She curled up tighter, trembling, tears streaming down her face. "It's not safe! Nothing's safe. It's all my fault. Get away from me!"

"I'm going to stay with you. I'm going to stay to help you remember and to help you remember that you survived. What are you seeing?"

"There are fires and so much blood. I didn't know people had so much blood. It's everywhere. Sometimes it's cold, sometimes it's hot, and it sticks to everything, and even when they're not moving anymore their eyes are open and they're watching me. When he blew a hole in Isaac it all ran out everywhere. I couldn't reach him. It's my fault!"

"How is it your fault?"

"It was my plan, but they figured it out, and one was going to shoot me, but he yelled at him, and he shot him, and then another shot me, and they took Julia and Mikey!" She clutched at her head and rocked. "No, I want it to stop! I don't want to remember any more. It's not real anymore! I can't change any of it!" She shook her head, pulling at her hair. "I saw what they did to them! Please make it stop!"

"Rachel, how old are you now?" Dr. Goldberger's voice was firm.

The question brought Rachel up short. She stopped rocking. "… seventeen."

"How old were you then?"

Rachel opened her eyes in the stifling smelly comfort of her hoodie. "Sixteen."

"Put your hands on the ground."

Hesitantly, Rachel obeyed, watching her hands, so familiar, side-by-side on the road.

"What do you feel?"

"Road, asphalt, bumps, sand." Overhead the streetlight flickered, and she flinched.

"Where are you?"

"Earth, the Southies." Her voice deepened with every answer that took her farther from the memories.

"How far away is the colony you're remembering?"

Rachel remembered the months-long trip on the freighter out, packed in with all the other families, Isaac whining with impatience, Mikey finding playmates among the other kids. She'd noticed Julia even then. She shook her head to push away the memories. They were too painful. "A week by first class." The Alliance ship had dropped the survivors who wanted to leave off at Elysium, and the colony's founding firm had arranged first-class transport to Earth for those desiring it. Those who had mostly kept to their quarters that week, not talking.

"I want you to look at me."

Slowly, Rachel uncurled the rest of the way, sat up and met Dr. Goldberger's eyes. They looked tired. She still wore the well-fitted tan suit she had worn at school that day.

"Thank you. I saw on your schedule that you take Chorus. I want you to do some breathing exercises."

"Right now? You gonna to ask me to sing next?" Rachel regretted the smart comment the moment she said it. She didn't mean to be rude, ruder, that is, than she'd already been to Dr. Goldberger.

"Your sense of humor is returning. That's good." Dr. Goldberger smiled. "Put a hand on your belly. Breathe in slowly to fill only that part, then breathe out slowly, emptying that space, and wait a second, then breathe back in and repeat."

After a few minutes, Rachel looked down. "I'm sorry about what I said to you, you know, before."

Dr. Goldberger stood and offered Rachel her hand. "I think I understand. We had just met, and I said many things about very personal matters without really knowing you yet. I apologize for that."

Rachel took her hand and let her help her up. "You're apologizing to me?!" An adult had never done that to her before. She felt … powerful.

"Yes. I was very concerned when you ran out." Dr. Goldberger looked her over. "It seems my concern was justified."

Leyne walked up to them. "You okay, Rachel? You had me freaking out."

Rachel looked down at her sneakers. "I'm sorry about that. I know I acted weird. I'm … afraid of the dark … literally." She glanced sideways at Dr. Goldberger. "Am I in trouble?"

"Just when I thought you weren't afraid of anything." Leyne shrugged. "Still, you said some very strange things."

"I'd like to speak to your guardian. I tried knocking, but no one answered. It doesn't look like anyone's home." Dr. Goldberger leaned down, picked up Rachel's bag and handed it to her. "This is yours."

"Thank you." Rachel rooted around in it for her keys. "He'd never answer at night, but he's always in. You should come by on the weekend to talk to him."

Dr. Goldberger and Leyne just looked at her.

Rachel sighed. "Fine, but this isn't really going to help." Grimacing, and helped again by Leyne, she hobbled across the yard and up the stairs, glancing around nervously at the shadows. Dr. Goldberger walked to the driveway and then up the path to join them. "I warned you," Rachel reminded them as the key turned in the lock and a loud bolt slid and clicked back. Rachel opened the door.

The three entered a room that stretched from the door to the right side of the house. The room was lit by a few low watt bulbs in floor lamps with water-stained shades. Heavy metal shutters had been installed and rolled down over the inside of all the windows, allowing no light to escape. The room had a central brick fireplace and cheap fake wood paneling with black printed seams, except right around the brick, where a rougher actual wood had been used and stained a dark brown. A handmade bin, painted white, with top and bottom compartments made of dowels in a slightly sturdier wooden frame, stood to the left in the corner by the door, stacked half-full with firewood. A handmade wooden table was pushed up against the wall on the other side of the bins. Across the room stood a couple of tattered old armchairs, one orange and high-backed with wooden legs, the other shorter, stouter and covered with a peach and blue floral print. An old sofa stood away from the front wall, opposite the fireplace, its back to the window.

On its worn, shiny, green and black striped cushions lay a man, snoring. Yellow sweat stains marked his undershirt and gray stubble shadowed his cheeks. His mouth was partially open, as was the fly of his black work pants. Big yellowish-brown, partially laced construction boots covered his feet. One hand rested on his belly by his fly, the other draped off the couch, the fingertips touching one of the brown bottles that had rolled there. More bottles, some standing up, some knocked over, littered the coffee table. Beer cans, stacks of paper ads and dirty plates covered the table and lined portions of the room, more than a foot deep. But the room's stench came from something else entirely.

Beside the fireplace, to the right of the door, on the other side of the table and by the peach armchair were large metal crates, six in all, lined with soiled papers. Large dogs jumped, pressed against the bars, and rocked the crates as they barked at them, filling the room with a resounding cacophony, teeth snapping, spittle flying from their mouths. The dogs had thick, heavy heads, big teeth and short fur. Most were shades of brown with white markings. One was white. That one wasn't barking at all. He was growling, ears back and head down as he advanced toward the trio. A light brown one jumped up on the couch and put his forelegs on its back. It curled its lip and growled at them too.

"Good God!" Dr. Goldberger exclaimed, backing up slowly. Leyne pressed back against the door.

"Stay behind me," Rachel said, slowly moving toward the white dog. "Whatever you do, don't run."