Considering Jack Fenton's history everyone who hears mention of the incident immediately jumps to a conclusion involving backwash. Maybe it was a particularly vile shared soda. Maybe it was one of those shared experiences best referred to by euphemism, especially in polite company. Or maybe it was something entirely different. Maybe over time the words just ran together, clouding the original inflections that would have identified the nature of the incident to any who listened.

Pacman friendship.

-00000-

It was the height of July. Vlad and Jack were fifteen and out of school for the summer. With Vlad's father dead and his mother deported he had nowhere else to go but to stay with the somewhat welcoming family of his best friend since childhood. Sure, Pa Fenton still muttered about Ruski spies under his breath but it was to be expected. It was taking all of Ma Fenton's effort to get Vlad to stop speaking Russian in the house.

Vlad vaulted a fallen log, landing gracefully among the scrub. He shot off running, bounding over rocks and roots like a deer in the shadows.

"Vlaaaaaddy…." came a whining shout from behind him. Vlad glanced back to see Jack's huge bulk climbing over a log, struggling to keep up.

Vlad leaped onto a stump, crouching on it like an animal. "Oh no, you don't, Jack," Vlad mocked. "You've gone mjagkij [soft]. You wanted me to get you back in shape for football season, right?"

Jack made it over the log and leaned over, hands on his knees. He nodded as he tried to catch his breath.

"Then try to keep up!" Vlad crowed, jumping down from the stump to tear through the forest again. He took a running jump and grabbed a low hanging tree limb, swinging out over the wash. He let go and slid across the sandy track. He picked himself up and realized Ma Fenton was going to kill him for the dirt. No matter. He glanced up the banks of the wash and decided to jog down the dry creek to where the old ford was. He took off running.

Suddenly his feet gave way and he fell forward. His hands shot out to catch his fall.

His arms sank into the soft creek bed. Vlad looked down at the mud, not comprehending what he was seeing. All he could see was the mud crawling up his elbows as he sank down. That movement jolted him out of his shock and he tried to pull them out while taking inventory of his situation.

He'd been running… His feet tripped? Sank? Something like that. And now he was up to his hips in mud, bent forward with his chest pressed against the sandy surface. He pulled on his arms, feeling them slowly shift in their muddy prison. "JACK!" he shouted. He pulled his arms, feeling the mud slowly loosen around his hands. But his eyes went wide as he felt the mud suck him down as he pulled. He pulled harder, yanking at his arms as he felt the cool mud closing around his waist.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," he heard in the distance. That voice was up on the bank somewhere.

"Jack!" Vlad shouted. "Down here! I—I'm stuck!"

"Don't move! I'll be right there!"

Don't move, he says, Vlad thought. That's rich. He wiggled his arms and quietly celebrated when he could pull his hands free of their prison. His hands and arms were coated in a layer of dark mud, glistening like opera gloves. He giggled with the absurdity of the thought striking him. Here he was, waist deep in mud and sinking deeper and he was fascinated with how the mud looked on his skin. He must be crazy.

He felt around the surface with his hands, trying to find something solid to press on. He wiggled his hips and pressed down with his hands. Hope proved traitorous as his hands broke the surface and he started to sink deeper. Bubbles popped next to him, making him squirm as he fished his hands out again. He shivered as the mud crawled up his torso, slowly trying to claim him.

"Whoa!" shouted Jack as he came around the bend. He jumped to the edge of the bank and glanced warily at the center of the creek bed. Only then did he allow himself to really look at Vlad's predicament. Vlad was stuck, alright. He was mired up to his chest in mud and still sinking. This is bad, Jack thought. "It's okay, Vladdy, I'll have you out of there in no time."

"Could you?" Vlad asked, sounding deceptively calm.

Jack tried to think. He couldn't walk out there, he'd sink too. He couldn't go for help because then Vlad might go under and that would be bad. He didn't have any rope or a truck or a horse or nuthin' that would help. All he had was himself. Okay then. Jack flopped down on the creek bed and winced as the whole ground moved.

Vlad cringed as the mud shifted. He felt it climb up to his shoulders, heavy and cool. "I do hope you know what you're doing," he said.

Jack reached out. Vlad looked at Jack's trusting eyes and grabbed his hands. He grabbed those hands and pulled, trying to haul himself out. It was working! He could feel the mud giving up, curling back from his shoulders, letting go…

Jack let go.

Vlad slipped back into the mud, sucking, pulling him down. It gulped down his shoulders greedily before closing around his neck. "JACK!" Vlad shrieked.

"I slipped!" Jack shouted. "I'm sorry! Here, grab my hand!"

Vlad glared at his friend and grabbed the offered lifeline. He squirmed in the quicksand, trying to rid himself of this feeling of being constricted all over.

"Stop moving!" Jack begged. "You making this worse!"

"How am I supposed to get out of this without moving?!"

Jack laid down on the ground again and drew himself as close to Vlad as he dared. Vlad sank deeper, was forced to tilt his head back as the mud climbed up his neck and started to wrap around his head. "Jack, please tell me you know what you're doing…" He didn't hear any answer Jack may have said as the mud filled his ears. And still he sank. He took one last breath and closed his eyes and then the sun was gone.

Jack pulled Vlad's arms to wrap them around his neck. Then he reached his arms down into the mud to wrap them around Vlad's chest. "Hold on," he said. And then he started to pull.

The mud slowly gave up its prize as Jack pulled like a stubborn mule. Vlad tightened his arms around his friend's neck. His face went from being buried in mud to buried in a familiar shoulder. Warmth returned to his body as he was pulled inch by slow inch until…

With a squelch and a pair of 'oof's Jack found himself lying on his back on the floor of the wash. He could hear birds singing. The wind rustled the trees lining the dry creek bed. And he had his arms wrapped around the boy splayed over him as they both held on for dear life. Vlad gasped with exertion and with the very real understanding of what had almost happened.

Jack looked down at his friend. Vlad was covered from head to toe in wet, dark mud. His blue eyes shone with unshed tears. "Hey," Jack said. "You're okay."

"Ne otpuskat' [don't let go]," Vlad whispered.

Jack petted his friend like a puppy. "You're okay, Vlad," he said. "See? You're okay. C'mon, let's get cleaned up."

Not until they were out of the trees did Vlad feel safe enough to let go of Jack's hand.

-00000-

"Ah love the smell of mortification in the morning," Pa Fenton said. He puffed the cigarette held between his lips as both hands were busy.

Them boys had gotten in something deep. Literally in the Ruski's case. But instead of hosing off in the yard all proper-like, Jack had tried to sneak Vlad into the house to the shower. In the house! There were mud footprints everywhere. Clearly these boys needed to learn how to clean up after gettin' caught in the mud like that.

Which is why Pa Fenton had the hose turned on those two boys like he were puttin' out a fire. Their clothes were all hosed out and ready for washin' but Vlad had mud in places that just weren't sanitary. Them boys needed learnin' how to hose off.

Naked, humiliated, and pissed off, Vlad glared at his partner-in-crime. It didn't matter that Jack was as naked and as embarrassed as he was. "Ja obvinjaju Vas [I blame you], Jack," Vlad growled.

"This ain't so bad," Jack said. "He coulda called the neighbors."

Vlad's mortification grew as he thought he heard the crunch of tires on gravel.

"Guess he did," Jack said, face turning red.