The Clearing by Dan Newman Page B

enough skin around his eyes and mouth for Nate to tell only that he was black. The man was breathing hard, and brought his face down close to Nate’s. He looked directly into Nate’s eyes, and watched as Nate struggled for breath like a newly landed fish.
    The big man then dropped his head lower still, and Nate could smell the sweetness of rum on his breath as he whispered almost silently into Nate’s ear. “ Sòti la! ” he said, and then he raised something in front of Nate’s face. Nate knew it would be the heavy blade that the man had tried to kill him with earlier, but as his eyes focused, Nate saw something else.
    The thing held in front of his face, directly above him and a mere foot away, was some kind of animal part. At one end, the skin and bone was sliced through neatly – the action of a sharp blade, no doubt. But where the cut ended the skin was partially torn, as if sheer brawn had finished the job that the blade had started. Beneath the flap of skin white bone shone through, and something dripped off it and spattered on Nate’s forehead. He blinked wildly, and focused again on the object, and saw that at the other end, about eight inches from the cut, was a large cloven hoof. It was too broad and thick for a goat; a cow or bull seemed more likely. It spattered again on Nate and the floor around his head, and once again the man on top of him whispered, “ Sòti la! ” Go now!  
    Nate knew this was when he would die. The man stood up, towering over him, with a severed bloody hoof in one hand and a large cutlass in the other. He reached down and put the tip of the blade on Nate’s chin. He would do it now. He would sink the blade into Nate and that would be the end of it.
    Nate closed his eyes; he didn’t want to see the end coming.

 
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    1976  
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    Tristan never got the cigarettes. At least, not for keeps.
    He made it to the edge of the party, out of the shadows and into the booze and smoke hazy penumbra inhabited by the guests. He watched carefully as Mrs Patterson leaned on the back of her husband’s chair and spoke. As she did her breasts fell forward and hung down in great looping arcs, and the wide neck of her blouse spilled invitingly open. Every man at the party looked over to see. Tristan knew that was the moment, and he reached from behind the wicker sofa and took the cigarettes in a smooth silent motion, then set off back into the shadows.
    â€œTristan De Villiers! Stop right this instant!” Nate’s mom had delivered a command, not a request, and Tristan could do nothing but comply. He stood rooted to the spot, his back to the party, and to the irate Mrs Mason. He dropped his head and cursed under his breath. In the shadows, the other boys froze in horror, and despite the fact that they knew they were all but invisible to the partygoers, they understood that Tristan’s infraction was something for which they all might pay a price.
    â€œNathan! Are you back there? I said, Are you back there ? Nathan Alexander Mason, come out here right this instant!”
    And so Nate, too, dropped his head, and walked zombie-like into the light. Behind him he heard a stifled giggle, and knew that Richard and Pip were already headed for the hibiscus bushes and relative safety. It would be Tristan and Nate alone on this one.
    The two boys were called to the edge of the party, which had virtually stopped, save the Steve Miller Band and their advice to “Take the Money and Run,” and they were forced to stand guiltily in front of the guests. Tristan, true to form, stood with his chin thrust out defiantly, eyeballing the guests and radiating contempt. Every one of them caught a look from him. Everyone except Mrs Mason, of course. Nate, on the other hand, studied the grass at his feet, and he could feel the crimson creeping into his face.
    â€œJust what do you think you’re up to, young man?” asked Nate’s mother