Falling In The Falls

Sudden Weather changes in the United Kingdom wasn’t entirely strange. What was odd was the sudden snow storm rippling through the hilly plains of Wiltshire, England.  The winds bellowed in softly at first, but grew into multiple gales with lingering specks of white.  The winding roads were covered in an instant making any trek through the country risky, especially for two American twins with little experience navigating on the left side of the roads in a rented car.

“Yeesh…”  The driver commented, momentarily leaning over the stirring wheel to glance at a darkening sky.  His knuckles whitened over the stirring wheel, feeling nervous about a potential white out in the middle of nowhere.  “You weren’t kidding about the weather, Sixer.  I didn’t think it would snow.”

“Cold weather is normal even at this time of the year, but I have never known this region to have snow showers until October at least.”  The passenger lazily replied as he flipped over his regional map.  The GPS started glitching three miles back from where they were, so they had no choice but to rely on other means of navigation.  Fortunately for the two older gentlemen they were experts in primitive pathfinding, but this crazy storm wasn’t making things easy for them.

“Any luck finding a landmark, Ford…  I don’t see the sky letting up anytime soon.  Best to get out of this weather as soon as we can.”  The driver didn’t mean to sound discouraging, but his concerns had merit.  He hadn’t seen snow this heavy since his long winters living alone in Oregon.  Ford heard the tension in his brother’s voice, yet there was little encouragement to give.  Regardless, he tried and pointed to the map even though the driver couldn’t see where he was pointing. 

“If I have this right, we shouldn't be too far from a small village called Dire Grove.  The B&B professor Starry mentioned said it was just beyond a forest path up ahead, so just keep going straight and keep an eye out for a treelining, Stanley.”

“Remind me again why we’re driving so far inland to see this friend of yours?  Something to do with treasure?  Or is that just an excuse you told me so you meet up with an old college flame?”  Stan chortled while narrowing his tired eyes.  He was having a hard time focusing on a white and greenish brown horizon.  Despite his best efforts to concentrate on the road, he could hear his twin brother’s eyes roll as he sighed.  He had already explained all of this to Stan while they were on the Stan O’ War II.  

Fiddleford had contacted the twins over the radio, and mentioned that their old friend might be in the Wiltshire region of the UK.  Apparently there had been a discovery in a construction site, and an entire Stonehenge was found buried underground.  The expedition fascinated Ford, and since they were so close to the Dorset coast, he convinced Stan to take a detour from their travels to the Arctic circle.  It took some convincing, the former grifter was eager to stay on track and try game fishing in the northern Atlantic, but it was getting harder and harder for Stan to tell his estranged twin no.  Some lake fishing could be just as fun in another country.

“Professor Starry isn’t a flame.  She’s a colleague I met while enrolling in Backupsmoore.”  Ford began to explain as he stared out the window to reminisce.  “She is an Anthropologist major specializing in ancient and dead cultures of northern Europe.  I happened to have an interest in Celtic anomalies at the time and asked if she had knowledge on any mythos I didn’t know yet.  We started having lunch together every week until she was asked to help excavate a new chamber discovered in Pompeii.”

“And you haven’t heard from her since then?”  Stan quirked a bushy gray brow, interested in the story, but also sighed in relief when the lingering branches of a forest appeared behind a distant slope.  They were on the right track, but the snow seemed to be getting worse the closer they got to the thicket.  Ford also noticed the darkness enclosing around them, but he still felt safe enough to keep talking.

“We kept in touch for a while, sending letters on our adventures and success.  Unfortunately I eventually did lose touch with her…  Lost touch with a lot of people actually.”

A few moments of silence followed his comment and soon the two men were driving past a sign post covered almost completely in ice covered brush.  Dire Grove Bed and Breakfast: 2 kilometers.  They were getting closer and it was a relief since the silence between them lingered between them longer than expected.  It later occurred to Ford that he might have said something insensitive after Stan increased the speed to the windshield wipers.

“B-By that I mean, I-I lost touch with people before I sent you a postcard.”  He stumbled, not even looking up at the driver.  He was too embarrassed with his sudden impertinence, even if he didn’t mean it.  “I was in a hard place long before the portal and…  I’m sorry, Stan.  I didn’t mean…”

His stuttering lessened when he felt a large hand grasp his top right knee.  Thinking Stanley was reaching for his water in the cup holder and just wildly missed it, so Ford tried reaching to correct him.  Before he could the hand on his knee squeezed him then pushed it into his opposite leg.  Just as quickly as the first squeeze, a second one foreshadowed the upcoming shove to the right. 

“Stan?”  The scientist questioned before his knee was pushed once more to the center of his seat then randomly shook and jostled in place.  “What the hell are you doing?!”  He snapped, and swiped at the calloused knuckles still wiggling over his leg.

“Whoops!  My bad.”  Stan grinned like a mischievous child.  “I forgot I was driving an automatic.  Didn’t mean to shift your knee, I’m still getting used to not driving my car.”

Puzzled, Ford tightened his lips and blinked through his lack of retort.  Soon, he had enough clarity to remind his brother of the mistake he just made.  “The Stanmobile?  Your car isn’t a five speed, Stanley.”

“Ya’ sure about that?”  Stan teased, his gray bangs swooping to one side as he exaggerated a shrug.  “I don’t think you’re remembering that right.”

“You’ve had the same car since we were kids.”  Ford smiled back, finally understanding that his twin was trying to distract him.  “I helped you install a new battery when you brought that hunk of junk home.  I know for a fact your car is an automatic. “

“Nah, I think you’re just having a senior moment.”  The driver gently shoved Ford’s shoulder as the car slowed for a sharp curve.  “You’re getting senile in your old age, Sixer.”

“Coming from you, that is almost funny over tragic!”  In brotherly fashion, Ford responded by hitting Stan back, laughing at him for flinching and playfully rubbing the strike zone.  Both men chuckled and Ford soon forgot why he felt anxious in the first place.  Stan had a talent for picking up on his brother’s anxieties and quickly finding ways to dispelling them.  Soon they both calmed down from their light horse play, and Ford had a moment to think.  It had been a long time since he had this feeling, trust and admiration for his double.  He found in that moment that he missed Stan more than he could imagine.  

The anger he felt for so long colluded his judgment and he nearly forgot the warmth his twin provided for anyone who needed the encouragement.  Now that they were truly back together again, Ford needed to remind himself to show Stan his gratitude and also return his support. 

“I’m glad you’re here, Stan.”  Ford said softly, his deep voice softening the laid back atmosphere.  Stan smiled back, and even blushed a little from the attention.  Which is why he glanced at his rear view mirror before replying.

“Yeah, yeah…  I’m glad you’re here too–.”

“Stanley!  Look out!”

A flash of white caught the corner of the driver’s vision too late.  He was unsure of what he saw, but it definitely wasn’t snow and it flew past the trail like fluttering cloth.  Startled, Stan hit the breaks too soon to safely come to a stop, and the tires slid uncontrollably in the fresh blanket of frost and ice.

“Shit!”  He hissed, trying desperately to correct himself by letting his foot up off the gas and feeling for a skidding pattern to direct his tires.  “Hold on to something, Stanford!”

Ford, unapologetically, did just that.  His six fingers flying to the nearest handle and clutching tightly.  His other hand instinctively rushed to brace the dashboard, and the scientist realized too late how tragic that mistake would be.  The car could not be stopped or slowed, and if Stan tried to correct his stirring too quickly, they would have rolled without a doubt. Crashing wasn’t ideal, but it was practically the only option if Stan couldn't find a clearing.  It was almost fate that a tall soft barked oak stood in the path of the rogue car, catching it in the crook of a slanted trunk.

A wildly loud thud smashed over above ground roots, that tore and hooked the base frame.  It softened the impact, but not enough to prevent the airbags from deploying.  Stan was quickly smothered, but his nose still hit the stirring wheel and it left him dazed.  Fortunately, if one could find fortune in this situation, he did not lose consciousness.  Minutes had gone by before he could feel any of his wits and hurriedly unbuckled his seatbelt.

“Stanford!”  He coughed through his panic, only now noticing his nose and mouth were full of blood.  The pain was intense both in and around his head, but he spat out what he could over his deflated air bag and powered through it.  He needed to see if his brother was safe before worrying about himself.  “Ford!  Ford, can you hear me?!”

His glasses were fogged over and his vision still hazy from his spiraling headache, so it was difficult to see anything but a red and gray blur hunched over the passenger door.  The arm rest had raised from the impact and it made it difficult to reach over and grab Ford.  But his devotion to protecting his twin compelled him to immediate action.  Practically kicking his door open, Stan leapt from his seat and sprinted for the opposite side of the car.  He slipped only once, skidding on his hands but instantly back on his feet and using the bumper for guidance. 

“Ford!  Please answer me!”  His glasses were still a little cloudy by the time he reached the outside of the passenger door, but he could make out the lining of his brother’s curly locks clinging to the wet glass.  The darkest part of his hair was soaked in both perspiration and a long streak of blood.  Stan put in the effort to cautiously open the door preparing for the worse.  His timing was spot on, and he was able to catch Ford’s slumping form before it could fall out of the car.  Stan gasped at the sight of his twin, the side of his head had a deep gash, his glasses were missing, and his left arm, that he braced on the dashboard, was clearly broken.  Even through his thick sweater sleeve, Stan could see the forearm bending unnaturally.  

“Wake up…”  Stan pleaded, shaking his brother’s shoulders gently, but desperate.  “Ford…  Stanford…!  You need to wake up, Sixer.  We have to find help.”

The bitter wind barreled down on the elderly men.  Stan’s only thought was to protect Ford and he sheltered him with his broad frame until the gale passed over them.  The clear sound of clattering wood drew Stan’s attention away from his ailing twin.  In the shale of a broken headlight he was momentarily relieved to see his salvation loosely waving in the breeze. 

A hanging sign with a broken chain stayed still long enough that even in low visibility, Stan was able to read its decorated lettering.

Welcome to Dire Grove!