Rewind by Peter Lerangis

1
    A DAM FELT COLD. C OLD and alone. Darkness had swallowed the woods. His path was vanishing fast.
    “Guys?”
    The word died in the air, swept away by a shriek of north wind. Above him, branches waved wildly in the moonlight, clattering like old, brittle bones.
    This was a stupid idea, Sarno.
    He shouldn’t have agreed to play laser tag. Especially here. Especially at this time of year, when the reminders were so strong.
    He tried not to think of what had happened. It was four years ago. He had to get over it. He couldn’t avoid the lake his whole life.
    Thump.
    Adam’s heart nearly stopped.
    “Ripley?” he called out. “Lianna?”
    No answer.
    Maybe they were hiding from him. Listening to his voice. Laughing at how it sounded. Timid. Scared. So very Adam.
    ( Adam is a wimp …)
    Or maybe they’d left already. The lovebirds running off, not telling anyone.
    Okay, fine.
    No problem.
    I know these woods.
    I am ten blocks from home.
    He slung his laser gun over his shoulder. To his right, the woods disappeared into blackness. To his left, the moon peeked through the trees, dimly lighting a path toward the lake. He could follow the trail along the bank to the big clearing, where his bike was.
    No.
    Stay away from the lake.
    Adam ignored the thought. He was older now. Too old to be afraid.
    It was only a memory.
    Memories couldn’t hurt you.
    As he trudged to the lake, his heart began to race.
    Warning signs were legible even in the faint moonlight: DANGER! THIN ICE! DO NOT ENTER UNDER PENALTY OF LAW !
    Adam glanced beyond the signs. The lake looked remote. Unfriendly.
    The last time he was on the lake, the signs didn’t exist. You could sneak onto the ice and no one bothered you.
    But the last time was four years ago. A January afternoon.
    He did sneak onto the ice that day. To practice hockey.
    Don’t think about this now. Turn away.
    But Adam’s eyes fixed on a distant spot on the snow-dusted ice. In line with a clump of pine trees at the opposite bank.
    That was where it had happened.
    Lianna had been there. She had come along with—
    Don’t.
    With Edgar.
    Edgar didn’t want to practice. I forced him.
    They were ten. The hockey net was heavy, and no one was helping Adam set it up. Edgar was skating around, teasing Adam ( showing off for Lianna ), challenging him to take away the puck, being a total jerk, and ( I wanted to kill him ) that was it, wasn’t it, that was the reason for the fight ( it’s not my fault ), and when Edgar was pulled out of the hole, he had a big bump on his head ( because it hit the ice ), but Adam couldn’t remember because he’d fallen in, too, and blacked out, and if it weren’t for Lianna he would have died himself, which would have made more sense, because what did poor Edgar do to deserve what he got, a deadly blow to the head from his supposed best friend?
    It’s not my fault.
    And the next thing Adam remembered, he was in the hospital, screaming ( Edgar! Edgar! ), while the doctors scratched their chins and told him it wasn’t his fault ( they didn’t see it, only Lianna did ), and from then on, everything was different, he couldn’t concentrate, and the kids at school steered clear of him—but the rumors got back ( Adam killed Edgar, whacked him in the head, pushed him in the ice, and left him for dead ), the rumors he ignored even though they were true, weren’t they?
    Stop.
    He began to run. Away from the lake. Blindly. His laser pack and coat snagged on brambles, but he didn’t care. He had to get away. He had to go home.
    But where’s Edgar? I can’t leave without Edgar.
    The thoughts were following him. Taunting him.
    Edgar is dead.
    Dead. Dead. Dead.
    “Help!”
    Adam stopped in his tracks.
    The voice was coming from behind him.
    Real. And loud. As if reaching across time.
    “Adam, help!”
    It’s Ripley’s voice, you fool. Ripley, not Edgar.
    Adam spun around.
    “Adaaaaaaam!”
    “Oh my god…” he murmured.
    It wasn’t over.
    It was