Absolute Zero

The slim butch retrieved her windbreaker from her office thinking only of the comfort of a hot cup of tea and maybe a light supper before bed. She locked up and she let out a strangled yelp when she turned around. "Oh my God! You could at least let me know you were standing there!" It was Grace. Dr. Grace Kruse had been at Darby College for four years back then. They struck up a friendship and slowly started spending more and more of their free time together when possible. But the life of a college professor—even a gym instructor—was a busy one, so it caught Brodie off guard to see her there.

Grace laughed as her mouth stretched in a smile. "Oh, but I thought you loved surprises!"

Brodie zipped her windbreaker and, rattled the doorknob to be sure it was locked. "I figured you'd gone home hours ago. It's Friday night and—"

"Department meeting ran a little late." Grace said. "And I had some unfinished business I needed to take care of..." She leaned in, pressing her lovely full lips against Brodie's. The bespectacled butch was caught off guard again. She started to gasp, and her lips parted to allow the young professor's tongue to graze against hers. That one kiss, soft and sweet, became two, and three. Each kiss was longer and more insistent than the last.

The hall was empty since most of the faculty had gone home or were attending the bonfire. The entire world seemed to slip away with the intense quiet and semi-darkness of the space they shared. Brodie gently caressed Grace's cheek and delivered an aggressive kiss, pushing her hard against the wall, pinning her there. Her hand moved down across the front of the young woman's dress. She cupped her breasts through the fabric while they kissed, forgetting the keyring dangling from her forefinger. When it hit the floor, it made a tremendous sound.

C-R-A-A-C-K!

"What was that—" The cold returned, and Brodie's eyes widened in shock as she heard another crackling sound. The snow dusted ice beneath her feet fractured, unable to support the weight. The butch woman tried taking a few light, tentative steps towards the pond's edge. This time, there was a kind of popping sound as the ice broke and crumbled, causing her to plunge into the frigid water. Brodie still held onto the necklace while she flailed around, kicking her feet uselessly, struggling to feel the bottom. Water rushed over her head as she went under a second time, sputtering and gagging. The world quickly dissolved into a haze of grayish white and watery blackness as Brodie struggled and failed to surface and find the edge of the pond. Dread was her only companion.

A numbing chill bloomed in the depths of Brodie's stomach. The sensation spread outward to the tips of her fingers and toes. Dread became full blown terror in a matter of seconds. Brodie Banks was exhausted; unable to surface. In her panic, she was disoriented. She gasped as her mouth opened to scream and a sudden flood of icy water rushed into her lungs. Her eyes rolled back in her head as the horrifying sensation left her body with the last of her breath.

And then...

A coldness permeated her; absolute zero. But now she sensed a presence nearby. She was unsure of who—or what—it was, but it seemed to mean her no harm. Not that it mattered. The fight had left Brodie. She caught a fleeting flash of gold light and saw a solitary dead leaf, separated from its branch, drifting onto the pond's surface. In seconds, it was snatched in the rushing water under the broken ice and disappeared. Everything faded to black and Brodie went limp.

*****

Brodie Banks came to, sputtering and gagging. She coughed up some of the pond water as she struggled to sit up and get her bearings. The professor's hand went to her chest. Another fit of violent coughs brought up more pond water. Brodie's hand went to her coat packet to retrieve her glasses, but they weren't there. Her fingertips grazed metal; the delicate, lozenge shaped beads of the gold necklace she'd found just before falling through the ice. She pulled it out of her coat pocket, hands trembling from the cold and the weight of the now waterlogged garment. Her glasses must have slipped out, and her hat, scarf, and mittens were gone too. Probably somewhere at the bottom of the pond. Brodie shoved the necklace into her pants pocket and shed her coat while she scanned the surface of the pond in disbelief. Strange...the water showed no signs of ice now. How long had she been asleep?

The lanky butch fought another reflexive gag when she attempted to stand upright. Doing this was easier said than done. Her slender limbs trembled, and though she was no longer weighed down by her coat, she was still soaked and miserable. Brodie was annoyed that she'd lost her glasses. They were her good pair! She was hungry too, and thirsty. It was a feeling that, until now, she'd forgotten since Grace's death. She was aware of the mild rumble of her empty stomach. It resonated through the hollow of her core. She widened her stance, trying to steady herself, and felt incredibly lightheaded.

The professor blinked a few times now, wondering if her eyes were deceiving her. There stretched before her was the boundless vista of another world! A vast night forest of lush trees and shrubbery greeted her; its verdant arms stretched wide. A brief flash of light rose slowly upward, joining hundreds of other little bright lights, twinkling like stars in the sky above. Fireflies. Brodie called them lightning bugs. The soft yellow glow surrounded the woman who stood there, still shivering. Her mind retreated for a few seconds to her childhood where she heard stories of woodland elves and fairies. Their light danced in the heady night air, tempting woodland visitors to venture closer. The fates of the various fairytale characters varied and were as diverse as the grains of sand on a beach. Some were heroes and others were lambasted by the disembodied narrator as fools. But all of the stories led to similar outcomes: some were rewarded with riches and knowledge while others were led off the path they'd taken and were never heard from again.

Brodie glanced once more at the vast night sky and took a step forward, stumbling. Her legs suddenly felt like two water bags and tinier, sharper points of light hovered before her eyes. The lanky butch wondered if she was under the influence of alcohol or drugs. But the possibility of either was downright ludicrous. Brodie never cared much for drinking no matter how casual or infrequent. As far as drugs were concerned, she rarely took anything harder than an aspirin or two. Calisthenics and sports were Brodie's drug of choice. Nothing could compare to the exhilaration brought on by the effects of a vigorous session of stretching and exercise.

"I've got to get a hold of myself." Brodie muttered. "One foot in front of the other." The professor shuddered against the clammy chill of her soaked clothes and entered the forest. A narrow path cut through the trees while the hundreds of winking fireflies illuminated the way. She wasn't sure how far she'd been walking when she spotted something several feet ahead. It looked like some sort of stone pillar obscured by the ferns and brush and branches of nearby trees. Funny, Brodie thought. She'd walked the scrubby paths of Seaton Dells countless times in the past, and not once had she ever come across this...thing before. The thing looked ancient. It must've been here, cleverly hiding in the trees for a hundred years or more!

The professor came closer, eyes fixated on something that looked like a sign or a plaque. It was hard to be sure since it was so dark. The starry luminescence of the fireflies could only show so much. She needed a flashlight, but that was wishful thinking. Brodie shuddered again, triggering another volley of rasping coughs. Her breath escaped and hovered in soft, billowing clouds of vapor. Yes, it was indeed a sign. She pushed aside a large leafy branch to get a better look, and she felt her breath catch.

A lissome and youthful nude stood proudly in bas relief over something vaguely resembling a line or two of hieratic symbols. The butch woman jammed a trembling hand into her pants pocket. Her fingertips, clammy and numb from the cold, touched the object inside, trapping the little chain in her grasp. She pulled it out and looked at the pendant and tried comparing it to the image on the pillar though it was difficult without her glasses and daylight.

Qui Quareit Hospitum A Tempestate, Inveniet In Aeternum.

The images were similar, nearly identical, except for one odd detail. The nude staring sightlessly from the palm of the butch woman's hand was unusual. It was neither male or female with ambiguous external features. But now she stared back at the age worn bas relief of a slender female with flowing locks and a gossamer length of fabric around her shoulders that drew Brodie's eyes to the swells of her lovely breasts and hardened nipples. "God, she's beautiful." Brodie whispered. Her eyes wandered again, taking in the sights of the fireflies and the night forest in wonder. Each breath she drew filled her senses with the smells of summer rain and green growing things. A symphony of night sounds swirled around her, teasing her ears with chirping insects and thrumming noise of frogs searching for a mate and their next meal.

She stood there for God knows how long, staring at the pillar which seemed to have retreated into the dark shroud of trees and night. The forest and the sounds slipped away in Brodie's trance. She felt the cold growing stronger, expanding and overwhelming her body. In seconds, the chill had complete control. Her arms went limp and the delicate gold treasure slipped between her fingers, disappearing in the black void of forest floor beneath her feet. A sound of snapping twigs and crunching leaves competed with the racket of crickets and frogs. The sound was getting closer, coming for her. She gagged and coughed some more and dropped hard onto her knees.

"Aaahh!" Brodie instantly felt a lightning bolt of pain surge into her right thigh from the impact of something in the detritus. It was a twig, or a small stone perhaps, but the professor had no time to process it any further. The snapping and crunching sounds were louder now. It seemed to come from all directions, surrounding the professor. Panic began to set in and Brodie's eyes darted back and forth, trying to gage the direction from which the sound was coming. But she could barely see anything. "Hello!" Brodie called. "Who's there?"

Her body froze when she heard the loud SNAP! of a nearby branch. There, just ahead, she thought she saw the vague shape of another person. But the trail was so narrow, it was nearly swallowed by the darkness and surrounding trees. "Hello, is someone there?" She called again, but there was no answer. Then it happened. An intrusive feeling of dread came over Brodie, washing over her, leaving her shuddering as the first and second waves came and went. The fireflies continued with their silent serene twinkles and flashes. Staring at it was disorienting. SNAP! went another branch. She could hear the diffuse sound of footfalls approaching.

Brodie drew a heaving breath and retched. "Who are you?" She demanded.

"Answer me please!" The butch woman's pleas were met with silence. "If you came here looking for trouble, then I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. I don't have any money. I don't even have my glasses." Suddenly she felt very sick. A sheen of mucky perspiration erupted on her skin. Her legs, knees, arms, and hands no longer felt like they were hers. She opened her mouth to scream but instead, she violently retched one more time as her vision blurred and faded to blackness.

She heard a voice somewhere above her. "You found my necklace! I thought I'd never see it again. I looked everywhere..." A brief golden beacon flashed painfully in her eye, obscuring the shape of a woman kneeling beside her. Brodie guessed she was young, 19 or 20 years old, with long, thick dark hair and eyes that smiled down at her. "Where am I?" She wondered out loud.

"Safe and sound. Don't say anything more. Relax." The butch woman's eyes narrowed. Without her glasses, her vision was blurry, but she noticed the glint of a gold pendant dangling from the necklace around the girl's neck. The professor felt the slosh of warm water when she tried to move. She let out a startled cry. "Try to stay still. Don't move around so much." Brodie heard the girl's lovely musical laugh. She saw a hand holding a large natural sponge and sighed when the thing made contact with her skin.

Radiant flickers of dancing light warmed the air and kissed the weathered features of Brodie's face. Soothing crackles and pops mingled with the occasional sloshing of bathwater. Brodie no longer felt sick, but she was exhausted. She had been brought here to this place, this cozy room with a large fire burning away in the grate nearby. Her breath caught and she flinched when she felt the touch of the girl's lips pressing against the space just below her ear. She knew she should've told the girl to stop. Her mouth opened, but she was utterly speechless. The girl kissed her again, gently dragging her lips against the butch woman's neck to her shoulder. "I must be dreaming." Brodie muttered. "And if I am, I pray I never wake up."

She heard another peal of soft youthful laughter. "Quiet, Brodie, you talk too much!"

That voice, though young sounding, was familiar. Brodie strained to turn around and she realized that the owner of the voice was behind her, holding her. The sensation of the hot water and sponge making contact with her bare skin was soothing. She felt the girl's lips against her neck. With each kiss Brodie felt silent reassurance. Her lips parted slightly, and she felt the girl's tongue enter. She was caught off guard for a second. It all felt so right, so...familiar.

Brodie felt the sponge again. It plunged into the water and trickled over her shoulders, back, and chest. The weary butch woman's hand closed over the girl's, and she felt the sensual softness of those lips return to kiss along the nape of her neck. Brodie responded with an audible sigh indicating her enjoyment. Her rescuer's attentive touch penetrated the icy frost of loneliness, emptiness, and sorrow. The loss she felt had imprisoned her in its glacial cell for far too long. Brodie closed her eyes now. A thaw washed over her with each pass of the sponge, melting her frozen soul.

*****

"Grace! My God...is that you?" Brodie gasped, nearly shouting. A few seconds ago, the professor had opened her eyes with the impression she'd simply dozed off for a few minutes. She blinked a few times and rubbed at her eyes, barely believing what she could see without her glasses. She was in bed and saw a quaint room awash with the glow of fire and candlelight. Brodie sat up and pushed the bedclothes back, ignoring the fact that she was completely naked.

Dr. Grace Kruse stood a few feet in front of Brodie. She was dressed, barely so, in a sort of gossamer long nightgown. Almost nothing was left to imagination, and the butch woman's eyes traveled along the sensual curves of her lost lover's body. She sat there staring at her, and as her thoughts slowly came together, she figured she must still be dreaming, unable to wake up. Brodie closed her eyes hard and tried to shake off the dream. But when she opened them again, Grace was still there.

She looked different—nothing like the day when Brodie saw her for the last time. She was younger than Brodie; much younger. But if her eyes weren't deceiving her, Brodie guessed that she was looking at a girl of 19 or 20. Had Grace been alive today, she would be 36. But, evidently, this was a stubborn dream; a persistent hallucination where the dead regress and become eternally young. Grace nodded in reply. Brodie murmured: "Wake up. Wake up, damn you!"

The sound of Brodie's voice sliced through the quiet air. It frightened the professor because she realized then that she was almost certainly not dreaming. Even a three dimensional dream was still just that—a dream she could wake up from. But the beautiful candlelit room, the fireplace, and Grace were all clearly real and solid. She pinched her forearm absently, feeling the momentary blast of pain that came with it. "What's going on?" Brodie demanded. "Why...you look like—you look so...young!" The butch woman's voice cracked when she said this. She was stammering, unable to process it all.

"You got lost in the woods and you fainted." Grace said. "When was the last time you had anything to eat or drink?"

"I—I don't remember, but...why do you look so different?" Brodie asked.

"You seem surprised. Is that such a bad thing?" Grace replied. "Are you disappointed?"

"I don't know what I think anymore." The butch woman glanced down at herself and gasped. Her eyes widened and she looked back at Grace. "Oh my God..."

Brodie Banks turned and her bare feet touched the smooth slats of a wooden floor. Her hands went to the small swells of her breasts momentarily and she let out another astonished gasp when she caught sight of her own reflection in a small mirror sitting on a nearby table. The mirror was no larger than an average sized book. It had a patina of age with a filigree of silvery strands around the oval border. Brodie's hands were visibly shaking when she snatched it, holding it up to her face.

Her 55 year old reflection, once etched deeply with the lines of sorrow and grief and emptiness was gone. She stared in rapt silence and ran a hand across the chestnut locks of her short cropped hair. The silvery gray had disappeared and her fair complexion was inexplicably smooth and supple. A smattering of light freckles across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose emphasized the boyishly handsome features of her face.

She tilted the mirror and gazed at her nude body, illuminated in the warm, flickering light. Brodie stood a respectable 5'7" with a very slim build reminiscent of a young teenager. Her breasts were smaller than Grace's, with equally small areolas. The pebbled skin shrunk around the tips of her light brown nipples, pushing them out. Below her flattened abdomen, a triangle of equally dark pubic hair completely obscured the space between her slender thighs. Brodie set the mirror back on the table, laying it face down. She was overcome with another sudden surge of emotion. "Grace, what happened? Where are we?"

"You came looking for me." Grace said. "I found you, and I brought you home where you belong."

Brodie could feel the tears brimming in her eyes. Her shoulders dropped with her head as she started to sob. Grace came to her and reached out a tentative hand. The butch woman felt the touch of her lost lover's fingertips, brushing the tears away as they fell. "I think I know how you must be feeling." Grace said. "It's a lot to take in but you will get used to it in time."

Brodie blinked away another tear as her eyes took in the beautiful sight of Grace standing there, gazing into her butch lover's eyes. Grace slowly pulled her gown off and tossed it aside. The little gold necklace with the delicate lozenge shaped beads glimmered in the diffused light, drawing attention to her neck and collarbone. "You're so beautiful." Brodie whispered.

Grace smiled. She put her arm around Brodie and led her back to the bed. The newly restored youth shocked Brodie as much as the unexpected but welcome return of her lost love. The two lovers embraced, and Brodie still wondered whether or not she was dreaming. Since Grace's death, she often dwelled on the notion of reuniting with her through dreams or death. But this felt so real—almost too real.

Brodie leaned in and kissed Grace. For now, she stopped caring whether or not her eyes—and her mind—were deceiving her. She drew a deep breath and smelled that familiar jasmine and bergamot she loved so much. Their lips touched again, and as Brodie parted her lips, the warmth of her lover's body, and the welcome sensation of Grace's tongue brushing against hers, silenced the intrusive thoughts.