IN BETWEEN SNOWBANKS

They scurried through their hollow tunnels, their shoulders scraping the sides of the unstable labyrinth. On their stomachs they crawled slowly underneath low parasols into small circular chambers that had been dug out with an eager proficiency; tiny rooms flooded with with the sun, slightly blocked by the snowshade.
Out of the twin snowplowed banks that served like sentries at either end of the main tunnel, the boys had dug out small yawnings so they could stand and reign down snowballs on their neighborhood rivals. There was ample room for two in these vacant snow rooms; one boy could serve as a handler, feeding the boy standing with endless ammunition. From these two sentry banks, small claustrophobic openings led into service tunnels that led backwards towards the front porch of Captain Kevin's house.
It had been a relatively short argument to determine who would be the team captain; since the majority of the epically proportioned snow fort was in Kevins yard, he was the obvious choice for leader. Even Steinman, who craved leadership in seemingly every activity, had acknowledged this obvious fact.
Captain Kevin's first order of business had been to build 'small, sneaky' tunnels that led away from the front of the fort, both connecting in a large room in the center of the yard. The snow had kept up for almost four days -- almost six feet of snow on the tiny town -- and the boys built their open-ceilinged command center in the center of the yard, walled by enormous snowfaces. The four service tunnel entryways were cut into each wall of the room, leading to different areas of attack. Steinman and Marcus had designed an excellent lookout post; in the huge mounds of snow that hugged the corner of the house, all stacked up against the front porch and tucked into the garden wall, they had created a hidden platform only accessible by a hallway which they had dug furiously out of the rear service tunnel.
This would be where they would make their last stand on the ground, if it came to that.
While the others dug entrenchments and scraped the innards of snow from their future turrets, Gus Grussi and Colin made snowball after snowball, filling backpacks and duffel bags and rucksacks with them, placing the bags at every station in the fortress. Steinman had come up with several interesting ways to incorporate the actual house into their stronghold; he had suggested early on in the building stages that they place two of their troops in the wraparound porch that protruded from the second floor; if the lines were broken on the ground, these two troopers could literally shovel snow down on top of them. Tiny Jim and Timothy Elsies volunteered for last line job -- both were currently creating large piles of snow that would be easily accessable -- and both Steinman and Captain Kevin felt confident it wouldnt come to that. The fortress was too perfect.
Marcus had even brought his fathers snowplow over, stationing it in small, unshoveled corridor near that breached off from the command center.
When the army from Hart street inevetibaly came, they would be ready.
For a long time, they waited, scoping the streets that segwayed off the quiet interesection with binoculars, searching for any movement that seemed unfamiliar.
"What if they wait until dark," said Gus Grussi. "What then?"
"They won't," said Steinman. "Would you?"
"I wouldnt." said Colin.
Tiny Jim and Timothy sat with their backs against the wall of the porch, smoking cigarettes and whispering to each other their favorite NBA victory stories. Marcus removed dirt from his nails with a bent-backward paperclip he had found in his pocket, laying flat on his back, half of his body hidden in the darkness of the service tunnel. David Quarry and Captain Kevin sat in the command center, looking up at a sky that couldnt decide whether or not it wanted to portray the stark sadnesses of gray and layered black, or if it wanted to share with the world the quiet shreds of a soft blue after-storm. Steinman watched, always, his body hidden in between the snowbanks that lined the street, several feet away from the first tunnel of the snow fort. He reached deep into his jacket pocket to pull out a smoke. As he readjusted himself, the unlit cigarette dangling from his lips like a broken ceiling panel, he saw the first signs of trouble. He scrambled to roll over, totally out of view, the cold feeling of winter surrounding him like a made-to-fit suit. He grasped the small, cheap walkie talkie and clicked on.
"All stations ready, i see them."
If you listened closely enough, you could barely hear them as they scampered out of their relaxation and swiftly got into their fighting positions, as silent as snow-foxes, totally unseen to anyone but themselves. Captain Kevin clicked on.
"Where."
"This is Steinman." he said it despite knowing that everyone knew who it was. "I see four warm bodies at the end of Linwood."
"Which end," said Tiny Jim, whispering furiously and excitingly into his walkie. He crouch-ran across the second floor porch.
"At the top of the hill,"
"Get outta there," said Captian Kevin. "Everyone stay off except Jimmy."
Tiny Jim carefully peeked his head over the porch railing. At the top of the hill, about four blocks away, he saw them. There was at least a dozen of them. Some carried shovels that they would surely use in attempt to destroy the roofs the tunnels. Almost all of them wore low hoods or bandana's around their faces. They walked silently and with much masculinity.
"Uh, there's at least 10 of them," said Tiny Jim. "Jeez, there's really a lot of them." Captain Kevin turned to David and nodded hurriedly. David grinned and turned, his body quickly dissapearing down the access tunnel towards the lookout station. Steinman crawled desperatley down the sidewalk in between the snowbanks and the fort, finally getting in through a side hole cut in a small gap of bushes. He scrambled down the tunnel into the hollowed out snow tower, setting the knapsack up so it was in a perfect position. Captain Kevin looked back at his house, up towards the wraparound porch where Tiny Jim and Timothy sat hidden.
He dissapeared into the tunnel, and crawled forward towards the sentries.
The group from Hart street had a long running bargain with the group from Columbia; with every snow storm powerful enough to shut down the state, there would be a snowball war of apocalyptic proportions. For a storm this size ... everyone was scared of what was going to happen. As the Hart street army swaggered down Linwood street, they started to holler and shout. Some cursed. Captain Kevin went over the walkie.
"Stay in your positions until they cross the fire hydrant on the opposite corner,"
The Hart street boys began to hollar and whoop, seeming to sing in a choir of indian violence and rushing excitment. Steinman could see the neighborhood beginning to notice the commotion; many faces filled breath-fogged windows. He bit his lip and looked across the flat roof of the snowfort to where Marcus sat in one of the reserve stations, his body concelaed to the boys coming down the street.
"HEYO," shouted one of the Hart boys. "HEYO you all might as well just surrender; we aint come here to hurt nobody."
"Fuck you," yelled Tiny Jim, concealed on the wraparound porch.
"Yeah fuck you," shouted David, his muffled voice creeping from somehwere in one of the tunnels.
"THAT HOW YOU WANT IT?" shouted the Hart Street boy. "WELL AIGHT THEN."
Captain Kevin peeked over the rim of the sentry bank, just as a snowball erupted six inches from his face. The Hart street boys were running at them now, a wave of snowballs slamming like pieces of a fiery meteor into their precious sanctuary. He peeked again and saw the first of them crossing the intersection with a wild, maniac smile on his face.
"NOW," he screamed.
Gus Grussi and Steinman and the Captain stood up and began pelting their attackers with merciless waves of hard packed snow. Steinman saw a kid go down, clutching his face, slipping on the icy slush of the pavement onto his back. Marcus revved up the snowblower furiously, and as it burst with a roar to life he began pushing it across the tiny, unshoveled corridor made especially for its secret purpose. He pushed slowly, listening with a grin as the attackers took cover and cursed like little children who had just learned how to swear.
Steinman was hit in the shoulder with a rock solid ball of snow, he fell backwards into the sentry, partially collapsing the roof and the entryway to the tunnel which would provide him with a necessary escape. He tried to sit up, but as he did so he barely caught a glimpse of three of the Hart street boys as they brutally jumped into the sentry snowbank, crushing it with the their bodyweight, burying him temporarily in a world of white.
He was out of the game.
Tiny Jim and Timothy Elsies listened intently as they shared nervous glances. With their backs pressed tight against the wall of the wraparound, they prepared for the worst. Colin, in the left tower, stiffarmed an attacking army member; the attacker sprawled backwards into the the corner snowbank with a thud as Colin instinctively pulled a shovel from hiding, dumping a full load onto the attackers face. "OUT," he screamed, pointing at the half buried attacker. As he pointed one of the Hart street boys tackled him like a linebacker, lunging up from the sidewalk and seeming to sprawl through the air until he made contact with Colin's waist. As the two of them tumbled backwards into the snowfort access tunnel, underneath a wall of snow, the attacker held colin down with two incredibly strong hands as he flipped him over and held it face into the snow for a brutal few seconds.
"You out, Bitch," he said, pulling his body backwards as he started through the access tunnel.
"THEY'RE INSIDE," screamed Colin. "BREACH, BREACH, BREACH,"
"BREEEAAAAACH," screamed Captain Kevin, as he headed in through the large opening that led to the command center. "DAVID, NOW!!!!"
David was ready. As Gus Grussi reached the lower lookout bank that sat slanted up between the corner of the house and low garden wall, David stood up in the command center with the garden hose, his hands white-knuckle tight around the handle and the spray nozzel trigger. He could not see the road, because the snow walls that surrounded him were too high, but he knew where to aim, and with a natural, handsome smile, he squeezed the trigger back as hard as he could. The water skyrocketed upwards in a beautiful, freezing cold arc, and as Gus Grussi loaded a second backpack in the slanting lookout bank he couldnt help but laugh as the water from Davids hose and the snow from Marcus's snowblower sent the attackers into a frnezy, cover-finding panic. There was an ocean of cursing and hollering and madness.
"YOU HAD ENOUGH?" screamed Captain Kevin.
"NEVER," shouted the Hart street army. With a sudden mustering of courage, they charged together screaming over the sidewalk snowbank, diving and jumping into the yard. Marcus turned swiftly, trying to reposition the snowblower as two of the Hart street boys grabbed him and through him into the snowy hallway. They grabbed the snowblower and turned it on him, burying him as he laughed and held his hands over his face.
One of the Hart street boys made it into the Command center; as he broke through the walls of snow with a horrifying brute force he had a snowball in hand that he launched directly into the face of the Captain.
"BALCONY NOW!!!"
Tiny Jim and Timothy stood at once, heaving shovel-fulls of snow onto the battlefield of the yard, reigning all over the attackers like the exploded debris of artillery bombs. David aimed the hose into the face of an attacker who made it all the way to the rear of the fort, spraying him everywhere with a stream of ice cold water. The attacker reeled back like a burned soldier of Normandy and ran back retreating. Gus Grussi heaved fistfulls of snow from his rear position at the attackers who closed in, hitting one in the face and another in the throat. Everyone screamed.
Finally, the leader of the Hart street army screamed to retreat, and from everywhere there came the mutual, mixed shoutings of celebration and defeat, as bodies came hurtling forth and back from the heavy snowbanks.
Tiny Jim held his shovel over his head like a spear, yelling with joy as he jumped up and down.
"HEY AURELIO!" shouted Gus Grussi.
One of the retreating Hart boys turned as he and his soaking wet friends ran back up the hill towards their own territory.
"YEAH,"
"WANNA MEET AT THE BAR IN AN HOUR?"
"VITO'S?"
"YEAH!" shouted Captain Kevin. "FIRST ROUND ON US!"
"SEE YA'LL THERE,"
The Columbia street gang laughed and shook hands as they collected on the front porch. Kevin came stumbling up from the destroyed bowels of the command center, trying to wade through the snow of the yard.
"I got clothes and shit inside," he said. "And we can have a few beers before we go."
"I gotta get outta here," said Marcus. "I just got a text from my wife."
"What a bitch you are," said Gus Grussi.
"Come to the bar with us," said Colin. "Anybody gotta work tommorow?"
"Its Saturday tommorow."
"I gotta go into the office for a bit, but i'm down to hang out."
"I got dinner with the wife's parents," said Steinman.
"Steinman what the hell happened, first one out?"
"Yeah," he said begrugingly. They collected on the front porch, these grown men who shared more than a decade of friendship.
"Good work, boys." said Kevin. It was his fourth year of living alone in the large house on the corner of Columbia. "I cant wait to hear Aurelio bitch."
"It never gets old," said Gus Grussi.
"Nope," agreed Kevin. "Never does."