Men of All Seasons Box Set

by R. W. Clinger

  When he wasn’t reading, he planned a long walk around the lake for the following day, creating a list of things that he needed for the afternoon trip: granola bar, compass, matches, Swiss Army knife, traveling medical kit, fishing line and hooks in case he wanted to fish, and the Ruger LC9 for protection from the pack of coyotes that Zeth mentioned. During the creation of his list, he heard three light taps—

  tap…tap…tap

  —on the cabin’s front door and looked up.

  Josh stood, walked to the door, and opened it. He half expected to see a ghostly warlock at the door, teasing him and driving him more insane, pushing him over the edge of what little sanity he currently had.

  Ranger Zeth stood in the downpour, protected by a brown poncho, looking like a bear instead of a human.

  Smiling from ear to ear, Josh welcomed him inside the cabin.

  Dripping wet on a small carpet at the door, Zeth said, “Just checking in on my favorite visitor. How are things going?”

  Josh replied, “The warlocks are driving me mad, and the rain keeps coming down in sheets. Other than those two concerns, life in the cabin is pretty sweet.”

  “Do you hear bantering from the warlocks?”

  “They’ve taken up Latin now. They amuse me and offer company.” Josh told Zeth about the message the warlocks told him in Latin and how he translated it to English. “I think they’re harmless.”

  “If they turn on you, we can call Anna Downs. She’s related to the brothers and can help. Anna’s a fifth generation Penichowaba coven witch. She’s not cheap, but worth the money to rid bad spirits from the cabin.”

  “Things are under control right now. The brothers are playful and nothing more.”

  Josh asked Zeth if he wanted a cup of coffee to warm up. Zeth agreed.

  “I can’t stay long, though. Sandra and I have a meeting at the ranger booth in an hour. We need to talk about the safety of our campers and the coyote pack. The last thing we want is an attack.”

  Josh used his single-cup Keurig and prepared Zeth a cup of French roast. “Cream and sugar?”

  “Black. Thank you.” Zeth stripped out of his poncho and muddy boots, which he left on the small rug at the door. He moved up to the counter, watched Josh prepare the cup of coffee, and intruded on Josh’s privacy by asking, “Josh, are you single by any chance?”

  The Keurig gargled, working. Josh turned his view from his coffee-making to the ranger and said, “I am.”

  “I get the impression you like men over women. Is that true?”

  Josh chuckled. “You like to get to the point, don’t you?”

  “I’m only asking because of our hugs on the back deck from the other day. I was pretty close to you, and you didn’t push me away. Other guys would have, especially when I rubbed my lips against your neck.”

  “To tell you the truth, you caught me off guard, but I didn’t mind. Sometimes a guy likes it when another guy has an interest in his neck.”

  It was Zeth’s turn to chuckle. “So how would you react if I kissed your neck right now, having more interest in it? What would you do?”

  Josh blushed. “Try it and find out, Ranger Zeth. See what happens.” Not only did Zeth apply his lips to Josh’s bare neck, but the park ranger also ended up in Josh’s bed. Having forgotten the coffee and rain, Josh walked Zeth upstairs, removed the man’s shirt, and lathered his chest with his tongue and lips. They kissed for the longest time, rolled around on the bed, and…

  Josh was just about getting ready to unbuckle and unzip Zeth’s olive green pants when Zeth stopped him.

  “Not now. Not yet,” Zeth said. He sat up, pushed a bare-chested Josh away by placing one palm against the man’s muscular shoulder.

  Shocked and wide-eyed, Josh asked, “What happened? Did I do something wrong?”

  Zeth blushed, shaking his head. “It’s not that. I have the meeting with Sandra. I can’t miss it. We rely on our meetings.”

  Josh pulled away from Zeth, stood, and wiped the back of his left hand across his mouth, removing spittle. He told Zeth, “No worries.”

  “I’m sorry,” Zeth said, dressing, pushing one arm into his cotton shirt, then the other arm.

  “No need to apologize. We all have meetings to get to.”

  Zeth walked out of the bedroom and downstairs. Once in the kitchen, he pushed his feet into his boots and pulled the wet poncho over his head. Outside, thunder raked across the heavens, and a bolt of lightning filled the sky with bright yellow-gold-orange light.

  Zeth said, “I’ll check in on you again.”

  “Soon, I hope.”

  “Soon.” Zeth exited the house, into the rain.

  Confused, hard as hell, desiring Zeth Mandell, Josh listened to the ghostly warlocks over his right shoulder. Both of them were snickering.

  * * * *

  That night, the pack of coyotes visited Josh, howling outside his bedroom window, next to the lake. The storm intermingled with their obtrusive noises. Thunder danced along the dark heavens, and thick clouds covered the moon. Beams of silver mixed with thick gray-white light.

  Josh knew very little about coyotes, but looked them up on his cellphone, unable to sleep. The lights flickered off and on as he sat alone in his bed and studied the canine: smaller than a gray wolf, native to North America, and would live individually or with packs. They were more prone to hunting livestock in the spring and early summer months. Coyotes were most active at night and early morning hours. Josh also learned that the canine breed was a carnivore and feared humans and cougars, but would attack both, if needed. Dens were found in riverbanks, underbrush, and near water. And he was shocked to learn that coyotes hunted the same areas, returning for prey they desired, and killing more than one animal during the same hunt.

  Curious to the multiple howling noises outside his bedroom window, Josh put aside his phone, went to one of his windows, and looked out. Nothing appeared on the ground. No red eyes that were commonly found in horror paperbacks. No villainous growls. No magical demons. Nothing of the sort. He simply heard the howling for the next few minutes until it stopped, leaving him be for the night, alone again.

  Eventually, he climbed into bed and fell asleep. Somewhere in the folds of his dreams, he collected Ranger Zeth against his bare chest, kissed his neck, and whispered to the man, “No more games. I want to fuck you like a man.”

  Zeth didn’t argue within the dream. Josh helped take their clothes off, and Zeth covered Josh’s hard dick with latex. It was Zeth who agreed to hang over the sofa in Josh’s living room, getting railed by the executive movie producer. They fucked in the dream until Zeth splattered his load all over the back of the sofa, and Josh filled the condom that separated the two men with semen and…

  * * * *

  June 9

  Josh woke feeling as if a hangover had taken over his entire body. He dug fists into his eyes and craved a morning cup of coffee.

  “What was that dream all about?”

  Between his legs just so happened to be the proof that he lusted for Ranger Zeth. An erection stood upright, and his boxer briefs sported cream inside them; a fresh release from his prick while sleeping. Sticky could have been considered the understatement of the year as his thighs gelled together and a pool of ejaculate decorated his pubic triangle.

  After determining that his hunger pains were real and not a figment of his imagination, that he had half exploded an orgasm in his underwear, and that he needed a cup of coffee, he climbed out of bed and took a shower. Following the shower, with a towel wrapped around his middle, he made his way downstairs and into the small kitchen.

  Unannounced and to his surprise, Ranger Zeth Mandell leaned against the counter, enjoying a cup of coffee. Josh dripped from his fresh shower and felt the man looking at his sculpted torso and its tangles of blond treasure trail.

  Zeth took a sip of his coffee, scrutinized him, and admitted, “Did I tell you yesterday that you have a rocking body?”

  Josh ignored the question and
asked, “Did I forget that you were stopping by this morning?”

  Zeth shook his head. “You left your door open. A serial killer could have come by and raped you, before or after slicing your throat open. There’s a lot sickos out there, and you should be more careful.”

  Josh had a better chance of surviving the sickos as opposed to the pack of coyotes. He told Zeth, “Did you hear the coyotes last night? They were right outside my cabin.”

  “Sniffing around. Sort of like what I’m doing regarding you.”

  “You’d better watch where you’re sniffing. You may get bitten, Zeth.”

  “Have a cup of coffee with me and calm down.”

  Josh listened, pouring himself a cup of the java. He leaned against the counter, against Zeth. The two men stood shoulder to shoulder.

  “Tell me what to do to keep the coyotes away.”

  Zeth shook his head, reached down, and collected Josh’s hand within his own. “You leave that up to me. Just make sure your door is locked so crazy men like me don’t come tromping their business inside.”

  “Who says I don’t like a little bit of crazy?”

  “You won’t when you have a stranger’s gun pointed between your eyes in the middle of the night.” Zeth squeezed Josh’s hand, turned to him, placed his coffee mug on the counter, and asked like a gentleman, “Mind if I kiss you this morning?”

  “Something tells me if I say no, you’ll steal a kiss anyway.”

  “That something is right.”

  Zeth reached for Josh’s mug of coffee and rescued it. He placed the mug on the counter behind Josh, pinched one of Josh’s nipples, dragged fingers down and over the producer’s chest, and kissed him. When his fingers met Josh’s towel below his navel, Josh pushed the hand away and grunted. Zeth came up for air from the kiss.

  “Are you being shy this morning?”

  Josh shook his head. “Just taking this slow. There’s no reason to hurry things. I’m here for two months.”

  “Correction. Less than two months.”

  “Close enough. You can kiss, but you can’t touch.”

  “Damn, that’s a horrible deal. I don’t think I like that.”

  Josh chuckled. “I have a few questions for you.”

  “Fire away. I’m ready for the battle.”

  “It’s not really a battle. It’s just a few questions.”

  “I’m ready for whatever,” Zeth said, slipped intrusive fingers between the cotton towel at Josh’s hips and Josh’s smooth skin.

  “When was your last boyfriend?”

  “Three months ago. His name was Scott Jenkins. A real sonofabitch, if you want to know the truth. An oil man with an angry spell about him. He drank and decided to use his fists on me. No ranger puts up with that, though.”

  “What happened between the two of you?”

  “Actually, he got sick. Pneumonia in the spring can be a devil. He drove back to Idaho where we came from. Scott’s brother is taking care of him now. The two are a match made in heaven. Angry as hell at the world and unpleasant with a side of sibling rivalry. I don’t miss him in the least.”

  “Did you love him?” Josh asked, enjoying their conversation, learning things about Zeth Mandell that he could only obtain by listening and spending quality time together.

  “I’ll be honest with you. I did love him. But fists, drinking, and love don’t mix. Never. He’s better with his brother in Idaho, and I’m better here with you.”

  Zeth stopped talking, removed his right fingers from Josh’s hip, and moved them up and over the man’s bare chest, along the center of his pecs. When the fingers met Josh’s lips, he brushed the pair with skill, leaned forward, and applied a kiss to them. Once the short and crisp kiss ended, he pulled away from Josh.

  “That’s just to let you know that I forgive you for not locking your door.”

  “I’m flattered you’re forgiving me.”

  “I’m flattered to have you against me right now.”

  Josh waved a hand at him and warned, “Don’t rush this. Slow it down. I’m not going anywhere. Unless the coyotes have me, then I’ll be gone.”

  “I’ll protect you from them. And if you do get in trouble, I’ll be the hero that saves you, Josh. What do you say?”

  “I say I might keep you around as my boyfriend. Time will tell, though.”

  “Sure will.” Zeth rolled fingers down and over Josh’s chest again, cupped the man’s towel-covered goods, and gave them a brief squeeze. “I should be leaving now. I’ve bothered you enough.”

  Josh watched him leave, smiling. Once Zeth left in his ranger uniform and climbed in his Jeep, Josh said to himself, “He does bother me, in a good way, and he knows it.”

  * * * *

  June 10

  The brother ghosts were snickering in the cabin, creating spells in Latin. Edward decided to knock over an aluminum can in the kitchen. William opened the bedroom door and slammed it closed around five o’clock in the evening, scaring the crap out of Josh. Either could have turned on the flat screen in the living room area, and then immediately turned it off. One of the brothers had opened three kitchen cabinets and left them that way.

  Ghosts were a pain in the ass, Josh learned. Never had he experienced such paranormal activity at the cabin before. Not when he was a child or even as an adult. Until now, the brother warlocks had kept to themselves, at peace. What had caused their behaviors to change recently? Why were they acting up and seeming out of control? Josh couldn’t comprehend what their problems were, but he was willing and capable of working through their playfulness, antics, and haunted whatnots. Truth told, the cabin was more theirs than his, and he had to respect that. The crayon box-shaped building had, at one time, been their residence.

  * * * *

  Although Josh felt that he was resting well—reading, playing video games on his cellphone, and taking long walks along the lake and in Penichowaba State Forest—his mind screamed insanity. Any judge and jury would have decimated him on the stand, sending him to Cane Hospital for the next thirty years, agreeing that solitary confinement would have worked just fine.

  He’d forgotten all about Hatch Films and his job. No more did he think about the 180-degree rule, above the line, montages, medium shots, pipelines, an eyeline match, gaffers, locked-down shots, into-frame shots, undercranking, and cheater cuts. The surreal genre, romantic comedies, and dark fantasies had lifted out of his thoughts, vanishing from his world for the time being.

  Truth told, Dr. Shamir Ahmed had given him the best advice of Josh’s life: Find some sanity. Relax up there. Read a few good books. Take some pictures with a camera. Learn how to paint if you want to. Forget about the city life and your job.

  Who knew that relaxation and rest were what he needed? Why hadn’t he thought of that on his own? Shame on him for not thinking of it himself, taking responsibility for his mind, body, and soul.

  * * * *

  Sometimes, Josh would have full conversations with himself, or with the ghostly brothers and imagined warlocks. He drove into Templeton, purchased ten cheeseburgers from a local diner, returned to the cabin, and only ate one, freezing the others. He started doodling for no reason at the kitchen counter: a noose, pork chop, skyscraper, and an assortment of flowers. Once, he emptied the contents of the cabin’s refrigerator and used a spoon to try everything, creating his own little sample bar of food. Then he put the bottles, cans, and plastic tubs back into the refrigerator, placing them exactly back where he had found them, happy as a lark in springtime with his chore.

  He did other things in and outside the cabin that many would have thought insane.

  Had anyone seen him, they would have said, “That Hideaway man has totally lost his marbles. Maybe he should go back to the city.”

  Josh decided to burn a circle of grass near the tool shed. On the outer crust of the circle, he placed sandstones that he had gathered from the nearby woods. Once the perimeter of his circle wall was built—approximately eight inches high, ten in the t
aller spots—he collected limestone from the property, mostly long and flat pieces of rock by the lake, and created his Inuksuk, similar to the brothers’ piece of art. Thereafter, he decorated the Inuksuk with corn for the squirrels, dirt for the worms, and straw that he found in the tool shed for the birds. He knelt next to the circle and his concocted statue and prayed to Jesus, thanking Him for nature and his time spent at the cabin away from the city.

  * * * *

  On the night of June 11, the coyote pack visited him again. They howled at the hidden half-moon, loitered for over an hour, and bothered the hell out of Josh, just because he knew they were outside the cabin, possibly stalking him.

  One coyote just happened to be braver than its sisters and brothers. It climbed the deck, sniffed around, and ended up scratching on the screen door. When it was tired of investigating the door, the animal sat on its haunches, lifted its head to the moon, and left out three yelps at the top of its voice, possibly communicating with its furry friends.

  Josh didn’t know what the hell the single coyote was doing outside the cabin’s door, but he cared to know. The dog continued to howl for approximately ten minutes and scratched the base of the door just as long. Eventually, it climbed down and off the deck and gathered with its buddies. The pack left Josh alone for the rest of the night, vanishing into the woods to possibly hunt down the brother warlocks, or play with the ghosts, tommyknockers, and goblins that haunted the woods, whatever coyotes decided to do on their own time after dark.

  * * * *

  June 12

  The next night at the cabin, all hell broke loose. Because Josh had somewhat lost his mind within the last year, overworked and stressed, grasping insanity and a fully-paid month-long stayover at a mental institute, he decided that as soon as twilight emerged that evening, he’d place a small fire at the base of his nicely crafted Inuksuk.

  There, upon oak sticks and straw, he added sage, which blew into the lake along with the wind. Honey, a turnip, and blackberries were also added to the blaze. Granted, the fire wasn’t large by any means, but it did draw his attention and a nearby owl’s. Josh stayed by the fire, talked about warlocks, squirrels, and fish in the lake. He did a dance around the fire in just his boxer briefs, created his own ethnic cabin language, and…