Feral

by Teagan Kade

  Hands in his hair, Dean stomps around, muttering under his breath.

  “Okay,” I croak.

  He looks at me with surprise and annoyance. “What?”

  “Okay, I’ll come.”

  “Come on, Ava, we both know that’s a ridiculous idea.”

  Pearl and the ladies clap their hands and Dean’s argument is cut off. Pearl strides past Dean back towards her bike. “Never underestimate a woman, dear. Like a famous lady once said, ‘A woman is like a tea bag. You never know her strength until she’s in hot water.’”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  DEAN

  My calves are burning as we make our way to the single-track section of the ride. I was nervous with the route this group chose. Not many people I take out here want to do more than follow the wide, groomed trails, and even fewer could handle the intensity of single-track if they even had the ambition to try.

  Fuck, I needed this. It’s not quite as satisfying a ride as I’d normally take to clear my mind, but I haven’t had time for that and this is close enough.

  Nothing compares to the feeling of total freedom when you’re flying down the side of a freaking mountain at 35mph. Everything becomes a blur except what’s right in front of your tire. You’re living in the moment… You are the moment and it’s nirvana.

  We’re still climbing right now, but we’re close to the peak of our ascent and, once we reach it, we’ll ride downhill until we hit the waterfall where they’ll get their group photo at the viewpoint. Then, it’s just chasing wind downhill until we get to our designated camping space.

  I look over my shoulder. A long line of odd and colorful riding outfits dots the green behind me. The group is having a good time, if their shouted jokes are anything to go by. Even Ava seems to be having a blast, despite my best efforts to fuck things up.

  Why did she have to come? I need distance, and this was supposed to be the easy solution to that, but she just had to tag along. The woods are my safe space, my retreat when shit gets rough, but here she is, invading even that.

  I know I’m a dick, and it hurt more than it should have to pick a fight with her, but it’s for the best. I told her from the beginning I can’t lose what I’ve built here, but she pushed it. She pushed me and now I’m in this impossible position.

  We’re coming close to the last climb of the route today and it’s about to get steeper than anything we’ve covered yet.

  “Get ready, ladies, the hard part is coming up.”

  “Usually when a man says that, we’ve just had a nice meal and there’s a little blue pill for dessert,” one of the ladies behind me giggles.

  Pearl calls out, “Don’t mind Violet. She suffers from the first known sexually contracted strain of dingbat.”

  Violet powers past, tossing her hair and spits back, “Bye, Felicia!”

  Did I just hear what is likely someone’s grandma quoting the movie Friday?

  I shake my head as more whoops and cackles of laughter sound behind me. Who knew the Granny Squad would be such a salty bunch? Of course, their pre-gaming at the Den might have contributed to that.

  We reach a brief flat stretch in the switchback track, so I call behind me, “Alright, this is your chance to take a drink and shift if you need to. You won’t be able to once we’re climbing, and there’s nowhere to go but backwards if you lose momentum.”

  “Yes, sir!” one of the ladies mockingly salutes me.

  They all stop, the whole group crowded in the small, flat stretch. I catch sight of Ava. She’s laughing and talking to a smaller, birdlike woman with wiry frames on her glasses and a tattoo of Tony Bennet on her calf. Ava is craning to see something on the woman’s back.

  She looks so good it hurts. There’s a sheen of sweat on her skin, her cheeks are flushed, and she’s straddling the bike between those lean legs, reminding me that a couple hours ago it was me she was riding. I hate the way she looked at me earlier, hurt and disappointment mixing with unspent tears in her eyes.

  She looks up at me. I’ve been staring too long. I turn away and pretend to take what is visible of the view from here. We’ve gone at least ten miles now, most of it single track and uphill. That’s no small feat even for an experienced rider. We’re in the thick of the forest now.

  Part of me was trying to push Ava away, but part of me was also genuinely concerned she couldn’t do this. She hates being in the woods after dark and this is a two-night trip. She barely grabbed a change of clothes from the back of her car and used the extra pack of supplies we had prepped. At least she has a sleeping bag. She’ll have to bunk in someone else’s tent and I definitely wouldn’t mind being smashed up beside her all night, but something tells me she’s too irritated with me for that to happen.

  Probably for the best.

  She looks to be doing okay for now, but the sun is going to be setting in another hour or so and there is nowhere to go but forward now. There’s no turning around.

  Dex was right. Ava deserves someone who can give her the nice, quiet, minivan life she needs. A guy who carpools the kids to soccer practice, listens to John Tesh radio, and meets his buddies once a month for a game of poker in the garage.

  “Ah, young love,” I hear Pearl say. I glance over. She’s looking at me with a smile.

  I shake my head. “I think maybe that ‘iced tea’ has gone to your head.”

  “Oh, honey, at my age, it’d take a hell of a lot more than a few swigs of hooch to go to my hard noggin,” she laughs, looking around. “I think we’re rested enough, fearless leader. Let’s press on!”

  “Yes, ma’am, Miss Pearl,” I tease back.

  “Tsk, tsk, Dean, she’s only ‘Miss Pearl’ in her dungeon,” a lady next to her says.

  For a moment, my brain is paralyzed at the thought of Pearl in black latex with a riding crop.

  Pearl laughs. “Speechless—just how I like my men!”

  I can’t help but laugh. These ladies, with their red and purple color scheme, raunchy humor, and boundless energy are a little ridiculous, but in an unexpectedly good way.

  I start up the slow incline. It rises for a short stretch and we all pick up momentum. The climb is rough on them. I feel my muscles working, but I don’t register the exertion anymore. It’s just a release, a way to numb myself.

  The ladies have spread out and Ava is about halfway back in the group. I reach the summit and wait, taking in the view—nothing but wilderness in all directions. From this side of the mountain, even Tamanass is obscured.

  Perfection.

  I close my eyes, soaking in the brief solitude while I wait for the rest of the group.

  A crashing sound breaks through my moment of peace. I turn and my eye catches a small lump scrambling up a tree, while a big black figure comes barreling through the trees, emitting a strangled grunt-growl that would sound almost comical if I didn’t know how much danger it forewarns.

  My mind screams, but it’s a full two seconds before the sound reaches my lips and forms words. “Bear!” I shout.

  I glance back to the ladies, momentarily frozen in stunned fear. Ava’s face is drained of all color. Her terror catalyzes me.

  The mother bear is about fifty yards away and rapidly covering ground in an angry charge—a massive beast capable of the utmost savagery in the face of a threat to her young. There’s no time to think. I have one option.

  She’s a predator and she’ll do what she does best: chase. I can give her that and maybe give the ladies a chance to get away.

  I spring into action. “Freeze! I’ll lead her away. When we’ve gone, go back and stay on the trail.”

  I don’t have time to make sure they’re going. I throw the pack from under my top rail at the bear, and wave my arms to get her attention before pedaling down the trail. From the thunderous beating behind me, I can tell the mother took the bait.

  We’re in the brush now and I’m keeping my speed low enough to let her think she has a chance of catching me.

  “Dean!” I hear the sc
ream pierce through the forest and I know it’s Ava.

  I wish I could tell her not to worry. It’s not my first brush with a bear and I know what I’m doing, but I need to lead the mother as far from the group as possible.

  Still, what the hell is a bear doing over here, and with a cub, no less? My mind reels. Bears never come to this side of the mountain. They know better than to go outside the limits of the National Park where they’re protected from hunters. There’s no time to dwell on that, though. The bear is gaining ground. She’s persistent, I’ll give her that.

  I veer off the trail and into the trees. It’s risky, but then I’ve always thrived on risk. My blood is pumping. If I wasn’t worried about Ava or the rest of the ladies I might even enjoy this.

  Pretty soon I realize the sound of crashing branches and brush behind me has faded off. I skid to a halt and look behind me. The bear is gone. My heart races. Hopefully, the women listened.

  My breathing slows, my pulse calms down, and I climb back uphill on my bike, warily eyeing the trees around me, ears tuned for the sounds of the bear, but it’s clear she’s gone. Probably raced back to her cub. It’s a risk backtracking the way she came, but there is no other option. I need to know the women got away.

  In a short time, I’m back at the viewpoint, with no sign of the bear anymore or the women. The tightness in my chest eases slightly. I start down the trail to track the group.

  I get to the small, flat stretch at the last switchback and the sight of Ava’s bike on the ground sends my stomach straight into my throat. I’m swallowing air, blood rushing in my ears as I stumble off my own bike towards hers.

  Her front wheel is bent, the tire popped. Her pack is there, the fabric shredded like it’s been pawed to within an inch of its life. There’s no sign of blood, but there’s also no sign of Ava.

  What if…?

  My head is spinning. I’m seeing spots.

  No. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening.

  “Ava!” I hear myself scream, in a frantic, desperate panic. “Avaaa!”

  A rustle a few yards away in the brush brings me back to reality. I charge at it, wild and mindless.

  “Dean?” I hear a small, crumpled voice. Ava peeks out from behind a corner, eyes huge, hands trembling.

  Suddenly, it’s like we’ve gone back fifteen years to that morning I found her in the woods behind Riley’s, small and terrified. Relief floods my system, nearly strangles me.

  I’m moving without thought now, not answering, just desperate to feel her, that the nightmare that flashed through my mind wasn’t real.

  She’s shaking in my arms as I stroke her hair, calming myself as much as I’m calming her. It’s a few minutes before I realize the one still shaking is me.

  I close my eyes and press my lips to her hair, breathing in her scent. “What happened? Are you okay?”

  Her voice cracks a little. “I think so. I… I hit something and went flying off the bike, hit my head and blacked out, I think.”

  I grope her scalp, feeling for a lump. Sure enough, there’s a good-sized one forming at her crown, but no blood.

  “By the time I came to, the cub was sniffing along the trail we came up, so I hid back here, left my pack. He seemed to like my Clif bars. At least someone likes those cardboard blocks,” she laughs quietly, but I’m still too much in the grips of fear to join along.

  I look around. “We can’t stay here. The mother and cub are gone for now, but they could easily come back. Can you still ride? Your wheel is bent, so you’ll ride mine and I’ll follow you on foot.”

  She steps forward and winces. “Ow!”

  “What? What’s wrong?” I ask, quickly scanning her.

  She leans into me and bends her left knee up, grabbing her ankle. “Shit, that hurts.”

  I bend down, pulling her boot off and gently moving her sock.

  Fuck. It’s swollen alright… and already patches of purple and blue are showing up. I palpate the area and she winces again.

  “Sorry,” I say, but keep doing it until I’ve got a good idea what’s going on. “I don’t think it’s broken. It’s just a really bad sprain.”

  “What do we do?” Ava asks. I look up at her and realize the fear is back in her eyes.

  “We can’t stay here. It’ll be dark soon and there will be more predators coming out.” I lower her to a log and grab her pack, pulling out what supplies are left and combining them with my own. “We need to get you medical attention, then alert the rangers there are bears in the area that could be a danger to anyone else out here.”

  “Won’t the ladies send the rangers for us?” she asks.

  I look her in the eye and don’t mince words. “If they made it back, yes, but that’s not a guarantee.”

  Her hand goes to her mouth and she closes her eyes as the possibility sinks in. This is a dangerous place. Every group we take out here is fully informed of that fact. I give them a brief rundown of what to do if they get separated, but you never know how you’ll react in a situation like this until you’re in it.

  “You’re not going to ride ahead, are you?” Ava asks, nervously watching me combine the gear.

  The fact that she has to ask stings. I kneel in front of her and gather her hands in mine. “If you’re out here, I’m with you. It’s that simple.” I lean forward and kiss her with all the frightening intensity that’s racing through my blood.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  AVA

  I’m not dead, I’m not dead…

  I suck in air, filling my lungs and reminding myself it’s going to be okay. Dean is here. He’s not some figment of my imagination, some desperate illusion of my terror-soaked brain. He’s real and he’s wrapping my foot with some kind of tape.

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I ask, not knowing much about first aid.

  He nods and doesn’t stop winding the strip of sticky fabric around my foot, ankle, and calf. “It’ll stop the swelling and keep things from moving too much, which will prevent further injury and hopefully reduce some of the pain.”

  I sit there, helpless, watching him. His hands are so strong and sure. What would have happened if he didn’t come back?

  Bile rises in my throat at the thought. I watch his shoulders rise and fall as he wraps and try not to think about what that would mean.

  “I can’t believe you outran that bear… You could have died,” I say, giving voice to my inner thoughts.

  He glances up, briefly meeting my eyes. “Yeah, well, I guess I specialize in putting myself in harm’s way.”

  “Still… thank you,” I answer.

  He grins weakly. “For saving your life? Hey, I’m your guide, right? It’s all in a day’s work.”

  “No, for coming back, for staying alive,” I answer quietly.

  He looks back down at my foot and I see his Adam’s apple go up then down.

  “And for coming back and saving my life,” I say, smiling.

  He stands up and offers his hand to me. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. We still need to get out of here. Come on.”

  My ankle is throbbing and tender, but Dean loops my arm around his shoulders and supports my weight on one side, so I can keep my injured foot off the ground.

  “Is this okay?” he asks.

  The jolt of hobbling on one foot, even with his steadying support, is amplifying the pain in my head, but I nod and swallow the complaint.

  “Good, we need to move and find shelter soon,” he continues.

  The sun starts to sink further and further behind the mountain as we make slow progress. The shadows grow long around us as one world of creatures goes to sleep and another awakens. The bird songs are different, eerier as the temperatures start to dip. Even the grass looks different. The clover that weaves through sections of tall grass has folded into itself, conserving its warmth and hiding from the spreading darkness.

  Something cold tickles my face and arm.

  Rain… Perfect.

  It is spring in the
Northwest after all, though.

  Dean looks skyward at the gloomy swell of clouds overhead and frowns. “We need to find shelter, quick.”

  “It’s just a misting. I can keep going,” I start.

  “Sure, you can keep going until your clothes are soaked through, which they will be after an hour or two of this drizzle, and you’re shivering so hard you can barely walk. Once night falls fully, it’s going to get damned cold at this elevation.”

  His pace quickens and the temporary warmth of the exertion to keep up with one leg staves off the cold. Soon enough, in between the calls of animals rising for the night, I hear the babbling sounds of running water.

  Dean leads me off the path and we start downhill, slowly, weaving between ferns and wild rhododendrons, further into the thick.

  “Shouldn’t we stay on the trail? Isn’t that what you always tell people?” I ask, confused.

  “Yes, that is what I tell people. But we’re not ‘people.’ These are my woods. We’re not about to get lost. This creek up here, this is the same one that widens and turns into the stream by the Den,” he says, pointing ahead. In the fading light, I can just barely make out the sparkling, moving surface of water. “If we stick to it, it’ll get us down the mountain a lot faster than the trail would have. Besides, under the canopy we’ll stay drier.”

  I can’t argue with that. I follow, but the terrain is a lot steeper and less stable. Every so often, the rocky dirt under foot slips and I practically hang off Dean.

  We come to a particularly steep section where he walks sideways down the incline, sliding part of the way until he reaches a flatter spot.

  “Alright, on your back,” he orders me.

  “What?” I look at him confused.

  “You can’t walk down this with that ankle, so you’re going to slide down to me.”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “Yes, I thought this was the perfect time, when we’re stranded and injured on the side of a mountain surrounded by cougars and bears, to pull a practical joke,” Dean answers sarcastically.

  “Fine, but you better not tell anyone about this,” I warn him.