by David Horne
In the time it had taken to make the phone call and chat with Ralph and Martha, the skies had grown overcast and threatening. Such was the weather in Alaska. As Sterling and Larry crossed the stream, droplets of rain began to fall.
"Great," Sterling grumbled. "Just what we need. Mud." He ducked back into the forest, hoping the storm would stay light and they could get home before the rain melted the snow into thick quagmires.
His luck didn't hold though. An hour into the trek, the light rain turned into a torrential downpour, and Sterling pulled his hood up over his hat and tied it around his neck. He was glad he hadn't opted for snow shoes, but his boots were still beginning to sink in and stick. His progress was slowed to almost a standstill as he trudged, using up precious energy, through the thick, slippery mud. It was nearly dark by the time he got to higher ground and the rain began to let up. By then, he was exhausted, and there were still two miles to go. The mud was still thick, and he knew he'd never make it back before dark, if he made it back at all without passing out.
Instead, he trudged to a part of the forest where the trees were thicker and the ground less wet. There, he cut a few lower branches to construct a makeshift lean to and put a few more down so he wouldn't have to sit in the mud. From there, he gathered what he could to start a fire, and settled in for the night. He knew Carter would be worried, and it caused a lump to form in his throat. He'd been feeling good about the phone call, but now couldn't help but wonder if it had been worth the risk.
He let Larry out of the pack, to wander around the dwelling and do some more hunting. Then he unrolled his emergency blanket and wrapped up in it before leaning back against the tree.
Chapter Five
The next morning, Sterling woke shivering despite his emergency blanket. He'd made a small fire during the evening but had put it out before going to sleep for the night. The last thing he'd needed was to set his lean to on fire. His back was stiff from leaning against the tree all night, and his face was numb from cold. Rather than get the fire going again, he packed up as dawn broke, and ate a breakfast of venison jerky and protein bar while on the move. Unfortunately, Larry was nowhere to be seen. He looked around for him for a while before setting off towards the cabin.
He hurried through the forest, trying to get home before the sun could thaw yesterday's mud. By the time the cabin came into view, he was exhausted, dehydrated, and just wanted to fall into bed for days. More than anything, he was worried about Carter. He took off his pack at the front door and knocked so as not to startle the man by simply bursting through. There was no answer, though, and his heart quickened in fear. He opened the door and rushed in to find Carter asleep on the bench. At first, he felt relieved, but then he noticed how cold it was, and saw that his friend was sweaty and shivering.
"Carter?" he said, gently, as he knelt down and shook him. When the man only groaned in reply, Sterling put a hand to his forehead. "You're burning up," he whispered in worry. Then he removed the bandage from Carter's leg and gasped at the sight. The gash in his leg was flaming red and swollen, and pus was beginning to ooze out.
Sterling rushed to his still room and rummaged through the box he kept under the bottom shelf. Unlike the painkillers, he did have a bottle of antibiotics and an extensive first aid kit. He brought them back out to his table but decided to build up a fire before he went to work. It only took a few minutes and the cabin began to slowly warm. As it did so, he took his own coat and other outerwear off, and went back to check on Carter.
His friend was still shivering in his sleep, so Sterling ran a hand through his silver hair, trying to ease him. "This isn't going to be pleasant," he admitted. He went back to the kitchen for a bowl of water he'd set on the stove, and then gathered the rest of his supplies.
Sterling knelt beside Carter's leg. He slipped his pocket knife out, opened it, and poured a little alcohol over the blade. Then he took a deep breath and, in one fell swoop, cut the gash open again.
Carter's eyes snapped open, and he let out a cry. He tried to sit up, but Sterling leaned over and held him down. "What the...?" Carter muttered, breathlessly, and groaned again.
"Your wound's infected," Sterling tried to explain as blood and pus began to run everywhere. "I have to debride it." With that, he grabbed some cloths and held them against the wound.
After making Carter some more of the painkilling tea, and getting him to take the antibiotic, Sterling spent the next half hour cleaning and cauterizing his wound. It was a painful and unpleasant process even after the painkilling tea, but he knew it had to be done. Somewhere along the way, Carter passed out again, and Sterling was grateful for it. When he was done, he left the wound open to dry. It would be a few days before he could sew it back up again.
Afterwards, he cleaned up the mess, and sank down at the table to watch Carter sleep. He could only wait and see and hope that the infection hadn't spread, and that the man would get better. After a while, he drank a little of the tea himself, every muscle in his body aching, and then he dragged himself up into the loft and collapsed onto the bed.
It was dark when Sterling woke again. Something startled him, and he sat up in the bed. There was no light in the cabin, and he had no idea what time it was. It was cold again, though, so he lit the lantern by his bed and carried it down the ladder. Once downstairs, he realized what had woke him.
"Oh man, I'm so sorry," Carter groaned over a puddle of fresh vomit on Sterling's floor.
Sterling grimaced but waved it away. "That's okay. Let's get you cleaned up." He lit the lantern on the kitchen table too, and then drew some water to heat on the stove. Once the fire was lit, he brought some rags to Carter. "It'll be a few minutes, but then you can take a little sponge bath."
Carter had never seen the tub, tucked away in its little back room, but despite feeling like death warmed over, the image of Sterling scrubbing away in a barrel out of some old Western movie made him chuckle.
"Normally, I'd light the fire under the catchment barrel, but it's too dark and too cold for that," Sterling commented. "You'll just have to make do."
While Carter washed off, Sterling cleaned up the floor, and then heated up some broth for a light dinner he hoped his friend could keep down. He brought the bowls to the table, and then went and knocked on the bathroom door.
"Everything all right?" he asked. The door opened, revealing a shirtless Carter, and he couldn't keep his eyes from drifting to man's lean chest.
"My leg feels like it's on fire," Carter answered, with a grimace.
"Technically, it is," Sterling pointed out. "Here, come sit down, and I'll take a look at it. You should have your broth, too."
He shook his head, but let Sterling lead him to the table anyway. "I don't know if I can eat anything."
"Did you eat anything while I was gone?"
"Uh...I think so." It was then that he realized Sterling had been gone longer than he should have been. "You didn't come back last night, did you?" he asked, his memory a little hazy.
Sterling shook his head as he took a bite of bread dipped in broth. "It started raining while I was at Ralph and Martha's. I couldn't make it through the mud by nightfall, so I built a shelter."
Carter's eyebrows shot up, and he chuckled. "You just built a shelter? In the middle of the forest?"
"Yeah," Sterling answered, a little confused. "Where should I have built it?"
His friend laughed and tried a bit of the broth. It didn't taste too bad, so he tried a little more. "Did you get a hold of my mom?"
"Yeah, she was worried, but seemed all right."
When Sterling was finished, and came over to look at his leg, Carter winced at the sight of his wound. "Well, I think that finished dinner for me," he said in disgust, and pushed the bowl away.
"Sorry," Sterling muttered. "Though it does look better than it did earlier today. There's hardly any oozing."
"You're gonna make me throw up again," Carter grumbled.
Sterling pulled the borrowed pants leg bac
k down, though they were inches too short. "Here, you should put your shirt back on so you don't get cold."
Over the next few days, it was touch and go with Carter. He seemed to get better, but then would relapse and be sick most of the day. Sterling did the best he could to take care of him, while also worrying about Larry, and all the things that needed done now that spring was breaking.
Finally, four days later, the antibiotics seemed to be doing their job, and Carter's wound was beginning to heal. Sterling managed to sew it up, though it was going to be a large, ugly scar. He'd grown quiet and contemplative lately, and the change hadn't been lost on Carter. He'd understood the man's moodiness over being found out, but he thought they were passed all that.
Sterling had made breakfast, and Carter was determined to get to the table on his own. It was only five feet away, so he stood up and shuffled in its direction while his friend wasn't looking. The splint had finally come off, but it was still awkward.
When he finally managed it, he said, "Voila! I did it."
Sterling poked his head out of the still room, plates in his hands, and frowned. "You shouldn't have done that."
Carter's face fell. "What's going on, Sterling? You almost seem disappointed that I'm getting better."
Sterling gave him a horrified look and shook his head violently. Then he put the plates down and slumped down. "I'm not disappointed," he mumbled, sinking into his chair. "When you get better, you won't need me anymore," he added in a whisper. "You'll leave."
Carter's mouth fell open. He'd had no idea Sterling felt that way. With some maneuvering, he sat down himself and shook his head. "I bought a one-way ticket, Sterling. I hadn't really planned for how long I'd stay."
Sterling perked up, just a little. "Yeah?"
"Yeah, I love it here. I still want to take my photos and..." He blushed a bit, feeling silly. "I love this way of life. I was hoping you could...teach me how to live it."
A slow grin spread across Sterling's face. Then he suddenly hopped up and came around the table to kiss Carter. It was only for a moment, and then he backed away, looking mortified. "I'm so sorry," he breathed. "I didn't...I mean, I just..."
For a moment, Carter was confused. He'd definitely felt an attraction to Sterling, ever since he'd given himself that ridiculous haircut. He just hadn't realized Sterling felt the same. He looked up at the short man who was about to burst with embarrassment himself and smiled.
"It's okay," he assured him, and reached out for his hand. Sterling only stared at it, though, so he added, "I didn't mind...really."
Slowly, Sterling stepped forward, and took Carter's hand. It had been a very long time since he'd done anything like this and wasn't sure he was prepared for it now. He bit his lip, determined to hold back tears, and simply nodded. He really wasn't prepared for Carter to get up and hug him, but a moment later, he found himself buried in the man's sweater. He was warm and inviting, though it was a little strange as it was actually Sterling's sweater he was wearing. Luckily, they were oversized, and fit better than the pants. He found himself giggling, and Carter pushed back to look into his face.
"What is it?" he asked.
"You're wearing my sweater," Sterling answered. "It's sort of like hugging myself."
Carter stared at him curiously for a moment, wrapping his head around the image and the logic, and then started laughing too. Then he put his hand on Sterling cheek and said, "I never thought I'd be happy to break a leg, but I'm kinda glad I did."
Sterling snorted at that too, and then waved it away. "You should go back to bed, just to make sure you're better. Tomorrow I'm putting you to work."
Though they both needed rest, Sterling found himself awake most of the night, staring out the skylight over his bed. His entire life had been disrupted by Carter's arrival, but what surprised him most was not realizing how much he'd been missing human contact. In ten years, the most he'd been around other people was the couple of times a year he traded with his neighbors and the very occasional trip into the nearest town or bush mail drop. He'd been fine with being alone then, but having this man thrust into his life changed all that. It also frightened him because he wondered if what he was feeling was real or if he would have been attracted to anyone under the circumstances.
Eventually, he turned onto his side with a huff, and punched his pillow before trying to settle in for some sleep.
The next morning, as he climbed down the ladder to make some much needed coffee, he saw that Carter was already up and chipper.
"Morning, roomie," he said, and held up a tin of coffee. "I just about had it all figured out myself. Are you ready to get going?"
Sterling raised his eyebrows and grunted. Before long, though, he was awake and fielding Carter's questions. At one about chopping wood and going fishing, he shook his head and waggled a finger.
Carter pushed himself out of the chair and limped behind Sterling, who dragged a chair into the still room. "What's this?" he asked with a laugh.
"Today, I need you to go through all the canned goods, and make sure none of the dates are older than two or three years. Two years, they're okay, three years, you'd better ask. If they're older than that, open them and empty them into this bucket," he finished, handing over the bucket.
"What? I thought we were going to—"
Sterling shook his head. "You aren't well enough yet for fishing and chopping wood. Besides, this needs done just as much as anything else. In a few months we'll need to make room for the new stuff." He said the words casually, but then clammed up as he realized that he'd said 'we.' Instead of trying to fix it, he quickly muttered, "I'm going to go set some snares, and look for Larry again. If you get done here, I'll show you what to do with it all. Oh, uh, don't do the fish," he added as he walked out of the room.
The first day was tedious and slow, but by the next morning, Sterling finally agreed that Carter looked strong enough to do something more. Once the sun was up and shining down some warmth, the two of them trekked to the back of the house. It wasn't that far, but all of the rain had caused an overgrowth of grass, weeds, and young trees to spring up. The days spent nursing Carter had cost in property maintenance.
"At least it wasn't fall," Sterling said good-naturedly. "When you're getting ready for winter, every moment counts." He led Carter through the brush until they reached the door of his greenhouse. It was about the size of the ground floor of Sterling's cabin, minus the bath and still room, and inside was an unruly mess.
"Oh my," Carter snorted.
"Yeah, I really should have cleaned up more after last season." He started picking up pots and tossing out old potting material. He nodded as Carter joined him, and then they lined them up on a table. He had a large leather pouch slung around his shoulder and from inside, he pulled out a wad of small, plastic bags. Each as full of a different kind of seed.
"Okay, each bag is marked. Just grab some of the potting soil in the corner, poke a seed in, and repeat. You'll need to make some kind of marker so we can keep track of what seeds are in what pots. I'm going to go out and see if I can clear some of the brush before it takes over."
It didn't seem like a fair trade to Carter until he came to realize just how many seeds he needed to plant and just how much his broken leg and illness had taken out of him. He'd never gotten tired so easily in his life, and he hated it. When Sterling came back a couple of hours later, down a layer and covered in sweat, he tried to jump up from where he'd been sitting and taking a break, and almost fell over.
Sterling rushed to help, though by then, his friend had righted himself. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. I just feel so...useless," he said. "Look at you, all..."
"Sweaty and dirty? So are you."
"Yeah, but I haven't really done anything."
Sterling laughed and looked around at the room full of pots. "Actually you've done way more than I have. Without these plants, we don't eat. All I did was chop down some weeds."
The statement made Carter fe
el better, and he smiled. "That's good because I'm exhausted."
Sterling grinned and said, "How about lunch, then?"
"As long as it's not broth," Carter teased.
Back inside, Sterling was determined to make Carter the finest lunch he could muster. He looked around his extensive still room, and while it was full of plenty to eat, most of basic, homestead fare and he didn't have anything fresh. They'd tried eggs and salmon before and Carter seemed to like it, so he decided to make something similar, but whip up some hollandaise sauce, fresh biscuits, a berry relish, and some greens to go with it.
"What are you doing in there?" Carter called out a little later. "I'm starving!"
"You'll see!" Sterling called back, and then cursed, loudly, as his sauce began to congeal half way through making the relish. "It's okay. I have it all under control."
Half an hour later, Sterling came out of the still room, covered in flour, among other things, and sat a plate down in front of his guest. He waited, not sure what to expect.
"You didn't have to do all this!" Carter said in disbelief. "Is that...hollandaise? I've never seen anyone try to make hollandaise." He took a bite and then nodded, emphatically.
Sterling let out a breath and sat down across from him. "I'm not sure how the relish came out. It's a local berry that looks a lot like cranberry."
"Lingonberries?"
Sterling looked up from his plate with his eyes wide. "Yeah, how did you know?"
Carter swallowed a bite and said, "I researched everything about Alaska before coming here. I didn't want to seem like a hapless tourist. Though I guess I turned out to be one, didn't I?" he asked with a blush.
"Could've happened to anyone."
"I bet you wouldn't have fallen down a ravine."
Sterling snorted. "Don't get me started on all the stupid things I did when I first moved out here."
