The Wild

by K. Webster

  “We need to find you clothes.” My throat aches with emotion. There is so much that needs to be done to take care of her. I’m fucking overwhelmed. I don’t even know where to start. But I hate that she’s standing there in a torn shirt and panties, covered in blood.

  “We can look for some after we help Mom,” she whispers. “I promise.”

  With my jaw clenched, I reach forward and offer her my pinky. She hooks hers with mine and then we release our hands. I break away from her sad gaze to try and grab onto Sabrina’s good arm. I’m about four feet too short.

  “Put me on your shoulders. I can pull her down,” Devon says as she comes to stand in front of me.

  Since it’s the quickest solution, I kneel down. She slides her thigh over my shoulder and then the other. I grip her legs so she won’t fall as I rise. We wobble as she reaches for her mother.

  My sweet, brave daughter has to tug her dead mother from a damn tree.

  * * *

  * * *

  Her skin is cold and hard. A sob catches in my throat but I refuse to let it escape. Dad is exhausted and about to lose his mind. The last thing I need is to give in to hysteria. Last night was the worst night of my life. When I woke up half sticking out of the RV with a branch stabbing me, I’d freaked out.

  But he saved me.

  I knew he would.

  This morning, I was scared to death when I woke up. Dad was out of it and too pale. It took some hunting but I found the first aid kit in the bathroom still intact. He didn’t rouse or anything when I bandaged him up. My biggest fear was that I’d lose my parents and I’d be all alone. Even my dog was missing, although I had a sneaking suspicion we’ll find his bones one day beneath the RV or trailer. My heart aches for all the loss.

  Deep down, I knew Mom was gone before I even discovered her body. I just felt it deep in my soul. And as devastated as I was, all I kept thinking was that she was happy with Drew now. Mom could finally be at peace.

  It’s chilly this morning, especially after the storm, and I shiver as I attempt to pull Mom down by her good arm. The branch groans but doesn’t release her. Dad grunts from exertion as he tries to hold me upright. For several long minutes, I pull and pull.

  “Time to come down,” he utters. “This isn’t working.”

  “I can do it,” I argue, lifting my entire body off his shoulders in an attempt to use all of my weight to bring her down.

  A sick cracking sound is my only warning before I go crashing at least ten feet to the forest floor. Dad tries to catch me but he isn’t quick enough. My ankle turns in a painful way and then my mother’s cold body lands on top of me.

  “Get it off!” I screech.

  He grunts and pushes her body off of mine. Red hot pain radiates from my ankle and I grab it tenderly, fresh tears streaming down my cheeks. I stare up at him helplessly.

  “We’re going to die out here.” My lip wobbles.

  Fierce determination glints in his chocolate brown eyes. “We are not going to die, Pip. Don’t talk like that.”

  I swallow and nod as he kneels to inspect my ankle. Gently, he takes the back of my calf and brings my foot into his lap. It’s already swelling quickly. He presses in some places and moves it in ways that make me scream. Then, he brings my foot up and kisses my ankle bone. It’s something he’s always done. Kissed my ouchies. This time, after everything that happened last night, feels awkward.

  Heat once again prickles at my flesh.

  Embarrassment floods through me and I look away.

  “I need to do something with…” he trails off and his throat bobs. “Then, I am going to start collecting everything that is strewn about. We need to salvage what we can.”

  “What should I do?”

  He helps me to my feet, his strong hands gripping my elbows. When I put weight on my foot, I cry out in pain.

  “You’re going to stay inside and rest.”

  Before I can argue, he scoops me into his arms and begins the trek back to the demolished RV. I cling to him and wish this was all a bad nightmare. That maybe I went to sleep too upset last night about the accidental touching, and I’ll wake up soon to Dad making pancakes.

  But I don’t wake up.

  The chilly air makes me shiver.

  Reality is cold.

  He hugs me closer to him.

  “I don’t think I can get you back inside. I’m going to try and pull out one of the tents from the storage bin. That part of the RV looks intact, so hopefully we can have some sort of shelter tonight.” He sets me down on a rock before sauntering away. The sun beats down, but it isn’t warm. Cold air blasts me from the north every few minutes making my teeth chatter. I rub my arms and watch Dad as he hoists himself up on the side of the RV. His back muscles flex as he pries the hatch open.

  “Fuck yes!” he hollers before pulling the bagged tent from the compartment and holding it above his head like a prize. His bicep flexes, and I find myself staring at it.

  In fact, I must be in total shock because I stare at my father like he might disappear at any moment. I catalog his every expression. The sound of his voice. Each time he assures me everything is going to be okay.

  Within fifteen minutes, he has a tent erected. Then, he disappears back into the RV. When he comes back, he’s carrying some blankets that were folded and stored in a cabinet that must have survived along with two pillows.

  “Can you make our bed?” he asks as he holds out the blankets.

  I try not to blush. Our bed. I’m so stupid. It reminds me of last night in their bed.

  “Y-Yes.”

  “As soon as you get it made, prop that foot up,” he instructs. “I’m going to go…” His gaze drifts to where Mom’s body remains unmoving a few yards away. “Bury her.”

  I shake my head. “Don’t, Dad. The ground isn’t deep here with all these rocks. You’ll use up all your energy. Just…” Tears well in my eyes and I point at the river that rushes by. “Just let her go.”

  His features darken, but I can tell he’s considering my words. He reaches forward and strokes my hair out of my eyes. “Everything is going to be okay, Pip. We can do this. Make smart decisions. Be strong. We’ve got this.”

  I smile and nod.

  He storms off to deal with Mom. He didn’t pinky promise.

  “Wake up, Devon. You need to eat and drink something.”

  I jolt awake and look around me in confusion. The sky is dark and I can see a fire going just outside the tent.

  “How long did I sleep for?” I rasp out.

  His face is shadowed in the dark tent. I can’t make out his features. “I’m guessing around twelve hours.”

  “Dad!” I cry out, horrified that he’s been dealing with this mess alone. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

  “You needed the rest and I had it handled. Eat this,” he instructs, handing me a warm can with a spoon sticking out of the top.

  Chili.

  I hungrily devour the chili. He watches me the entire time. It’s then I realize he’s cleaned up some and found a shirt.

  “Did you find our clothes?”

  “I did. I put them in the other tent for now with the other supplies I thought needed protecting from the elements and critters.” He reaches over into a bowl and wrings out a wash cloth. “I also found the soap.” His grin in the darkness seems to light up the space. “Lie back and let me look at your stomach.”

  I hand him the empty can and fall back against the blankets. A shiver ripples through me when he pushes my shirt up past my breasts. My breath hitches but he doesn’t seem to notice. He peels away the bandages and groans. Soon, a flashlight clicks on and he puts it between his teeth. I sneak a peek down at my abdomen. The wound still gapes. In a clinical way, he sets to scrubbing at all of my scratches on my torso with the warm soapy rag. It stings and I whimper, but he doesn’t stop. When the rag runs over my breasts, my nipples harden. I let out a sharp breath that has his hand stalling. He cleans each breast well and then the rest of my torso
before inspecting the gash.

  “I’m going to have to stitch it up,” he tells me once he plucks the flashlight from his mouth. “It may hurt, Pip. Can you be brave for me?”

  I nod. Tears already stream from my eyes. This whole situation is painful. What’s a little bit more? He has the first aid kit handy. With the flashlight once again in his mouth, he threads the needle and then sets to stitching me.

  “Owwww,” I complain, my hands fisting the blanket.

  “Don’t squirm.”

  I clench my eyes closed and try to breathe calmly through my nose as he carefully closes my wound. Each time he pours alcohol in it, I scream. Eventually, he gets it stitched and rewrapped in bandages.

  “Take your clothes off,” he orders before exiting the tent.

  I’m so shocked that I don’t move until he returns carrying my hoodie and some yoga pants. Sheepishly, I tug off my soiled shirt and hand it to him. He waits, his flashlight blinding me, for the rest. My heart is hammering in my chest as I wiggle out of my panties. I can’t see his face as I hand him the panties.

  “Use the rag to clean up. I’ll bring you some water and some Ibuprofen in a minute.” He disappears once again.

  Quickly, I give myself a sponge bath and wish I could wash the blood and dirt from my hair. Once I’m clean, I pull on my warm clothes. All of the movements have left me exhausted. Dad eventually returns with a bag. He drops it just inside the tent along with a shotgun. Then, he takes the water bowl out with him.

  When he returns, he stumbles.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m just tired,” he says in a thick voice as he zips up the tent behind him.

  Our tent is small, meant for just me, but we make it work. The other tent my parents were supposed to share. He kicks off some shoes he found, and I wait until he’s settled on the pillow beside me before I grab the blanket to draw it over us. I curl up against his warm body and hug him tight.

  “I’m scared,” I admit in a whisper.

  “Me too.”

  “Are we going to die?”

  He strokes my matted hair and kisses the top of my head. “Pip, we’re going to live. Day by day. We’ll do it. Be strong for me. Promise me that.”

  I lift my pinky and he takes it. We link them but this time we don’t let go as we fall fast asleep.

  Something grunts outside our tent in the middle of the night. I can hear it snort as it sniffs around. Just when I think it will rip open our tent and attack us, its heavy footsteps retreat. The temperature has dropped and I’m freezing. I snuggle closer to Dad for warmth.

  “Dad,” I whisper. “I’m cold.”

  He rouses and his hand absently strokes my cheek. “What, baby?”

  “I’m cold.”

  “Take off your hoodie.” His voice is thick with sleep. Surely I misheard him.

  “No, it’s too cold.”

  He lets out a tired sigh. “Body heat. I’m fucking cold too.” He sits up and tugs his shirt off. “Pip, take it off.”

  I nod and reluctantly peel it away. Before I can even complain about the cold, his arm wraps around me and he spoons me from behind. His arm is hot against my cold flesh and he splays his palm out over my chest bone. Soon, his breathing evens back out but my heart is still hammering in my chest. Thoughts from the night before keep replaying. The way his thumb brushed over my nipple. How he urged his finger inside of me. I don’t even realize I’m wiggling with need until I feel his hardness against my butt.

  I freeze and listen for his snores but he’s quiet. He doesn’t move away like last night. Instead, he keeps me locked in his grip.

  “I’ll keep you safe,” he whispers, his hot breath against my neck.

  My entire body relaxes at his words. “Thank you.”

  Sleep must steal me away because I wake at some point overheated. We’re facing each other and a tangled mess of limbs. While he sleeps, I explore his hard chest with my fingertips. My fingers continue their trek to his sculpted shoulders and then up his throat. I touch his scruffy cheek and then his soft lips.

  “Go to sleep, Pip.” His voice is a deep rumble as he grips my wrist and tugs me against him. My breasts smash against his hot chest.

  “Okay.”

  He has a death grip on my wrist but the moment he starts softly snoring again, I hike my thigh up along his toned leg. My breath hitches when my knee rubs against his erection. I’m going to combust. The thoughts and feelings surging through my mind are sinful and wrong but I can’t stop thinking about the way he touched me last night.

  I’m losing my mind, clearly.

  My mom was brutally killed. I’ve yet to mourn her. It’s like my mind has shut off that reality. When I shudder, he hugs me tighter. My thigh is pressed against his hot erection through his jeans and I keep wiggling against him as if to seek relief from the friction.

  “Please go to sleep, Devon. Please.” His voice is so pained, so raw, that I can’t help but obey.

  “Okay.”

  And I do.

  * * *

  * * *

  I wake with an embarrassing hard-on. My daughter is clinging to me as if I’ll leave her at any moment, half naked I might add, and my dick is hard.

  It’s just morning wood.

  That’s what I tell myself.

  My body’s natural response.

  I’m dreading the day ahead of me. So much needs to be done. Yesterday I gathered our shit to the point of exhaustion. Today, I can hardly move.

  Devon’s palm slides to my lower stomach and I hold my breath. I know she’s asleep. The sound of her breathing is rhythmic. Unlike last night.

  Heat bubbles up inside of me. Angry heat. She’s getting confused and I don’t know what to do about it. Her life was literally turned upside down. She’s clinging to whatever she can. I’m all she has left. I wish I knew how to undo what’s already been done though. The parts where I accidentally touched her and how she thinks she can freely touch me now.

  I’m not a sicko.

  I’m not a motherfucking child molester.

  Her knee bumps my dick and I groan. I have to get out of this tent. With a grumble, I slide out from beneath her and grab my shirt. I’m sitting on my knees putting it on when I feel her staring at me. Stupid me chances a glance her way.

  She lies there with her arm curved above her head. The blanket reveals her scraped up left breast, the nipple peaked and at attention. Her pouty lips are parted and she stares at me with a look I don’t understand from her.

  She’s fucking with my head.

  “Get dressed,” I snap and then charge out of the tent before she can see my erection.

  When I hear sniffling, I ignore it before I do anything more stupid than I’ve already done, like go back to her and console her.

  There needs to be boundaries.

  Now.

  It’s been five days since we tumbled off the side of the cliff. Devon can’t walk yet, her ankle still too weak, so I have her do tasks she can manage while sitting. Sorting through piles of collected stuff. Meal prep. Inventory.

  Meanwhile, I have been obsessing over building us a home. The tents are fine for the summer but I need to get some legitimate shelter in place before the winter gets here. My chainsaw survived the accident but I don’t have much gas left for it. I’ll have to reserve it for special uses. All of my other hand tools and nails were recovered though. It will take some hard, manual labor, but I’m going to build us a home if it’s the last thing I do.

  “I’m going to explore,” I call out as I pick up my ax.

  Devon lifts her blue eyes to meet mine and frowns. “Without me?” The hurt written all over her face is enough to crush me. Sure, I’ve been avoiding her as much as possible. She still clings to me like a spider monkey in the middle of the night, but so far we’ve managed to not have any touching mishaps. We haven’t talked about what happened though. Eventually, I owe it to her as her father, to try and talk her through the confusing feelings she’s having.


  “You can’t walk.”

  Fire flashes in her eyes and she stands. She’s wrapped her ankle in one of her mom’s old scarves to help support it. Her movements are slow but she hobbles my way, determination driving her forward. I can’t help but smile at her.

  “You going to bore me with useless information the whole time?” I ask as I grab a couple of water bottles I’ve recycled and toss them in my bag.

  She rolls her eyes. “My useless information will save us one day. I’m going and you’ll have to endure my chattering.”

  I hold my hand out to her and she clasps it with hers. Together we begin a slow trek through the wilderness. We walk for what feels like hours until Devon whimpers each time she puts pressure on her foot. The forest is thick in these parts, but I can still hear the river rushing by.

  “A cave!” Devon shrieks, her voice reminding me of when she was small.

  “Stay here,” I instruct. “Sit.”

  She plops down on a fallen log and watches me as I explore the crevasse in the side of the mountain. When I peek my head in, I frown at seeing some bats. But other than that, the crack is about three feet wide and nine feet deep. Too small for bears and there isn’t any animal dung to indicate anything lives here. I reach in and touch the smooth stone surface. Cold. It would be a great escape this summer when it gets hot and perfect for storing things in the winter.

  I survey the land outside the cave. It’s relatively flat and close to the river. The trees are plentiful here so I’d have plenty to work with and wouldn’t have to drag them very far. I grab a fallen limb and scare all the bats from the cave. Devon squeals from behind me and I laugh. Once I deem it safe, I saunter over to her and scoop her into my arms. Her smile is brilliant and full of love. This is the daughter I know. We can fix the little bit of damage we’ve done. I just know it. We’ll go back to the way things used to be.