Surviving Love

by K. F. Breene

  “Noah. You didn’t ask for me?”

  “Noah? Did he say who sent him?”

  He pushed out through the tree line, and his gaze scanned the area, eventually pointing in the direction the Jeep had gone. The Jeep’s tracks led down grassy hillside, disappearing below the ridge.

  He snatched the fanny pack out of her hand and opened it up. He rifled through it, and worry crept into his expression as he finally pulled out a folded piece of paper. Sara saw the words as he opened it up: Here’s a little present for you. Don’t worry, I let Dan know you were taking his prize helper on your retreat. She’s all yours. Let’s see if you’re as good as they say you are when the stakes are raised. Duke.

  “Shit!” Mike crumpled the note in his hand and braced to throw it. Instead, he paused, and then slowly lowered his arm. In defeat, he turned to her. “I didn’t ask for you, no. Not that I don’t always want you around—I do. But this isn’t a training session. It’s a survival situation. I’m on my own out here.”

  “What does that mean? Can’t we just hike back? I have my good shoes on.” Sara lifted a foot to show him her hiking boots, knowing, even as she’d said it, that the long car ride through sparse landscape hinted at the answer.

  “Yes, we can. But we’re dozens of miles from the ranch, or even any sort of civilization. We still need to find water, food…” Mikey’s jaw clenched and his body flexed, as he struggled for control. He took two steps away and swore. “He’s put you in an extremely dangerous position, and he knows it. I should’ve known. I should’ve known standing up to him would just make things worse for you. Damn it!”

  “Wait.” Sara looked around at the trees, then out at the rolling hills. She glanced at him, seeing no backpacks or sleeping bags, and then down at herself, dressed in daywear with no supplies of any kind. She’d camped before, but she’d brought a trunk full of stuff. If what Mikey said was true, this would be four days with… nothing. No toothbrush, change of clothes, snacks… nothing!

  “No one’s going to come back for me tonight?” She couldn’t hide the desperation in her voice.

  Mikey watched her calmly, no doubt reading her slow slide into realization. “If Dan thinks I asked for you, he won’t come looking for four days. He won’t try to find us. He’ll think I know what I’m doing. We’ll try to get found as soon as possible, obviously, but not many come out this way.”

  “But how’d you get up here? Don’t you know where you are?” she asked desperately, looking in the direction the Jeep had gone.

  “A friend of mine owns this land. I know the area of the county, but he owns hundreds of acres. I have no idea exactly where I am, and even if I did, it’s at least a few-day hike to civilization. At least. We’re in the thick of it now.”

  She faced him with a slack jaw, the fear of the great wide open gnawing at her. “This is like when we were kids and got lost. I was terrified.”

  I am terrified, she thought.

  He put his hand up, fingers spread, palm facing her. His beautiful spun-honey gaze delved into her, solid and resolute. Without thinking about what happened two weeks ago, she quickly put her palm against his and entwined their fingers, needing his touch.

  In a soft, calm voice, he said, “Montana in the summer is a walk in the park. Sara. I will get us out of this, okay? I will take care of you.”

  His confidence descended on her like a blanket. The warmth of his hand and the comfort of his voice—she felt herself relax. Whatever happened between them, or would happen, this was still her Mikey. He was capable and assured, able to tackle the world if he wanted to. She trusted him completely.

  “Okay,” she said, closing her eyes for a moment. She felt that sweet electricity surging between them, as pleasant as it was familiar.

  He was an expert, but she didn’t need to be dead weight. She needed to summon her courage and rise to the challenge—to help him in any way she could.

  “Okay,” she repeated, this time with a deep breath. She opened her eyes and stepped away, glancing around them. “What’s first?”

  A tiny smile quirked his lips, his eyes starting to sparkle through his concern. “That’s my girl. Fearless.”

  “Let’s not push it.”

  His smile burned brighter before determination and keen intelligence took over his expression. “Okay, time to get to it.”

  Authority and competency surrounded him like an aura. He was thoroughly in charge and unquestionably in control. Her chest got tight and her heart started to thump, now staring at him in fascination.

  He gestured her to sit and followed her down, reaching for her fanny pack. “First thing we need to do is pool our resources.” He dug into the fanny pack and brought out the items as he verbally checked them off a list he was compiling in his head. “Swiss Army knife, toilet paper, and… excellent—”

  Mikey took out a can that looked like a miniature fire extinguisher. “Bear spray. It looks like Duke doesn’t want you dying out here. At least there’s that.”

  “Bear spray?” she asked with a hint of alarm. Obviously she’d known there were bears in Montana, but until that moment, she hadn’t considered that she’d be spending time in their home. Without shelter. Or door handles.

  “Are they hostile?” she asked, stupidly. “I mean… they only eat fish, right? And berries. Not human fingers and toes…”

  “They don’t generally eat meat. But bears are wild animals—if they feel threatened, they will attack. If we meet one, we want to make sure it doesn’t feel threatened. Okay, empty those pockets.”

  “Oh—” Sara patted her fleece before extracting some used tissue. Her jeans pocket had the key to her room, which she handed over. She patted her butt pocket and felt the maxi pad she hadn’t had to use yet.

  As if her pocket was on fire, she yanked her hand away. “That’s it.”

  A keen gaze studied her. “What’s in that back pocket?”

  “Nothing. It’s just…”

  He put out his hand and waggled his fingers. “Hand it over. It’s just you and me and the wilds of Montana, Sara. We don’t keep secrets from each other out here. A secret might get someone killed.”

  A bit dramatic…

  Reluctantly, she pulled out the pad, her face flaming red as she embarrassedly handed it over.

  “Are you on your period?” he asked as he took it.

  She didn’t want to tell him she was late. That she should’ve had it three days ago. That she was terrified she was pregnant. So she hedged. “Not yet.”

  His focus didn’t waver. “When is it due?”

  “Why are you so worried about my menstrual cycle, Mikey? It’s embarrassing to talk about this with a guy. I’m not on it—move on.”

  “A woman on her period in the wild can be a messy and dangerous affair. I’m sure I don’t have to describe the reason it’s messy, but it’s dangerous because of the blood. We don’t need to attract more attention from predators. We’ll need to take special precautions should you start. Outside of the wild, I’m only worried about blood when its loss will result in death. Since a menstrual cycle only results in bad moods, it’s not usually a problem. Don’t be embarrassed. When is it due?”

  “Any day,” she answered dourly, staring at the ground.

  Silence hung heavy between them, stuffed with words unsaid. She could feel his look, staring a hole into the top of her head. She knew he wanted to ask about it, or assure her of his part in it, or a million things he’d do because he was a good guy. But she wasn’t ready to face that possibility. She wasn’t ready to contemplate taking care of a defenseless human being when she couldn’t even take care of herself. She was only a few days late—it wasn’t real yet. Besides, it was probably just stress. She’d been a couple days late before due to stress. That had to be it.

  “So now what?” she said to move things along.

  “You’ll need to let me know immediately if you get it,” he said in a commanding voice. She could hear the urgency under his words, though. The s
light tremor, barely noticeable. He wasn’t asking because of the situation, he was asking because of what it meant each day she didn’t have it. The burden he would be strapped with.

  A jolt of fear pierced her gut. I will not worry about this now!

  “Fine. Move on,” she said in a firm voice.

  After a silent beat, he finally relented. “We need to get going. We have a lot to do before sundown. Our priorities are”—he held out his hand and ticked off fingers—“fire, shelter, and water. We’ll come up with a plan once we have some resting time. Are you ready?”

  Was he kidding? Action and movement was ten times better than the horrible conversation they’d just come out of. “Yup.”

  After packing everything away, he rose and reached down to help her up. “We’re on Mother Nature’s time now. The temperature will drop fast once that sun goes down. Even with a fire, we don’t have the right clothes for this. We need to get a hooch and get a fire, stat.”

  “Oh, wait—” Sara unzipped her fleece and reached into her inside pocket. She extracted more crumpled tissue, a box of matches, and a lighter. “Okay, that’s the end of it, I swear. Though I didn’t realize I had so much used tissue. It’s like I’m seventy.”

  “You’re taking after your mother…” Mikey chuckled as he took the lighter. “You don’t smoke. Why do you have a lighter?”

  “Sam said I should always carry a lighter in case I was stranded. Then he just started bringing them for me. So those are both gifts from him.”

  Mikey’s eyes sparkled. “Since when do you listen to random advice?”

  In a haughty tone she answered, “I listen—don’t look at me like that! Although I just started keeping lighters or matches in my pockets so he’d quit badgering me. I didn’t realize I’d actually need them for survival.”

  “I texted you that I would be leaving for this…”

  Sara stared hard at the ground. “Yeah, sorry—I’ve been kind of busy. I haven’t really been keeping an eye on my phone…”

  She held her breath, hoping he’d let it go. They had so much to talk about. And she would give him explanations, but with so many land mines in this conversation, she’d rather have a little more time, and for him to have a little more patience. He was in work mode—she needed him in understanding mode.

  She heard a release of breath. “Remind me to thank Sam.”

  He took up her fanny pack and secured it around her waist. His tone lightened. “Sexy. I don’t even think seventy-year-olds wear fanny packs…”

  A bark of laughter escaped her. She raised her gaze to meet his, a rush of gratitude at the change in topic coloring her face. Even though his eyes held reservations—he’d want to talk about things, she had no doubt—he winked. “Let’s get going, Mable.”

  “Shut up,” she muttered with a smile.

  Mikey started walking at a measured pace, aiming for the trees. “I’m making as much noise as possible in case any bears are lingering around. Most bear attacks happen when they’re surprised. I don’t want to jump into the trees and shock one. That could give me a bear claw makeover in a hurry.”

  Sara cocked her head and listened. She could still hear distant birds, and an occasional critter scurrying out of their path, but the soft crunch of his shoes barely registered. “You’re trying to make noise right now?”

  “Yes. But you probably can’t hear it because, to a Green Beret, you sound like a herd of lame elephants with steel boots.”

  “Flattery will get you nowhere,” she muttered darkly.

  * * *

  They walked for a couple hours. Sara followed Mikey blindly, since he seemed to have some sort of inner compass. The trees got denser as they slowly descended the mountain. His head, in addition to pointing straight ahead and to the sides, often looked down too, looking for something. Judging by the furrowed brow, he wasn’t finding it.

  As the dim light filtering through the trees deepened, they emerged into a tiny clearing and slowed to a stop. Mikey surveyed their surroundings. “I think we’ll stop for the night. I’d hoped to find water by now—there should be plenty of it running down this mountain from snowmelt and springs, but we need to find shelter and start a fire to protect us from the night. We’ll have to continue the search tomorrow.”

  Sara glanced around the dry grass at their feet. Her body bowed in exhaustion and her stomach churned with hunger. She tried to will some saliva to cure her dry throat, and then gave it up as a futile effort. “So… no dinner? No food, I mean?”

  Her stomach growled loudly, accentuating her words.

  He turned to her, his soft gaze holding hers. “Unfortunately not. Not until we find some. I wish there was some way to make this easier for you, Sara, but—”

  “No, it’s fine,” she said quickly, waving him away. “I was just taking stock of the situation. I’ve fasted before—I’m good. We’ll call it a survival cleanse.”

  A smile tweaked his lips, but didn’t dislodge the concern in his eyes.

  “So where are we sleeping?” she asked.

  His gaze roamed her face for one beat before he turned and started across the clearing to a huge rock hunkering in the trees. “I think, for tonight, we’ll sleep in front of that rock. The ground is covered in grass and leaves, so it’s soft, and the trees and rock act as a kind of shield to guard our back. What do you think?”

  She shrugged. “Sure. It’s like we’re playing house near that creek from back home. Except my mom’s pot roast isn’t a loud whistle away.”

  Mikey led her to the base of the rock and sat down cross-legged. As she mimicked him, he took out the lighter and some tissue. “I loved your mother’s pot roast. Well, most of what your mother made.”

  “That’s only because she gave you heaped portions. You ate more than her and I put together.”

  “Yeah. She didn’t constantly complain about me driving her into the poorhouse like my mother did.” He put a pile of leaves and small twigs to the side of him. Beside that, he laid out a couple pieces of tissue. The lighter was placed carefully beside those.

  “Your mother had four growing boys—give her a break. What would you do if you didn’t have a lighter?”

  Mikey’s gaze came up with confusion before he registered her topic change. He looked back down at his neat fire-starting piles. “There’s a few ways to do it, but most take a lot of time and energy. You, however, are a godsend, because Sam was absolutely right—always carry a lighter. Always. You never expect to end up in a survival situation, but when you do, you almost always need fire.”

  “Normal people never expect to end up in a survival situation, regardless.”

  He laughed. “Yes, exactly, and I think you can attest to me not being normal.”

  “Correct.”

  Mikey put his hands on his legs and leaned toward her, analyzing her face. “Okay, here’s the plan. I’m going to grab some fuel for the fire. There should be plenty to choose from, so it won’t take long. You are going to sit there and come to grips with your situation. You look like you just walked through the back of a closet and ended up in Narnia.”

  “The back of the closet—isn’t that where you spend your time? Afraid to come out…” She threw him an evil smile.

  “My favorite color is pink, after all,” he said as he got up. He placed the bear spray right in front of her. “I won’t be far, so I’d be here long before you’d have to actually use this, but just in case…” He flipped a switch on the top and held it like he would a fire extinguisher. “You have about ten to twenty yards with this—point and shoot. Aim for the eyes. Whatever you do, though, do not run. Got it?”

  She took the spray and held it up like he did, making sure she got the logistics of it. There wasn’t much to get. But spraying would be the least of her worries if a bear arrived—not running, or screaming, or curling up in the fetal position waiting to die would probably be the issue.

  “Got it?” he prompted again.

  “Yeah. I can do it.”

&
nbsp; He flashed her a smile. “That’s my girl. You won’t need to, but it’s good to know how just in case.”

  She put the spray down as he headed around the rock. “Your favorite color is pink?” she asked to his retreating backside. “Are you serious?”

  “No,” he called, disappearing.

  She chuckled to herself as she took in her surroundings. It was still beautiful even though she was kind of trapped in it—green and natural. The air smelled as if it had been scrubbed clean just that morning. Small insects buzzed between the plant life, their soft whine mingling with chirping birds. One white moth fluttered across the clearing, the sunshine lighting its wings.

  Her thoughts turned to her stomach. She was so freaking hungry. It felt like her ribs were being sucked in. The pit of her stomach felt like a cavern, acidic and turbulent.

  She glanced up at the sky. “Touché. I messed up your plans, and this is payback. I get it. No hard feelings.”

  “Who are you talking to?” Mikey asked as he emerged from the trees and placed a pile of dried twigs and wood beside her.

  “God.”

  “You don’t use the bowed head position, huh? You just talk right at Him like you do everyone else?”

  “He has probably already sold my ticket to the guy below, so I figure I can at least tell Him when I’ve realized I’ve been a jerk.”

  “Hmm.” Mikey created a circle of small rocks. He then sat down to his self-made fire station, looking over his tools. With assured economy, he created a sort of bird’s nest of leaves and tiny twigs. On it he put some tissue paper. After lighting this, he gently constructed on it a pile of the wood he’d just collected, which he’d made within the rock circle. “So easy. Cheating, but so easy.”

  “You never follow your own advice with the lighter, huh? Need a girl to save the day?” Sara asked, already trying to lean in to catch a little heat.

  As the light was sapped from the sky, the chill of the night crept in, poking her in warning of what was to come. She’d learned that the cold in Montana had a way of slicing through every piece of fabric a girl was wearing, cut through her skin, and start sawing at her bones. Compared to Nevada, Montana’s cold—even the minimal summer cold—was indescribable.