by K. F. Breene
The warmth in his voice, and the timbre, had her eyes flicking up, always drawing her attention no matter the situation. Unfortunately, the timing was all wrong. She had just stepped with her other foot, halfway across the deep stream. The distraction saw her stepping a little too wide.
Her foot slipped, losing traction and skimming the side of the log, taking her body with her.
“Oh cra—”
She experienced a moment of weightlessness before water slapped her. A blast of cold stabbed her body, so extreme it pushed the air out of her lungs. It felt like needles, pricking her skin. Stinging her face. Thrashing, she cried out, teeth chattering already, flailing for the shore. Mike was there, holding out his hand, alarm etched all over his face.
“Why is it so c-cold?” she asked through clenched teeth as she clawed her way up the bank. “So, s-so c-cold.”
“Snowmelt feeds the streams in the hills and mountains around here. C’mon, we have to get you up the bank and out of those clothes as fast as possible.” He hoisted her out of the water.
Her limbs trembled from the agonizing chill, like knives flaying her flesh and scraping against her bones. It felt like her stomach shriveled up and her heart was seized in a snowman’s hand.
“We have to prevent you from getting hypothermia,” Mike said in a low, steady voice born from years of reacting quickly and confidently to extreme and terrifying circumstances.
This was only her first extreme and terrifying circumstance. She wasn’t nearly as calm.
“Mikey, I’m fu-freezing. Freezing. Oh my God, it’s so c-cold!”
“Hypothermia reduces your core temperature,” Mike said calmly, leading them toward a clearing. “Your vital organs start shutting down, and before you know it, you’re tired, lethargic, you can’t think straight, and you’re making mistakes. You fall flat on your face, pass out, and never wake up.”
“Fa-fascinating,” Sara managed, her body shaking so badly she felt like she was having a seizure.
They stumbled up the bank, Mike taking a fast look around before standing her beside a tree. “Get yourself out of those wet clothes. I have an extra fleece and you can have my pants. I have boxers on, so those’ll be fine until later tonight. I’ll get a fire going and we’ll put your clothes over it to get them dry. Hopefully, by the time the sun goes down, we should be back to basics.”
“God, you’re good at this,” she muttered, her teeth chattering.
Knives stabbed her limbs as she painfully moved her body, trying to get out of her soaked clothes. Mike didn’t waste time helping. With practiced, economic movements, he gathered grasses and small twigs into one neat pile. Beside that, he started another pile for larger logs and branches, unhurriedly scouting the area for fuel for a fire, but always with momentum. That done, and as Sara was shakily removing her pants, he was in front of her, helping her pull down the drenched jeans and whisking them away to a tree branch.
She stood in just her panties for one full second, clutching her arms around her middle. She didn’t care if a whole parade of nuns happened by, she was happier in her bare skin than in those icy clothes.
“Here you go,” Mike said, removing his sweater and undershirt. He only glanced at her bare breasts once before ripping his eyes away and homing in on her face. “Use this sweater. It already has my body heat. I’ll use my spare.”
Those perfectly sculpted pecs made an appearance, leading down into that delicious six-pack. “You’re so h-hot,” she managed, closing her eyes against the searing cold. “You could have any gi-girl you wa-want. Oh my G-God, I hate the c-cold.”
“I only want one, and so far, she’s given me a run for my money.”
“I would make a joke, but I’m t-too cold,” she whined, slipping into his deliciously warm shirt before letting him help her into the even warmer sweater. “Ooooh, this feels so g-good.”
“I know, baby. We’ll get you warm in a jiff.”
Again without hurrying, but doing it faster than most people could in the same situation, he unbuckled his belt and stripped out of his pants, his black boxer briefs now the only thing he was wearing. Clearly he wasn’t worried about nudity.
He’d probably been in worse situations than this way more often than she had.
“I’m swa—swimming in your clothes.” She smiled through numb lips.
“Better than swimming in that stream. Okay, here we go.” His palms worked up and down her arms, rubbing more heat into her limbs. “Let’s just be thankful it’s not winter, huh?”
“Hmm.” She nodded, leaning forward into his arms. She dropped her cheek onto his warm shoulder and curled into his embrace, closing her eyes as he rubbed her back.
“You survived your first freezing water experience. How’d it feel?” His deep voice rumbled in his chest.
“I’m sti—still too cold to talk ab—about it.”
His chuckle vibrated against her ear before he backed her away. His expressive eyes looked down into her, once again pushing past her every defensive layer—not that she had many just now—and tickling her core. A warm hum started in the base of her spine, those beautiful hazel eyes in that handsome face entrancing her.
He winked before moving away, leaving her to hop up and down, wrapping her arms around herself for warmth. “Smells like teen spirit in this sweater.”
“Wow,” he said, opening his pack and pulling on the extra fleece. “You just aged yourself.”
“Why? That’s Nirvana. ‘Smells like Teen Spirit’.”
“I know who they are, but half the kids that work at the ranch probably don’t.”
“Well, that’s a glaring hole in their music knowledge, obviously.”
“Oh, obviously, yes. Exactly.” He grinned at her, fastening back on his boots. He stood up, motioning for her to put back on her own shoes. Only, hers were still icy cold. She eyed him dubiously.
“We can’t relax yet,” he explained. “I’ll get a fire going so we can boil some water for drinking and dry your clothes. While I do that, you can do a scout to find some of those plants you talked about. Remember, this is about risk and reward. Don’t go too far, don’t do anything stupid, and don’t take all day.”
She threw up a hasty salute. “Yes, sir. My feet are freezing, sir.”
“Very informative. Thanks for keeping me in the loop. Let me know if you lose a toe.”
“I’ll kick you with my toes,” she muttered, grabbing his backpack. To his glance she said, “For when I find dinner.”
He flashed her a grin before sitting down to make a fire. Before she got far, he glanced back up again. “Repeat what I told you about bears, and make sure you have that bear spray handy at all times.”
Sara hesitated, her witty response dying on her lips. It was easy to forget where they were, without safety, when she was hanging out and talking with Mike. They had such easy, fun communication that her mind glossed over the gravity of their situation.
She thought back to the half-day hike getting to this spot when he’d droned on about survival know-how. “Right, okay,” she said, taking the spray out of the pack. “For bears, I want to make lots of noise so that they hear me. Although you say I make plenty, so that’s good. If I see one, I don’t want to run away. That’s very bad. It’ll chase.”
“And then gnaw on you like a chew toy,” Mike said.
“You’re not helping. Um, let’s see. Don’t stare it in the eye. It’ll see that as a challenge. If it stands up on its hind legs, that just means it’s checking me out. Don’t get concerned.”
“Or, in your case, don’t freak out.”
She scrunched her nose up, sending him an evil threat via glare. “I am being serious right now!”
“Yes, you are. And I am lightening the mood so you don’t leave here dripping all kinds of fear and worry and blind your eyes to finding food. Panic and stress don’t belong in a combat situation.”
“I am scouting for food. I hardly think this counts as a combat situation, or why would they g
ive this job to women?”
“You are going out into the wilds with minimal knowledge and pretty much unprotected. They give this task to women because gathering doesn’t need a lot of strength. However, nothing about surviving in the wild is easy and effortless. You need to keep your wits about you, and if you, Sara Michaels, are stressing out, you don’t think logically. A joke or two gets your brain active, and puts you at your best.”
“Oh, stop pretending like you know me. I only just met you a month ago,” she said, fidgeting.
“I’m a fast study. Now get to it, I’m starving.” He bent back to his task.
Sara scowled at him, even though he didn’t notice, and she set out, running through a list of plants and their properties in her head. In her excitement to follow her dream and work a ranch in Montana, she’d learned all she could about the area. While she didn’t think she’d have to survive in the wilderness, she did think she might go camping, and being able to impress new friends with a little knowledge of local plant life seemed like a good idea at the time.
Maybe she could show Mike that she could pull her weight. That she wasn’t as useless as… other men might claim.
She pushed her way through the trees, eyes scouting in the fashion Mike always used. She paid attention to trees and the types of grass on the hill, something she should’ve been doing on the trek here.
When she crested a hill, the trees parted and the vista opened up, beautiful Montana showing off in all its glory. Sloping mountains, lined and dotted with lush green trees, stretched out as far as the eye could see. Another fearsome black shape lumbered along the brown slope in the distance, going about its business without human interference. In the backdrop, the bright blue sky touched down, huge and majestic. People paid for tours and vacations this beautiful. This was it, right here. Living.
Filling her lungs with sweet air, she continued along her path, keeping somewhat near that gurgle so she’d know how to get back. She kept the pace fast to work some heat into her limbs, and snapped on her determination. She would find some food. She would. She could feel it.
* * *
Mike finished rigging the water-boiling device and set to work on the fish trap. Soon they’d conquer their dehydration, and hopefully, before long, they’d sate their hunger too. He’d seen some ground squirrels here and there on the hike this morning, so before sundown he’d set some snares and hope something wandered in.
Just as he was snapping the last durable branch for the trap, a tickle of apprehension started worming its way into his thoughts at Sara’s prolonged absence. He heard the trampling and stomping that could only be her. A smile broke out on his face as she emerged from the trees on the other side of the clearing, her arms stuffed with a huge bundle of green.
“I found it!” she exclaimed, practically running at him. “I found some stuff to eat. Well, at least one thing. Look!”
Pride and delight lit up her face, joy beaming out of her eyes. Her back was a little straighter; something as simple as knowing, and finding, an edible plant boosting her confidence.
A key component of survival, whether in the wild, or life in general, was morale. Even a small score, like finding an edible plant and bringing it back to feed others, made a person feel useful. Made them feel like they were contributing. In Sara’s case, it let her take one more step toward healing. Just knowing she could do something on her own gave her self-worth; raised her chin just that little bit more.
His heart swelled with pride. She would beat this. She’d move on from that asshole Phil and regain her love of life. He knew she would. She had strength under it all, and just maybe this trip would help her realize that. Maybe her path was supposed to end up out here, surviving, proving to herself that she could do it. That just because “happily ever after” didn’t end up how she’d planned, it didn’t mean her life was over. She could pick herself up, dust herself off, and keep surviving.
“What’d you find?” he asked, standing up to receive her.
Her gaze slid down to his package. Her face turned crimson and a crease formed in her brow. She yanked her gaze back up to his, holding up the large bundle of green. “Thistles and nettles. Nettles are full of calcium and vitamins, but you have to cook them to stop the stinging. Thistles, though, you can just peel off the outside and chow down. I already had two. They won’t cure the hunger, but it’ll help a little.”
“It’ll help a lot. Great job!”
He transferred the booty to the side and checked the water.
“Won’t the plastic melt?” he heard behind him.
Mike turned so she could see the water bottle as it hung in the flame. He’d looped a shoelace around the mouth of the bottle, and then draped that over a branch and tied it off to the tree. On the other side of the fire was a similar device set up for her clothes, hanging as close as possible to the flame without setting the material on fire.
Hopefully.
Mike pointed to the bottom of the bottle where the color was turning black. “Without water, absolutely it’ll melt. But water within the plastic bottle will prevent melting. And as you can see, it’s boiling, which is a good sign. The rule is, cleanish water should boil for about five minutes—then all the nasty bacteria should be dead. Dirtier water should be let to boil for ten minutes, just in case. Boiling doesn’t improve the taste, unfortunately. Though that shouldn’t be a problem here.”
“And what happens if you don’t let it boil?”
“Sometimes nothing. If you’re lucky and have no fire, maybe nothing. But animal waste, not to mention a great deal of other things, create E. coli and other such bacteria, which will give you the Aztec shuffle real quick. It’ll also make you really sick or could kill you, so you should always boil the water.”
“Aztec shuffle…”
“Diarrhea.”
“Ew. Got it.”
Mike nodded and transferred the bottle to the side to let the water cool, his tongue feeling three times too big and his head pounding. He’d almost risk choking down scalding water to get one taste.
Equally ignoring his pinched stomach, well beyond hunger, he turned back to the evenly broken branches. He allowed himself one sigh to steady his head, focusing on the goal. If he let hunger and thirst rush his thoughts in the wild, he’d make a mistake that could cost a life. He had to stay strong, keep focused, and stick to the plan.
If only it was that easy. “Okay, while the water cools, let’s get this trap in place.”
Without asking what he was talking about or why they couldn’t just wait for the water—something he’d probably do if he’d had her inexperience—she nodded and immediately bent to pick up some branches.
Warmth filled his chest as he walked upstream to the location he’d scouted earlier. Her unquestioning willingness to put her life in his hands showed a deep trust. That wasn’t something she’d have in a guy she’d met a month ago. Or even the guy she’d spent half her life with. Regardless of what she said, or how she tried to reconcile her confused feelings for him, the solidity of their bond was true, and it was forged with skinned knees and skipping rocks. Now they were just building on it. Relearning each other after all this time. With the fundamentals so firm, everything else was just gloss and shine.
A high gloss, and a shine so bright it reflected…
He cleared his thoughts as he reached the location of, hopefully, a good meal.
“Okay, what I’m doing here is creating a fish trap,” he explained as he stepped toward the center of the stream, fairly shallow through this area. The icy water rolled over his shoe and attacked his ankle with a searing bite. Not fun. “This stream should be full of trout. I’ll put the branches like a gate, bracing on rocks, and make it so they can’t sneak through with the water. So they’ll come down the stream, see a branch, try to go around, see a different branch, and then just get confused and hang out.”
“How do we get them out?”
“Grab them, smash their head with a rock, gut, and eat. Hopeful
ly. It doesn’t always work if the stream doesn’t have many fish or the trap doesn’t hold.”
“It’ll work.”
Mike smiled at the conviction in her voice. It was always nice when someone had your back.
He finished sticking the branches in the water, creating something that should hold. Should being the operative word. That done, and his insides starting to tingle with the thought of water waiting for them, they turned to head back.
“I want to be done with the pain. I do. I want to move on,” she said softly, trailing behind him. “It’s just so deep. It’s like a fishhook caught on a rib. I try to pull it up and it yanks at my core.”
Mike stayed silent as they got to their home base, hoping she was about to purge a little of the pain. This was an important step in getting over her loss, and she needed to let it happen at her own pace. He picked up the bottle and turned to her. She barely refrained from snatching it, taking it down in panicked, thirsty gulps. Halfway finished, she abruptly pulled it away, panting. “Here.”
“You can take it. I’ll get another.”
“No. Drink. We’ll go back and get it together. Here.” She pushed the bottle at him again, not making eye contact.
The second the wetness hit his tongue, his eyes closed in sweet, pure bliss.
“Water has never tasted so good,” Sara said, reading his mind. “Best-tasting drink I have ever had, and it tastes kind of like plastic.”
He nodded as he finished the bottle, immediately starting forward to get more. “I wish we had more than just this one bottle. Still, it beats having to find a container.”
“It’s like… an elixir when it hits your mouth, am I right? Like… I’m still really thirsty, but… I’ll never take water for granted again. I swear to God I won’t.”
He laughed, crossing the clearing for what seemed like the millionth time. “You probably won’t take any sort of sustenance for granted. When I get through with a particularly hard assignment, I thank everything in sight when I get back.”
“I want to try that with you. A hard one.”
