by Amy Lane
“But loves you too.”
“Okay. Are you sure he’ll love me?”
Tevyn’s heart hurt. “I do.”
“Mm. Love you too. Night.”
“Night.”
He fell asleep, and Tevyn stayed still for quite a while, not even tempted to drop off with him.
Of course he loved Mallory Armstrong. There was no question.
God, they had to make it back home.
Daylight
TEVYN woke him when the night seemed darkest, and Mallory took fire watch. He sang again, remembering as much as he could from his favorite shows, and sometime near dawn, after he’d just repositioned the big log and the shelter was lovely and comfortable, Tevyn spoke.
“You’ve got a real good voice, Mal. You need to sing in the shower or something when we get back.”
Mal chuckled rustily, exhausted to his toes. “I’ll try to remember. Note to self: Tevyn doesn’t mind singing in the shower.”
“I’m going to be listening,” Tevyn promised. “Now lie down next to me and get some more sleep, okay?”
Such a gift. Mal had never realized how much of a gift giving sleep to someone who was exhausted could be.
He lay down in front of Tevyn again, and they both must have fallen asleep.
When Mal awakened, Damien was feeding another log into the fire to supplement the big one that had sunk to embers. The shelter was chilly in spite of the brightness of the sun glaring off the snow outside.
The brightness of the sun.
Mal sat up and began to help stoke the fire again, the better to consume the big log while they had it.
The fire stoked, he looked at Damien, who was pale but composed.
“How’re you doing?”
“Better than yesterday,” Damien admitted. They both looked toward the trench coat because it was the established door now, whether they liked it or not. “Not good enough to go out in the snow. Not today.”
Mal nodded. “A day to rest,” he said, his bones still weary from his near miss. God, he could remember thinking, A nap. Just a nap. It had sounded so reasonable in the middle of a blizzard.
“And then we can go out and freeze to death,” Damien said grimly.
Mal shook his head. “Believe in him, Damie. I do. We’re going to go find help. If nothing else, we can go find our cell phones, and help will find us.”
Damien closed his eyes and nodded. “Get some more sleep, Mal. He’s going to have all sorts of plans today.”
Mallory turned his back toward the fire this time and pulled Tevyn against his chest.
Believe in him.
Believe.
DAMIEN was right about plans. They spent the day testing out the snowshoes and looking for branches big enough to work as a travois and small enough that they wouldn’t kill Mal and Tevyn to pull behind them.
Two of the shoes fell apart completely before they were done with them, and one of them sustained minor damage. Mal figured he’d spend the evening rebinding them, but they had two complete pairs, sturdy and practical, that they used to go look for the travois branches—which they didn’t find.
“This is ridiculous,” Tevyn muttered, looking at the vast expanse of flat whiteness between the trees. “Yesterday we had half a tree fall on our heads, and now it’s like, ‘Wood? There’s no wood here!’”
“We’re in a forest, Tev,” Mallory told him dryly, then held up his hands to Tevyn’s glare. “Yes, you’re right. I know what you mean.”
“What’re we going to do?” Tevyn asked seriously, and he did have a point. Damien’s leg was still broken and he might be overcoming the infection, but walking was out of the question.
“Well, the fire blanket worked pretty well the first time,” Mal pondered. “Let’s use some of those T-shirt scraps to make handles with the ends, and maybe some of the rope to sew him into it.”
“That’s good,” Tevyn said. “But what if it wears out. The thing with your coat is that it’s sturdier.”
“Well, maybe both? Sew him into the fire blanket, secure the fire blanket on top of the coat. Maybe turn the coat inside out so the satin’s sliding on the snow and the wool’s insulating him from it.”
Tevyn nodded, and they stood for a moment in the sparkling white of the cold new day. “We should go look at the tree line,” he said softly. “To get an idea.”
Walking in snowshoes was harder than it seemed in the movies. Every step required coordinated muscle movement to lift the new attachment up and out of the snow and then to place it on top again. The snow sucked at the mesh, unwilling to give up this new object it could embrace, and although they’d secured the shoes with scraps of T-shirt at the toes, the better to shush-shush and slide forward, the temptation to lift the back too was almost overwhelming.
Mal was panting and sore by the time they reached the tree line and looked out over the edge of the world.
“I see nothing but canyon and other mountains,” he said, swallowing hard.
“There has got to be something else out there,” Tevyn muttered. “I mean, the railroad, Highway 80, Tahoe—we know they’re around here somewhere!”
“Not from this vantage point.” Mal took a deep breath and deliberately turned his body away from the great nothingness of wilderness that vaulted into space. “Okay, the one thing we can control. Downhill. We keep the edge of the mountain to our left—”
“East,” Tevyn said. “That’s northeast.”
“So we’re going southwest. Unless there’s an airline, that’s not what we’re worried about now. We just keep going downhill and don’t fall off the mountain. What’s downhill?”
“The tree line keeps going,” Tevyn mused. “That’s good. We stick to the tree line so we can find shelter when we need to, but we stay on the edge so we’re visible.”
“We mark the trees as we go,” Mal added. “Every hundred yards or so—scrap of cloth, carved initial, whatever—starting with this one here.” He pointed to the last tree before the mountain flattened out to the cliff’s edge. “Anyone searching for us can at least see we were there.”
Tevyn nodded. “I…. God, I wish we had a tent.”
“If we’re wishing, wish for more food,” Mal said, stomach growling. They had what? Two more days of broth and one more day of power bars. “I’d trade Damien in for a pastrami sandwich.”
“You would not,” Tevyn said, turning in toward the trees.
“I would too! Full-on sauerkraut and everything!”
“You’d eat chicken on whole wheat, no mayo, like you always do.”
Mallory shook his head no. “Pastrami, on rye, special sauce and everything. This here would be a celebration sandwich.”
“Well, if we’re having celebration food, I want prime rib and lasagna.”
Of course he would. “That’s why I love you—you always think bigger.”
Tevyn gave him an arch look. “Don’t have to think. I know bigger.”
Mal threw back his head and laughed, the sound bouncing off the snow and out into the canyon, and when he looked at Tevyn to make sure he was kidding and not being a douchebag, his laughter stilled.
Tevyn was biting his lip shyly, eyes crinkled, like a kid who’d done something wonderful but wasn’t sure if the adults approved.
“What?”
“Your laugh. I… I don’t know if I’ve ever heard you laugh like that. I made you do that.”
Very carefully, Mallory shuffled the few steps between them, leaning over so they were close enough to touch. “You—in my entire life, nobody has ever made me feel like you do. I… I kept it inside. For a long time, I kept it inside. But what good will that do me today? What good will it be to keep it secret today when we’re risking our lives tomorrow?”
Tevyn swallowed. “See? I should know that. I take risks every day. I should have known not to keep it inside. Why’d…. Why’d it take so long for this to happen between us, Mal? Why couldn’t we have been doing this for the last five years?”
&n
bsp; Mallory bit his lip. “Because you were young and flying down mountains, and I didn’t want to steal that away.”
Tevyn shook his head. “No. You’re not taking a damned thing from me that I don’t want to give you, twice over. It’s because I was afraid. Five years, you stayed with me. I just needed to know you’d stay.”
Mal kissed him, softly, barely keeping balance, and then pulled away. “If there’s breath in my body, I’ll stay.”
Tevyn nodded. “If there’s breath in my body, I’ll always fly down the mountain to you.”
The world hung breathless then, two tiny humans at the mercy of a lovely, merciless wilderness, small heartbeats on the crust of snow that threatened to swallow them into oblivion at any time.
But Mal could feel the warmth of Tevyn’s breath, see flecks of green in his blue eyes, the impossible curve of his bottom lip as he bit down on it in shyness.
“Whether we make it down the mountain or not, Tev, we’re gonna be forever.”
Tevyn smiled then, all shyness banished. “I’m king of the goddamned hill, Mal. Don’t worry about getting down the mountain. No one’s ever offered me forever. I’m gonna grab it with both hands.”
Bold words. And, like a blessing, they found a large downed limb with branch offshoots from it. Wasn’t big enough to use as a travois completely, but it was big enough to shove through the arms of Mal’s coat to work as handles. The offshoots were good as walking sticks—which were actually needed to prod the snow in front of them, looking for holes like the ones Mal had fallen into.
“You know what the real irony of those holes is,” Tevyn said in disgust.
“They’re like premade snow caves, but because we fall into them they’re going to kill us?”
“No! It’s that they’re usually caused by branches at the bottom, making the wind and the snow do weird things!”
Mallory chuckled. “So much irony in nature. I had no idea.”
“Like the irony that now that we’ve finally stopped being stupid with each other, we’re dirty, sweaty, and the closest we are to getting naked with each other is drawing each other’s names in the snow when we pee?”
“Oh my God, you didn’t!”
Now it was Tevyn’s turn to chuckle. “I like how that horrifies you—like anybody but us would know!”
“I’d know!” Mallory told him, definitely horrified. “I mean, name in lights, yes! Name in piss, no!”
Tevyn gave a decidedly lascivious grin. “How about name in come? Because at this point, I could write you a love letter. How’s that?”
The crudeness shocked him—but the thought of them, naked, raw, uninhibited, set him on fire. “Dammit!” he snapped because suddenly his whole body was tingling, not that Tevyn’s suggestion was possible, but trying would be everything.
“Yeah?”
“Now we really have to get down this mountain!”
Tevyn was still laughing as they drew even with the shelter. “That’s what I’m talking about! Incentive!”
They rested for the remainder of the day. Mallory spent part of his time fixing the ruined snowshoes—and reinforcing the ones that survived—and Tevyn used his knife and pieces of T-shirt to make handles for the travois.
“I figure I’ll sew Damien onto the coat right before we take down the fire,” Tevyn said thoughtfully. “We can leave about an hour after sunrise.”
Damien nodded, still tired. “Since mostly what I’m gonna do is slide behind you, I really can’t complain,” he said.
“You need to tell us if you start getting feverish or nauseous,” Mallory told him seriously. “If it starts hurting too much—whatever. We can’t fix it if you just grin and bear it.”
“Well, bitching is an unappreciated skill.” Damien closed his eyes. “And seriously, how many more Vicodin do we have?”
“Enough to keep you stoned on an empty stomach for a good three days,” Tevyn told him, and they all grimaced. “Lots of water, Damie. It’s going to be back there with you. Let us know when it’s time to add more snow.”
Damien nodded. “I appreciate that you’re trying to keep me alive and pain-free. If we can not be people-sicles by the end, I’m calling it a win.”
It was a pact then, and to seal it, Mallory started singing “I’m a Nut,” and they all joined in.
That night, after Damien had fallen asleep, Mallory leaned back against the bench and pulled Tevyn into his arms.
“Tell me more,” Tevyn begged him.
“More what?”
“About you and me when we’re down the mountain.”
Mallory nuzzled his ear. He smelled like sweat—they both did—and while on a city street it would be unpleasant and rank, here, in this shelter, when they were safe and warm, it was simply an animal smell that was familiar to him now.
“You’re going to qualify for the Olympics next year,” Mallory said. “And depending on the rules, you can stay with me in the hotel. And at night, you can tell me how you’re going to beat the next run, and you can play your music as loud as you need to, and you can use me any way you want if it’s going to help you make the end of the run. And I’ll be at the bottom waiting, and you’ll hug Gretta and Harold and Sean—but you’ll kiss me, and all the cameras will whirr, and we won’t care.”
Tevyn sighed and pushed back into his arms a little more.
“This is good,” he said. “I’m going to have to teach you to snowboard, though.”
Mallory snorted. “Good luck with that. Why?”
“So you can know how it feels. So you can go down the bunny hill and go ‘booyah!’ and when you see me do a trick, you’ll know what that’s like, even a little.”
It was a good plan. Ambitious, but doable. “It needs to be a very small bunny hill,” Mallory warned.
“Naw. The way you dance? You’ll be a natural.”
“Maybe take me sledding first.” Mallory tightened his arms around Tevyn’s waist.
“Like this,” Tevyn said, leaning a little to the left. “And this.” They leaned to the right. “And sit down hard and lean and it’ll skid sideways and stop!” And they both did that on the hard dirt and needle floor of their temporary home.
“Ready for the bobsled event,” Mallory laughed.
“Yup.” Tevyn turned his head sideways, angling his body so he could rest his cheek against Mallory’s chest. “Don’t want to change you, Mal,” he murmured. “Just want to take you with me.”
“I’ll go on whatever adventure I need to,” Mallory told him. “However I get to stay.” They were quiet, and Mallory suspected Tev was falling asleep.
“Sing to me. The one about hoping you get it.”
So Mallory sang A Chorus Line until Tevyn was asleep, and took first watch. He woke Tev when he couldn’t hold his eyes open, and they lay down together while Tev took second. He was fast asleep when Damien took the predawn shift, and when they woke up, the sun was shining into the shelter through the filtering branches of the trees.
It was time to go.
IT seemed like breakdown should have taken longer. Those flimsy blankets and Mal’s trench coat had been their home for the last four days. But it took them maybe fifteen minutes to pack everything they had left—every scrap of fabric they’d cannibalized, every small element they hadn’t burned. Tevyn kept the used-up hand warmers, putting some of them in their boots to keep their feet dry as they walked, and the others in with the cotton balls because the iron oxide could start a fire damned quick too.
He took one of the live ones and put it in the insulated first aid case with the two water bottles, both full of snow melted on their morning fire. “We have enough of these to keep us in water for the next three days, if we can melt our own at night,” he told them. The battered tin box went in the go bag. Damien carried the water, and they draped the go bag over one of the handles of the travois. The fire blanket had threatened to tear when they’d tried to sew it to the trench coat, so they’d sacrificed one of the remaining T-shirts and two sets of
briefs to lace Damien into the wool—using about half of their T-shirt rope to do it.
“I’m going to be peeing in that bottle until you cut me out of this thing,” he’d muttered. It had let them make a double pad out of the fire blanket to wrap around his legs and gave him wool on his bottom, thighs, and back, with Mal’s suit jacket jammed behind his shoulders to help support his head and neck.
He was as good as he was going to get, and the sun had risen enough to touch them in the depth of the tree line.
It was time to go.
Mallory took a good look behind him as they left their little cluster of trees and rock face. They’d dumped snow over their fire, and the remainder of the log appeared untouched as it arched out of the snow. They’d tucked all of the bark Tevyn had peeled into the go bag with their few remaining items, because it might smoke, but it could be used with the iron oxide to start an emergency fire.
Tev had taken a moment and carved their initials in the fallen tree they’d used as a bench on occasion, figuring it would hold their names until finding them no longer mattered.
They took off then, going as fast as the makeshift snowshoes would allow them, hauling Damien behind.
Within an hour, Mallory took off his sweatshirt and offered it to Damien, who was freezing without exertion to keep him warm. Tevyn’s tight sweater was every bit as insulated as he said it was, and Tevyn slung his parka over the end of the travois as well. The work was hot and hard, and they stopped often to drink from the water bottles and replenish the snow to melt inside them. In the early afternoon, before the shadows grew long, Tevyn broke a protein bar into three pieces and made everybody eat. They were saving the last of their broth ration for that night.
The mountain itself seemed vast, as though their morning and noon trek had barely gotten them to the downward slope of it, and Tevyn tasked Damien with trying to figure out where they were.
“The wind was pretty sturdy at thirty knots when we took off,” Damien said seriously over their lunch break. “But suddenly we hit that canyon, and the updraft kicked in around sixty. That’s why I turned around. There’s no beating that, not in a big tank of a commercial copter. I swear, those winds have gotten worse in the past few years.”