Hidden Worlds

by Kristie Cook

River whipped her bow off her back and had an arrow aimed at Jonathan’s heart in less time than it took to blink. “I’m not going to mate with you!”

  Jonathan tucked his knees against his chest, guarding his vital organs. “You’re the one demanding I take off all my clothes.”

  River lowered her bow and eased the tension on the string, but she kept the arrow in place.

  Jonathan glanced at the boxes. They each had an old-fashioned biblical name carved into the hinged front.

  “Why do you want me to put my clothes in a box?”

  “So the omegas can …” River closed her eyes and took a noisy breath then opened them and glared at Jonathan. “Just … do as you’re told.”

  “Why do you want me naked?”

  “Do you bathe with your clothes on?”

  “I don’t see a bathtub.” The only thing in the one room shack, besides the pot-bellied stove, was the stack of boxes.

  “The cleansing pool is outside.”

  “Outside? I’ll freeze to death.”

  “It’s a hot mineral spring.” River took the arrow off the string and slid it into the leather quiver on her back.

  “Are you going to join me?” Jonathan rubbed the back of his neck and plastered a bored expression on his face, hoping that would counter the eagerness in his voice.

  “I haven’t touched you, so there’s no need.” She set her bow on top of the box with the name ‘Eli’ carved on the front.

  “Ah, back to that again. You still think I’m carrying some horrible disease?”

  River crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s a precaution. There are certain protocols that must be followed.”

  “Sounds serious.”

  “It is. Now, please, take off your clothes, put them in the box and get in the cleansing pool.” She turned on her heel and stomped outside, slamming the door behind her.

  Jonathan managed to unzip his jeans, but the button gave his frostbitten fingers all sorts of trouble. His stomach clenched as he examined his hand. The frostbite might blister, but it wasn’t severe enough to require amputation.

  He stripped down as fast as he could, but he left his boxers on. Jonathan wasn’t exactly modest. He’d showered with the guys in his unit everyday for months, but River wasn’t a guy and she’d already made it clear she had no interest in anything physical with him.

  He couldn’t see the hot spring, but a cloud of steam rising out of the ground marked the spot. Jonathan yelled as he ran. It was the fastest—and most miserable—ten-yard dash he’d ever run. He didn’t know which was more painful; the arctic blasts driving pinpricks of snow and sleet into his bare chest, or the hot water on his frozen skin when he plunged into the rock-lined pool.

  The water smelled like rotten eggs, but that was a small price to pay for the pure bliss of finally being warm again. He gave in to his exhaustion and closed his eyes. He was almost asleep when he heard River scream.

  River

  River returned to the post-cleanse hut and used the stove’s outside access door to add another log to the fire then went back around to the front to read the next steps of the cleansing protocol.

  2. Enter the pre-cleanse hut. Remove all clothing, weapons and gear. Place in your assigned cedar box.

  “That’s done. What’s next?”

  3. Proceed directly to the first cleansing pool. Soak for forty-five minutes. Douse with clean water twenty times immediately prior to exiting. (If you did not have direct physical contact with an outsider or spend more than three days in their world, you may skip steps one through three.

  “Now they tell me.” She could have built the fire from inside the hut. Oh well.

  4. Enter the post-cleanse hut. Dress in purified clothing.

  5. If you’ve consumed any outsider food or liquid, an eight hour purge followed by a three day fast is mandatory.

  River opened the door and frowned when a sour, musty odor assaulted her nose. At least it was warm inside. The stove had only been going for about ten minutes, but the hut was small and easy to heat. She propped the door open, hoping to air out the stench before it was time to go get Jonathan.

  What was causing that smell? Three bunk beds lined the right wall. She checked each one and while none of them smelled especially good, they weren’t the culprit.

  She checked the six cedar chests on the opposite wall, but the purified clothing inside smelled wonderful; lavender, sage, cedar and smoke. She saved Reuben’s box for last.

  River hated it when Reuben had to leave the safety of New Eden and venture into the outside world on a mission. She was so afraid she’d never see him again. That he’d get sick and die before completing quarantine, like Father. But when Reuben returned he always smelled clean, pure and safe. She closed her eyes and drank in the scent before closing the lid.

  There was a smaller, unmarked cedar box next to the door. River lifted the lid and found the source of the odor—a pile of vomit-stained rags.

  River slammed the lid and backed away from the box. Why hadn’t the omegas cleaned this up?

  A chill raced down her spine. It wouldn’t be the first time disease wiped out the entire omega camp assigned to the cleansing station.

  River’s pulse roared behind her ears. A gray fog tunneled her vision. She dropped to her knees and buried her face in her hands. Her bare hands that had touched the contaminated box. River screamed and ran out of the hut, shedding her coat, vest and tunic as she flew towards the cleansing pool.

  Jonathan

  Jonathan jumped to his feet, sloshing water onto the stone border. “River? Are you okay?”

  She barreled toward him at a dead run, peeling her clothes off.

  Jonathan scanned the area, looking for a threat but found none. Just because he didn’t see it; didn’t mean there wasn’t one. He vaulted out of the pool and ran towards River.

  Her wide, glassy eyes had the battle-shocked look he’d seen on the faces of so many people in Afghanistan. She veered around him without a word.

  “Hey! What’s going on?”

  She didn’t answer. She sat down in the snow next to the hot spring and yanked her boots off, tossing them over her shoulders. She shimmied out of her pants then plunged down the steps and ducked under the surface of the hot water.

  Jonathan ran back to the pool and jumped in.

  When she resurfaced, she had her fingers tangled in her braid.

  “What the hell is going on? Is someone chasing you? Are you in danger?”

  She ducked back underwater and didn’t come up until her hair was completely undone. “I’m contaminated!”

  “I haven’t even touched you.” The girl wasn’t just a germaphobe. She was a complete nutcase.

  “Not you.” She stood up and held her hands in front of her body. “I touched a sick man’s box.”

  “Okay …” Jonathan tried to avert his gaze away from her chest, but his eyes seemed to have a mind of their own. Her hair covered her breasts, but not the edge of a tribal tattoo over her heart. “I don’t know what that means, but I’m sure we can figure something out.”

  “I’m gonna die!”

  “What kind of sickness did this guy have?”

  “I don’t know, but the box was full of filthy rags that had been used to clean up vomit!” She turned around and grabbed a nearby bucket then doused herself with water from the pool.

  Jonathan waited for her to catch her breath then pointed to the hand carved message on the wooden sign behind her. “According to those instructions, part of this cleansing ritual is purging. Doesn’t that mean making yourself puke?”

  River slumped forward and grabbed the stone border. “You’re right.”

  She had her back turned, so Jonathan didn’t feel quite as pervy as he probably should have for checking her out. She was petite, about five feet, three inches tall, but with the arms and shoulders of a swimmer. At first he’d thought her thick, dark brown hair was wavy, but that must have been from the braid. It flowed down her back then floated o
n the surface of the water like a sheet of melted chocolate. Jonathan tucked his hand under his elbow to keep from reaching out to touch it.

  River doused herself another nine times then sat down, submerging her breasts. This gave him a chance to study her tattoo. The design looked like a dog, or maybe a wolf with an arrow through its neck. He wanted to ask her what it meant, but tattoos could be really personal.

  He’d thought about getting one after Franklin’s funeral, but Frankie would’ve hated that. He believed the human body was a sacred temple and tattoos were nothing but sacrilegious graffiti. Jonathan ran his fingers over the back of his medallion. Brothers forever.

  River sniffed, snapping Jonathan out of his sentimental trance. Tears leaked out of the corners of her closed eyes, but it was her trembling lower lip that tugged at his heart.

  He reached out and wiped the tears from her cheek.

  All hell broke loose.

  ***

  The water churned as River thrashed around, obviously trying to get away from Jonathan.

  “River? What’s wrong?”

  “You touched me.”

  Seriously? “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. But I’m not sick. I haven’t had so much as a cold for over a year. You’re not going to catch anything from me.”

  “It’s forbidden for a man to touch a woman in the cleansing pool.”

  “But it’s okay for you to prance around in front of me buck naked? That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “It’s a rule. It doesn’t have to make sense.” River closed her eyes and sighed, then opened them.

  “I take it there’re a lot of rules?”

  She nodded.

  “What happens if the rules are broken?”

  “The offenders are punished.”

  “Okay.” Jonathan figured as much. “What’s the punishment for touching a woman in a cleansing pool?”

  “I’m not going to report the incident since you didn’t know the rules.”

  “But if I had?”

  “If you could not convince the council that the touch was an accident, they would cut off one finger for the first offense.”

  Jonathan’s stomach clenched. This was bad. Afghanistan bad.

  River leaned forward and narrowed her eyes. “How did you lose your hand?”

  He tucked his wrist under his elbow and hugged it to his chest. “It wasn’t a punishment.”

  “Then why won’t you tell me?”

  “Because I don’t like to talk about it!” Jonathan didn’t mean to yell, but River’s questions were stirring up too many painful memories.

  She gasped and blinked her eyes.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” Jonathan stretched his hand out to brush the fresh tears off her cheek.

  “Don’t touch me!”

  “Shit!” Jonathan jerked his hand back. “I’m sort of programmed to comfort girls when they cry and that usually involves quite a bit of touching.”

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” River swiped at her eyes then wrinkled her nose and stared at her fingertips; as if they were smeared with blood instead of tears. “I don’t cry. Ever.”

  “Everybody cries.”

  “Not me.” River stood up without warning. “The post-cleanse hut may not be contaminated, but there’s no way of knowing for certain. I think we better skip it and go straight to the quarantine cabin.”

  Jonathan averted his gaze, but not quick enough. The girl was a nut job, no doubt about it, but she was sexy as hell. “Um … you go ahead. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

  ***

  The quarantine cabin was less than fifty yards from the hot spring, but Jonathan’s hair crackled with ice before he reached the porch. He yanked the door open and hurried inside.

  River stood in front of the stove, buck naked. What kind of game was she playing? She’d had plenty of time to get dressed. At least she had her back to him.

  She turned around and arched her eyebrows then pointed at his boxers. “What are those?”

  Jonathan blushed like a school girl. “What? You’ve never heard of underwear?”

  “I told you to take off all your clothes.”

  “What difference does it make?”

  “You can’t keep anything that came from the outside world. Except maybe that chain and medallion around your neck. Is that solid gold?”

  “Twenty-four karat.” He resisted the urge to reach up and touch the medallion that held Franklin’s feather. It was twisted around so all that showed was the solid gold back. That resin-encased feather was worth more to Jonathan than a mountain of gold. The only way anyone was taking it, was out of his cold, dead fist. “Why can’t I wear my own clothes?”

  “They’re not allowed.”

  “I could wash them in the hot springs.”

  “That’s not the problem.”

  “Then what is?”

  “You leave everything behind when you join us. It’s like being reborn.”

  “I’m not joining you. This is temporary.” Jonathan cupped his hand over the front of his boxers to hide the effect River’s naked body was having on his.

  She wrinkled her nose and snarled at him. “Stop playing with yourself. What are you? A toddler?”

  “I’m not playing with myself! And I’m certainly not a toddler. I’m a man. And seeing a woman’s naked body does things to a man.”

  River rolled her eyes. “You need to control yourself. I already told you I don’t want to mate with you.”

  “Where I come from, people don’t prance around in the nude if they don’t want to mate.”

  “Well, that’s inconvenient.”

  Jonathan kept himself covered with his hand and pointed at her with his stump. “I’m going to go put my underwear in the box with the rest of my clothes. When I return you better be dressed.”

  ***

  Jonathan grumbled under his breath as he jogged all the way back to the first hut. By the time he got there, his skin was blue. He threw his boxers in Reuben’s trunk with the rest of his clothes then ran to the hot spring. He needed to warm up before hiking back to the quarantine cabin. Besides, he wanted to be sure River had enough time to get dressed. What a tease. He soaked in the steaming water until he was dizzy from the heat.

  When he returned, River was wearing a short, white nightgown that ended about four inches above her knees. She’d also braided her hair. It hung down her back in a thick damp rope that ended just above the curve of her butt. She still looked sexy as hell, but he could handle it … as long as she kept her back turned.

  A tea kettle on top of the old-fashioned wood burning stove whistled. River moved it to a sturdy pine table and set it down. She waved towards the six cedar boxes stacked up against the wall without looking at him. “See if you can find something that fits you in Eli’s trunk.”

  The quarantine cabin was three times as big as the first shack, but it still felt crowded. Three bunk beds, jammed head to foot on the opposite wall took up half the floor space.

  Jonathan opened Eli’s trunk and peered inside. “Are you sure this guy won’t care if I borrow his clothes?”

  “With a little luck, you’ll be long gone before he ever finds out.”

  Not quite the answer Jonathan was hoping for. But what choice did he have? He dug all the way to the bottom of the wooden chest, looking for something that resembled boxers. “Where’s the underwear?”

  River snorted. “We don’t use underwear.”

  Jonathan looked at the well-worn buckskin pants and groaned.“Oh, man. That’s just gross.”

  “Everything’s been purified.”

  “How?” Jonathan glanced over his shoulder to be sure River still had her back turned. She did. “You can’t toss any sort of leather in a washing machine and I’m willing to bet this stuff’s never been dry cleaned.”

  “Our smoke sheds are dry.” River turned around and scowled at him.

  “Do you mind?” Jonathan covered himself with the wad
ded up pants.

  River rolled her eyes, again, before turning her back.

  “If you don’t quit rolling your eyes, they’re going to get stuck in the back of your head.” Jonathan lifted the buckskin pants to his face and took a wary sniff. They smelled like leather, wood smoke and cedar. People had used smoke to cure meat for centuries. But would that be enough to cure any nasties on Eli’s clothes? You couldn’t get AIDS or herpes from wearing someone else’s clothes, but what about crabs? He could either wear what River gave him, or go naked.

  Jonathan gritted his teeth and slid into Eli’s pants. They were a little tight around his thighs and calves, but other than that, they fit like a second skin. There was just one problem. Instead of a fly with buttons or a zipper, the front of the pants laced up over a flap of leather with a rawhide string. Tying his shoes was one of the first things Jonathan had learned in occupational therapy, but it was still going to take him awhile to get it done without his prosthesis.

  “Do you need any help?”

  Jonathan glanced over his shoulder.

  River stood behind him, arms folded across her chest.

  How long had the little perv been watching him? “Aren’t you scared I’ll contaminate you?”

  “You’re clean now. Except for any airborne illnesses.” River closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. “And it’s too late to worry about that now. I’ve already breathed your air.”

  “And I already told you. I’m not sick.” Jonathan unfolded the shirt. It looked just like River’s old-fashioned nightgown, only shorter. The round neck cinched up with a drawstring cord. Great. More strings to tie.

  The shirt started itching the minute he put it on. “What is this? Wool?”

  “It’s goat hair.”

  “Goat hair?” Jonathan bunched up the fabric in his fist and held it away from his chest.

  River scowled at him. “What’s your problem?”

  “It itches.”

  “You’ll get used to it.”

  Jonathan seriously doubted it, but he wasn’t going to be there long enough to find out. As soon as the weather cleared, he was outta there.

  “Put this on.” River handed him a thick leather vest that also laced up the front. Jonathan wasn’t sure what purpose the vest served until he put it on. It held the excess fabric of the shirt against his body and out of his way, creating a layer of insulation. If he’d been wearing this get-up during the hike from hell, he wouldn’t have gotten so cold.