by Voss, Deja
Hopefully when I wake up, my headache will be gone and I won’t be confused anymore. Hopefully I can at least start doing something to put the pieces of my life back together. If I could even just remember my name, I’m sure someone out there is looking for me. I’ve gotta have some sort of past. It’s right there in front of me, but the harder I concentrate, the harder it is to keep my eyes open. Whatever is in this concoction is potent. I drift off almost instantly, my mind completely empty.
* * *
When I come to, I’m alone. My headache is gone, and my body feels much better, but my mouth is bone dry. I need something to drink, something that isn’t going to knock me out like that again.
I wander down the little footpath through the forest. The grass is still dewy, and there’s a nip in the air. It must be morning.
“Tucker!” a big, burly, bearded man booms when he sees me. “How’s it going today, brother?”
I look behind me, utterly confused at who he’s talking to.
“Not yet?” He laughs. “How many more weeks are we gonna do this?”
I blink a couple times and look at my hands. Oh right. I’m Tucker. The confused stranger who was found rolled up in a ball in a ditch nearly a month ago. The guys thought Tucker was fitting because my survival strategy for being thrown from a car was to tuck and roll.
The tattoo on my palm reads “Vagrant” in black ink. My new family. My new tribe. I got inducted in after bringing home a 150-pound buck on my back the first day I went out on a hunt by myself.
I’ve grown comfortable in this life in the wilderness. It seems like a great fit for me, whoever I am. I spend my days hunting, fishing, and hanging out with my gang. My nights are spent curled up in a hammock under the stars, unless it’s raining; then I sleep on the floor of Moss’s tent.
My mornings, though, are spent in a state of utter confusion and chaos. As much as I’m acclimating to this life, something just isn’t right. I know I wasn’t born here, and I know I didn’t come here on my own accord. It’s like everything that happened before my accident is trying to surface in my mind, but it’s just far enough out of reach that thinking about it too hard is nearly painful.
“Sorry, Mitch,” I grunt, pouring myself a cup of coffee from the thermos on the stump. “Maybe tomorrow.”
“You’re not hurting my feelings any, boy,” he laughs. He scrapes some eggs onto a plate from the cast-iron pan he had cooking over the fire and hands it to me. “I kind of like this morning routine we have going on here.”
We’re the early risers at the camp. Mitch is an old-timer, his long black beard streaked with gray. He makes sure we stay fed and keeps our supplies organized. Clerical stuff. Too old to go out on hunts anymore, too slow to go out on raids anymore, but he’s an honest guy. Keeps us young bucks from going full-blown Lord of the Flies on each other. Ten mountain men and a slew of gypsy women has drama written all over it, but for the most part, we all get along.
Sure, Moss has established himself as the alpha of the crew for the most part, but I don’t mind. I don’t have anything to lose, and lord knows I can’t be a proud man considering I have no clue who I even am. I’m nothing but thankful for these wilderness vagrants who took me in and gave me a place in the world while I try and sort things out.
“What’s on the agenda for today, Tucker?” Mitch asks me as we eat breakfast around the fire. It’s kind of a joke; we don’t really have much of an agenda out here other than making sure we’re fed, clothed, and out of the way of the law who, for some reason, constantly think we’re up to no good. I haven’t really been indoctrinated into all the ways of the clan, so maybe we are. It’s never affected me. I just keep my head down and do the things I do best.
“Probably heading down to the lake,” I tell him. “Do a little fishing. Wash my clothes. I want to check out that old hunting trail that leads to the rocks. Needs a little bushwhacking but I think it’ll be a goldmine this winter.”
“Speaking of bushwhacking, your beard is getting to be about as ridiculous as mine. Looks like you’re going full-blown mountain man on us here, pretty boy,” he teases. “I have razors in the inventory if you want to get cleaned up.”
“Oh, he’ll do no such thing,” Luna laughs, making her way from the tent she shares with Moss. She runs her hand over my face in that way that I can’t tell if it’s maternal or flirting. She’s always good for that, and it makes me a little uncomfortable, knowing how Moss has staked his claim on her. Her tiny pink nightgown does little to hide her body, and when she’s right in my face like this, it’s hard not to stare. “It’s so you, Tucker.”
I just shrug and finish the last swig of my coffee.
“You want to come with me?” I ask Mitch. “I’ll take it easy on you, Grandpa. A little hiking might do you some good.”
“I don’t know about all that. Last time you said you’d take it easy on me we went missing for three days.”
“It’s not my fault it takes you a day to walk a mile,” I laugh. “Suit yourself.”
I head back up to my little personal camp space. Just a hammock under a nice shady tree cover. I throw my blanket and all my clothes into the small backpack Moss gave me. I take a look at myself in the reflection in the pond and can’t help but smile.
Mitch is right; my beard is getting scruffy as fuck. My body is tanned and my muscles look lean and jacked. I dare to think I’m probably in the best shape in my life. If I didn’t know who I was before, I definitely wouldn’t recognize myself now.
One last pass through the main camp before I head down the mountain, and our sleepy little vagrant town they’ve created up here in the mountains of Colorado is really starting to come to life for the day. The ten men that I’ve come to known as brothers are eating breakfast, laughing, bullshitting, and getting dressed.
“Anybody wanna go check out the bridge with me today?” I ask as I fill my thermos from the big water jug.
“We’re going on a raid, brother,” Moss says. “We’ll meet you back here tonight, huh?”
“When do I get to come along?” I have heard about these raids before, and when the guys get back they’re always in great spirits, it’s a huge party. I’m sure they’re up to something illegal, but if I’m going to be a vagrant, I want to be a part of the action, too.
“Let’s see if you’re still around this winter,” Moss says. “Grow a little hair on your chest and see if you still want in.”
I know this is a trust thing. I get it. I just don’t really like being excluded.
“Alright.” I shrug. “See ya tonight.” I head out down the side of the mountain alone, nowhere to really be, nothing to really do. On one hand, it’s liberating, on the other, I’m frustrated that I don’t have a purpose and goal. Just existing was a nice vacation for a while, but I need some responsibility.
As I make my way through the woods, an idea hits me. This giant rock formation down by the lake would make an excellent hunting base camp. In my mind, I start drawing out a blueprint. It flows so easily. I have to stop in my tracks and pull out a pencil and my journal from my backpack to draw this design while it’s fresh. I don’t know where this idea is coming from, but something inside me tells me I’m very good at this. This is going to be a game changer.
If I can pull off what I have in my mind, there’s no way in hell these guys will ever exclude me from anything ever again. I’ll be king of the mountain. I sprint down the hill, rejuvenated and ready to work.
Chapter Six
Molly:
“No, no, no,” I whine into my cellphone. “Do you have to?”
“I’m sorry, Molly,” Cheryl says. “Allie is puking everywhere. Says she tried some sort of juice cleanse, but I’m guessing that means she went overboard at the vineyard last night. I’m so mad! My one day off this week!”
Cheryl and I had a big day of adventure planned. I have been overwhelmed lately with little fluff pieces to write, and after a weeklong binge of articles about twelve creative ways to eat more
vegetables and twenty-nine things under fifteen dollars that will change your life, I need to go out into the woods and turn my brain off.
“Will you text me the map at least?” I ask her. She’s been talking up this giant rock formation on the lake for a few weeks now. The plan was to do the three-mile hike out there, spend the day swimming and snacking and sunbathing, and then hike back. I can still go without her. I’ll just bring a book or something and unwind alone.
“You sure you wanna go by yourself?” she asks.
“Well, I’d much rather go with you, but I guess that’s not an option. I’ll take Dolly with me. Don’t worry.”
“You guys are so cute. I’ll text you the map. You better send me some pics!”
I get off the phone with her and pack up my backpack with some snacks, some water, and a couple trashy romance novels and a few beers just for fun. I make sure I have food and water for Dolly, and hook her up to her leash.
My tiny little Mini Pinscher of mine might only weigh about twelve pounds, but she can hold her own out on the trails. She runs herself into a frenzy and I might have to carry her home if I let her get too exhausted. She makes for good company, is good with kids, and is better at reading people than I am. She has one of those senses for dangerous people. Dolly doesn’t give a care if it’s a person two times my size, she’ll bark and snap and go nuts until they leave me alone or I call her off.
I just want to keep her on the leash until I hit the trailhead, then after that I can cut her loose. She never disappears for too long, never wants to leave me alone. I bring up the trail map that Cheryl sent me on my phone. Nothing too intense as far as navigation goes; I’m basically just hiking in a straight line, but that straight line goes right up a hill.
What starts off as a fire road quickly turns into single track, steep hand over foot climbs on stretches of rocky shale. It’s kind of sketchy, but I don’t mind a challenge, and I could definitely use a workout after a week of being mostly sedentary.
Dolly keeps up just fine, sometimes running off the trail to go smell or explore, but always back on my heels before too long. I’m definitely working up a sweat in my running shorts and t-shirt, my hair damp and my face red with exertion. My quads burn as I work my way up the hill at an alarmingly slow pace, and I smile, looking down at my fitness watch when it dings and says I burned my goal calories for the day.
This can of beer and chocolate chip muffin I have in my backpack are going to taste really freaking delicious when I get to the rocks. I might even be able to order a pizza for dinner tonight when I get back to my bus. My watch chirps again and I look down at it, and in that one second of not paying attention to the trail in front of me, I feel the throbbing pain shoot through my big toe as I trip on a rock.
“Fuck!” I yell out to no one in particular, trying to catch my balance.
After that, everything starts moving in slow motion. I definitely don’t want to fall down this hill I’ve been climbing. I can’t imagine where I’ll land, but the ride down will definitely not be smooth. I try and roll to the brush on the side, landing on my ass with a thud.
That’s when the tears start. My toe is throbbing and I brush gravel mixed with my blood out of my hands. My heart is racing with adrenaline. I’m thrilled I didn’t fall further or harder, but startled by my stupidity.
Dolly comes running to me, her ears pointed straight up in alarm.
“It’s gonna be ok,” I whisper to her between sobs. “We’re ok.”
I try to stand up, but my left ankle sends pain through my entire leg the second I put any weight on it. As I look down at it, I start bawling even harder. There’s a lump about the size of an orange on it already, and it’s a lovely shade of purple and green. “This is not good,” I whine. “Shit.”
I pull out my cellphone, and of course there’s no service here. I might be able to get an emergency call through if I try hard enough, but I am a lowly freelancer. I don’t have health insurance. I can only imagine how much it would cost to get a rescue team out here to carry my ass back down this hill.
Maybe if I just rest a little bit, I think. I soak my bandana in water from my thermos and wrap it around my sore ankle, the cold helping to abate the pain almost instantly. I fill a little dish of water for Molly and pull out my beer and muffin from my backpack. Maybe it’s not the most logical thing to do in a time of emergency, but as long as the alcohol takes the edge off, I can probably just power through until I get down the hill far enough to call someone for help. I’m really not more than a couple miles up. Down will be much easier, even with an injured leg, and I can see that the swelling isn’t getting any worse. That’s a start. No need to panic.
As an accident-prone woman living on her own, this isn’t the first time I’ve fallen over my feet. In fact, my tendency to fall a lot probably saved my life because I’m really good at doing it. I laugh and pull out some beef jerky from my backpack to see if Dolly wants a snack, too.
She must have wandered.
“Dolly!” I shout. “Do you want a treat?”
I listen for her footsteps. She usually makes a hell of a racket when she tears through the woods, nothing graceful about that dog, just like her mother, but I’m not hearing anything. “Dolly!” I shout louder.
I try to stand up to go look for her, but my leg doesn’t want to work. The only thing I can do is just sit here and wait it out. She’ll be back. She always comes back, I try and convince myself through my worried tears.
* * *
A warm wet tongue on my face awakens me from my slumber. I can’t believe I dozed off.
“Oh come on, Dolly. One more hour,” I say groggily, patting her squirming little body with my hand.
Wait a minute, I think. Something isn’t right here.
My ankle is throbbing and I feel sunburned from head to toe. My mouth is dry and my stomach is growling. I blink open my eyes and assume I must be hallucinating.
Standing before me is a mountain of a man. He’s got that sun-kissed skin that looks like he works outside all day, and his shirtless torso is covered in tattoos that do very little to hide his ripped abs. He crouches down beside me and my heart skips a beat.
“I don’t have any money on me,” I try and stutter, but the look in his piercing blue eyes tells me that’s not what he’s looking for. He looks… gentle almost, sensitive. Concerned. His face is covered in a long blond beard, a true mountain man, with long, dirty blond hair that looks like something I wouldn’t mind running my fingers through. He smells like fresh cut grass and something citrusy, like a breath of fresh air just breezed into my life.
He puts his hands up in the air. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he says. “I don’t want anything.”
I try to stifle a gasp as I read the tattoo on his hand.
Vagrant in bold black letters.
He’s one of them.
But his teeth are so white, so straight. He’s so clean. He doesn’t look like some dirty bum that lives on the streets. He looks like the male stripper version of a lumberjack.
“Is this your dog?” he asks me. Dolly is dancing on my chest, making happy circles as she chases her tail. I don’t know what hurts worse, my throbbing leg or her affinity for smashing my boobs. “Dumb question,” he says, correcting himself, smiling as she sprawls out on my stomach.
I let out a groan, trying to sit up. “You gotta move, Dolly.”
“Dolly, huh? Like the queen of country music?”
“I honestly have no idea. She was three when I adopted her. Already named.” I reach out my hand to shake his. “I’m Molly by the way.”
“Molly and Dolly,” he chuckles. “That’s cute. I’m Tucker.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” I sincerely mean it. I’m doing my best not to stare, but the more I look at him, the more I realize every inch of this man’s body is perfect. “I’m sorry if she was bothering you.”
“It’s no bother at all. I was just up the trail a little bit and she came sprinting right at me
out of nowhere. I figured she belonged to somebody. Her pink rhinestone collar tipped me off. She looks like a princess.”
“She sure is,” I laugh. “Me on the other hand…” I am suddenly aware of how ridiculous I must look right now. I’m filthy. Covered in blood. I smell like I’m about a week overdue for a shower, and I am pulling twigs out of my hair. He probably thinks I’m nuts. “Well, I’m a hot mess right now.”
I can tell by his smirk that he’s trying not to laugh at me.
“Are you alright?” he asks. “What happened?”
“I must have tripped and rolled my ankle. I’ll be fine,” I assure him. I nearly jump out of my skin as he pulls the bandana off my swollen ankle, not because it hurts. Well, it kind of hurts. But honestly, he could touch me anywhere and anyway he wanted.
“You ok?” he asks, noticing my inability to sit still and let him check out my wound. He feels my forehead with the back of his hand, and when he runs his hand through my hair I almost pass out. His touch is so firm but so caring. There’s something electric about the way he puts his hands on my body; it’s so sensual and he’s not even trying. He’s just trying to make sure I don’t have a concussion.
Hell, the way I’m fighting back trying not to drool on him, makes me question whether or not I hit my head on the way down. It’s not like me to be so cool with strangers. I’ve lived on my own long enough to know I need to protect myself.
The way that Dolly is sitting there watching him, wagging her little nub of a tail sporadically lets me know this guy is ok.
He’s staring me down, waiting for an answer, and I have to will myself to blink. I just want to get lost in those big blue eyes of his.
Use your words, Molly, I think to myself.
“Yes,” I assure him. “I’ll be ok. I’m sure as soon as I start moving I’ll be fine.”