by P. A. Brown
"I love them. Used to have one when I was a kid. We called him Buddy. He died when I was seven. Mom wouldn't let us get another one. Said they were dirty."
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The sorrow in his voice was palpable. "Why didn't you get one when you grew up? Went out on your own?"
"Where would I keep a dog? That old dump I used to live in?" He laughed, but there was pain in his voice. Pain for what he had lost? Or pain for what he might have had in another life? I knew he blamed himself for the falling out he had with his family. I wasn't quite so forgiving. I placed the blame for that solely on his unbending family, who couldn't accept a beautiful son because he was "different." I knew I had to forgive them, for his sake. Because despite it all, he desperately loved his family. He'd been so happy when his sister had made overtures to him. That those overtures had come about because of the monstrous things I did to him, didn't exactly warm my heart to them. They had been there for him when he wouldn't let me be. I had come back after all the dust had settled and he got clean. Without my help. As someone who didn't count in Jason's life at that time. A place I didn't like being.
He sighed. "It wouldn't have been a good place for a dog."
But it had been good enough for him? I wished I could have taken him in my arms, but not out here. Not in front of these people.
"Good point," was all I said. And it was. Until he had moved to Goleta to be with me, Jason had lived in a studio dive that didn't even boast a real bed. Even a Chihuahua would have been cramped there. Still, seeing the way his eyes lit up when he looked back at the Shepherd, I decided to nip that one in the bud.
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"That dog should be on a leash," I muttered. "Not running around bothering people. If she's a ranger's kid she should know that."
"Yeah, I guess," was all he said. Subject closed.
I took advantage of his distraction to surreptitiously watch the trio unload their Jeep and prepare for their own hike. The man reached up to pull a large framed pack off the roof of the vehicle, exposing the brown skin of his belly. The muscles on his arms flexed and bulged as he wrestled several more pieces of gear to the ground. Apparently even the dog had a pack. At one point the younger woman looked over at us and smiled flirtatiously. I nodded in return. Jason flushed. I watched them with a cop's eye. It was second nature; something I couldn't turn off even if I wanted to. Fortunately, Jason was one of the few people I knew who didn't let it bother him. He said he enjoyed the intensity of my attention.
Said it made him feel special.
That worked for me. He was very special.
He came to stand beside me. His shoulder brushed mine.
"Like what you see?"
"Would it bother you if I did?" I never took my eyes off the young man.
He thought about that for several seconds, I glanced at him and could see his mind working. Then he shook his head.
"No. I don't own you. I've always known that. I wouldn't like it if you did fuck someone else. I'd hate like hell to have to go back to using skins. I like having you bare. I like the way you make me feel."
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We had made an agreement once we had both been tested and declared virus free, that we would only keep on having the bareback sex we liked so much if both of us stayed on the straight and narrow, and didn't fuck other people. So far, so good. To this point there wasn't anyone else I wanted to fuck.
I wasn't quite so sanguine about the thought of Jason being fucked by anyone else. Something that had gotten me into trouble before.
"What about you?" I asked. "Do you like what you see?"
He shrugged easily, his tight shoulders rolling under his cotton lumberjack shirt. "Sweet basket." He made a show of studying the man and smiled. "But not my type."
"What is your type? You better say me," I growled. "You're mine. You know that, right? You better remember I can find your ass anywhere. I got you Lojacked."
His smile when he met my gaze squarely was smug. He touched his throat where he would wear the collar I had given him nearly seven months ago. That he only wore when we were in private. I knew I was being possessive. Was that good or bad? I studied him openly, but saw nothing that suggested Jason was irritated by my words. Instead, he seemed pleased.
"Yes," he said quietly. "I remember."
I felt a lightness in my chest and managed a grin. Again, I would have swept him into an embrace, but we were just a little too public for that. We were so lost in each other, neither one of us watched the foursome disappear down the nearest trail. At that moment a pair of hogs roared up the unpaved road and slammed to a stop less than a yard from 94
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my bumper. I glared at them as the two riders swung off their bikes and dragged visored helmets off their heads, shaking out loose, shoulder length hair. One, the bigger one of the two, was Anglo with a robust beard, the other one, younger, was Latino. They ignored both of us.
"You ready?" I asked. My skin still felt slightly tacky from the insect repellent Jason had slathered on both of us as soon as we got out of the truck. Apparently only a fool went out in this area without it. One more reason to suspect I was in the wrong place. But I had committed to this and wasn't going to show weakness by backing down, as much as I wanted nothing more than to go home to civilization. I looked over at Jason again and sighed. Wasn't going to happen. I was in this for the duration. Eight days. Surely I could do that.
I watched the two bikers warily. These were two guys we weren't going to be scoping out. I wasn't interested in getting into a rumble because one of us looked at some asshole wrong. Besides, I had agreed to Jason's request to leave my duty weapon at home, when he said it bothered him to know I was carrying. He had made a good point that it would be awkward to wear it all day long along with my pack, and I didn't dare leave it in the truck or tent when we hit the trails.
So if things got nasty, we were both unarmed, something I wasn't sure could be said of this pair. I couldn't see any visible sign they were carrying, but that didn't mean squat.
They both pulled packs out of the bike storage and vanished down the same trail as the foursome. Within minutes we followed all of them.
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The first stretch of path was across open land that sloped gently uphill, through fields of green, scarlet, gold and blue plants that Jason helpfully identified for me. Lupines, California poppies, wild rose and monkey flower—and something that looked suspiciously like marijuana. Jason hastily assured me it wasn't, then he laughed, "At least I don't think it is. We can smoke some to find out."
That earned a stern look from me. I didn't like reminders that there had been a time when Jason indulged in a lot worse things than marijuana.
The air was full of buzzing and trilling and sharp rustling sounds as things fled and bounced out of our path. Bees and butterflies wafted from bloom to bloom, sometimes mistaking my head for something of interest.
Jason added a new warning, "Stay on the paths. If you come across a branch or large rock in your way, step on it, not over it. Always be aware of what's on the ground around you."
"Why? What am I looking for?"
"Snakes. More specifically rattlesnakes. Probably Western Diamondback around here."
"You forgot to mention this earlier."
He shrugged. "Snakes are less of a problem than people realize. They want to leave us alone, and they will if we don't blunder into them."
"I can stay away from them just fine."
"You'll be okay, hon."
From then on my eyes were glued to the ground, watching for menacing coils waiting for my unwary foot. Flying things 96
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bec
ame a bigger problem. After I'd swatted the fifth curious bee from checking out my obviously flower shaped ear, Jason took pity on me. He handed me a small, unmarked spray bottle, which I used to douse myself with a pungent mist. It must have worked; the bees stopped pestering me.
"What is this stuff?"
"Something I made up. It's all natural," he said, swatting aside a pernicious vine that tried to entangle our ankles and take us down. "It's meant to go along with the bug lotion we used earlier. Mosquitoes are bad enough, we don't want to mess with ticks. Give you lyme disease."
"And we leave the city for this?"
"Hey, back to our roots. Where we came from."
"Maybe you came from it." I was feeling playful, not a normal state for me. "My family's from Kansas, grandpa's outta the Bronx, you know. What do we know from wilderness?"
When he met my eyes we both grinned. He looped his arm through mine.
"Now I know where my tough guy came from."
"Yeah," I did my best to growl in a totally phony Bronx accent. "And don't fuggetit."
"Never."
Ahead of us, the path took a series of twists and turns as it headed up into the distant hills. The lower hills rolled up into green furrows that folded to gray that Jason told me were the true Wilderness areas. "Devils Heart Peak, the Sespe Condor Sanctuary," Jason said. "We can't go in there. It's protected 97
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land. I'd sure like to see one of them, though. Magnificent birds."
I looked up at the sky marbled with streaks of white. I pulled off my hat and wiped my forehead. A warm breeze whispered over my almost naked head. It felt good. "Maybe we will."
Over our heads a broad-winged bird floated, not moving its wings at all. As I watched it move in the same direction we were going, a half dozen smaller black birds came out of the trees ahead of us and dove at the larger bird, which folded its wings and dropped toward the ground. The black birds followed. They looked like the bird a killer had sent his victims during a puzzling case I'd had last year. The case where I had met Jason. Ravens. That's what they had been.
"Why are those ravens attacking that bird?"
Jason shook his head even before I finished the sentence.
"Not ravens," he said. "Crows. They're mobbing that red-tail hawk. They think it might raid their nests." All at once he grinned. "You know what they call a flock of crows?"
"No," I said. "I'll bite. What do you call a flock of crows?"
"A murder."
"A murder of crows? What the hell kind of name is that?"
He shrugged. We watched the crows harry the hawk until it vanished into the trees a hundred feet above us.
"It'll take us a couple of hours to reach that," he said, pointing at the dark mass of greens, where the large bird and his tormentors had gone. "We'll start looking for a place to pitch the tent around four. That good for you?"
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I wasn't sure about any of this, but I nodded and tried to think positive thoughts. Truth was I hate not being the one in charge, and Jason knew that. I also knew he was trying to make it easy for me, but there was a part of him that was enjoying this role reversal too damn much. I might just have to reclaim my status once we made camp. But I'd have to do it without any of my gear. I didn't have so much as a pair of cuffs with me. That's okay, I could assert my ownership without them. I had before. I jammed my Tilley back on my head and followed him.
After another hour of moving steadily uphill over increasingly rugged terrain, the brand new pack that had started out at forty pounds had mysteriously blossomed to at least a hundred. I was beginning to have serious doubts about my ability to do this. I wasn't the model of fitness I had thought.
I remember Nancy's remark about my domesticity. Was that what it was? I was getting soft under Jason's tender care?
That pushed me to extend myself. I'd be damned if my own body was going to fail me. The stiff breeze that was now blowing down on us wasn't enough to cool me off. Sweat poured off my face, my sleeves were saturated from wiping my forehead. Finally we started passing larger trees. Some slender green leafed trees, others twisted with age, still others slender with pale trunks, crowded the trail. One good thing, we were moving downhill again and my legs got a much needed break. Light faded and overhead flashes of sun broke through the interlaced canopy sporadically. After the 99
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brightness moments ago, I had to blink several times to see where I was going. So it was hardly surprising when I stumbled over something in my path. I twisted around sharply and only a last minute grab at a thin tree trunk kept me from pitching on my face.
Jason was at my side immediately. "You okay?"
I shook off his solicitous hand and straightened, trying to see what had tripped me. All I could make out was a tangle of undergrowth and fallen branches all woven together forming a thick mat. The air smelled heavier in here, full of rich earth scents and decaying vegetation. A somnolent buzzing filled the dimness surrounding us. There seemed to be fewer bird calls, and those I heard were deeper in. Nothing moved around us.
"Is it always this quiet? Where are all the birds?"
"It's midday, they aren't very active in the heat. Like everything else, they siesta to save energy."
"Doesn't sound like a bad idea to me," I muttered.
"There's water up ahead. We want to get across it and back up to higher ground. We can rest then."
I nodded and calculated our path. But I was hopelessly out of my element. I couldn't see where we had come from or what might lie ahead of us. Distantly, I thought I heard the sound of running water like Jason had said. Or it could have been the wind through the branches. There was a constant mutter all around, like surf. The water sounds grew louder as we made our way downhill.
"Watch your step, this area is steep."
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Fortunately, there were trees and tree branches in abundance to provide hand holds to keep me from rolling down the ever steepening hill side. The underbrush grew denser too, tangling my new boots up and forcing me to slow to barely a crawl. But finally we broke out into a rocky creek bed where water danced and laughed over smooth sun-bleached rocks and the odd waist-high, bone-white boulder.
I was dismayed to realize Jason meant for us to cross the water without a bridge. I was glad for my new hiking boots.
The rocks were slippery and unstable and only the good grip the boots gave me kept me from falling and breaking something. By the time we made the other side I was drenched up to my knees.
And cold. The water was like ice.
"Meltwater." Jason grinned at my discomfort and urged me on. "Almost there. Just a quick climb up and we can sit down.
At least you got cooled off, right?"
Once he stopped me half way up the steep brush-covered slope and I froze without a clue to why. I heard soft bird songs, but that was about it.
"Blackback Woodpecker," he said, head cocked as though to hear something I wasn't aware of. Then something screamed and I jumped. "Scrub jay. Noisy, but a good early warning system."
"Warning for what?"
"Er, things."
"Jay," I said warningly.
He shrugged. He wasn't happy, but he said, "Bears.
Cougars. People," he added hastily.
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Bears again. I sighed. "Are you sure it was a good idea to leave my weapon behind?"
"Oh, that. Sure," he said laughing. "It wouldn't have been much help anyway."
"What do you mean? I'm a good shot. You know that." I was surprised that he was expressing doubt in me. Normally he knew better.
"I know you are. But a handgun isn't going to stop a charging bear. An elephant gun might. A bazooka. Not mu
ch else will."
"Oh, that's reassuring."
He slipped his arm around my shoulder and stroked my cheek. "Nothing's going to happen, Sir."
I grabbed his hand. "I'm the one who's supposed to say that."
"Yes, Sir." He smiled and looked down. His cheek had a streak of dirt on it. He looked like a chastised little kid caught being bad. I leaned forward and kissed him.
"Get us out of here," I said. "I need a drink."
By the time we scaled the miniature mountain back up to level ground I was beyond beat. The coolness of my wet legs had vanished, replaced by clamminess and sodden denim. I found the first fallen log and slumped onto it, not caring when the moist bark broke off under my butt and covered my lightly clad legs with dark, fragrant pieces, or the dampness that soaked into my ass.
Jason thrust a canteen into my hand and I guzzled the cool water down a parched throat. I sighed and handed it back to him. He took an equally deep drink.
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"You did good, Sir." He studied my face and frowned. "How do you feel?"
I tipped my head back and closed my eyes, letting my hands dangle between my legs. The muscles in my thighs felt hot and tight. "Tired," I said, knowing I would never have admitted that to anyone else in the world. "I never quite realized how out of shape I am."
He tucked his canteen back onto his pack and knelt in front of me. I peered down at him through half-closed eyes. When he started massaging my legs I groaned.
The next ten minutes were sheer pleasure, greater than anything I'd ever experienced. He worked every muscle in my leg from my ankles to my butt. By the time he leaned back and flexed his fingers I felt limp.
He grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. "We need to keep moving. We can't pitch camp here. It won't be much longer, though. We need to find one of the water outlets.
They mean we can camp."
The spot he eventually stopped us in didn't look much different than a dozen other areas, but I had to take his word on it that this was "perfect" as he said, with enthusiasm I was incapable of sharing. There was a water spigot, so we filled up both our canteens. Jason had warned me more than once that we couldn't drink from any water source but these. As if. I don't drink out of things where fish fuck or animals shit. We had included some water purification tablets in our packs, but Jason said he didn't want to use them unless it was absolutely necessary.