Wild

by Jill Sorenson

  The final step was sandbagging. They returned to the storage yard for sandbags, loaded them and unloaded them along the fence line. It was exhausting. By the time they were done, the sun had dipped low on the horizon.

  Josh surveyed their handiwork with pride. “Not bad, for a couple of amateurs.”

  She was just glad they were finished, and hadn’t been attacked in the process. There was no sign of the hyenas, or any of the other code ones, but most wild animals were shy. They wouldn’t be strolling through the middle of the park in broad daylight.

  “How about those steaks?” he asked as they climbed into the truck.

  Her stomach growled with hunger, but she was filthy. She had to wash up first. “I’d kill for a hot shower.”

  “There’s water in the greenhouse,” he said, giving her a canny look. “It has a rain cache system and solar heating.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I helped install it.”

  “Really?”

  “They asked for volunteers, and I studied rainwater collection methods in one of my environmental science classes.”

  She’d had no idea.

  “If you want to clean up, we should do it now, before dark.”

  “I need some fresh clothes,” she said.

  “So do I.”

  They stopped at a tourist shop called the Lion’s Share. Although the place was in shambles, they were able to find T-shirts and pajama pants. She picked up some towels and soap. There was even zoo-themed novelty underwear. Josh selected a pair of giraffe boxer shorts. Helena grabbed the zebra-striped panties.

  As they left with the loot, a strange noise alerted them to an animal presence. She froze next to Josh, listening. The plaintive yowl repeated.

  “Next door,” he said in a low voice.

  There was a candy shop in the neighboring space. They set down the supplies on the hood of the truck. He crept forward and entered the rubble, rifle raised. She tiptoed after him, searching for an animal in the deepening gloom.

  When she saw the honey badger, Helena gripped Josh’s arm in warning. The animals were ferocious for their size, known to attack lions and eat cobras. This one was caught up in something, like string or rope. She inched closer to get a better look. It was a twisted piece of wire, maybe from a damaged enclosure. One end was stuck under an overturned shelf. The other was coiled around the animal’s rear foot.

  Honey badgers liked all kinds of sweets, so this little gal had probably wandered in here to feast. Then she’d knocked over the shelf and gotten trapped. She appeared to have chewed her foot raw in an attempt to get free. Poor thing. Helena clucked her tongue in sympathy. The cornered animal bared her teeth, revealing sharp canines.

  “Do you still have those wire cutters?” she asked Josh. They’d been using them all afternoon on the fence repair.

  He unclipped the tool from his belt and passed it to her. “You don’t want to get a cage?”

  Honey badgers stressed easily, and they were fierce. Helena didn’t want to mess with her too much. “I’ll just cut her free.”

  “She’s going to take your hand off.”

  Helena glanced around for an appropriate treat. Chocolate was toxic to many animals, and she needed a stickier substance. She grabbed a package of salted caramel squares. The honey badger sniffed the air. Helena offered her a tiny piece, which she consumed greedily. Josh chuckled as the animal licked her chops.

  Helena passed the caramels to Josh. “Give her half a square while I cut the wire. She might try to bite you, so watch out.”

  He agreed to the plan, crouching down in front of the badger while Helena snuck around the overturned shelf. She waited until he placed the caramel on the ground. When the badger went for the bait, Helena reached out to snip the wire.

  The release tug on the animal’s back foot must have hurt, because she whirled around, leaving the caramel untouched. Helena jumped back just in time. For some reason, Josh decided to intervene. He grabbed the honey badger with his bare hands.

  She went nuts.

  Helena saw a flash of white teeth and black fur as the animal attacked, flying around Josh’s upper body like a feral tornado. He yelled and tried to shake her off. She was biting the hell out of his arms.

  Helena didn’t know what else to do, so she picked up the overturned shelf and heaved it at the animal-on-human melee. They both went down. The badger let out a surprised yip and scampered away, hissing. Josh watched her go from his prone position under the shelf. When the badger was out of sight, he rested his head against the floor and just lay there.

  Helena stepped forward, lifting the shelves off him gently. He had badger spit, dirt and blood all over his arms. At least there were no bite wounds on his neck or face. Badgers could disfigure a person.

  “She slimed me,” he said, lying there with his arms outspread.

  Helena smothered a laugh. Only Josh would make a Ghostbusters joke at a time like this. “Are you okay?”

  “I think so.”

  Helena extended her hand to help him up. He rose to his feet with a groan. “I told you to watch out, not dive in.”

  Before responding, he did what any man in his position would do: he cupped his fly to check his most important parts. Finding them unharmed, he moved on, wincing as he touched a spot on his side. “I thought she was going to attack you.”

  Helena lifted the hem of his shirt to investigate the wounds. He had minor scratches along his rib cage and several punctures on his arms. “You’re all torn up,” she said in a scolding tone. “You’re lucky you don’t need stitches. Or facial reconstruction surgery.”

  “I was saving you.”

  She lifted her gaze, startled.

  “I saw her go after you, and I just…reacted.”

  What he was saying finally sank in. He’d put himself between her and harm’s way on purpose. It was foolish, because she was the expert, not him. Laying hands on a honey badger without protective gear was insane. Greg wouldn’t have approved of the sacrifice; keepers were trained to intervene safely or not at all. Josh’s bravery could have gotten them both hurt. But she couldn’t fault him for trying to protect her.

  She also refused to examine his motives too closely. He’d acted on impulse. It wasn’t evidence of strong feelings on his part.

  It was natural instinct. That was all.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  FOR THE REST of the day, they encountered nothing but obstacles.

  Chloe had her first argument with Mateo after their morning rest. He didn’t want to backtrack and couldn’t understand why she did. They were able to communicate about some things without speaking. This wasn’t one of them. She had to stop at a convenience store for a city map and show him the alternate route. Even then, it wasn’t easy. She wondered if he had that stubborn-man affliction about asking for directions.

  Then they were underway again, returning to the neighborhood with the huge fire. Going around it took hours. The outskirts of the Gaslight District were seedier than the center. A lot of the old buildings were in ruins. Most of the streets were blocked by rubble, rather than flames. There were abandoned cars everywhere, and stores appeared to have been looted. Chloe saw a few corpses and smelled plenty more. It was obvious that emergency services hadn’t reached the epicenter. If there were other survivors, they were holed up indoors, not roaming around like vagabonds. It wasn’t safe on the streets with criminals. Those who could evacuate already had. Chloe was starting to believe they’d never get out.

  They finally reached El Cortez, a hotel marking the north end of the district. The historic site had fallen into disrepair before the earthquake hit. Now it was just fallen. The giant sign, which had once been visible throughout the city, had toppled hundreds of feet. It lay broken on a mountain of rubble. EL COR on one side, TEZ on the other.

  After they passed that landmark, the streets began to clear. So did the smoke-clogged air. They walked through quiet neighborhoods that were free of marauders. Chloe’s
injured leg was screaming for relief, so she kept her fingers crossed that the final stretch would be unobstructed. Emma rode on Mateo’s shoulders, clinging to him drowsily. She’d walked many blocks on her own and was in desperate need of a nap.

  Chloe followed behind them, limping along. She ignored the pain and focused on taking one step at a time. Mateo suddenly lifted Emma off his shoulders, making a sound of distress. As he set Emma down, the trouble was obvious. Her pants were wet. So was his neck.

  “Oh, no,” Chloe said, clapping a hand over her mouth.

  He didn’t seem fazed by the accident. Laughing, he wiped the back of his neck with his shirt sleeve. Emma sucked on her fingers, also not concerned. Luckily, Chloe had picked up some diapers at the convenience store. She changed Emma and they kept going.

  Mateo let Emma walk on her own for a while, holding her little hand. The sight made Chloe’s heart twist in her chest. Emma had gripped Lyle’s finger once when she was a newborn. He’d commented on her strength and smiled.

  Chloe wondered if Lyle ever thought of that moment. When he woke up in the morning, before he smoked himself into a stupor, did he remember Emma fondly? Or were the memories so guilt-inducing that he pushed them aside, reaching for his drugs instead? Maybe he’d scrambled his brain to the point that he no longer had a picture of Emma in it.

  Chloe needed a break, so they stopped for lunch at a health food store. There were carrot sticks, wheat bread and organic peanut butter. Mateo ate more of the salami he’d brought. Chloe gave Emma some all-natural licorice twists for being a good girl. She studied the map again, double-checking the route. It looked so much shorter on paper.

  An hour later, they reached Cabrillo Bridge, and her spirits sank. The structure had collapsed across the busy freeway underneath. Dozens of cars were half-buried in the rubble. Many more were submerged. Once again, Chloe could see corpses behind the wheels of vehicles. It was horrific and disheartening.

  “Crash,” Emma said, pointing at the cars.

  Chloe didn’t bother to shield her daughter’s eyes this time. They’d encountered too many bodies to ignore them all.

  She wasn’t sure Emma understood what they were looking at. Chloe hoped Emma wasn’t traumatized, but how could she not be?

  “Unco Josh,” Emma said. “Gramma, Grampa.”

  “Grandma and Grandpa are fine,” Chloe said, lifting Emma for a hug. She needed it as much as Emma did, if not more.

  There were several ways to enter Balboa Park, where both the zoo and the naval hospital were located. The south route was blocked by a huge disaster. The west side was obstructed by a bridge collapse. They couldn’t get through.

  Mateo referred to the map. They could continue five more blocks and try to cross over into the northernmost edge of the park. Even if that route was passable, it was still about a mile to the naval hospital from there. Chloe knew her leg wouldn’t make it that far. She couldn’t stand the thought of another block, let alone another mile. It was getting late. As soon as the sun set, they’d be stumbling around in the dark.

  “I can’t go on,” she said.

  Mateo folded the map and put it in his pocket. They both studied their immediate surroundings, as if a magic carpet might sweep in and take them for a ride.

  “Allá,” he said.

  She followed his gaze to a place called Terrace Inn. It was a brick building that appeared to have sustained very little damage. Chloe imagined comfortable suites with cozy beds. Her knees weakened with longing. “Do you want to stop here and rest?”

  “Sí.”

  He didn’t have to ask her twice. She put down Emma and they all walked across the street together. The inn’s front door was locked, so they searched the side of the building and found an employee entrance. There was a service window with a cracked pane by the door. Mateo used his elbow to knock the glass aside. Then he opened the window and climbed in. A moment later, they were standing inside the lobby.

  Mateo looked for room keys behind the front desk, but found only electronic cards. Leaving them there, he headed up a set of stairs to investigate. Chloe stayed behind, strolling by a café area. She discovered a path leading to an outdoor swimming pool. The surface of the water was littered with a small amount of ash and debris. All of the rooms had terraces overlooking the pool. Mateo appeared on one of the patios on the second floor.

  “Swim!” Emma said to him.

  He laughed and nodded his agreement. “Okay. We swim.”

  Chloe glanced beyond the edge of the pool, spotting a spa and gazebo on the other side. She doubted the water would be hot after two days without power, but the thought of soaking her sore muscles was so appealing that she walked toward it. The spa was protected by a thick cover. She crouched down to nudge it aside, testing the water with her fingertips.

  Warm.

  Not piping hot, or even bathwater-cozy, but comfortable enough to tempt her. Emma’s face and hands were dirty again. Their clothes were filthy. Chloe felt like a limp rag, her hair stinking of smoke. She wanted to wash her entire body.

  Mateo called down at her from the terrace. He was holding up a pair of towels. “Quieres?”

  “Sí,” she said, answering in Spanish without thinking. “Soap?”

  He shook his head in confusion.

  She set down Emma and rubbed her hands together. When that didn’t work, she mimed washing her armpits. “Soap,” she said again. “Bath.”

  He must have gotten the message, because he left the patio and joined them a moment later with beauty products. Shampoo, soap, towels. He uncovered the spa completely and stuck his hand in the water, his eyes sparkling.

  “Swim,” Emma insisted. “Me swim!”

  “Sí, mamita,” Mateo said, laughing again. It was the same endearment he’d used for Chloe, so it must not mean anything sexy.

  Damn.

  He sat down to remove his boots and socks. Chloe followed suit, wondering how she was going to bathe in front of him. He clearly wasn’t suffering from shyness, because he tugged off his shirt and unbuttoned his pants, dropping them in a flash. But then, he was still wearing his soccer shorts underneath.

  Instead of easing into the spa, he took a running leap toward the big pool, did a flip in midair and landed with a terrific splash. He didn’t even test the water first. When he surfaced, grinning at Emma, she squealed in delight.

  She was enthralled by him. Chloe knew exactly how she felt.

  “Ven,” he said, extending his arms to Emma.

  Chloe took off Emma’s shoes and checked her diaper, which was clean. Then she let Emma go toward the pool in her clothes. Both could get clean at once. She watched as Mateo grasped Emma under the arms and lowered her into the water. It must have been cold, but she didn’t scream. He dipped her up and down, making her giggle.

  They cruised around the pool for a couple of minutes, no more. Chloe watched them from the edge. When Emma started to shiver, he sent her back to Chloe, despite her protests. Chloe pointed Emma to the spa instead. She brought the soap and towels along. Emma got in and splashed around. Chloe longed to join her.

  While she contemplated removing her jeans, Mateo pushed off the side and climbed out of the pool. She tried not to stare at his wet muscles, or notice the way his soaked white soccer shorts clung to his…thighs. She failed on both counts. What was he wearing under those shorts, a jock strap?

  He grabbed a towel and looped it around his neck, asking her a question in Spanish.

  She dragged her gaze up to his face, with difficulty. He gestured toward the spa, repeating himself. Was she going in?

  Chloe looked down at her jeans, uncertain.

  It must have dawned on him that she needed privacy. He strode over to a nearby lounge chair and stretched out on his back. Tucking his hands beneath his head, he closed his eyes. His torso was smooth and sleek, his skin bronzed. Chloe peeked at him for another few seconds, studying the dark tufts of hair under his arms.

  Pulse racing, she fumbled with her zipper.
Why was she checking out his armpits? He was a man. He had body hair. There was nothing noteworthy about it. Armpit hair wasn’t supposed to be sexy. It was just…there.

  She stood to wiggle out of her jeans, wincing at the ache in her leg. While she was struggling with the fabric, distracted by her strange fascination with Mateo, Emma slipped underwater. Chloe jumped into the spa with her pants around her ankles and grabbed Emma by the back of the shirt. Emma came up, sputtering.

  “Están bien?” Mateo asked.

  Chloe hugged Emma to her chest while Emma cried. “We’re fine,” Chloe called out, waving off his concerns. She was lucky she hadn’t fallen in and broken her other leg. Emma calmed quickly and squirmed to be released.

  “Be careful,” Chloe said, setting her on the underwater bench. “Hold on to the side.”

  “I hold on,” Emma promised.

  Chloe sat down and finished peeling off her jeans. She decided to bathe Emma first. Singing her bathtime song, Chloe removed Emma’s wet clothes and shampooed her hair. When Emma was clean, Chloe glanced toward Mateo again. He was soaking up the last rays of the setting sun, eyes closed.

  It was now or never. She stripped down to her underwear and sank into the water. Her bandage was already soaked, so she submerged fully. She soaped her armpits, which weren’t sexy in the least, and washed between her legs. On impulse, she whisked off her panties and gave them a scrub. She was working shampoo into her hair when Emma climbed over the edge and went streaking across the patio, giggling.

  Chloe couldn’t run after her—she had no panties on! “Come back here right now,” she said in a stern voice, which Emma ignored.

  Mateo grabbed a towel and chased after her, scooping her up easily. Then he pretended to nibble on her bare arms, monsterlike. Smiling, he carried her toward the spa. Chloe sank deeper into the water, which felt lukewarm now. Lukewarm and transparent.

  His gaze moved from Chloe’s sudsy hair and wet bra to the wadded-up ball of panties on the side of the spa. He didn’t come closer. He just wrapped Emma up in the towel and kept her, waiting as Chloe hastily rinsed her hair.