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 much 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.
102
A Forest of Corpses
by P. A. Brown
"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.
103
A Forest of Corpses
by P. A. Brown
According to Jason, one person could assemble the tent we bought. Good thing too, since I'm not sure how much help I was. We ate a cold supper that night, which included splitting a banana and a peach he had sliced up and stored in a baggy.
Neither of us had the energy left to build a fire and cook anything. After making sure no traces of food remained out to tempt prowling wildlife, we slipped inside the tent that was barely as big as our bed at home. He insisted we strip and put on the long johns he had brought against my will. I'd never even owned a pair of the ridiculous things, but he said it wasn't smart to sleep nude like we did at home. So I pulled them on and grumpily climbed into the sleeping bag, only slightly mollified when he joined me and we spooned.
I had forgotten all about reasserting my position and found sleep overcoming me almost immediately. A crescendo of crickets and tree frogs followed me down into darkness. But it was the soft sound of Jason's breathing in my ear that comforted me most.
[Back to Table of Contents]
104
A Forest of Corpses
by P. A. Brown
Jason
I woke to the delicious feel of
"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 much 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.
102
A Forest of Corpses
by P. A. Brown
"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.
103
A Forest of Corpses
by P. A. Brown
According to Jason, one person could assemble the tent we bought. Good thing too, since I'm not sure how much help I was. We ate a cold supper that night, which included splitting a banana and a peach he had sliced up and stored in a baggy.
Neither of us had the energy left to build a fire and cook anything. After making sure no traces of food remained out to tempt prowling wildlife, we slipped inside the tent that was barely as big as our bed at home. He insisted we strip and put on the long johns he had brought against my will. I'd never even owned a pair of the ridiculous things, but he said it wasn't smart to sleep nude like we did at home. So I pulled them on and grumpily climbed into the sleeping bag, only slightly mollified when he joined me and we spooned.
I had forgotten all about reasserting my position and found sleep overcoming me almost immediately. A crescendo of crickets and tree frogs followed me down into darkness. But it was the soft sound of Jason's breathing in my ear that comforted me most.
[Back to Table of Contents]
104
A Forest of Corpses
by P. A. Brown
Jason
I woke to the delicious feel of
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