Survival: A Military Stepbrother Romance Read online

  I reached over for my panties and long underwear. I’m normally the type to enjoy lying around nude with a lover, relishing in the hedonistic nature of the moment, but it was too damn cold in that aircraft to even think about it.

  Wesley rolled to the side, smoothly getting to a kneeling position and finding his own clothes. “During the hike, I’m going to be giving a lot of orders and commands, but I’ll need your help. I know the woods, and I know survival, but I also know it’s been a really long time since I was green. I need you to tell me if you think you can’t make a climb, or if a path I choose looks too much for you to handle. This part is going to be the hardest too. Once we hit the lake level, we can more or less skirt the water as it curves around, and it’ll be level. But up here? It’s going to be rocky and icy.”

  “I can do that,” I said, pulling the rest of my long underwear on. “I think I can handle it.” In all honesty, I wasn’t too sure. But I had Wes at my side, and that at least gave me enough confidence to keep going.

  Wesley smiled, his confidence returning. “Good. Now, let’s go through your backpack and pitch out what we don’t need. I’m going to distribute the remaining food between the two of us, and lighten your pack at the same time. When we originally packed, I thought you’d be on level ground, not going down rocks. The big problem with that is that I didn’t pack any climbing rope—I didn’t think we’d need it.”

  “What do we have?” I asked, going over to my pack and opening it. Instead of taking my time, I decided to cut the proverbial Gordian Knot and dumped out everything, finding a fresh pair of pants and pulling them on. I figured I could get by with the same tops from yesterday, but I wanted to give Wesley as much support as I could. “Uh, should I have done that?”

  “Why not?” He laughed, coming over in his own pants and socks and kissing my cheek. We hugged quickly. “I would have done the same thing anyway. I’ll do the same to my pack too, so we might as well get started. As for your question, I have about a hundred meters of what the military calls five fifty cord, because it’s supposed to be able to support five hundred and fifty pounds, but it’s not a climbing rope. We used it for parachutes, but there’s supposed to be a lot of lines to support one soldier. It’ll still be useful, though.”

  I watched, nodding as Wes pulled his pants and boots on, tying them quickly and tucking the laces into the tops. Huffing into his hands, he went to the door and looked back. “It’s going to get cold in here. I need to have light to be able to see. You okay?”

  I shook my head and hurriedly pulled on my boots. I could stand the cold on my hands, but my toes? No way in hell. “All right. I’m ready.”

  The temperature was just about freezing when Wesley opened the door, a sharp wind cutting me to the bone. Wes grimaced and smiled back at me. “Don’t worry, it’ll feel better once we’re packed up and walking,” he said reassuringly, heading outside. I could see a bit of the outdoors from my spot and groaned. The ice and snow were evident, although it was no winter wonderland. I looked out the windows on the other side of the plane, and I could only see sky at first. It looked pretty cloudless, at least, so I didn’t think we were going to be facing snow or rain or anything like that. There was no way in hell I wanted to even think about trying to hike out in weather like that.

  I finished dressing, pulling on my knit cap and gloves from my bag before Wesley returned. I helped him into the cabin, pulling the rest of the rations with him. “All right, this should be enough food for us to make it most of the way to our goal,” Wesley said, taking five of the envelopes and tossing them over by my backpack. “A soldier is expected to be able to get by on two of those a day. Honestly, we can get by on one, and I’d like to do that, supplementing with whatever things I can find and scrounge on the way. But just the rations means mighty slim pickings. If you want, I still have the crackers and some of the stuff from my meal last night. Old soldier’s habit.”

  “I was thinking of actually splitting that sandwich the pilot had in the cooler,” I said, my thoughts for the first time turning to the dead man on the other side of the cockpit door. I shuddered slightly, realizing that I had just had sex with my stepbrother less than ten feet from a freezing body. Creepy, unless you are into the whole Tim Burton thing, which I’m not. “Jeez, what are we going to do with him?”

  Wes shrugged. “Not much we can do. You really don’t want to see what was left of him. I marked the map, we can bring a recovery team back here later, or at least show them where he’s at. Now, let’s get our stuff packed and moving so we don’t have to set up camp in darkness.”

  Wes moved efficiently and quickly, tossing out all but one change of my clothes, and doing the same for himself. The rest of our packs were filled with food, tools, our sleeping bags and other various gear. I sighed when I saw that our new “tent” consisted of what was originally ponchos with grommets at the corners. “It’s not much, but we’ll be fine,” Wes assured me, cinching his pack closed.

  Both of our packs were at least a third lighter, and I felt better about the load as I slid it out the door and onto the ground before following. Wes’s pack was still over fifty pounds, but mine was a much more manageable twenty-five or so, and I knew as we walked that some of that weight would go away as we ate the rations.

  The bright light dazzled my eyes for a moment before they adjusted, looking out on the breathtaking view. Despite the cold, it was beautiful, and I looked around appreciatively at the mountains around me. I understood what Wes had wanted to do before this little trip went to hell, and I felt my heart swell. “Wow, it is a nice view,” I told him as Wes pulled his pack on.

  He held my pack up for me, letting me cinch in the shoulder and waist belts until they were perfect before he kissed my cheek quickly and smiled. “It is, but I think I have the nicest view right here. Now, let’s get going.”

  With a compliment like that, how could I resist?

  Chapter Five

  Wes

  By mid-afternoon, Robin’s mood had changed. I knew it would, and I’ll own up to it that a lot of it was my own fault. Robin thought she was in pretty good shape, and so did I, but this was on another level.

  Robin wasn’t a soldier, and she didn’t know how to move over the terrain. She didn’t know how to swing her arms or how to roll her shoulders so that the constant weight on her back would shift back onto her hips sometimes, letting her chest expand and take in the occasional deep breath. She was pretty tired before we stopped for our noon meal, even with us taking breaks, but by two in the afternoon, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could go on.

  “Hold on, Wes,” she panted, stopping to lean against a rock. “I need to take a break.”

  I nodded tersely and slung my pack to the ground. I was frustrated, both with her and with myself. I was kicking myself for picking such an ambitious route, nothing for a soldier, but a lot for an engineer. I had expected her to be slow, but not as slow as she was, and I knew that we wouldn’t reach the lake I had targeted that day. When Robin snapped at me, it surprised me.

  “You know, not all of us spent four years being an Airborne Ranger.”

  I felt a thousand little retorts come to my mind but bit them back, turning to walk away without a word. Instead, I walked into a grove of trees about a hundred meters away, losing sight of Robin. As I walked, I talked to myself in my head. We were in a situation that even I hadn’t planned for, far beyond the abilities I had expected her to use when we started out on this trip. She was actually doing her best to try and keep up, and she was doing pretty good overall. I had done about the same my first ruck march when I had been in basic training, dragging across the finish line of the ten miles while the drill sergeants looked like they could go another ten miles twice and still be able to crank out fifty push-ups.

  I remembered early in our walk, about an hour after we had left the plane, I had carefully looped our cord four times to create a stronger line, which I used to help lower her down a ten meter rock face before tackli
ng the same face freehanded. In hindsight, I should have taken the longer, shallower path, letting Robin rest more often and get her footing easier.

  I thought about what was Robin’s biggest challenge as I walked through the trees, recognizing it was her footing. At least that was something I could help her with immediately. I reached for my hip where I had my survival knife, a much heavier duty Bowie knife that I had kept with me since my days in Iraq. Sure, I had taken some ribbing from the guys about copying movie stars, but the fact was, that knife had saved my life more than once. I looked around for what I wanted, finding it pretty quickly. It was the Canadian Rockies, after all, and pine trees were pretty much everywhere. I grabbed the sapling and cut at the trunk, hacking it down in about two minutes.

  When I came back out of the grove, I saw Robin sitting on a rock with a worried look on her face, and I kicked myself again. She had to be frightened being left in the mountains by herself. I noted to myself not to ever do that again without telling her what the hell I was planning.

  Carrying the sapling over, I showed it to her, alternating between the saw tooth back and the razor-sharp blade to trim it quickly to the proper length. “The wood is a bit green, so it’s going to be springy,” I explained as I handed it over to her, “but it should help with footing and stability on some of the rockier ground.”

  Robin set the staff I made aside and got to her feet, wrapping her arms around my waist and laying her head on my chest. “I’m sorry,” she replied. “I’ve just been so frustrated that I’m slowing you down so much that I let it out against you. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

  Whatever had been wrong between us evaporated, and I squeezed Robin tight, knowing she didn’t really have anything to apologize for. I could have found ways to help her maximize what she could do, but that wasn’t really on my mind at the time. It was new territory for me.

  In the Army, I had been a grunt, part of a squad, never really in charge of anyone. After that, my work has also been pretty solo, taking care of myself more than worrying about other people. Stepping back, she kissed me on the cheek, and then on the lips. “Thank you,” she said.

  Before she could go on, I lifted her chin and kissed her again, my fingers stroking through her hair.

  “You don’t have anything to apologize for. We were supposed to be here on kind of a vacation. I had planned on teaching you some outdoor skills, but nothing to this magnitude. But anyway, I think we should start gathering food for dinner. That grove had some bushes that looked pretty good for getting some berries, and I bet we can find some other stuff if we look around. The wild is full of food, we just have to look for it. How’s that sound?”

  I watched as a smile crept up Robin’s face, lighting her up and making her even more beautiful. Robin is sexy when she’s mad and sexy when she pouts, but she’s absolutely angelic and amazing when she smiles. “Okay. Although if you don’t mind, I might just munch as I go. Lunch of crackers and cheese spread was kind of weak, if you know what I mean.”

  I smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I agree. And the only rule I have is that if you want to eat one, you have to put one in the bag.”

  “What bag are we going to use?” Robin asked, shouldering her pack and picking up her walking stick that I made. The limb was about two inches around, and fit her hand well in her glove. I didn’t think she would need it much, but it seemed like it was helping her as she walked. Sometimes, even a placebo is helpful, and I knew it also helped her with her sense of safety. I’d seen Robin practicing martial arts when we were in high school, and she was pretty good with the staff, although against a grizzly bear we’d both just be snacks. I wasn’t going to tell her that, though.

  “The plastic outer bag from the rations,” I replied to her question, fishing the thick plastic out of my cargo pocket. “We can forage as we go, and stop about an hour before sunset to set up camp and gather the materials we need for the night. We’ll get to the lake tomorrow.”

  “What about water?” Robin asked as we headed toward the grove of trees. “I thought that was a problem.”

  “We’ve got two canteens full of snow, those soda bottles as well, and still that one liter bag that is about half full of water. We won’t be taking any baths tonight, but we can make it to tomorrow.”

  Leading her into the grove, I took her over to a bush I had identified earlier, showing her the small berries. “They’re pretty late in the season, but these are related to blackberries,” I said, taking one and popping it in my mouth. The first bite was sweet, almost too sweet, and I wished I had picked them about two weeks prior, when they would have been a bit tart as well.

  “First rule for any berry or plant is to smell first. Our noses are one of the main ways we have to detect things that are dangerous to us. After that, a small bite, which is then spit out. If you still feel good after ten minutes, you can start to gather to eat later. I already know these really well from prior trips up to this area, so we can eat and gather at the same time.”

  Taking her bag, Robin gathered and ate handfuls of the sweet dark berries, until the juices trickled from the corners of her mouth. I followed suit, both of us chuckling and feeling like kids again as we enjoyed both the sugar rush and the fluids. I knew how to keep going even if I am a bit dehydrated, but Robin didn’t. The fluid was helpful. We filled about half of her bag before the bush looked picked clean. She stowed the bag in one of the outer pockets of my pack, while I stored mine in hers, since it was easier to reach than taking our own packs off. We then resumed our trek, almost casually strolling through the woods while I pointed out various food sources and forest animals.

  “The diet the forest can provide is actually really healthy,” I taught as we stopped and picked up pine cones. “Like the nuts here. They’re full of good fats and proteins, and we can use the cones themselves as fuel for our fire tonight. They make a great fire starter. They burn hot and fast, though, so we can’t use them all night. But a couple of dry cones make a great base for any campfire.”

  “It seems like a lot, but also a bit boring,” Robin said as we kept going. I tossed my pine cone aside, knowing there were plenty more as we went along. “This doesn’t seem like it would be very interesting after a while.”

  “It can be, but to really get the variety we’d need to start to trap and catch animals too,” I answered. “Once we hit the lake, I’m going to make sure to do some fishing, or see if there are any freshwater mussels.

  The walk continued, leaving the small grove and making our way down another rocky patch where Robin used her walking stick. The sun was low in the horizon, and I looked around. “All right, I’d prefer to get to that next crop of trees if we can,” I said, pointing toward an area about a mile away. “The trees will provide better cover than this open ground. We don’t want to be in the wind if we can help it.”

  “Then we better pick up the pace,” Robin said, tightening her grip on her walking stick. “It’s just a mile, I can make it.” She surprised me with her determination.

  I watched her carefully, but she looked more energized than before, so I led the way, picking up the pace, until the two of us practically gobbled up the mile distance, taking less than thirteen minutes, which is pretty good even for soldiers over open terrain. The ground allowed us to lengthen our stride until the trees approached. I stopped on the edge of the trees, looking around.

  “Okay, maybe another fifty meters, but not all the way in. We need to find a relatively clear space. I don’t want to start a forest fire.” I wanted to get deep enough into the trees that any wind that picked up during the night or any snow would be blunted by the overhead branches, but not so deep that I thought we would be disoriented in the morning.

  “Yeah, that would be bad,” Robin said, following me in. I quickly found what we wanted, two trees that were about six feet apart, with an open space in front of them. Setting my pack down, I took out the ponchos and cord, making a quick lean-to that stretched back almost eight feet, and was about fou
r feet high. Running cord on the sides, we created sides to the lean-to by leaning fallen branches and other materials, creating wind breaks on three sides. While I finished the lean-to, Robin went around gathering fallen wood, trying to limit it to dry branches and wood that wouldn’t pop and explode. The dim light inside the woods made it difficult, and I heard her stumble twice on her way back to the camp site.

  “I was getting worried” I said, when she returned with her double armful. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I just got a bit turned around,” Robin replied, laying the wood down. “Now, I hope you’re going to teach this Apache how to make a fire.”

  “I will, but I’m not going to be rubbing sticks together,” I said with a chuckle, reaching into my pocket. There is a time for jokes, and there is a time for getting stuff done. Maybe another time I’d teach her how to make a fire without matches. “One of the things that comes in all of those ration packs, besides toilet paper, which you should really hang onto, is a pack of matches.”

  While she was gone, I had cleared an area and scraped out a shallow depression in the forest earth using a small gardening trowel, making a fire pit. With Robin’s wood, I carefully laid dry leaves and pine needles in the center, along with a very dry pine cone that kind of acted like the center pole of a circus tent. Making a small mound, I took about half of the match book and put it inside the pile. It was overkill, but I wasn’t going to take any chances. Taking one match, I started the fire, carefully feeding it small twigs until we had a good flame.

  “The thing that a lot of people screw up,” I explained, feeding the flames, “is that we rush too much. The use of chemical fire starters and charcoal makes it easy, really. At that point it’s hard not to start a fire, although I’ve seen plenty of people who can even screw that up. With natural materials, we have to go slowly, and give the fuel plenty of air so it can burn. It’s why a lot of people like to blow on the fire, although you can easily blow too hard and blow it out. Eventually, we start adding larger pieces of wood.”