Stranded

Chapter Ten

Whit lingered in the brush for a while, hoping that time would change the topic of conversation once she returned to camp.

She didn’t want to discuss the tours she and her father used to run.

She just wasn’t ready. It brought up too many painful memories, ones she tried her best to bury and anytime they threatened to surface, her throat tightened and her gut churned just like they did right now.

“I’m not going to talk about it,” she said softly, pacing behind the trees. She faced the campsite once again and took a deep breath. She started to walk back toward Abby, but a loud rustling caught her attention. A man slowly appeared from the woods and headed toward Abby.

Whit hurried out to head him off, heart pounding. “Help you?”

She reached instinctively for her knife, but then she remembered that Abby had it. Shit.

The man halted and offered a near toothless smile. “Howdy.”

Whit was not amused, nor was she in the mood to be overly friendly. By the looks of him, she assumed he was a vagrant, someone living off the land. A nomad, who traveled through the wilderness during the warmer months.

Abby stood and white-knuckled the buck knife.

“I saw your smoke,” the man said, shoving his filthy hands into his worn pants pockets. “Thought maybe I could rest a spell. Catch some food.”

“You’re welcome to fish,” Whit said. “But—”

“Name’s Boyd,” he said, extending his hand. “Boyd Laird.”

Whit reluctantly shook his rough, thick knuckled hand. “Whit.”

“And she is?” Boyd said, smiling over at Abby, despite her brandishing the knife.

“A friend,” Whit said.

Boyd must’ve picked up on her trepidation.

“I don’t want no trouble,” he said. Whit gauged him to be middle-aged, with slight webbing around his eyes and wild dark hair and beard threaded with white.

He was on the thinner side, with baggy clothes and heavy boots.

Sinewy was the word she’d used to describe him.

And foul smelling. “I was just hoping for a friendly place to relax for a while.” He patted his stomach.

“Maybe eat something, if you could spare a fish or two. Sure smells good.”

“You can have mine,” Abby said.

Whit turned to look at her, shocked. But Abby had lowered the knife and she was welcoming Boyd to the fire. He happily agreed and headed toward her, slinging off his huge pack.

“Thank you, ma’am. It’s been a while since I’ve eaten. This is much appreciated.”

Boyd sat on the log where Whit usually sat and Whit grimaced but joined them, settling down near Abby, who gave her a look of “what else are we supposed to do?”

“Do you happen to have any way of contacting help?” Abby went right into asking. “We’ve been in an accident and we need to reach someone. Anyone.”

“Nope,” he said, helping himself to the cooking fish, picking it off the stone with his fingers. He chewed, groaned with pleasure, and sucked on his fingertips, making a popping sound as he slid them out of his heavily bearded mouth.

“Well, do you know how to reach help?” Abby continued.

“You head due north and you’ll reach someone. That’s the way I’m headed.” He looked to the sky. “Gonna get our first snow soon. I can smell it. Need to get back to a village, settle in somewhere for the winter.” He smiled again. “You folks don’t happen to know of anywhere I can shelter, do ya?”

“No,” Whit said. “We don’t.” She didn’t like the guy and it wasn’t because of his haggardly looks or his foul smell. It was something else. Maybe his ready smile, or the effortless way he was making himself right at home.

He plucked more fish and chewed loudly. “I’ll find somewhere,” he said. “Boyd Laird always finds his way.” He chuckled and a piece of fish tumbled from his mouth to stick in his beard.

Whit glanced away, disgusted. Why wasn’t Abby more concerned? This man could be their stalker for all they knew. He could’ve been the one who stole their food and came into their camp at night.

“How long have you been on our trail?” Whit asked, losing her patience. Who was she kidding? This was the man. It had to be.

Boyd blinked at her, as if truly surprised at the question. “How do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. You been in these woods long enough, you know how to pick up a trail. So how long have you been following us?”

“Ma’am, I apologize, but I don’t know what you mean. I just came upon your smoke not long ago.”

“We’ve had a fire every day, so how is it you’re just now seeing our smoke?”

He blinked some more. “I don’t rightly know. Maybe I wasn’t close enough.”

“I think you’d better be on your way.”

He held up his greasy hands. “Ma’am, please. I don’t mean no harm. I’m just trying to get myself a full belly and maybe some friendly company for a spell.”

“There’s no harm in him staying for a while, is there?” Abby said.

Whit wasn’t believing a word the man said and she was more than confused with Abby’s eager acceptance of him. She stood, no longer hungry, grabbed her spear, and walked off toward the creek.

She maneuvered over the rocks toward her fishing spot and heard someone following her. She whipped around, expecting it to be Boyd, perhaps on the attack, but instead she saw Abby.

“Wait up,” Abby said meekly as she stumbled over to her. She caught her breath, placed her hands on her hips, and glanced back at the camp where Boyd sat, no doubt eating Abby’s fillet now. “Why are you so pissed?”

“Why am I so pissed? Really, Abby?”

“Yeah, I mean—”

Whit tapped her own temple. “Don’t you get it? He’s our stalker.”

“All the more reason to be friendly.”

“What?”

“If we get combative with him, then he might try and hurt us. But if we humor him, he might lose interest and be on his way. I think he’s just lonely.”

She handed Whit her knife, but Whit tried to shake her off. “You keep it. You’re the one dining with him.”

“No, you need it for the fish. Besides, I really think he’s harmless. And he’s so skinny, I could probably bench press him.”

Whit begrudgingly took the knife. “Keep your guard up. If he tries anything, scream. I’ll be there in a flash.”

Abby smiled. “My hero.”

Whit took the knife and watched Abby walk away.

She worried after her, but then resigned herself to quit.

Abby felt comfortable with Boyd and she felt like she could handle herself with him physically, should it come to that.

Whit had to let her be and deal with the situation on her own for now.

There were fish to catch, for lunch and to smoke.

Thanks to Boyd, her stomach was now protesting even though she still had no desire to eat.

Her body would just have to wait. She planned to fish a while.

The next couple of hours she did just that, catching another six.

Luckily, they were large enough to fill a person up.

And though she’d been fortunate to catch another good batch, she’d been uncomfortable the entire time she’d tried to concentrate.

Abby and Boyd had been laughing, distracting her, and making her feel sick with envy.

Could the guy really be that funny? And could Abby really be enjoying herself that much?

Ugh. She hated hearing them getting along so well, and hated more hearing Boyd’s raucous laugh.

It ground on her nerves, like nails on a chalkboard.

She finished cleaning the fish and went back to camp.

Boyd stood and offered to help her, but she kept the speared fish to herself.

He held up his palms in a supposed “peaceful” gesture and returned to his seat, noble Boy Scout that he was.

Whit handed her spear full of fish to Abby, ignored her confused look, and then went searching for a stump.

She recalled seeing one near the mushroom growth and went to get it.

After shifting it back and forth to loosen it from the underbrush, she rolled it back to camp and set it up to sit on.

Then she took the fish and began carefully pulling them from the spear to set up in the smoker, leaving the biggest out for her and Abby to consume.

She felt Boyd’s eyes on her as she worked to place the fillets in the smoker. Was he planning his next move? Perhaps to attack her while her back was turned? She didn’t know and she wished she had some way of being warned of his advance.

She crawled out from the smoker, the bottom row now full with fish. She’d have to remove the branches from the top to fill the last two rungs. That is, if she caught enough fish to do so.

She replaced the rocks to close the opening and then settled on the stump to cook the big fish she had for her and Abby. She set it on the flat rock and gave Boyd a stern look as it began to sizzle. “That’s for Abby and me. So don’t get any ideas.”

He leaned back as if her words had physically struck him.

“No, ma’am. I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Right.

She rolled her eyes and crinkled her nose.

She could smell him from her position close to Abby from across the flames and she wondered how Abby could stand it.

Especially since the heat from the fire only seemed to intensify the foulness.

The man needed to clean up in the creek.

No, wait a minute. They got their water from the creek.

Filtered water bottle or not, she didn’t want him bathing in their drinking water. Besides, his filth might kill the fish.

She chuckled a little at that causing both Abby and Boyd to look at her curiously.

“Nothing,” she said and took the knife from Abby to turn the fillet.

Abby gave her a handful of cooked mushrooms still warm from the pot. “Thought you might like some.”

“Thanks,” she said. She paused as she was about to pop one in her mouth, wondering if Boyd had put his grimy hands on them. “I’m surprised there’s any left.”

She didn’t have to look at Boyd for that one to hit home. He picked up on it at once.

“Oh, I don’t like mushrooms,” he said.

Whit laughed, amused. Thank God for small favors. She tossed a mushroom in her mouth and chewed. But then she wondered why a man who was claiming to be as hungry as he was would refuse food. Even Abby was eating things she normally wouldn’t. It didn’t make sense.

Abby was staring at her, nearly burning a hole in the side of her face.

“What?” Whit asked, but she knew. She was being a bit of an ass, but she didn’t care. Boyd was a fraud. She just knew it. And Abby, even if she was only being polite to humor him, still seemed snowed over by him.

He shouldn’t be sitting there with them, conversing, laughing, eating their food.

Hell, he should be catching his own damn fish.

Not eating what she provided. And what happened to the Spam and pilot bread he’d obviously stolen?

Had that run out? Was that why he claimed to be so hungry?

But wait, no, he was apparently full enough to refuse the mushrooms, so he couldn’t have been that hungry.

She laughed again as she tried to keep it all straight in her head.

The whole thing was ridiculous. Boyd Laird and his Boy Scout routine was ridiculous.

“Are you okay?” Abby whispered.

Whit slid her eyes away from Boyd, who had glanced away from her hard stare.

“Yep, fine. How are you, Abby?” She smiled and it must’ve seriously weirded Abby out because her eyes widened considerably.

“I’m uh—good, thanks.”

“That’s wonderful.” Whit edged forward to cut away a chunk of fish. Then she brought it to Abby and offered it. “Hungry? You must be after not eating earlier.”

Abby took the hunk of meat and ate. “Thank you, yes, I’m hungry.”

“I thought as much.” Again, she shot a look to Boyd, who had the nerve to look sheepish.

He took that moment to rise. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to make a trip to the little boys’ room.” He walked away, back behind the camp, and Abby nearly jumped on her.

“What are you doing? Are you trying to piss him off? You’re being so rude.”

Whit dissected a steaming piece of fish for herself. She brought the blade to her lips and dropped the food into her mouth. She chewed a good long while before she responded.

“I’m just not buying his good boy act, that’s all.”

“Well, I’m—I don’t know. He really seems okay to me. Did you know he’s ex military? A vet. And he used to be a volunteer firefighter and paramedic.”

“So he says. For all we know he could be a murderer. The Alaskan wild is the perfect place to hide out for a wanted fugitive.”

Abby shook her head. “Whit, come on. Really?”

“Yes, really. What kind of person lives off the land, Abby? In Alaska? Someone who doesn’t want to be found, that’s who.”

“I think he’s just a loner. A recluse.”

Whit stabbed Abby another bite, but pulled it away as she reached for it. “He sure is awful outgoing and friendly to be a recluse.”

Abby grabbed her wrist and brought the food to her. She plucked it off the knife and ate it, glaring at Whit.

“Funny,” she said as she swallowed.

“But apparently not as funny as he is.”

Abby scoffed. “Whit, come on. Just cool it, okay? Please? For me?”

Whit chewed another mushroom and watched as Boyd returned from the trees. He slowed as he neared them. “Is it okay if I rejoin you? I don’t want to interrupt anything.”

“Please,” Whit said. “Make yourself comfortable.” She popped another mushroom as she gave Abby another bite of fish. “Our casa es su casa.”

He looked at Abby as if to make sure he’d heard correctly. She nodded and he sat. “Well, thank you both for the hospitality.”

Abby smiled at him, but Whit could tell it was cautious.

She was either not totally convinced of his nobility, or she was worried that Whit was going to piss him off and cause a fight.

Whit noticed the pulse jumping in her neck.

She was really worried. Whit decided to calm things down if only for Abby’s sake.

She finished eating, leaving the rest for Abby, and stood to grab her spear.

“I’m going to go see what more I can catch. You okay here?”

Abby nodded. “Yeah, fine.”

“Okay then. Holler if you need me. I won’t be too far away.

” She walked back to the creek, trekked across the rocky shore, and planted herself at her lucky spot.

She looked back to camp and saw Abby eating and Boyd talking.

She couldn’t tell what he was saying, but she suspected it was more bullshit.

Boyd was just rubbing Abby the right way to keep her guard down.

Whatever he was up to was no good, she could feel it.

But she guessed that only time would tell.

She just hoped that whatever his motive was, it wasn’t something that would cost them their lives.