Malevolence Ch. 02

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Not right now."

Lisa cuddled close and held on tight. Travis didn't mind that she was hurting his sore spots. His wife needed comfort. Gradually, her breathing slowed but she could not get back to sleep. Travis did; soon, he was snoring softly. The sound was music to Lisa's ears. And once again, she thought: Please, don't ever leave me.

Eventually, Lisa managed to doze off. In predawn twilight, she roused to the sound of Brian and Terri dismantling their tent. Lisa nudged Travis. "C'mon. Get up."

Travis roused. "Mmmmm. Okay."

Once they were dressed and up, the foursome sat cross-legged around a small campfire having breakfast of oatmeal, dried fruit and tea. They talked about where their respective journeys would lead. Brian and Terri were headed west, paddling and portaging through a chain of lakes to Moose Lake where their car was parked. Three days would bring them to the end of their vacation. Travis and Lisa were headed east, onto the south arm of Knife Lake and eventually to Saganaga Lake where they parked their car. Four days of easy paddling would complete their vacation but with Travis' left arm injured, he figured it might take longer.

After breakfast, camp was broken, canoes loaded, and the four of them prepared for departure. Terri gave Travis three large gauze bandages and enough pain medication to get him home. She inspected his shoulder wound one last time and declared him fit for travel provided he didn't do anything strenuous with his left arm. That was a tall order considering paddling a canoe takes both arms. Somehow, he would manage. Although Travis and Lisa had met Brian and Terri just the previous day, in a spiritual way, they felt like old friends. Perhaps, in another life, on some distant world away, they had been friends. Looking Terri in the eye, Travis expressed how he could never thank her enough.

"Know how you can thank me?" she asked. "Pay it forward. That's how we get through life."

"With a little help from our friends?"

"Exactly."

Hugs were exchanged, farewells offered then, with nothing much left to say, the voyageurs climbed aboard their canoes and pushed off. Lisa sat in the stern and Travis in the bow. On canoe trips down Sycamore River, she sometimes sat in the rear (where steering takes place) and was adept at maneuvering the canoe.

They had been paddling only five minutes when Travis turned and looked back. Terri and Brian were already a half-mile distant, their canoe a toy in vast landscape of Knife Lake. With his right arm, Travis raised his paddle and waved it high overhead, knowing they probably wouldn't see, but he wanted to send one final farewell. To his eternal amazement, they were looking back. Both raised their paddles high overhead and waved. Moments later, their canoe slipped behind a rocky point and vanished from view.

Travis wasn't much help paddling. Using his uninjured right arm, all he could do was lightly feather on the right side. When Lisa wanted to paddle on the right, he had to stop, otherwise they would end up going in circles. Lisa had to J-stroke on the right until she wanted to switch back to the left. Then, Travis could help again, lightly feathering. Their progress was slow but they didn't care. They were in no hurry. During a break, Travis breathed deep the aromatic air. Never had it smelled fresher, more invigorating. In the aftermath of his near-death experience, the world seemed different: the lakes bluer, the forest greener, life sweeter.

All of the lakes in the Boundary Waters lie at slightly different elevations. Connected by streams of various lengths, water flows from one lake into another like water cascading down an ornamental garden fountain from one tier to the next to the next. An hour after pushing off they arrived at the portage to Eddy Lake, 75 vertical feet above Knife Lake. Flowing directly alongside the portage trail, the substantial outflow of Eddy Lake tumbled over a succession of rock ledges before culminating in the picturesque plunge of Eddy Falls at the bottom.

Lisa deftly guided the canoe to a soft landing on a pebbly beach. After tugging their canoe onto dry land, they walked a dozen paces to Eddy Falls. Lisa's waterfall nightmare surged into consciousness. She mentally quashed it.

All morning, both had remained dressed but having arrived at a superb water feature in which to play, both stripped off every stitch. Such was Lisa's level of unconcern, she didn't even look around to make sure they were alone. Carefully, she stepped under the pounding falls and squealed, "Omigod that's cold!" Indeed. The falling water's perceived temperature was much colder than still lake waters. And it didn't help that the falls were in deep shadow. Travis waded into the flow beneath the falls but was mindful not to stand under it. He had to keep his bandage dry. But just wetting his feet gave him a taste of that liquid ice.

Lisa didn't frolic under the falls for very long. Chilled to the bone and covered with goose bumps, she grabbed her clothes and returned to the beach. Travis did the same. Both spread their towels on the pebbles beside the canoe and reclined on their backs.

For a time, they dozed under the warm summer sun. Sublime leisure. Lisa chipped away at her sleep deficit. From somewhere far up the portage trail, they heard faint voices. Lisa roused and sat up cross-legged. Her curious eyes scanned the pine forest. At a distance she spied a young couple descending the portage from Eddy Lake. Old habits die hard; she was seized with the impulse to get dressed. But no. Her clothes stayed in her backpack. After her experience with Brian and Terri, Lisa came to realize that having another man see her naked was no cause for embarrassment. Moreover, nearly losing her husband put everything else in her life in stark perspective: don't sweat the small stuff. Travis also noticed the newcomers descending the portage trail. And he noticed that Lisa wasn't getting dressed. She had dumped that old habit on the ash heap of history. Travis smiled, inside and out.

Wearing backpacks and carrying their canoe by the handles, the couple stepped carefully down the steep rugged trail. Eventually they arrived within hailing distance. Gripping the front canoe handle, the young woman called out, "Hey!" Lisa responded, "Hey!" The couple arrived on the pebbly beach and set their canoe upon it. Neither Roslyn or Jacob were curious why the man and woman they just met were naked. They were kindred spirits. However, they were mighty curious about the man's battered appearance: there was a big bandage atop his left shoulder and his left cheek had a nasty bruise. And he had minor cuts, abrasions and bruising elsewhere. They didn't ask why. They were raised to be polite.

"You been in the falls?" Roslyn asked.

"Yeah," Lisa replied, "It's ice cold."

Jacob spoke up. "Just the way I like it."

Roslyn and Jacob doffed their big backpacks then set about getting undressed. Hats, boots, socks, T-shirts, shorts and underwear were stripped off discarded on the canoe seats. Jacob's lean athletic body was painted with a seamless tan. Roslyn's sizable breasts were tanned. Her bikini brief shadow was tanned as well, but several shades lighter than her overall color. Jacob ambled toward the falls. Following behind, Roslyn removed the scrunchie holding her long brunette ponytail and wrapped it around her wrist. Travis' eyes focused on her shapely buttocks jostling with each casual step. The lakes bluer, forest greener and life sweeter. Add to that list: naked women hotter.

Both waded into the flow and stepped under the falls. "Yow!" Roslyn hollered. Lisa had forewarned her but she wasn't fully prepared for the degree of chill. Covered with goose bumps, she stepped out. Rivulets of water trickled down her flat stomach and filtered through her dense brunette bush. Jacob stayed under the pounding falls. "Showoff!" Roslyn chided. She returned to the beach where she spread her towel on the pebbles and sat down cross-legged with Lisa and Travis.

"Where you guys from?" Roslyn asked.

"Indianapolis," Travis told her.

"We're from Omaha."

Without getting too personal, other information was exchanged including names. "I'm Roz and that's my idiot husband, Jake." Still standing under he falls, Jacob waved.

"I'm Lisa."

"Travis."

And the trio talked about where their travels had taken them thus far in the Boundary Waters and the wonders of nature they had seen.

"You seen any bears?" Roz asked, then added, "We saw one two days ago."

"No, we haven't seen any. But I hope we do," Travis answered.

Lisa shook her head. "I don't wanna see one! We've had enough danger for one trip."

When planning their vacation, Travis had read nature authors extolling 'the wilderness experience': getting far, far away from civilization and other people. He had found one prong of that experience: far, far away from civilization. But not the other prong; they had encountered lots of people, some at a distance and others, closer. But it wasn't a bad thing to socialize with an alluring young woman like Roz.

Jacob stepped out from beneath the falls. His penis, small to begin with, had shriveled to a mere nub of its former self and completely retracted into its foreskin like a turtle's head withdrawn into its shell. His diminished condition didn't wound his ego. He was a confident nudist, secure in his own skin . . . however tiny that skin might be. He sat down cross-legged beside his wife. "You been tellin' 'em lies about me?" he asked.

"No," Roslyn shot back, "only the truth: yer an idiot."

"Guilty as charged!"

Lisa had taken an instant liking to Roslyn and the same held true for Jacob. She could easily envision being friends with them 'back in the world.'

For a time, the foursome sat there engaged in convivial conversation. Roslyn's eyes occasionally wandered in the direction of Travis' porky penis. She wondered how big it got when erect and how it might feel deeply plunging her vagina. She glanced at her husband's penis. Sunshine had warmed it and now it relaxed to its full flaccid length: 3 skinny inches. She sighed quietly.

When time came for Roslyn and Jacob to leave, Travis ask if he could take a picture of them. Both readily agreed. They posed standing side-by-side with an arm around each other's waist. Eddy Falls was in the background. Travis oriented the camera vertically then snapped a photo, a head-to-toe full body shot. For good measure, he snapped another.

Lisa and Travis posed the same way, with the falls in the background. Using her small pocket 35mm, Roslyn snapped two photos. Lisa had no qualms about posing nude even if the photos were destined to be included in a vacation album to be viewed by their friends and family.

After exchanging farewells, Jacob and Roslyn pushed off and paddled away onto Knife Lake. Both were still naked and planned to stay that way for the rest of the day until evening chill chased them into clothing.

Travis looked uphill, up the steep rugged trail. Daunting. "Okay, now we gotta climb."

"I'm ready. Are you?"

"I dunno. Do I have a choice?"

"Sure. We can stay right here 'til you fully recover."

"We'd run out of food."

"One word: cannibalism. Bet you'd be tasty."

Travis chuckled. "I'm ready to climb."

The portage to Eddy Lake was short, 100 yards, but steep, 75 vertical feet. Since Travis wasn't feeling 100%, they decided to attack it in two stages: first, carry up their backpacks then return for the canoe. Lisa donned her backpack then helped Travis put on his. Up the rugged trail they went, one plodding step at a time. The trail was strewn with loose rocks. In places, eroded ruts and exposed tree roots created extreme hazards. Travis' sore left leg complained a bit, but he tolerated it.

On the shore of Eddy Lake they found no one. Nevertheless, they hid their packs behind a clutch of balsam fir. Hiking back downhill was more difficult than going up. Rocks rolled underfoot. Roots threatened to trip them. Gullies grabbed their boots.

When they finally reached the bottom of the hill, it occurred to Travis that his handgun was up the hill in his backpack. Humorously, he hoped they didn't encounter any toothless hillbillies before they got back up the hill. And it occurred to Lisa that every stitch of her clothing was up the hill in her backpack. Being far removed from any possibility of covering up -not even a towel- gave her a savage thrill. She liked the feeling of living on the edge.

Lisa grabbed the bow handle. Travis grabbed the stern then they began trudging uphill with their canoe which weighed seventy-two pounds empty, slightly more accounting for paddles and flotation cushions. Even though Travis' left leg was complaining loudly, the second trip uphill was completed in five minutes with no rest stops.

Eddy Lake was still deserted. They paddled a short distance to a designated campsite, the only one on this tiny lake. After establishing camp, they fired up their propane camp stove to heat a pot of water/baking soda mixture for bathing. Travis needed to thoroughly cleanse the minor cuts and abrasions covering much of his body. Lisa helped by washing his back. And he returned the favor which included giving her shapely buttocks a good scrubbing. In fantasy, those buttocks belonged to Roz.

Once both of them were squeaky clean, hair included, Lisa swabbed alcohol on Travis' numerous cuts and abrasions. She removed the bandage covering the laceration on his left shoulder. All the stitches remained intact and no bleeding was noted. There was a bit of inflammation but that was normal. When she splashed on alcohol, he yelped and grimaced. She applied a new bandage then it was time to relax.

Lisa sat cross-legged on her towel on the pebbly beach and commenced writing in her journal. Travis wandered down the shore to a rocky point where he hoped fish were schooling. He cast his line, holding the rod with his right hand and gingerly reeling with the left. Straightaway, he got a bite. He yanked back on the rod and reeled in his catch, a lake trout, a keeper. He placed it on his stringer then cast again. Minutes later he caught another. Then another. They were biting like crazy. Once he caught five, he figure that was enough for supper. More than enough.

Travis walked back to camp and held up the stringer. "I got supper."

"Let's grill it caveman style."

"Okay."

Lisa inspected the lake trout, each long and fat. "We can't possibly eat all that."

"We can feed some to the bears."

"Don't even say that! I don't wanna see a bear."

While Travis cleaned and filleted the fish, Lisa gathered driftwood and built a small fire. She felt her task was the better half of the work division. Mess with fish guts? Yuk! They fashioned a primitive grilling tool by twisting green birch twigs into the shape, and size, of a tennis racquet. Instead of nylon laces, the round head was a crosshatch lattice of twigs to secure the fillets and keep them intact while cooking. After the fire burned down, they took turns holding the tennis racquet cooker over the glowing embers. This cooking method took longer than pan frying in corn oil on their propane stove but it satisfied their primitive sensibilities.

For Lisa, the scene evoked the shipwrecked fantasy and for a time, those visions swirled in her mind. Only now, the fantasy took on added dimension: the castaways, the entire family, were naked on their warm topical island.

Lisa got to wondering how she and Travis would fare if thrust into a truly dire survival situation. No water. No food. No shelter. No tools. No clothes. No anything. What a test of their wilderness survival skills that scenario would present. Finding safe water would be the first priority. Food, second. However, depending on the environment, and the weather, shelter might vault to the top of the list. Clothing would be a minor consideration on the list of priorities. That would be just fine with her. The notion of spending an extended period of time naked appealed to her.

Once the fish finished cooking, they ate it with their fingers. No plates. No utensils. No table manners. The scene was ripped right from the stone age: two naked hominoids feasting on their kill cooked over an open fire. The fillets were slightly charred which enhanced the flavor. Lisa was correct: there was far too much fish to consume in one meal. They couldn't save it for later because it would spoil and even if that wasn't the case, storing it in camp, or anywhere nearby, would attract bears. Oh my!

Eddy Lake was on a primary canoe route that connected 'the outside world' with Knife Lake and regions beyond, deep in the Canadian wilderness. At a distance, a canoe approached, paddled by two young men in their 20s. Lisa saw an opportunity. She sprang to her feet, grabbed the tennis racquet cooker and began stepping toward the lake. Her bare feet crunch, crunch, crunched, on the small pebbles. She waded in knee-deep and watched the canoe drawing closer, just offshore. When it got close enough, she called out, "Hey! You guys want some fish? It's already cooked." Long before she spoke, the guys had noticed the naked woman. They veered course slightly and headed directly toward her. When they arrived, the guy in the rear seat backpaddled the canoe to a halt.

"My husband caught a whole bunch an' we can't eat it all."

"Sure, we'll take it," front seat guy said. He reached out, pinched a sample and popped it in his mouth. "Wow! That's really good!"

"We grilled it in this thing. Gave it a smoky flavor."

Front seat guy was polite and didn't stare but he glanced, repeatedly, at this young woman standing there close enough to reach out and touch. Back seat guy was less discreet; his hungry eyes devoured her body from the top of her short shaggy chestnut mane to her knees at the waterline. And all the while he was thoroughly savoring every delectable detail of her frontal anatomy. In his opinion, she compared favorably with top models in nudie magazines. Lisa wasn't making eye contact with back seat guy but she was keenly aware of his unblinking interest. She felt her nipples stiffen. Tingling erupted in her groin. She liked being exposed. Liked it a lot.

Front seat guy turned and rummaged in his backpack until he found his big aluminum cook pot. "I can put it in this."

Lisa tipped the tennis racquet and dumped two fish fillets into his pot. "There ya go."

"Thanks."

"Yer welcome."

Lisa turned and began wading back toward the beach. Front seat guy placed the pot on the floor between his feet. Both guys grabbed their paddles then dipped them forward and swung them back. As they paddled away, headed for the portage to Knife Lake, both continued eyeballing the naked girl, now the flip side: her beautiful buttocks jostling with each unhurried step closer to shore. Lisa could feel the heat of their collective gaze burning her backside. More nipple stiffening and groin tingling. Seated on the beach, Travis was watching her too. And smiling.

The canoeists presented a fortuitous opportunity to dispense with the surplus fish. And it also presented another opportunity for Lisa to exhibit herself up-close-and-personal. Being exposed in view of other men had become desirable, something she sought. She was eagerly anticipating doing more of the same the next time they canoed down Sycamore River. It pleased her that she would be able to indulge her newly discovered penchant for public nudity close to home . . . but only during warm weather. That got her to thinking about where to go for public nude recreation during the winter. Maybe a Florida vacation? Southern California?

Later, Lisa and Travis got dressed to ward off the encroaching chill of evening. In deepening dusk, they paddled onto Eddy Lake for a starlight spin. They had the small lake to themselves. Crossing over the water, they paddled to the other side, to a sheltered cove beneath black overhanging boughs of pine, steeped in the night.