The Mountain

I used a finger to open Dorothy's lips, brought the straw up and squirted a few drops into her mouth. It took a few seconds before I saw an involuntary swallow. It was the first movement besides breathing that I had seen in her. I was more excited than I should be.

"Dorothy?" I called, hoping the swallow would trigger her ears. Nothing. I sighed and spent a long time dribbling juice into her mouth. I went slow, not wanting to drown her. It was always a delayed reaction and always a swallow. After I had given her what I deemed was half, I sucked down the rest myself. I was thirstier than I thought and the juice did more to enhance than quench it.

My phone said it was 3:07 PM. I looked at the sun and figured I had maybe three more hours of daylight. I walked down to the cliff, again staying far from the drop and looked out over the valley between the mountains. It was largest expanse of open sky I could see. There were no search planes in view, though I was sure I would hear them before I could see them. I could go searching farther east, maybe find some more supplies. Maybe water if I was lucky.

Tomorrow would be better to start searching again. I had fire and enough water, well juice, to make it for a few days. If there were any problems, I wouldn't want to meet them when it was getting dark. I walked back to the fire and shifted the large log, feeding more of it over the hot coals. I sat on the ground near Dorothy's head.

"Another day," I sighed, "I really wish you would wake up." I stroked her hair, then stopped thinking she wasn't a pet, "I am afraid that we may be stuck here for a while and I would really like someone to talk to." I grabbed a stick and poked the coals to get them riled up to attack the log. "I'm not sure they are even looking for us. I haven't found most of the plane and..." I looked down at her and felt my eyes well up.

"I don't even know what happened to your son," I stuttered, "maybe you don't want to wake up...I can't imagine what it would be like to lose a child, especially right from your arms." I paused a moment to catch my breath and ease my empathetic grief, "somewhere, the rest of your family is waiting. They don't want to lose both of you, so you must wake up. For them and for me." I chuckled a little, "then you have to promise me that you will lie to your husband about the sleeping arrangements. I know I wouldn't be able to handle my wife with another man." I stopped myself from playing with her hair again. I stood up to end the temptation.

"Maybe it's best that you sleep through all this," I continued, walking around the fire, "the loss of your son, the cold, and the lack of food and water. If things go south, being awake would just add to the torture." I stopped opposite her, on the other side of the fire, "being awake alone, I assume will be much worse." I raised my hands to no one. "I can't believe I want you awake and suffering just so that I can feel better. What kind of selfish asshole am I? You go ahead and sleep as long as you want and ignore my rambling." I moved around the fire and sat down next to her again. "I'll take care of you if you stay alive. Just don't die on me."

On the edges of my hearing, an engine sound thrummed in and out. I jumped up and tried to locate the direction. It seemed to be coming from far away. I turned my head and was unable to isolate a direction so I ran toward the cliff, the only open space I could really see.

In my haste, I slipped and slid toward the edge. For a brief moment, I saw my end and all I could think about is a sleeping woman freezing to death on a mountain side. I got angry and grabbed for the branches of the tree I had tied the shirt onto. It brought my slide to a halt, and I stayed still to let my heart slow down as well. I couldn't die, Dorothy needed me. She was the reason that I kept going.

I listened again. The engine sound was more defined, but didn't seem to be any closer. I looked over the valley and into the sky and saw nothing flying. The sound could was most likely echoing off the sides of the mountain. The plane could be miles away and never enter into my view. View! I ran back to the fire and threw on a few more dried branches. Once they flared up, I put green branches and needles in the flame. A thick gray smoke rose and climbed into the sky.

I listened as the engine slowly sputtered and died away. I sat down hard and listened for a good while longer. The engine didn't return. If it had been a search plane, it would have probably zig zagged back and forth. More than likely, it was another puddle jumper that had more luck than our flight.

"I guess that was our excitement for the day," I told Dorothy. I decided to use the rest of the daylight to add to our wood supply. Next time I hear an engine, smoke first then go running around like an idiot.

As the sun went down, clouds came in. I pulled Dorothy back into the hovel and got her off the blanket. Using the suitcases to block the door, I stuffed the extra clothes in the gaps. I again covered her hands with socks, set her sideways and put her hands between her cocked legs. I scooted up behind and covered us with the blankets. My hand found the warmth under her breasts as I got as comfortable as I could.

"Sorry," I whispered, then closed my eyes. Sleep took me before long.

I awoke once in the night to shift my lower arm that had fallen asleep. I wasn't warm, but I certainly wasn't freezing either. The rebuild was a success. I snuggled closer to Dorothy and sleep quickly found me again.

I could see inside the hovel when I woke the next time. Except for my side being a little sore from sleeping in one position, I was refreshed. "Good morning, Dorothy," I said as I pulled her onto her back. She was warm and breathing so it was a good morning.

After I had disassembled the door, a blinding light greeted my eyes. Our water problems were over, and a new problem just replaced it. There was an inch of bright white snow on the ground.

I crawled out, bumping branches and started to jump about to get the snow off my neck and out of the back of my shirt. It was cold wet snow, not something that would last a bright sun. I quickly filled the small cooking pot with the white stuff. I tore open the top of the juice box we had drained and filled it as well.

Taking some branches from my wood pile, I stirred the coals of yesterday's fire. There were still a few smoldering weakly. The snow had doused them pretty well. Only the ones covered by the large blackened log remained. I dropped in kindling and blew until a flame was generated once again. One match saved.

Once the fire was going, I placed the cooking pot nearby to melt the snow. The flames did their job quickly, and I added more snow until I nearly had a full pot. I let the water warm a bit, and then I drank the whole pot. I started the process over again for Dorothy. We were going to drink our fill while it lasted since we had no way to store it. While the snow melted, I went off and took a pee and didn't even think about saving it.

I took a half pot of warm water into the hovel. Using my finger on one end of the juice straw, I trapped a little water and dripped it into Dorothy's mouth. It took a moment, and then she swallowed. It took a long time to get all the water into her, but it was a necessity if we ended up staying here for a long time.

"Sorry," I repeated when I checked between her legs. Sure enough, she was wet again. I went outside and filled the pot with snow again and set it next to the fire.

I rummaged through the old man's clothes and found another pair of pants. There was no way I was going to try to put her jeans back on, even though they had dried. Those buttons were just too difficult. I preferred the quick in-and-out the loose pants allowed.

Removing her shoes, belt, and pants went quickly since I was now practiced. I tore open another disinfectant wipe and began cleaning her as quickly as possible.

I heard a loud intake of breath that wasn't mine and her hips moved. I looked up at Dorothy's raised head and wide open eyes. She was awake. I smiled.

The yelling I should have expected. The feet were a complete surprise. One caught me in the face, the other in the chest, sending me tumbling out of the makeshift hovel into the snow. In hindsight, looking up from a newly woken woman's genitals and smiling, was not the best course of action.

Whatever she was shouting wasn't English. I moved away from the door, fearing she might decide my eyes no longer belonged in their sockets. I called out an apology that was met with more words that needed no translation. Maybe it would have been better if she didn't wake up.

I waited for a good long time by the fire. I drank another pot of water and started the fourth. Dorothy emerged hesitantly and quickly rose to her feet as if she felt less vulnerable standing up. She was dressed in her jeans. I remained sitting on a log trying to look as non-threatening as possible. She moved exactly opposite me on the other side of the fire. She was looking around, but never really taking her eyes off me. I could see her breathing was heavy, and anger was brewing behind her dark eyes. She looked almost witch-like with her hair shooting off in directions it was never meant to go.

Dorothy raised her hand and pointed her finger to me. A string of very fast, angry words followed. Her finger was shaking at me as she yelled. She suddenly stopped and put her hands on her hips and stared at me like she was expecting a response.

"Do you speak English?" I asked. I tried to speak calmly, so she knew I was no threat. Inside I was struggling with the thought of this woman hating me. Of the all the scenarios I had considered, hate wasn't even remotely conceived.

She raised her hands above her head in disgust and rattled off more words I didn't recognize though I did recognize a reference to American. It was spoken with disgust.

"No English?" I clarified. This time, my question was met with almost whispered expletives. Great. We couldn't speak with each other. I stood. She jumped back with wide eyes. I held out my palms; fingers spread to try and indicate I wasn't coming any closer. She stopped moving and watched me warily.

Charades was never my favorite game. I found it embarrassing at best, preferring games that didn't involve physical acting. Here, on the mountain, it would have to become the standard mode of communication. Dorothy was obviously confused as to what had happened. I thought deeply, and then began my charade.

I held out my arms to try and look like a plane. Then I flew one hand and crashed it into my palm. Dorothy nodded. At least she remembered the crash. I pointed to the cabin section, behind her, that we survived in. She hadn't noticed it before, and I could see her eyes had grown large when she turned back to me. I pointed to the sun then I arched my finger dragging it across the sky. I turned to her and held up three fingers, indicating this was the third day since the crash.

Dorothy stared at me in disbelief. I pointed at her, then made a pillow with my hands and laid my head against it, briefly closing my eyes. I held up my three fingers again. I hope she understood that she had been unconscious since the crash. Her hand covered her mouth as she began to understand.

I reached down and grabbed the pot of melted snow. I took a small sip then indicated it running through my system with my hand wiggling down my chest. I then spread my hand out around my pelvis region, hoping it looked like the water ran through me and I peed myself. Dorothy's head tilted. I thought I saw understanding. I pointed at her and then gave the pee gesture again. I shrugged my shoulders and lifted my hands palms up. The international I-didn't-know-what-else-to-do symbol. I pantomimed removing my pants and washing my pelvic region, then raising my pants again. Dorothy watched, her fascination was replacing the anger I saw earlier. I pointed at her again, then hugged myself with a shiver trying to explain how cold she would have been if I let her stay wet. I shrugged my shoulder holding my palms up again. In a sense asking her what else could I have done? Dorothy smiled.

The smile was forced but held forgiveness. Or, at least, acceptance of the necessity. She nodded her head, and I smiled back. We looked at each other for a moment; then she spoke as she mimed. It was a question; that much I could tell. She cradled her arms and rocked them as if she were holding a child. I lost my smile and my eyes watered. I didn't like the question, but I knew I had to answer.

I shook my head slowly and pointed to my eyes. "I haven't seen him," I said, then dropped my head, still shaking it. I didn't think he would be found alive. I expected to see her fall to the ground in agony. I saw grief and a tear, but none of the pain a mother should feel. I tried not to let it change my opinion of her as she looked down and mumbled something I didn't understand; maybe a prayer.

Dorothy moved slowly away from me, toward the partial cabin with its four seats. I followed a good ten steps behind. She needed some space, but I didn't want to lose sight of her. She examined the wreck and reached out to brush the snow off her seat. She looked up, left and right, trying to build an idea of what had happened. She turned to me, pointing at the wreck, then at the missing parts. The question she voiced was unnecessary.

"I found the tail over there," I said as I walked over to where the tail was and pointed to the west. "The rest, I haven't found." I shrugged my shoulders and pointed at where the other parts were. Dorothy nodded and seemed to understand. She pointed at herself and then at her seat, next she pointed at me then at my seat. I nodded my head yes.

Dorothy moved toward the front and pointed at the first seat. I wasn't sure how to tell her without being rude. I didn't want to draw my finger across my throat. It seemed too callous. I shook my head in a knowledgeable way. I believed she understood.

Dorothy nodded her head and covered her heart with her hand. She said something quietly that I assumed was close to 'rest in peace.' We walked back to the camp, and I sat down on a log and indicated that she should do the same. Surprisingly, she sat next to me on my log.

"Tamara," Dorothy said, tapping her chest. I smiled, thinking I was a fool for not handling the introductions earlier.

"Jonathan," I said tapping my chest. Tamara held out her hand, and I shook it.

"Jon..a..thun," Tamara repeated. She butchered my name in the most beautiful way. I laughed and repeated her name. She thought it just as humorous. At least we could laugh together. That was a huge step up from the yelling and miles beyond the silence. I certainly liked Tamara better than Dorothy.

I handed the pot of melted snow to Tamara. She took a sip, set it down and made a motion with her hand, miming eating with a fork. I could feel my empty stomach as well. I stood signaling for her to wait on the log. I retrieved our food supplies and brought them back to her.

I laid out the four Ramon packets and two juice boxes. "That's all we have," I said, circling the items with my hand. Tamara stared at them for a moment. I could see her thinking, analyzing our resources and her hunger. She grabbed one of the Ramon packets and pretended to break it in half and pointed me, then back at herself. We would split it.

Tamara pointed at the next packet, then duplicated my sun arch as she spoke. She repeated with the next packet. Split one a day. As good a plan as any. I nodded my head, and she smiled. I smiled back. We had the smile thing down. At least we would be friends.

Tamara took the cooking pot and loaded it with snow and placed it on some coals. I guess she was going to cook. She sat back down next to me and watched the pot.

"A watched pot never boils," I said aimlessly. Tamara looked at me with a questioning look. I chuckled and waved off the statement, "Just a stupid joke." She looked at me and smiled again. It was almost as if she understood from my expression. Not the joke itself, but that it was humor. She had a nice smile. It brought so much life to her face.

Tamara reached next to the fire and pulled out a small rock. More of an overgrown pebble. She spoke as she placed in closer to the fire. She pointed at it and then moved her hand across the sky, but only part way. A few hours, I guessed. She picked up the rock, pretending it was hot and carried it toward the hovel and mimed putting it in.

I found her thinking process genius. I smiled and shaped my hands as if I was surrounding a larger fist-sized rock. Tamara nodded enthusiastically, sharing her smile once again. She had proposed a heat source for the night. I tapped both of my index fingers on my temples, then pointed at her and gave her a thumbs up. "You are one smart woman."

Tamara folded her arm across her chest and cupped her other elbow, then pouted her lips and tucked her free fist under her chin. I laughed at her Thinking Man pose. She bowed at my recognition and joined my laughter. It was a soft, flowing laugh that seemed to float in the air. I was so happy she was awake.

I pointed to the pot and mimed eating, then showed my imaginary rock again. "We can try to find some rocks after we eat." Tamara agreed and sat next to me again. She mimed a set of binoculars with her fists, then made a flying gesture with her hand followed by pointing at the cabin section. I shook my head then I tapped my ear once, created the number one with my finger, and then pushed my hand away toward the sky a couple of times, "I've heard one plane, and it was far away." I pointed to my eyes and shook my head no, "never saw it."

I stood and went under the tree and shook the snow off of one of green-needled branches. I broke off one small section and brought it to the fire and threw it in. A small line of thick smoke emitted briefly. I pointed back to the green wood stack and mimed bringing over an arm full and dropping it on the fire. I fluttered my fingers over the fire and raised them to the sky. "Smoke signal for the search planes."

Tamara smiled, tapped her temple and pointed at me. She understood. I really liked trading smiles with her. They were an incredibly honest form of communication. Most of the time they signified happiness. For us, it meant understanding and agreement as well. When I sat down, Tamara tapped my head, and then her own, followed by hooking her two index fingers together. "Yes," I nodded, "we do think alike." More shared smiles as she reached down to set the pot closer to the fire to speed the boil.

I felt incredibly comfortable with Tamara next to me. There was no need for stupid small talk, not that we could anyway. For a woman who woke up with a stranger between her legs, she was incredibly calm. She was already analyzing the situation and coming up with suggestions for making things better. Our cooperation was necessary, and she knew it instinctively. I found her intriguing and attractive, mentally as well as physically. I tried to put the attraction away. She was traveling alone, but a child usually meant a husband. No woman like her could possibly be single.

Sharing the Ramon was a team effort. No silverware, or anything that could be used as such, required us to share the pot and drink the broth and noodles. There was a small temptation to take a huge mouthful and fill my growling stomach. I ignored the urge and pretended to take more than I really did. I figured Tamara needed it more than me. Her body was probably still repairing itself. She had no qualms about sharing the cup and placing her lips where mine had just been. The women I was used too, would have balked at the thought, at least at first. There was a strength in Tamara that accepted necessity for what it was; necessary.