Secrets of Liberty Mountain (Final)

"I'm famished. What's for dinner?" Alice wanted to know.

"We've got bouillon cubes and tea bags. What's your pleasure?" I inquired.

"I want something to munch, not something to drink. Any energy bars left?" the blue dot asked.

"Nope. Yesterday we had the last crumbs for dessert. It's about time we take a trip to the python pantry and go shopping for serpents."

I gathered my clothes and began to dress.

"I don't think I could ever eat a rattlesnake," Alice said with a shiver and a disgusted frown.

"Unless yah can survive on breezy sandwiches, I don't think we've got a choice." I took a bite out of the air in front of my hands and chewed with gusto. "Umm, light and fluffy, just the way I like it," I winked.

We were both hungry as hell. I had skipped meals from time to time without fear. I always knew there would be something to eat waiting for me on the other side of the clock. This time, there would be nothing in our cupboard unless we stocked it ourselves. Starving to death is a miserable way to die

"I don't care. I still don't think I could eat a rattlesnake." Alice shook her head as goose bumps covered her chest.

Tragic stories of lost travelers who starved while surrounded by nourishment litter the pages of history. The truth is, our bodies are not terribly fussy when it comes to dinner. As long as it isn't poisonous or toxic, our digestive systems can extract protein or vital nutrients from almost any organic matter. There is never enough food if we don't consider everything on the table.

"Get up and lend a hand; you don't gotta eat 'em, but you have to help."

We quickly got dressed. Alice held the Rayovac lantern aloft and played streetlight while I made our selection from nature's deli counter. A fat slumbering rattler with a body the size of my arm and about as long as I am tall became the catch of the day.

"Want to do the honors?" I offered her my hunting knife, which she promptly refused.

"I hate snakes. You take care of it." Alice took a step backward.

I was pissed and perplexed. My partner, the wild mountain woman, had no problem slaughtering Bambi but went AWOL when it came to putting food on the table to keep us alive in our Godforsaken cave. Go figure.

Except sucking on my mother's tit while a baby, everything I ate in my life came from the supermarket in jars, cans, boxes, and little Styrofoam platters wrapped in clear plastic film. I lived the sheltered life of a city dweller.

I placed the mess kit on the ground and with the survival manual in one hand and my hunting knife in the other, I did a quick review and set about dispatching Rocky the Rattler. Even though the handbook was in Spanish, the illustrations spoke the universal language of the illiterate. A picture is worth a thousand words.

"Don't take this personally, buddy."

I stepped on the snake's head and drove the point of my knife through its spine. I gritted my teeth and stifled my gag reflex as I felt the crunch of the poor guy's bones. Aside from a few rodents in mousetraps, I had never killed anything larger than a fly. Having to kill to survive added an entirely new perspective to my place in the food chain. My grandmother used to remind me, "You are what you eat."

Rocky, before he went to meet his maker, had been sluggish and hardly moving. His body came alive in death as it wriggled and kept coiling as if to strike. Oh, shit! Dinner had just went zombie. Yuck!

Husking the poor guy like an ear of corn didn't seem to slow him down as Rocky continued to coil and spasm like a runaway kielbasa. After stripping off the skin, cutting open the belly, removing its entrails, and washing him in ice water, I fought against the temptation to gag. The damn thing was still moving.

"What part of being dead do you not understand?" I muttered under my breath as I cut him into chunks about five inches long.

The slicing did the trick. Rocky finally gave up the ghost and stopped pretending to be alive. Thank God. Rocky's makeover was complete. The slices of serpent looked more like mutated catfish than a snake. The less snake-like dinner appeared, the more interested Alice became. Gradually her expression of disgust melted into a look of cautious curiosity.

"Follow me to the kitchen," I said over my shoulder as I made a beeline for our tent to grab our cooking supplies on the way to the entrance of the cave. She held the light as I dug through the pile of odds and ends in our stash of survival gear.

Whoever thought of adding a three-ounce bottle of Japanese sesame seed oil to our meager horde was a genius. Anything fried with the Oriental oil had the distinctive nutty zesty zing of toasted sesame seeds. I scooped up four or five beef bouillon cubes, several sugar packs, and a few tea bags and stuffed the lot, along with the flask, into the compact hobo stove. I tossed everything into our saucepan and set out for the cave's entrance.

After our close call with asphyxiation, I became paranoid as shit when it came to the use of flame within our rocky cavern. Dinner would be cooked in the open air. If we don't learn from our mistakes, we will be doomed to die by repeating them. Nature doesn't grade on the curve. Her courses are all pass/fail.

The unreadable index pages of the Spanish manual made excellent tinder, and soon the little stove blazed away. I balanced the saucepan atop the hobo stove and sprinkled several drops of oil on the cooking surface and added a slice of the snake. Since I had never eaten fried rattlesnake, this would be an interesting test of my culinary skills. The aroma of the sizzling snake and toasted sesame seeds resonated with my hunger as my stomach let out a low rumble of appreciation.

Using my knife as a spatula, I kept the fillet of Rocky moving so that it would not burn. I had no idea how long to cook the meat. Undercooked would not be acceptable. I wasn't ready to try serpent sushi, so I added a handful of snow to the saucepan and closed the lid and let it steam for several minutes. I stalled as I worked up the nerve to try a taste test.

Hunger and curiosity got the best of me, and I opened the cover. The cloud of steam smelled like food. I cut a thumbnail piece from the end and took a nibble of an interesting blend of bland, chewy chicken-flavored meat seasoned with sesame. Not great but also not too bad. Needed salt. I added half a bouillon cube for flavoring and let it simmer for another fifteen minutes.

In no danger of ending up on a menu of a five-star restaurant, my creation tasted palatable enough to qualify as food in a half-star eatery.

"Care for a taste?" I offered Alice a portion of our survival cuisine.

She shook her head and made a face. "I told you, I hate snakes."

"It's going to come down to a question of hate. Which do you hate more? Snake stew or starvation?" I extended a slice of steaming snake to Alice. "If it helps, think of it as a type of evolutionary revenge," I laughed and handed her a hot slice. "Watch out for bones," I warned as Alice took a tentative nibble.

"It tastes like chicken," she said between mouthfuls.

Everything tastes like chicken, but no one ever says chicken tastes like snake. All of which leads to an interesting question. If tuna is chicken of the sea, why isn't chicken called tuna of the land? Apparently, the comparison only works in one direction.

I experimented with different ingredients and cooking styles as I prepared a few other slices of Rocky the Rattler. One concoction turned out to be worthy of one and a half stars. I used a handful of vitamin C rich pine needles, bouillon, and a sugar packet with sesame seed oil to create a sweet and sour sauce. While not exactly gourmet dining, it tasted good enough that we each wanted a second serving.

Snake stew or starvation? Alex, I'll take snake stew for two hundred! We had just won this round of Jeopardy.

Chapter 20

While our dinner wasn't worthy of a five-star restaurant, the scenery around us was six-star spectacular. The night was moonless, and the velvet black sky above our heads blazed with countless stars. The Milky Way rose and arched across the heavens in a misty river of light along the eastern horizon. The snowshoe workshop did triple duty as a kitchen, dining area, and lounge.

Spooning naked in the blackness was sexy, erotic, and boring. Newlyweds need to hop out of bed and walk around, if only for a change of view. With supper finished, Alice and I snuggled in the stove's glow as much from affection as out of a desire to keep warm. Long after the sense of satisfaction and the mellow comfort of fullness was gone, our mouths retained the flavor memory of our meal.

"Did you have enough to eat?" I burped, patted my midsection, and smiled. My belly was at maximum density.

"Not another bite, I'm stuffed." She inched closer and laid her head on my shoulder, the bill of her cap obscured her face.

"Care for some tea and an after-dinner joint?"

My stash of Liberty Mountain weed was enough to give a decent buzz to two bored and stranded hunters. As they used to say while I was in basic training, "Smoke 'em if you got 'em."

Relaxing a few feet from our hobo stove was delightful. The radiant warmth was almost enough to offset the chill of the below-freezing air. Thank God, it was a windless night.

Cabin fever and frostbite are both threats to survival. Our hunting gear was top of the line but not intended for Arctic conditions. The only way to stay warm was to keep moving. We lost more heat than we generated while sitting together on the frosty couch carved into the sides of the snow drift. A pile of pine branches was both padding and insulation for the icy sofa.

I gazed into the smoldering embers of our little stove as Alice, and I huddled next to each other. For the first time since our adventure started, survival appeared to be both possible and probable. My concern now was the quality of life while we survived.

We were stuck in a Godforsaken cave until either the spring thaw arrived, we were rescued, or hiked back to base. Four months of co-solitary confinement will challenge the sanity of the most devoted lovers. Trapped with Alice for a third of a year? I shuddered at the thought.

Foolish boy. I scolded myself for being so self-centered. She had to be as concerned as I was; she was also stuck with me for the duration, after all. We were in for a hell of a ride. Our sheltering cave was sure to become an emotional pressure-cooker before it was all over. Like it or not, we were going to be stewing in each other's juices. We would either curdle or bond.

"Whatcha thinking?" Alice looked at me and snuggled closer for warmth.

"Nothing much. Just wondering how long it will be before we can't stand snake. We have enough God damned reptiles back there to feed us this winter and half of the next." I pointed to the cave behind us.

"Yuck! Just shoot me now." Alice stuck her finger in her mouth and pretended to gag. "We gotta have a variety, or our taste buds will die of boredom," she sighed.

"No shit. How many flavors of pine needles can there be?" I shifted and held her tighter.

"We know there's a herd of deer in this valley. I can set up a hunting blind in the Evergreen stand. It will provide concealment and a clear field of fire, maybe I can bag us a Bambi," Alice volunteered.

I cringed a bit at her suggestion. Alice's enthusiasm for Bambi burgers was what got us into this predicament. It was pointless to bring it up since there was nothing we could do about it and no one was keeping score.

"Let's talk about it in the morning after a full night's sleep; we need to pick up and go to bed."

I kissed her cheek and rubbed her neck with my hand. Alice cleaned the pan and our mess kits while I wrapped Rocky's remains in a plastic shopping bag and buried it deep in the hole I dug in the snowdrift. Food storage wasn't a problem. We lived in a walk-in freezer.

"We're not going to bed without a bath. You stink, I stink, we all stink," Alice said as she scratched under her boob. Scratching, like yawning, is contagious. I chased a sympathetic itch crawling across my midsection.

She was busy melting snow for our bath water while I set about gathering bundles of pine branches for an additional layer of insulation under our sleeping bags. I completed several trips to deliver natural bedding to our tent by the time the pot was steaming away.

The air inside our shelter was chilly, but also noticeably warmer than the frigid night outside. The residual heat coming from the rock faces of the abandoned mine kept ambient temperatures slightly above freezing; not exactly comfy for a nude sponge bath.

"We gotta problem. We don't have anything to wash with, not even a face cloth," I scratched my head and tried to think.

"That sucks!" She wrinkled her nose at me as she fired up our Rayovac lantern.

"Great idea! Wish I had thought of it."

I hugged Alice, knelt, took off my boots and removed my socks.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked with a puzzled laugh.

"You said socks. I'll use my wool socks as a sponge."

I kissed her in appreciation for her cleverness.

"I said it SUCKS, my hard-of-hearing lover." She chuckled, shook her head, and kissed my lips with the tip of her tongue.

Creative listening sometimes is an advantage. I hate conversations which become fill-in-the-blank dialogues of frustration.

"We'll smoke after our bath."

I set my weed and matches to one side and undressed. Alice followed my example, and we found ourselves in a race to see who got naked first. The contest ended as we laughed and kissed in a dead heat at the finish line. A quick game of rock-paper-scissors broke the tie and granted her the honor of first place.

"What will we use for soap?" I asked as I soaked my socks in the steaming water.

"Don't sweat it. Clean is better than dirty."

Alice lay on her stomach and motioned for me to start her bath. Wet sock in hand, I straddled her naked behind and leaned forward to smooch the back of her neck.

"Don't even think about it. Frostbite and foreplay don't go together."

Alice twisted around and placed her finger over my lips in a gentle shushing fashion. I kissed her fingers and winked; message received. She smiled back, rested her head on her forearms, and spread her legs. Bath time. Alice's back was no problem. Smooth, sensual; I cleaned her skin. Naked rounded fanny cheeks? Problem. Slick, seductive, and sinful, I caressed her ass as I washed.

I didn't understand why I was so attracted to Alice. I hardly knew her. We'd been in each other's lives for less than a week. She was on my mind twenty-four seven. I felt the heat of the pressure cooker. I curiously seemed to be getting a crush on Alice, but that was impossible. Crushes were for kids with pimples who have to be home by midnight. I was an old fart. I didn't do crushes. Then again, who the fuck knows?

I spent a few extra seconds fingering her butt. Alice giggled as I continued bathing her. Getting my bunkmate excited and clean at the same time, why not? Efficiency can be pleasant as well as effective.

She turned over on her back as I completed wiping her toes, and smiled. "Be quick; I'm cold."

Working to keep my lust at bay, I sensually scrubbed her neck and chest and refilled my sock with warm water every thirty seconds or so. Alice was responding to my touch; her body blushed with excitement.

I took my turn on my stomach as Alice gave me a sponge bath. Shit! She had the bedside manner of a Zamboni driver; all business. She traded sensuality for speed, dumped half the remaining tepid water across my back, ass, and legs, and wiped me dry in thirty seconds. My other side got the same speed-cleaning treatment. We scrambled under the covers as fast as possible; too friggin cold to linger.

The interior of the sleeping bag was a few snowflakes above freezing. Alice and I clung to each other like refrigerator magnets, maximum skin-to-skin contact to share body heat. Alice's arm wrapped around my chest, and we hugged each other from both sides at once.

The embrace was strong, soothing, and sensual; a beautiful benefit of shared naked warmth. We let silence fall over us like a comfortable cloak as we enjoyed each other's touch. The quiet ended with the sound of a ripping fart loud enough to echo off the walls.

"Oh shit, oh dear! I'm so sorry," Alice giggled like a shy girl on her first date.

"Well, at least it doesn't stink," I said, before gasping to breathe as the stench of used snake filled the sleeping bag. Shit! That stink bomb could clear a room.

I let rip a gas bubble that I had been keeping under house arrest for the last half hour. Better now than later.

"Well, if you want to be like that..." Alice squeaked out a baby fart.

I burst into laughter. What kind of idiots get into a flatulence contest at a time like this? I grunted and answered her challenge with a toot of my own. Game on!

"Oh my God, that reeks! Put a cork in it!" Alice slid her finger in my ass.

"Careful, you're playing with fire."

I laughed and kissed her on the mouth as I returned the favor. We wrestled like two amateur proctologists as I wiggled my index finger in her rear entrance. Alice shrieked with glee as she screamed and twisted to escape my invading digit.

Kissing while giggling and laughing is fun, but it's an impossible challenge; too much multitasking.

Chapter 21 - XXX

Wrestling under the covers while playing a game of naked grab-ass kicked our biological heat engines into overdrive. The internal temperature of our sleeping bag was well beyond the comfort zone as our cozy sleeping space became a sauna without steam.

"I'm tired of anatomy by braille, I wanna see what I'm doing." Alice tossed the sleeping bag cover aside as she rose to her knees.

Her nude body glistened with perspiration in the lantern's harsh light. Alice's cheeks, neck, and breasts glowed blush-red with sexual arousal, and her voice resonated with the husky accent of desire.

"Let's see what you've got there, partner."

I took Alice's extended hand as she helped me rise to my knees, and we became perfect mirror images of each other.

"Very nice."

Alice gently circled her fingers around my shaft and slowly stroked me from the head of my prick to my balls. She was teasing me into a state of hypersexual arousal. The faster I wanted her to go, the slower she moved.

"Oh, you wanna play a slow game? I'll tease you so slowly that you'll think time is oozing backward."

I slid my right hand between her legs and cupped her neatly trimmed fur in the palm of my hand.

Spreading my fingers as wide apart as I could, I used my thumb and little finger to caress her inner thighs as I slid my remaining fingers in and out. We gazed intently into each other's eyes as we teased each other's desire to higher levels.

The intensity of Alice's stare was penetrating, and I stared back at her with equal concentration as we waged a battle for sexual control. I slid my fingertips, and her eyes widened, and her pupils dilated as I teased her with my fingertips. She hissed out a long "yee-ess" and gulped in a few gulps of fresh air. She had been holding her breath while my fingers explored the center of her desire.

Alice stopped stroking and gripped Harvey just under his circumcised mushroom cap. Her hand squeezed me like a tube of toothpaste as the tip of a finger from her free hand smeared a drop of emerging fluid in tiny little swirls of delight. I shuddered, and my knees trembled as waves of pleasure radiated outward from where she'd touched me.

Alice's intense gaze melted into a smile of victory. She knew she had me under control as she relaxed her grip on my shaft and slowly squeezed it again. And again. She was going to bring me to the edge and keep me there as long as she could.