Secrets of Liberty Mountain (Final)

I moaned and fought to sustain eye contact as I parlayed her touch into an all-out assault on her magic button. She was so wet and slippery that my fingers easily slipped inside while. I used a finger from my free hand to tease and gently caress the little man in the boat.

I relaxed. I also had her under my control. We have surrendered to each other. I touched my lips to her mouth and kissed her like a lover.

~~~

"Oh! My! God! Please stop. Enough!" Alice's hands pushed my face away from between her legs.

"Did you get there?" I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. Stupid question, but I wanted to hear what she has to say. There is always room for improvement.

"I lost count. I started to come again every time I came. I got to the mountaintop and kept on climbing." Alice brushed sweat from her eyebrows.

We were as drenched in perspiration as two marathon runners crossing the finish line. I lay down next to Alice, cuddled her close to my body, and caressed her face with my hand while my other hand cupped her breast and held her tight to me. Her words of satisfaction gave me a thrill. Egos love to be stroked.

"Beautiful afterglow," Alice muttered as she snuggled into me.

"Never better," I replied as I wrap my arms around her and give her a long, warm hug.

A woman loves to be held after lovemaking is done. Truth be told, I love to be held, too. She shifted her position, rested her chin on my chest, and stared at my face and into my eyes.

"Do you think fate is responsible for putting us in this place together?" Her eyes sparkled in the flashlight's beam; curiosity tinted with something like warmth.

I start looking around for an exit when someone starts talking about fate. I'm not superstitious, and I put no stock in fate. Like Shakespeare wrote, "The future lies not in our stars, but within ourselves."

Strangely, her question moved my mind in a different direction. Something about her connected with me on many different levels. It had been that way since I first laid eyes on Alice at my show-and-tell naked introduction before the Society of Sisters, and I'm not talking about sexual feelings. Nudity is more scenic than erotic when everyone is undressed.

Relationships born of lust and desire are often so intense that they burn themselves into emotional ash within hours, days, or weeks. Affairs built of such stuff seldom last; there is nothing left for tomorrow once lust is satisfied and desire fulfilled. The tomorrows then stop happening.

I used an old trick a Rabbi taught me. Answer with a question of your own when hit with an inquiry you aren't ready to discuss.

"Why do you ask? Do you think fate brought us together?" I brushed a strand of hair from Alice's eyes.

"It must be fate. Look at all the improbable things that had to happen for us to be as we are now: naked and alone in each other's arms with no one for miles around," Alice said as she rolled on her back, rested her head on my shoulder, made a fist, and ticked off her points on her fingers.

"First, you hook up with Darlene who's never been interested in older men," Alice pointed to her thumb. "Second, you come here as the result of a fluke accident with autocorrect." She tapped her little finger. "Third, Darlene gets my hunting partner stinking drunk and creates a vacancy in the expedition." She tapped another finger. "Next you volunteer, and Sheila allows you to ride shotgun." She tapped her fourth finger. "And finally, an unexpected blizzard traps us here in this shelter." Alice painted a capital F in the air with her index finger. She smiled, leaned forward, and kissed my lips. "Gotta be fate. What else could it be?"

Every instant of our lives is a moment of impossible connections if you look at it that way. My mother would have never met my father if she hadn't missed the bus one day. A different sperm cell would've fertilized the egg that became me if my dad sneezed as he ejaculated. Darlene would never have become an item if she had found a willing bed partner in the tavern that night. The list was endless.

"Our lives are the result of billions of random events. Change one ingredient in the recipe of life, and we become something different. Some folks call it fate. I don't. It is what it is, and it's all the luck of the draw."

"What's your secret name?" Alice whispered in my ear. Her unusual question was intriguing.

"What's a secret name? I'm not sure that I understand." I shifted position and looked into Alice's eyes as we spoke.

"A secret name is a name that we wish we had been born with." The tips of her fingers played with my mustache. "My secret name is Seraina; it's a tribal name. My grandmother used to call me Seraina. It means 'Bringer of Serenity' or 'Peace.'"

"Sounds like you're talking about spirit names, you know, the names our soul had before we were born. I don't know what mine is. I never bothered to go through the ritual," I sighed.

"A Native American tribal ritual?" Alice asked.

"No, nothing Native American about it. It was a hippy thing involving massive quantities of peyote back in my crunchy granola days when I lived on a commune," I laughed. "I was assigned the radio call sign of SkyWolf when I was in the reserves. Armored Cavalry. Sky because I was prior service, Air Force, and Wolf because my favorite band was Steppenwolf." I smiled at the memory.

"I like it. SkyWolf sounds much more exotic than Dennis does. I christen thee SkyWolf!" Alice splashed me with a few drops of sweat she'd wiped from her forehead.

"Thank you. I love it."

I was astonished at how touched I was by what I'm sure was a casual gesture. I wiped the sweat from my forehead and flicked several drops on Alice.

"By the power of the pack, I christen thee Seraina, Lady of Peace."

I hugged my hunting partner and gave her a long, slow kiss. A newly born Seraina kissed me back moments later, her eyes as misty as my own.

Our perspiration naming ceremony that began as a joke evoked a powerful and primal truth. We christen babies, name the ships we sail the oceans upon, and the places we live because we want each to love us as much as we love them.

What's in a name? That's a philosopher's question, and I don't have the answer. Dennis was my birth name, and it's served me well in my previous life. That life ended the day I'd arrived at Liberty Mountain.

Tomorrow belonged to SkyWolf.

"Good night, Seraina. We have a long day ahead of us if we're going to add Bambi burgers to our menu." I flicked the light off, and we snuggled together like two spoons in the kitchen drawer.

If you want God to laugh, tell him your plans...

When we looked outside the next morning snow was falling in near whiteout conditions. It kept snowing for the next three days. Who says fate doesn't have a sense of humor?

Chapter 22

Rattlesnake for breakfast, lunch, and dinner is the culinary equivalent of cruel and unusual punishment. I'd about had it with rattlesnake by the end of the third meal on the first day. I skipped lunch and picked at supper the second day. By the evening of the next day, I hated snakes as much as Seraina did.

Mood affects perception. The blue funk of disappointment settling over us transformed our dark and cozy shelter into a dank and dismal prison. We slept like babies and fucked like rabbits to pass the time. We talked about our lives, food, and life at Liberty Mountain in between sleeping and screwing.

I fixed a batch of Lipton Tea flavored with pine needles and our last packet of sugar split between two mugs. The nicest thing about my hot brew was it didn't taste like a rattlesnake.

The Society of Sisters was not as isolated as I'd assumed. Weather permitting, Sheila, the leader of the clan, scheduled trips to Denver to resupply and do some in-person banking every three or four months. Sisters were free to go ashore as often as they wanted.

"Is there ever a problem with a sister going AWOL?" I took a sip and studied Seraina's face for her reaction to my question.

"We're not prisoners here. Everyone is free to stay or leave as they like," she chuckled, then her eyes narrowed, and she tilted her head to one side. "Well, maybe not everyone."

She nodded her head toward me. "Your unexpected arrival at Liberty has the society in a tizzy. Even if offered in error, as a point of honor, Sheila would not send you away after granting sanctuary." Seraina fidgeted and played with a braid of her hair.

"Assuming that we get out of this fix alive, what's going to happen when we, or I, return to the mountain?" I rubbed the back of my neck and fingered the beaded Vietnam service necklace I wore.

Seraina shook her head as she warmed her hands on the hot mug of tea. "I don't know what Sheila will do. She's in a box when it comes to you."

I didn't like the image she was painting; one person's box could become another person's coffin. "What kinda box are we talking about?" I pressed Seraina for details.

"Sheila feels like she's stuck with you. She can't send you away without jeopardizing our location. You know too much. She can't keep you as a prisoner, that's not who we are, and she's not going to execute you. You haven't done anything to harm us." She took a sip and stared into the rising steam.

"How do the other women of the colony feel about my presence?" I inquired.

"Sheila thinks you are, as shes says, 'interesting.' Most of my sisters agree. You're kinda a grandfather figure," Seraina blew on her cup to cool it before taking another swallow.

"I think you're kinda sexy for an old guy," Seraina said with a wink.

If I wanted to know how Sheila's mind worked, I needed to take a page out of the Dos Equis beer advertising campaign and become The Most Interesting Man in the World.

Not bloody likely. Despite several days' worth of unshaven stubble, I wasn't a bearded, debonair gentleman like the seventy-eight-year-old actor Jonathan Goldsmith, whom legend says can speak Russian in French.

"So, the women of the Society of Sisters are okay with me?" I licked my lips with cautious hope.

"Most of them don't seem to mind; you're a welcome diversion from the daily routine, but a couple of the gals really hate men and told Sheila that they'd assassinate you if you remain at Liberty Mountain." Seraina took my hand in hers and held it tight, "Don't worry about it; probably just wild talk."

Crazy talk or not, I didn't like the idea of being on someone's hit list, even an imaginary list. "Forewarned is forearmed," as my grandfather used to say.

Seraina's news did nothing to improve my disposition. Cabin fever and paranoia are real buzzkills. A change of scenery seemed to help whenever I'd get in a funk. I glanced around our shelter; the tent sides sagged in rumpled creases, stray pine needles littered the plastic floor, and the place was a dump.

"Screw it! Let's get some sleep and see if we can kill something with legs for dinner in the morning."

I doused the light and rolled over and went to sleep. Eight hours of slumber would reset my attitude.

"Wake up, honey."

Seraina gently shook me out of a pleasant dream involving vast quantities of double bacon cheeseburgers and coffee milkshakes.

I groaned. I was stiff, sore, and felt like a fleet of garbage trucks had used me as a parking lot. My mouth tasted as something had died in it. All my moving parts hurt, just another shitty day in paradise.

Bright morning sunshine and scattered clouds greeted us as we emerged from the abandoned gold mine. Eighteen inches of fresh powder covered the ground and blanketed the trees. Several black dots were traveling across the valley in the distance.

We were in luck; the deer herd was active and searching for food. Rifles in hand, we set out for the grove of Evergreen trees and, hopefully, a rendezvous with dinner. The trick to walking through drifts is to knock enough of the snow down with your hands, knees, and upper body so that you can lift your leg high enough to take a step forward. Every few yards of advancement required us to take turns breaking the trail.

We reached our goal after about an hour of slogging. I was drenched in sweat, utterly exhausted, and chilled to the bone. Our hunting gear was about as waterproof as a screen door. It did nothing to stop snow from sneaking in around the edges of our clothing. I set about hacking tree branches down.

"Building a fire in a hunting blind is not a good idea," Seraina said.

"True, but it's a better idea then freezing to death waiting for Bambi burgers to come into rifle range." My teeth chattered, and I shivered as I laid down the base for the mother of all campfires.

A tiny bit of luck was on our side. The old Evergreens had a plethora of dead, dry limbs for kindling. I stacked the dead stuff in a pile about three feet high and two yards across and covered the mound of dry twigs and sticks with two or three feet of Evergreen sprigs.

"Don't ya think you've got a little too much wood there?" Seraina observed.

"There's no such thing as too much fire when you're freezing to death," I said between chattering teeth as I flicked my Bic.

We held our breath as the little fire struggled against the wind for a few minutes before the dry wood finally caught. The woodpile quickly became a blazing inferno as it roared to life. The radiant heat forced us to retreat as our clothing began to steam and smoke. There was a new crackling sound as we backed away from the flames. The lower hanging branches of the pine tree above us blazed like a Tiki torch. Oh, shit! There is such a thing as too much fire.

The heavy snow blanket covering the outermost branches of the canopy slowed but did not stop the fire's relentless progress. The needles covering the inner portion of the crown ignited and blazed as the windswept fire leaped from one tree to the next. Within minutes, every tree in the entire grove was in flames.

"You're a fucking idiot!" Seraina shouted as we ran through a rain of burning embers and clumps of melting, falling snow to the safety of the open field.

Although I thought it was a good idea at the time, I offered no argument. She was right. My bad.

The thick pine smoke from the burning grove rose into the pristine mountain air. for a few thousand feet before the wind smeared it across the sky in a nasty brown and black streak. The black dots of the deer herd we'd spotted earlier were gone. Elvis had left the building.

I had to give Seraina credit; she resisted the temptation to play Smokey, the Bear to my accidental arson.

"You're lucky nobody was around to video that stunt. You would be topping the charts in the virtual stupidity department," she laughed over her shoulder as she plowed through the drifts with me trudging along in her wake.

The journey back to our depressing shelter was easier than our outward bound mission. We had broken a trail and followed the same path. I called for a break at about the midway mark. My legs and back were killing me. Getting old sucked, but it sure beat the alternative. I lay down and groaned in relief. The snow was a much better mattress than the pile of pine branches under our sleeping bag.

I closed my eyes for a few moments and then reopened them and stared into the heavens. I could easily have taken a restful nap if hypothermia wasn't an option. I smiled at the thought. It was so peaceful. A profound silence filled the valley except for the annoying hum of a mosquito.

Mosquito? No fucking way.

I sat upright and searched around for the source of the buzzing sound.

"Do you hear that?" I asked Seraina.

"What are you talking about? I don't hear... wait, yes! I hear something. What is it?" She joined me in a visual search for the odd noise. "Look!" Seraina tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to a little black speck high in the sky near the top of the ridge.

As it moved closer, the spot resolved into the silhouette of an industrial helicopter drone.

Like dancers, we rose to our feet and did jumping jacks while we shouted and waved our arms to attract attention.

The calisthenics was unnecessary; the drone had already spotted us and was headed directly to our position. Within a few minutes, the craft's camera pointed straight down at us as the flying machine hovered twenty feet over our heads. A thin strand of wire, like a black fishing line, unwound from a reel on the side of the drone and dropped toward us.

It was a set of earbuds with a built-in microphone. Obviously, someone wanted to communicate with us. We huddled together as we each plugged one of the buds into our ears.

"This is Sheila. Are you guys ready to come home?"

"Oh, God, yes!" Seraina cried as tears streamed down her face.

My waterworks turned on as I joined my partner in a choir of thankful joy.

We had been rescued.

Chapter 23

Our return to the cabin became a déjà vu moment and a mirror image of when I'd first arrived with Darlene about ten days ago. As our rescue vehicles approached, it appeared as though Sheila and the entire membership of the Society of Sisters were waiting on the cabin's balcony in freezing cold.

The upper deck erupted in shouts of joy and welcome hand waves as Seraina dismounted from the snowmobile. The boisterous display of affection slammed into a wall of silence as I climbed off the passenger seat. For the most part, the expressions on the faces of the assembled women were neutral displays of puzzlement and curiosity, as opposed to blatant hostility. A few of the ladies gave me tentative nods of greeting.

Sheila leaned forward, braced her gloved hands on the icy railing and studied Seraina for a moment before turning her attention to me. I now knew how a field mouse feels when looking up only to find a soaring hawk looking down.

"Welcome home. Thank God you're back. We've been searching for you for a week. Do either one of you require medical treatment?"

"No, we're okay. The only thing I need is mouthwash to get rid of the taste of rattlesnake," Alice answered to the amusement of the crowd.

"Glad to be back!" I exclaimed as I greeted the gals with a joyful thumbs-up of my own.

Sheila returned my gesture with a slight nod and wave of her hand, a half-smile on her lips. "Wonderful, we'll start your debriefing session in sixty minutes. Use the time to shower and change into fresh clothes. Grab a bite to eat if you're hungry. See you in an hour."

The colony's leader turned on her heel and walked into the cabin.

WTF! Debriefed? That didn't sound family-friendly-fuzzy to me. In my limited military experience, debriefings were a crapshoot between a mindfull and Monday morning quarterbacking. Victory has a thousand fathers while his twin brother, defeat is an orphan.

When things went well, debriefings were a cakewalk; otherwise, the interrogation took on shades of the Spanish Inquisition as the powers above grilled you like a pork chop on the barbecue. As much as I hated the procedure, I also understood debriefings were unavoidable. Success and failures each teach important lessons, but only if we take the time to learn.

Our drivers took the upwind position as they escorted Seraina and me to the second-floor shower a few doors down from the room I shared with Darlene. I couldn't blame them. We smelled worse than a blacksmith's armpit.

"Dennis! Alice! Wait for us," Darlene called out as she ran forward with Alice's daughter at her side.

"Mom, Dennis, welcome home!" StarShine screamed as she double hugged her mother and me before wrinkling her nose and backing away.

"Christ! You smell like a wet dog." Darlene gave me a sloppy wet kiss of welcome as our small mob continued toward the shower.

"Perhaps he smells like a wet wolf," Seraina laughed with a wink.

"Yeah, an old soggy beast with stinky fur." Darlene's nose wrinkled as she gave me an inquiring glance.