Secrets of Liberty Mountain (Final)

The beauty of the tiny stoves is they are highly efficient, produce a minimum amount of smoke, and use far less wood than a traditional campfire.

In our case, our hobo stove was a bit more refined. Weighing less than sixteen ounces, it was a stainless steel design consisting of five snap together sheet metal plates and a few cross members. I assembled it and sat back to admire my handiwork.

Flashlight in hand, I told Alice, "I'll be right back" as I crawled toward the cave's opening in search of fuel.

The heavily falling snow was busy turning the crowns of the young Aspens into an effective windscreen. Between the trunks of the saplings, I found piles of dry, windblown leaves I would use as kindling. I cut several small branches for fuel and shaved off strips of wood and bark from one of the tree trunks with my hunting knife. I lucked out; I also found a book-sized flat stone I could use as a base for our stove. The rock would keep the little stove from turning our tent floor into a puddle of melted plastic.

In the center of the tent, next to our combined sleeping bags, I set the assembled stove on the flat rock and lined the bottom of the can with dry leaves, followed by small twigs and then a layer of larger sticks. The idea was to use the smaller fuel to ignite the larger pieces of wood. The tin can is a natural chimney, and the interior metal surfaces reflected the heat back on the unburned fuel. When I was finished, I set the leaves ablaze with my Bic lighter.

I opened the screened ventilation flat at the top of the tent and kept the bottom of the tent entrance open a crack for fresh air to keep carbon monoxide fumes from asphyxiating us.

Since carbon monoxide is heavier than air, I figured any excess would accumulate at the bottom of the sloping entrance to our cave. At least that was the theory. Nonetheless, I decided we should limit the use of our cook stove to no more than two or three times in any twenty-four hour period, just to be safe.

Once I had the fire well established, I set a tin cup filled with water and a single tea bag on top of the stove. About ten minutes later, the liquid was at a rolling boil.

"You might want to let it cool down a bit before drinking," I warned Alice as I handed her the cup after retrieving the tea bag and splashing a bit of ice water on the cup's handle so she wouldn't burn her fingers or hand. "Care for any sugar?"

Alice shook her head, no, and smiled for the first time since we'd received our radio warning. "Thank you," she said as she took the steaming mug of tea from my hands. "Thank you very much," she whispered as she leaned forward and kissed my cheek.

I used the recycled tea bag to make my own cup of tea. Waste not, want not.

The air temperature inside the tent was a friendly sixty-five or seventy degrees and worked in partnership with the steaming tea to take the chill of winter away. At least for the moment. We decided to skip dinner to conserve our food supply. We would eat in the morning.

Turning off the lantern to conserve its battery, I was startled to see how cozy and romantic our setting was, as long as you left snakes out of the picture. The light from the dying embers of our fire painted the interior of the tent with a sexy, warm rose-colored glow. Our joined sleeping bags and Alice's sweet kiss hinted at all sorts of possibilities.

That's it! I scolded myself, I am officially stupid. What kind of fucking idiot thinks about sex at a time like this?

"Come on Dennis, we need to get undressed and under the covers before it gets cold again." Alice leaned her head on my shoulder.

"Undressed?" I raised an eyebrow and gave my hunting partner a hard look.

"Of course, silly man, how else do we share body heat? Do you know another way we can avoid hypothermia?" Alice nuzzled and hugged me tightly. "Besides, it'll be fun." She gave me another hug, longer than the last.

In an effort to protect my honor, I started to protest and instead burst out laughing as I thought of an old joke.

"What's so funny?" she asked as she lifted her head from my shoulder and looked into my eyes for signs of rejection.

"Nothing. Our current circumstances remind me of a funny story I heard years ago. It goes something like this: once upon a time, a terrible storm forced a beautiful maiden and a traveling judge to take shelter for the night in an abandoned cabin. To pass the time and to stay warm, the young girl offered her honor. The judge honored her offer. All night long, His Honor was on her and off her," I laughed. "Okay, I'll strip down to my underwear, and you do the same, deal?"

I rose to my knees and accepted her hand as she helped me to my feet. My knees were high mileage, and they sucked. Such is life.

"All right, you've got yourself a deal. You go first." Alice's smile widened into a silly grin as she fired up the lantern and held it aloft. "Showtime."

I took off my jacket and spread it open on the sleeping bag. Alice watched quietly, her eyes wrinkled in puzzlement and curiosity. I removed my flannel shirt, folded it neatly, and placed it in the center of my jacket. I dug my Bic lighter and a half-full cigarette pack out of my pocket and deposited them next to my jacket. Moments later, my folded trousers joined the shirt in the center of my coat.

Dancing from one foot to the other with Alice's hands steadying me, my boots took their place at the foot of our bed. I draped my socks over the tops of my boots to air out; might as well start the next day with dry footwear.

Dressed only in my tighty whities and a T-shirt, I knelt down, folded my coat into a pillow with my clothing as stuffing, and placed it at the head of the bed. As far as headrests went, my improvised bundle was more comfortable than a few of the crappy motel pillows I had slept upon over the years.

"Very inventive." Alice smiled as she removed her coat and mimicked my creation as she constructed her own pillow.

When she was finished, she stood in the circle of light from the lantern, barefoot from her toes to her chin.

"No underwear?" I nodded my head toward her midsection.

"This is my underwear; it's called Poils pubis el natural, part of my French heritage," she explained.

"I don't speak French. Want to try that again in English?" I asked.

"Pubiens el natural is just a fancy way of saying, natural pubic hair," Alice answered with a chuckle.

"I thought you were Polish," I observed.

"I'm both. This is French fur over a Polish pussy," she giggled as she twirled like a clumsy ballet dancer.

I couldn't keep myself from smiling at her amazing recovery. Not too many women got a chance to go from nearly comatose with fear to saucy, seductive, and sexy all in the same day.

"Ladies first," I held up a corner of the sleeping bag.

"Yikes! It's an icebox," Alice gasped as she slid between the covers. "Get your tail in here, I'm freezing," she said while pulling me down to my knees.

Grabbing my smokes and lighter, I slid them under my pillow and parked the lantern within easy reach on my side of our sleeping bag. I gathered our flashlights together and handed her one while I tucked the other under my coat. The last thing we wanted to do was to wake up in total darkness and play blind man's bluff searching for a flashlight in pitch-blackness.

"Good God! You weren't kidding," I grumbled.

The interior of the sleeping bag was not much warmer than the surface of an ice cube.

Within seconds, Alice was all over me like an octopus. She pulled me into a spooning position with the cheeks of my ass pressed into her crotch and her arms wrapped around my chest, and her breasts pressed tightly against my back. She tangled our legs together and rested her chin on my shoulder as she wielded her naked body to mine in the most intense sensual hug I've ever experienced. The only thing missing was super glue.

In a few minutes, we were toasty warm. The human body is a remarkable heat engine capable of generating as much as twenty-four thousand BTUs of body heat per hour when engaged in strenuous work or passionate sex. When we're at rest or sleeping, our heat production drops to a cool three hundred and fifteen BTUs an hour. On average, we generate the same amount of heat as a hundred watt light bulb.

"I'm going to kill the light to save the battery. Be sure you know the location of your flashlight."

With a click, I plunged us into the heart of total darkness. Suddenly, we were in a blackout so intense we were unable to tell if our eyes were open or shut. It is true when we lose our sight, our other senses kick into high gear to compensate for the loss of vision. The sound of our breathing and the crinkling rustle of our fabric sleeping bag seemed to grow louder as the night smothered the light.

We could just as well have been two blind mice exploring each other in a lightless world. We could only "see" what we touched. As we nestled together, my sense of touch also kicked into high gear. I could feel Alice's stiff nipples poking me in the back as she pulled me tightly to her body. She shifted her position and tightened her hold on me. It was as if she was trying to crawl inside of me, her octopus grip became the embrace of a boa constrictor, almost painful in its intensity.

I relaxed my body and allowed myself to melt into her embrace. She radiated body heat like a furnace, and her warm moisture-laden breath tickled the side of my neck each time she exhaled. As her breathing slowed, we slipped into the twilight of comfortable togetherness.

I must have dozed off for a few moments when I became aware that something had changed. The effortless exchange of carbon dioxide for oxygen became a long labored sobbing, which shook her whole body. I could feel her tears trickling down my neck.

"I'm so sorry, Dennis. This is entirely my fault. We're going to die, and I'll never see my daughter again. I should have heeded the storm warning on the radio, I'm so terribly sorry," she cried as her words gave voice to the fear I felt.

Turning over to face her, I touched her face with my fingertips and brushed her tears away as I whispered, "You are right. We and the emphasis is on both of us. We should have listened to the warning. This is not all your fault. It is our fault. You made a bad call, and I let it stand. I also own this blunder. I am your partner and the junior member of this hunting party. I failed to speak up." I kissed her cheek, tasting the salt of her tears. "We're not dead yet. We got into this mess together, and we'll get out of it together."

I held her to my body and caressed her hair as sleep slowed her breathing. Far away from the edge of hearing, the muffled lullaby of the wind became a song of despair.

Chapter 15

The gentle nudge of Alice's hands dragged me out of my sleep.

"Dennis, I'm sorry to wake you, but I've gotta piss so bad I can taste it. I need your help," she said as she pulled me into a sitting position. Our warm and cozy tent had turned into an icebox.

"You gotta be kidding; since when do you need help taking a piss?"

Reaching under my makeshift pillow, I fished out my light and turned it on. In front of me, a naked Alice sat huddled, her breath streaming like smoke from her mouth, and nipples hardening like pebbles in the chill air.

"I need your help. I don't want to go outside by myself in the dark. Not with all those fucking snakes," Alice said with a shudder.

"Then don't go outside, use the chamber pot," I glanced at my wristwatch, we had been asleep for about six hours and sunrise was still an hour away.

"We don't have a chamber pot." Alice scanned the contents of our tent for confirmation. "Oh, no! Not that that'll be gross," her eyes widened in alarm as I pointed to the stainless steel cooking pot.

"You have three choices: pee in the pot, pee in your pants if you wore any, or go pee with the pythons." I knew her dilemma wasn't funny, but I couldn't keep from chuckling.

Holding the flashlight aloft for illumination, I watched as she straddled our improvised toilet and squatted down. Alice let out a plaintive yelp when her bare bottom made contact with the ice-cold stainless steel rim.

"Squat, don't sit unless you want a frozen fanny," I let out a sympathetic laugh.

Alice made a face, stuck her tongue out, hunched down, and with a little grunt kicked her sprinkler system into high gear.

I scrambled to get dressed in the near-freezing air as my scrotum tried to pull everything inside of me in an effort to keep the family jewels snug and warm. My nuts were responding to the same instinctive response to the chill air which caused Alice's nipples to become stiff and hard when cold. Her body tried to protect the twin sisters from getting frostbite by increasing the blood supply to her milk outlets, all of which made summer trips to the frozen food section of supermarkets such an enjoyable experience for voyeurs. Humans are hardwired to stay sexy and productive for as long as possible. How else could we have managed to survive the ice age? At least, that was my theory.

When I came across something which sparked my curiosity, I often concocted an explanation to answer the question, "Why is this or that like it is?"

I never bothered using Google or Bing to find out if my guesses were correct. If they were? Great. But if they were wrong, it would be proof I needed to get a life and stop wasting my time pretending to be smart. Frankly, I wasn't eager to find out if I was using brain cells thinking about bullshit.

I was more awake than I wanted to be, so I left Alice to her business, retrieved my clothes, got dressed and headed down to the tunnel entrance. I wanted to check things out and snag some fuel for a hot cup of tea. Memo to self: make sure future survival kits include instant coffee, caffeine with attitude.

The tunnel's entrance was wider and deeper than the rest of the cave, and it was a relief to be able to stand upright without banging my head on a rock ceiling. While the air in our cavern was almost freezing, the temperature at the entrance was absolutely arctic. The snow trapped in the crowns of the saplings sparkled and glowed in the light of my torch. The storm had done an excellent job sealing our stone shelter from the weather. Maybe too good of a job.

The air in the foyer was as still as death. I grabbed the base of one of the smaller saplings, pulled it toward me, and pushed it out in an effort to break open an air passage to the outside. I could drag the tree inward without too much effort. But, when I tried to force it outward, I could make no headway, even when I pushed with all my might. It was like trying to push a pillow into a sand dune.

I tried another sapling. Second verse, same as the first. I gave the base of each sapling a push. None of them moved. Our shield had become an airless prison. It was unlikely we were in any short-term danger of running out of oxygen. The real threat was being poisoned by carbon dioxide. CO2 becomes mildly toxic at a concentration around a percent or so. Eventually, the atmosphere in the cave would go bad, and we would die of carbon dioxide poisoning long before we ran out of oxygen. We needed to open a passageway to fresh air. Pronto!

"Alice, can you give me a hand down here, I think we have a problem with our air." I leaned against the cave walls and used my feet to try to move another small tree. Zilch. Zero. Nada. The damn thing might as well have been a parking meter planted in concrete.

Leaning against the rock wall of the entrance, I caught my breath. My guess? Our sapling shield lay buried under the mother of all snowdrifts.

Chapter 16

The dark wall of snow sealing the entrance of the tunnel sparkled and glistened in the moving beams of our flashlights. Alice paused for a moment to wipe the sweat from her forehead. After digging into the embankment for almost an hour, we had almost nothing to show for our efforts.

"Time for a break."

Alice leaned her back against the rock wall of the tunnel and rested her head against the rough surface as she pushed several stray strands of blonde hair out of her eyes.

"It should be about sunrise," I glanced at my wristwatch and back at the snow, searching for any sign of light from the outside. A faint glow would tell us where the snow cover might be thinner than the rest. No glimmer of light entered.

With a sigh, I leaned against the wall next to Alice and took a deep breath followed by another. My fingertips tingled with the same feeling I got when my arm falls asleep.

The blizzard and the drifting snow did an excellent job blocking the entrance. Digging in the drift would have been easier if it were not for the tangled branches of the young Aspens. The barren foliage and sticks acted like rebar in a reinforced concrete retaining wall. Running the Boston Marathon would have been easier compared to digging an air passage between all the woodwork.

"Dennis, it's getting hard to catch my breath."

Alice's chest heaved as she inhaled a long breath. The annoying headache dancing in the shadows stopped hiding and announced its presence in a wave of pulsating pain keeping time with my beating heart.

We were on the leading edge of CO2 poisoning and like the canaries in a coal mine, we didn't have any place to go. I kept pawing at the snow as I removed one handful of white stuff after another. I would dig a little and stop for a minute or two to catch my breath and dig some more.

Somewhere within the recess of my mind alarm bells sounded. A tiny part of my brain jumped up and down trying to get my attention, All rather annoying, and I told myself to settle down and take a nap. A nap would be so fantastic right about now.

I rested my head on the arm I used for digging and took another breath. Warm and cozy, a snow cocoon surrounded me in my new tunnel. Do butterflies dream when they sleep?

"Dennis! Dennis! Move. I got it," Alice's hands shook my body as she pulled me back toward her.

"Whatcha doing? This is no time to cut firewood." I rested against the warm snow as Alice crawled past me with a saw in her hands and took my place where I had been digging.

"Son of a bitch! Grunt. God damn it! Ugg!" Clumps of snow mixed with twigs, branches, and sticks flew out from behind her.

"Whatcha doing?" I asked again. My voice called from a million miles away.

"I'm cutting my way through the fuckin' snow. I'm not, ah fuck it, I'm not, God damn it! Digging!"

She kicked a huge snow block bristling with sticks and branches out of the hole followed by more cursing and more snow and wood. My field of vision kept getting smaller and narrower. How strange ... I found myself in a tunnel looking at myself in a tunnel. I wanted to tell Alice to stop making so much noise and let me sleep, but my voice was lost in the fog filling my head.

So warm, so restful. I closed my eyes in a cozy blanket of sleep when a blast of freezing air hit me in the face. What the hell? I inhaled a satisfying breath of fresh, freezing air and another. I could feel the fog in my head clearing each time I inhaled.

Son of a bitch, she had done it. She had fucking done it! She opened a passageway to the outside.

Driven by the blizzard's gale force winds, a tsunami of sub-zero temperatures cascaded through the opening carved by Alice. Whatever body heat and warmth we'd retained under our clothing were swept away like sandcastles in the rising tide of Arctic air.

"We've got to warm up!"

I put my arm around Alice's shoulders and pulled her close to me. Her body was shivering and trembling as much as mine. Prolonged exposure to elevated concentrations of carbon dioxide wreaked havoc with our bodies and our minds. Trying to complete a thought was like wading through an ocean of molasses. I felt like I had been driven over by a Greyhound Bus.