Page 57 of The Feral Alpha

“I can’t believe how many places we visited the first year,” Olson murmured. “You were so excited. We went to the dry lake bed north of Victorville—there’s a massive solar array there now. We visited the mailbox on the Old Mojave Trail. We hiked around in Joshua Tree National Park, and then we went south, to the Salton Sea. Gods, the shoreline was made out of fish bones. And you wanted me to pose there. Barefoot!”

George had carried Olson back to the Jeep after, and painstakingly pulled out the bones from his soles.

Rex reached over the center console, squeezing Olson’s arm.

“One time, we went down this really steep offroad trail,” Olson said. “And there was a horrible smell. I asked you what it was. Guess what you said.”

Rex tilted his head.

“You said it was the smell of death. Fucking jerk. It was the clutch burning!”

“Bad?”

“We didn’t go any further,” Olson said dryly. “We reversed and made it out alive.”

Rex grinned.

Olson recognized a road sign and slowed down, pulling into a turnout. “And this. Here.”

Rex waited for him to continue.

“The day you told me you got your driver’s license and we drove out here? And you said we had enough money for gas? We didn’t. We got stuck here, and your mom got so mad.”

Rex grimaced. “Mom?”

“George’s mom, she’s still married to George’s dad. And the dad we’re seeing in two days—that’s your dad. Although... I could just invite George’s parents to come down at the same time. They’d want to see you, too.”

Even with the news of the reincarnation, George’s parents would still be devastated, wouldn’t they? Rex didn’t seem to have any recollection of them.

But maybe Rex’s presence might be enough, after the initial shock wore off.

Just like how Olson was starting to get used to seeing George’s face on Rex.

“Anyway, we sat here for three hours waiting for your mom to call a tow truck, and for the tow truck to pick us up. Luckily, we were on our way home, or I’d have been so disappointed.” Olson grinned. “We got some good pictures from that trip.”

Rex smiled.

Olson continued the drive, slowing down to take a side road, then a dirt road. This was the location he remembered best, because it was that very first spot they’d visited alone, with the flat rock on the ground that looked like a stage. He and George had come back so many times, sometimes for pictures, sometimes just to spend time out here in the quiet.

He parked the car and grabbed a backpack he’d filled with water and snacks, leading the way through the shrubs.

“These are called creosote bushes,” Olson said, waving at the scraggly shrubs with tiny, dark green leaves. “The ground’s barren between them, but somewhere under the surface, they’ve got roots. It’s how they spread—they send roots out several feet and grow a whole new bush. So basically these are all just one plant cloned a hundred times.”

Rex stared suspiciously at the shrubs, following when Olson pointed out the teddybear cacti.

“Do not step on those,” Olson said. “They may look fuzzy, but those are all sharp spines. They’ll pierce your shoes or your pants, and you can’t use your hands to get them off or they’ll hurt your fingers, too.”

“Olson step?” Rex asked.

Olson sighed. “I did, a couple times. Wearing my shoes. You helped to knock them off.”

They took the long way around to reach the rocky stage. Olson kicked off his shoes and did a small twirl. “This is where we went on our first trip alone. You took pictures of me here.”

Rex lit up, his eyes bright. “Picture?”

Olson opened the backpack, pulling out a point-and-shoot camera he’d bought. This wasn’t George’s—it was much newer and smaller, but it was probably more beginner-friendly.

Rex turned it on like how Olson had shown him to, holding it up to take a picture of Olson’s face.

---