Page 10 of Eco-Activist's Mountain Men
"Ladies’ man, thank you very much."
"Whatever. Go check the vehicles. We might need to chainsaw our own way out if this mess lasts."
"What about the girl?"
"The girl?"
"Yeah, what about her?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well… I helped her into the bathroom to get herself cleaned up, you know, and I don’t think she can walk far. Maybe not at all. I said she could holler for me when she needed help getting back to her room or whatever."
A deep sigh from my brother. That's not like him; usually, he’s pretty stoic about this stuff.
"I can see she’s going to be trouble, isn’t she?"
"Not really, boss, she’s?—"
"That was meant to be rhetorical, Toby," Jack cuts me off. "Yes, fine, you can hang around in the kitchen doing fuck all useful while the rest of us do the work, like usual. Happy now?"
"Yes, boss. Perfectly happy, boss."
"Well, I’m glad one of us is. In fact… yeah, I can think of a way for you to be useful while you wait for our little princess to call for her footman. Wash up the breakfast dishes and peel the spuds for dinner, okay?"
It’s my turn to sigh. "Yes, boss."
"Everyone got their walkie-talkies?"
Eric and Luke nod. I don’t bother—since I’m staying put—but Jack fixes me with a stare. "Well, Toby?"
"Yeah, yeah, it’s in my pocket."
"Good. The storm’s over—or so it looks—but that doesn’t mean we’re back to normal. Everyone, take care out there, okay?"
We all nod. Then Jack turns back to me: "That goes for you, too, homeboy. Try not to burn the place down or slice your fingers off while you’re peeling spuds, alright?"
The three of them laugh as they pile out the door. I just smile and raise my middle finger. Let them sweat out there clearing storm damage. I’ll be right here, playing nursemaid to Little Miss Gorgeous…
Which reminds me—I still don’t know her name.
I’m on what feels like the seven-hundred-and-thirty-fourth spud—actually just my fifth—when I hear a shout from down the hall.
Aha… my princess awaits.
I toss the spud chunks into the pot, wipe my hands, give myself a quick once-over, and head down the hall humming, "If you want my body, and you think I’m sexy…"
We chose this particular bathroom for our lady guest because it’s the closest one to the medi-bay, and none of us guys ever use it. We figured she’d appreciate a little privacy.
When I reach the bathroom, the door’s ajar. I step inside and announce myself: "Good morrow, sweet princess. Your knight errant humbly awaits your comma—oh!"
She’s on the floor, stark naked except for a towel clutched around her hips, red-faced and teary-eyed, the very picture of misery.
"You took your sweet fucking time."
"Well, I had to finish what I was doing. What happened?"
"You want to know what happened? I’ll tell you what happened. I took a shower, got shampoo in my eyes, groped for the towel, and that bloody werewolf of yours was sitting there. I tripped over him and went ass-over-tits, that’s what happened. And now I can’t get up because my ankle’s too goddamn painful to move." Her voice cracks, and she lets out a sob. "And… and I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of motherfucking tree murderers and their goddamned pet saber-toothed tiger, and I’m tired, and I’m naked, and I just want to go home."
