A Good Man

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people or events is coincidental. No part of this story may be reprinted without permission. Copyright by Metredose, 2023, and all rights reserved. Comments and criticism welcome. Metredose@gmail.com

Please help keep Nifty Stories up and running by donating to: https://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

A slick but stressed out Los Angeles lawyer, married and a father of two, gets caught in a snow storm in the Pacific Northwest, and takes a very wrong turn. Will he be rescued? Possibly by a large and hairy woodsman? If you're interested in finding out, read on!

A Good Man

As the plane started to descend, Sean braced himself. It had been smooth sailing, smooth flying, and he had relaxed somewhat during the uneventful period it took to get from LAX to Seatac, but now it was time to kick himself back into gear. He was already late. His wife and kids had flown out three days earlier, landed at Seatac, and then drove to Seattle, from whence they were transported by ferry to Vancouver Island, and then went on to the home of his wife's sister and brother in law in Victoria. Sean knew all of this because his wife had updated him every step of the way by text message. She knew he was apprehensive about this long vacation. She knew he was concerned for his family's safety. And now he couldn't wait to join them. But nothing was going according to plan.

The first trouble arose an hour and a half before they were all supposed to leave together. He got a call from his firm. There was a problem with a contract for one of their top clients. Might he see to it? In person? He was a corporate lawyer, steadily moving his way up, and he knew he had to. The meeting was stressful and mostly unproductive, and he felt like it could all have been done via Zoom. But clients needed to be reassured sometimes, and that was what he had done. When he tried to book another flight he'd been unable to find anything satisfactory for two more days. It was a busy holiday season, with Christmas less than a week away, so he took what he could get and flew up alone.

The pilot announced it was time to buckle up, and minutes later the plane landed with a few bumps, and then he was exiting and on his way to retrieve his suitcase. He was not pleased with the delay. He should have stuffed everything into a carry on, but airlines were picky these days, he knew. So he waited and waited, and tried to think of nothing stressful, but he couldn't quite manage it. His wife was just so glib about his troubles.

They'd met when they were still young, him at a prestigious law school, her carefree, at community college. They met in a bar, of all places. Well, there was a time when he had liked to go out and let off some steam, but that time didn't last long. She was beautiful, the first time he saw her, blonde and sweet faced, but that wouldn't have been enough had she not also been kind. There was something so warm about her, so special. He could never put his finger on what precisely it was and that made her all the more intriguing. They dated for a year and then married. She had struggled with him through law school, through the move to Los Angeles and a new job, and then they put a down payment a nice little starter house and started making babies. They stopped at two, but that was mostly him. She wanted to keep on making them.

Now, he was sure, she was happy at two. Their son Dean was nine and their daughter Elsie was ten, going on eleven, she liked to remind everyone. Jessie, his wife, couldn't have loved them more, and she was a great mother. But she spent too much money on them, and he, who had stepped so easily into the role of `father figure,' was always the one who had to pull her back from the brink of extravagance, and then she would be sad and the kids, too, and he had to harden his heart to keep himself from caving. He did not want his children to become spoiled. It wasn't easy being the sole breadwinner of the family and also the primary disciplinarian.

Discipline of the children fell mostly to him from the very beginning. His wife was soft. Her way of dealing with trouble with the kids was to ask them questions to try to get them to understand what they'd done wrong. Which was a fool's game. Kids, he knew, needed to be guided, and there had to be real consequences when they misbehaved. Otherwise they never learned. Well, he didn't love to have to take charge, but he did it, and he only wished Jessie would support him and not give in when the kids tested her. Consistency was so very important for children. Why couldn't she see that?

He was distracted by a mass movement of people to the baggage area, but held back cautiously. Waiting a few minutes wouldn't hurt him. When he finally had his suitcase, he went to get his rental car. He flashed a brilliant smile at the girl behind the counter, white teeth in deep contrast to his tanned face. Sean kept himself together. He was very fit and very handsome, and if people thought vanity was the source of his attention to self care, he didn't mind. But it wasn't, not really. Looking good was a distinct advantage in the rat's race to sustainable success. His looks gave clients and also his bosses' wives an immediate favorable impression of him, and making good on those first impressions was key to getting ahead.

The counter girl flashed a smile of her own, and he knew instantly she found him attractive. He was cordial. He was friendly and firm, and who knew but maybe those things might influence which car she chose to give him? It was always smart to present your best face to everyone, all the time. Sean projected an aura of confidence but not arrogance, and most of the time he felt the same way inside. But when he stepped outside to his rental car he shivered. It was very, very cold.

He attributed his response to the weather to the shift in temperature from relatively balmy Los Angeles to chilly Seattle, and made up his mind to adapt quickly. But once he was on the road he had another decision to make. Since the change of plans with his flight, he had toyed with the idea of taking a longer route to Victoria. It wouldn't be difficult. Instead of turning north onto Interstate 5 and heading to Seattle, he would take it south, loop around the Puget Sound and take Highway 101 up through the Olympic Peninsula to Port Angeles, where he could cross over to Victoria by a different ferry. This plan had the advantage of giving him time to see a place that was new to him and time to appreciate the famous landscape of the area. The other advantage was having more time to settle himself and get into the festive spirit the holiday season demanded. It was around one o'clock in the afternoon and there would be plenty of time to make it before sunset if he hurried along.

Hmmm. Hmmm. The pros and cons tumbled through Sean's mind as he neared the connections to the freeway. North or South? Was he up to a little challenge or should he play it safe? Sean liked to plan everything well ahead of taking action, but he couldn't make up his mind. And then his mind stuck on an incident that happened only a few weeks before, involving his son and another boy, Thomas. They played basketball together on one their school's teams but didn't get along, and they had something of a rivalry between them. Nothing too serious, Sean had thought. Nothing out of the ordinary. But during a game one day, a game Sean had gone to great lengths to attend despite his busy schedule, Thomas had attacked Dean after some words were thrown between the two. A fight ensued. Sean was out of the stands and pulling the boys apart in a flash, but not before Tommy's father started to come at him.

The man was huge, obviously a bodybuilder, and his face and the whites of his eyes were stained red as he screamed at Dean. Sean stepped between them. For a few moments, it looked like punches would be thrown. And Sean was terrified. It took everything inside of him to stand his ground and talk the man down, and in the process, set an example for Dean. The big man, having finally vented his rage, pulled Thomas away and Sean just stood there, struggling to keep his composure. He managed it, but could scarcely control his anger at Dean afterward. He'd been too harsh. He'd screamed at the boy. He tried so hard to be good with his kids, to not be a hard ass, but he failed that day with Dean. And the boy had not forgotten. There was a hint of apprehension in his eyes ever since, whenever Sean was in a room with him. And Sean didn't know how to take things back to the way they were before the incident. The boy's frightened looks, and the reproving looks of his wife, really weighed on him.

More than anything, Sean wanted to be a good husband and father. More than anything. And he gave a one hundred percent effort at it every single day. It wasn't easy and none of them understood how great the burden was for him. To have lost control, even for a few minutes with his son, was a failing for which he was deeply ashamed. But it could be fixed. He believed that. He just had to figure out how.

The right words would come to him, and probably more easily, if he was driving, a mindless business, especially once he escaped the traffic of I-5. He certainly had no fear of traveling new roads in new places, and the longer trip would do his nerves some good. And so the decision was made. He would head south and then north again. He would travel through the Olympic Peninsula, dark with mighty evergreens, until he reached the water again and could face his son. Well considered, this decision, but uncharacteristically rash. But Sean's mind was already poring over how to smooth the wrinkle in his relationship with his son. He thought of nothing else until the snow started to fall.

He was perhaps a third of the way up the peninsula when it happened. Just small flakes, like dandruff from some giant's head, that stuck to his windshield for a moment before melting. No problem, he told himself. He'd driven in snowy weather before. Back East, on business trips. In Big Bear and Lake Arrowhead, on skiing trips. It was no big deal. But a subtle tension descended onto his mind, and into his muscles, especially those of his shoulders and neck. He drove more cautiously, paid more attention to his surroundings. Not all of the trees were evergreens. Some, with thick, hulking trunks and huge, twisted limbs, were bare, coated and hung thickly with mats of green moss and ghostly lichens. The evergreens themselves were immense, tall and severe, somberly baleful. In places, they lined the highway so closely that it was difficult to see, and easy to imagine he had entered into another world.

It wasn't long before the snow did not melt when it hit the windshield of his car. The blades of the wipers beat frenetically, but only knocked the flakes aside, where they swirled up into sudden gusts of wind. The flakes were small but came fast and ceaselessly, and the wind was growing faster and stronger, too. Sean watched the storm straight on, not daring to look anywhere else, and his legs started to shake. He realized, quite suddenly, that he needed to relieve himself. He shifted his weight from side to side, trying to take the pressure off, but every movement made it worse. If only there was a place to turn off, a gas station or restaurant, but he saw nothing of the kind.

Persevere, he told himself. Just keep driving. How many times had he gone for hours with a full bladder when it was necessary? How many times had he driven in difficult conditions? I can handle this, he kept silently repeating inside his head. I've got this. But the snow was coming down harder, faster, the flakes now huge and fluffy, and it got so thick that it was difficult to see more than a few feet ahead. And his bladder was worse than he could ever remember, and he didn't think he could hold it this time. His eyes hurt from concentrating so hard on what was in front of him, trying to discern what lay in the obscured distance, and he was grinding his teeth, not aware of it until his jaw started to ache, and for the first time in years, he did not know what to do. He could only slow down to a crawl and hope that salvation lay ahead.

He castigated himself. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have made such a mistake? Seattle had been right there, only a few miles from the airport, and it would have been so easy to hop aboard the ferry from there. The ocean wouldn't freeze. He pored over everything in his mind, trying to think of anything but his bladder. How had he completely overlooked the weather? But he knew he hadn't. He had checked the forecasts for Seattle and Victoria many times before departing. There was never a mention of snow, let alone a storm. Mid thirties for lows, upper forties for highs. Rain. And now he was in a freak snowstorm. It wasn't his fault, he decided. But had he taken the safe route he would at least have food and shelter. And a bathroom. Oh, God, how he needed a bathroom.

His legs were moving like the wings of a butterfly as the car plodded onward. He knew this only made things worse, but he could not stop himself. He desperately needed relief. Traffic was slow. He could pull over to the side of the highway and just do it there. But what if someone slid and hit him? He'd already seen dead cars on the sides of the road, a few of them, and he did not want to be stranded as well. Because who would help those people? Who would help him? Cars were few and far between, and otherwise there was nothing but the asphalt and trees, miles and miles of trees. It had grown darker, and as it did the trees seemed to encroach, to come nearer. In his desperation he imagined that they were bending slowly down to grab him.

A truck came up behind him, one with high beams, and Sean might have panicked had he not seen the flash. It was only an instant, but he knew he'd seen a sign, square and glittery green, on the right side of the road, obscured though it was by the heavy, blinding snow storm. An exit! Somewhere ahead, a turn off! Sean slowed to a crawl, his car wobbling in what he now suspected was ice, not just effects from the gusts of wind. It didn't matter. He had to exit the highway, had to relieve himself. Only then would his brain function properly again. Only then could he figure out what to do. The turn off road came into view. It was on the left. Sean came to almost a complete stop, made the turn, sliding here and there, but not seriously, as his pace was so slow. He followed a two lane road for bit, but there was nothing. No gas stations, no restaurants. No houses, nor cars. Trees were everywhere, looming, and the snow was coming as thick as ever.

He had to pull over. He could almost taste the piss inside of him, taste the desperation. He was going at a snail's pace, terrified that he might lose control of the car, and he saw a little turn off, a dirt road to the right, and he almost came to a stop again before deciding to take it. He could pull over, unburden himself in privacy, then make his way back to the highway. The dirt road was narrow, bumpy, heavily lined with trees, but mercifully there was little snow on it, probably because the needles and branches didn't allow the flakes to penetrate. Not yet, anyway, Sean thought. His headlights illuminated a long, winding passage surmounted by the same, now familiar trees. But these seemed especially large. He continued on slowly because it was now almost dark, but could find no where to turn around, and this sent him into a real panic. He drove faster, and the road rose up, ever more congested with trees at the borders, ever more shadowy, and he went and went, and still the little road did not widen and there was nowhere to turn around.

I must wait, Sean told himself. I must continue on. There had to be a way to come back the same way he was going. Logically, there had to be a turn around somewhere. Only when he found it would he allow himself relief. Yes, patience was needed. The thought hit him that he might be on a logging road, and a deeper panic set in. Logging roads could go on for miles and miles. He might never get back. He started to pray in his head, and then he said the words out loud, asking God for help. His occupied mind became a little absent. He was going too fast, going too far, and there was no sign of things changing, and up and up the road went, and a chill, maybe not from the weather, settled into his bones, and soon he was so desperate to change course that he did something rash. He slammed on his brakes, and immediately knew his mistake, for the rental car slid and veered to the right, straight off the right side of the dirt road. In a second the front tires went off of it, and in another the body of the car slammed down and then the front crashed hard into a tree trunk.

The impact left him dazed, but only for a moment. He snapped back fast into a state of hyper vigilance. It was dark and the car had died. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, but he dared not move. He tried to assess his situation but all he could think of was getting out of the car. But first he needed light. His phone. Where was his phone? Why couldn't he remember? Maybe in one of his pockets? Unsteadily, he moved one of his hands from the steering wheel, and instantly knew it was mistake. The car started to wobble. It pitched a little to one side, then righted itself again and went still. He was not on solid ground. But how? In total stillness, in total silence he sat there considering, but he was anything but calm. His heart pounded and his head throbbed and he could not think clearly.

He tried again, moving very slowly, until his hand found his pants pockets. No phone. He moved his hand slowly again, trailed over to the other side, but that pocket was empty, too. Maybe in his jacket? He tried to remember which jacket he was wearing, but couldn't. Again, his hand moved slowly. First to the hand pockets on either side of the jacket, which contained nothing. Then to an inside pocket next to his chest. Bingo! Carefully he extracted the phone, carefully he pressed the button to turn it on. The blue light that came was blinding in the darkness. It took his eyes a while to adjust. And then he could see the steering wheel, the dashboard. All seemed normal, but then there was no reason why they shouldn't have been. He hesitated before turning the phone around and illuminating what was in front of the windshield.

Lighting the scene did not make the picture clear at first. His mind had to sort it out, and his mind was going too fast for that to happen easily. He saw small branches covered with lacy, scale like leaves, and that was all. He pushed the phone closer to the windshield and slowly discerned a texture behind all of the foliage. A trunk. A big one. But if his car was lodged against a sturdy trunk, why had it wobbled? He remembered going off the road, but he never slid all the way off. He was pretty certain of that. He had to see what was going on behind the car, but he was afraid to move his body too much. What if the car wasn't lodged up against the base of the tree trunk but somewhere in the middle of it? What if the front of the car was resting on a branch? The temperature inside the car was going down fast, and he was shivering. He couldn't stay where he was but he couldn't move, either.

For a long while Sean just sat there, pressing the button on his phone now and then so things wouldn't go dark. He kept checking the phone's reception, and tried fruitlessly to make a couple of calls. But he was on his own. No one would come and rescue him. He might sit there for hours, maybe even days, before he froze to death or died of thirst. It was his nagging bladder that spurred him into action. It probably didn't matter if he pissed in the car, but something about this idea bothered him a great deal. That bothered feeling soon turned into anger. What was he doing, sitting there like some helpless lump, waiting to die? There could be a house somewhere close. Or he might be able to find an area where his phone did get reception, and then make the call for help. Those were real possibilities to be pursued. Doing nothing was not an option.

The car wasn't very familiar to him. It took him a while to find the handle to the door. It did nothing when he pulled it. Locked. And the lock was automatic, hooked up to the car's electrical system, a system that was now dead. He searched for a button that might unlock it and got lucky. He heard a click. He tried the handle again, and gently nudged the door open, just a tiny bit, and that's when the wobbling started up again. Sean froze in an instant, evaluating. The wobbling wasn't too bad. Just a slight pitch to the driver's side, a minor tilt. He had to go for it. He pushed the door, very gently, but it did not want to move. Perhaps there was an obstruction, or perhaps the car was already leaning to the other side without him realizing it.

He pushed the door again, still gently but with a little more power. The car started to tilt again, and when it reached a certain point, the door flew open. Sean could feel the imbalance of the vehicle now, and knew he could not be on solid ground. He held his position, but was very, very still. The phone was still on, still in his right hand, so he switched it to the left hand and turned it so that it faced out the door. The area was clear. He saw nothing but darkness and foliage. He wanted to see what was below but that would take some doing. He did not want the car to tilt and possibly fall from wherever it was perched.

With agonizing slowness he moved his body, millimeter by millimeter, toward the door. The car pitched and settled a few times. It was not stable but it also didn't seem inclined to dislodge itself. He moved his body, his head, still with that slowness, until he could turn the phone facing below. He looked down, but all seemed black for a few moments. And then his eyes adjusted. He saw bits of white amidst the blackness, the highlights of leaves, little twigs. But how far down were they? His mind couldn't estimate the distance. He thought of dropping something, and trying to gauge the distance by sound, but there was nothing handy to drop. Just then, the car started to tilt at a steeper angle than before, and there was a great whoosh from the foliage tossing from side to side as something came loose.

For a split second, Sean collected himself, and then he jumped out of the car. Down he went, feet first, the light from the phone bobbing wildly in the darkness. He landed on a slope, it seemed, a steep one, because almost immediately his body began sliding down, again feet first. The phone fell from his hand as he clutched wildly for something to grab onto, but everything he touched was icy and slid from his grasp, and he kept sliding, now in pure darkness, and he had no idea when he would stop or if he would live or die, and he couldn't think nor feel anything but terror, and his forgotten bladder finally let loose. Hot piss filled his underpants, slid down both legs, and he couldn't stop it any more than he could stop his body from sliding, and at last he slammed into a rock or another tree trunk and came to a dead stop.

Pure blackness. He saw nothing. He felt nothing but his pounding heart, but he could smell his urine soaking into his clothes and spreading over his entire center. It reeked, overpowering the scents of the forest, and he knew if he could smell it wild animals could, too. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he couldn't quite come to grips with all the disasters that had befallen him in such a brief period of time. The darkness was the worst. The darkness was paralyzing. Very soon the heat from the urine dissipated, replaced by cold, as if the entire center of his body was encased in ice.

He couldn't just sit there because he knew he would freeze, yet the darkness precluded action. If only he could find his phone, but there seemed little chance of that. It could be anywhere. Sean used his hands to feel his immediate surroundings. He had run into a rock. Not a very large one, but big enough to stop his momentum. But he soon gave this up, too. His hands were freezing cold and they were starting to go numb. It all seemed so pointless. Everything. In his misery he cried out for help in the loudest voice he could summon, but there was nothing in response. No sound, no light. No one to blame but himself. He was afraid even to try to scramble back up the slope. What if he slid down again and the rock wasn't there to stop him?

A whistling breeze slipped through the cracks in his jacket, stealing the last of his warmth, and then he knew he would die. He could hardly stand when he tried. He sat down again, pulled his legs up close to his body in an approximation of the fetal position. He had many regrets. Not being there to grow old with his wife. Not seeing his kids grow up or finish school. The grandchildren he would never know. But there was comfort, too. He would leave behind a hefty life insurance policy. Jessie and the kids would be alright. She would love them enough for two, and she would eventually move on. His destruction did not mean his family would be destroyed as well. He began to shiver, and then his teeth began to rattle, and he drifted off to something like sleep.

Half conscious sleep, really. Thoughts came to him that he thought he'd banished long ago. Thoughts, at first, of his childhood friends and all the crazy things they had done. Of his mother, who lived yet, and loved her grandchildren with a softer touch than she had loved him. And then his father. Not many memories there. Mostly a void. A few very early memories, fishing, playing ball, and then his father was gone, killed in a car accident when he was seven. Just the two of them, then, he and his mother, and he had tried so hard to fill his old man's shoes, to take care of her when she was at her most fragile. That is why he took so easily to being a father, he thought. He'd wanted to create the family he'd never had when he was a kid. He thought he had, but now he wasn't so sure.

The wind whipped up, sending his teeth clattering anew. He stirred, but not much. The picture of his father was in his mind and wouldn't leave. A handsome, dark haired man like him, with brown eyes and prominent eyebrows. The picture of his father happy, smiling. The idea of being with him again, and someday, with him and his son both. It was selfish. Too soon to wish to see Dean in heaven, but it was something to hope for, and so he let himself. He was defenseless to fight the thought anyway. Time felt slow. Even the cold started to feel okay, like it was nothing to be worried about. Sean dozed again and might have slept on unto death had he not heard a sound in the distance.

Low. Rumbling. Growing louder. It was a car or maybe a truck. On the road above, he thought. Or maybe he just hoped. He started to move, very slowly. Rose unsteadily to his feet. The noise kept coming closer. He had to do something to attract attention. He didn't want whoever it was to drive by without noticing his car. Was that a possibility? He didn't know how far off the road his car was, or even if it was entirely off the road, but it could easily be hidden by foliage. He must do something. He must act. He reached in front of him, tried to find something that might help him up the slope. A branch. Another tree trunk. But there was nothing. He fell forward, searched the ground. Heavy roots, and he used them and his knees to pull himself up a bit, but his hands were so cold and it was so slippery.

Still, he must try. He pulled himself up the slope, little by little, but in the darkness he couldn't gauge his progress. He reached for new roots, but could find no more, so he tried to scramble forward without them, but his knees slid and then he was treading ground, and then his momentum faltered and he was sliding back down again. He ran into the same rock as before, he thought, and it stopped him, but he knew he was stuck and there was little hope of escape. He sat there for a few moments, aware of the deeper chill that had spread through his body, aware of his smell, but all was silent and it was then that he accepted, really accepted that he would die, and he started to pray that God would make it fast.

From above, a sharp sound. It gave Sean a start and it took him a few moments to think of what it was, but then it hit him. It was the sound of a door closing. A car door. With every fiber of strength he had left he started to shout, but he feared it wasn't enough. A few moments later he heard another door crack shut, and then there was light, a strong beam of it shining down not far in front of him.

"Is someone there?" came a man's deep voice.

"I'm here," Sean said.

The light moved closer and finally found him. Sean moved his arms weakly.

"What in the Sam Hill are you doing down there, son?"

There was no response.

"Can you get back up to the road?"

Sean tried to stand, but his legs were too weak.

"No!"

"Okay, hang on for a minute. I'm coming down to get you."

It was much longer than a minute, but Sean's heart was uplifted anyway, and tears of relief slipped down his cheeks. The man came slowly, and backward, grasping a rope as he rappelled bit by bit down the slope. He shined his flashlight on Sean as he came near.

"Shit, buddy, you gave me a fright. When I saw your car I didn't know what to think. I'm Frank."

A large hand was extended and Sean took it with both weak hands. He didn't think to introduce himself. The man slowly became illuminated after Sean's eyes adjusted to the light. He was tall and sturdy, and had a thick beard from what Sean could see.

"Can you climb up using the rope?" Frank asked.

"I can barely move."

"That's not good. Your speech is a little slurred, too, so we need to get you inside fast. Here's what I want to try. I'm going to hunker down and I want you to grab onto me like we're going for a piggy back ride. Think you can hold on?"

"I can try."

"Good. Let's give it a shot."

Sean climbed onto the man as best he could, in small, halting movements. It took concentration. He wrapped his arms around Frank's neck, and his legs closed around Frank's waist when the man stood up.

"You secure?" Frank asked.

"I think so."

"Okay, let's give her a try. Hang on tight."

Frank used his upper body to pull forward with the rope while his legs and feet pushed from behind. Sean could feel the muscles of the big man moving, straining, but they were soon up on the road, where Frank's truck waited. It took him a moment to untie and retrieve his rope, and then he helped Sean inside. It was warm in the truck. Almost too warm. Sean felt nauseous at the sudden change.

"Are we going to the hospital?" Sean asked.

"No hospital around here," Frank said. "We'll have to make do. Hang on."

The truck roared into life, and then it started to move, not so slowly as Sean would have liked, but what did it matter? He was beyond worrying. He shut his eyes and drifted a little. He had no idea how long he was out before he felt Frank nudge him.

"Gotta stay awake, buddy. We're almost there."

The truck went up the winding road for quite a while, and then things flattened out a bit. It came to a stop in a large clearing with a structure just visible at the far side. Sean had dozed again and didn't notice much other than the heavy snowfall. Frank got out, and then opened the passenger side door.

"Gotta be quick," Frank said.

He leaned in, easily scooped Sean up into his arms, and carried him to a cabin. Inside it was warm enough, but not so warm as in the truck. Frank carried him to a small kitchen, where a wood stove burned softly, and it was warmer there. Frank set him down.

"Be back in just a minute. Gotta get some wood. Try to stay awake."

It was only a short period of time before Frank returned with a huge log under one arm and some smaller pieces under the other. He bent and set them down, then fed the stove and went to put the big log in the nearby fireplace, poking around in its embers to try to get it going. Sean was shivering again, but he still felt drowsy. Frank came back, looked at him closely, and shook his head.

"We've got to get you out of those clothes," he said.

In a moment of lucidity, Sean looked up at the big man.

"I wet myself."

"That's okay. Sit tight while I go and fetch some things."

Frank came back with some socks, some blankets, a towel and a sweat suit plus thermal underwear.

"Can you stand?" Frank asked.

"Could you give me a couple of minutes?"

"Yes, but don't go to sleep."

Frank draped one blanket over Sean's back, then arranged another over his legs. He left to stoke the fire but soon returned with a kerosene lamp and a bucket of water, to which he added water from the kettle on the stove.

"Gotta get those clothes off, buddy. They are starting to get wet. Let's start with your shoes."

Sean did not move so Frank took the blanket from his lap and started to untie them. He pulled them off when he could, then pulled off the socks. Then he helped Sean up and helped him out of his jacket. Next, the button down shirt.

"Lift up your arms," Frank said.

His voice was deep but very gentle. Sean was compliant, like a child. Frank helped him pull on the thermal top and the sweatshirt.

"Can you do the rest on your own or do you want my help?"

Without a second thought, Sean said, "I need help."

"Okay, buddy. Say, what's your name, anyway?"

"Sean."

"Okay, Sean. Lift up one of your feet and we'll work on the pants."

Again, like a little child, Sean complied. One leg of his pants came off, and then the other.

"Now the undies. Can you get those yourself?"

Sean tried. He pushed them down a little but almost fell over because they were freezing wet and clung to him. His legs were wobbly but Frank held him steady and helped him get them off the same way he had done with the pants.

"Good job, Sean. Now for a little clean up."

The bucket Frank brought had a wash cloth in it. He fished it out, wrung out most of the water, and started bathing Sean's thighs, working slowly up. Sean looked down at himself and barely saw a penis. The cold, or maybe the terror of earlier, had caused it to suck up inside of his body, with just a ring of soft skin showing its hiding place. His testicles were not orbs but only little crescents where a small part of them emerged from his body, so tightly did the cleave to him. You would hardly know he was a man to judge him then, Sean thought, but vaguely. He kept looking but nothing really registered in his mind. Certainly no embarrassment or fear. Frank dipped and wrung out the wash cloth, then worked it higher, into the clefts where his legs met his pubic area, and then over the pubic area itself. Finally, Frank gently washed the exposed portions of Sean's balls and penis, and then patted everything dry with the towel.

"All clean, buddy!" he said.

Next he helped Sean into the thermals and sweats, the bottom halves, and then finally a thick, dry pair of socks. He left and then brought in a too large jacket, probably his own, and helped Sean put it on. The fire had heated up in the meantime and the cabin was now much warmer. Frank led him near to the fire, and moved a chair for him to sit on. Close, but not too close, he said. And then the blankets were draped over Sean again, and Frank went into the kitchen for a few minutes, returning with a mug of hot cocoa. He moved it to Sean's lips and Sean dutifully swallowed a few sips. And then there was nothing to do but wait. Sean dozed and Frank let him.

A nudge and Frank's gentle voice brought Sean awake again. He once again had no idea how long he had dozed. Time had little meaning. But he felt warm and cozy.

"Open up, buddy," Frank said. "Need to take your temperature."

Sean did and Frank stuck it under his tongue until it was time to check.

"Pretty close to normal," Frank said. "But I want to check again in a while, just to be sure."

"Okay," Sean mumbled.

And he dozed again. When he woke up this time, it was on his own. Frank was not in the room, but a delicious smell filled the cabin. Meat. Something with meat. Sean's mouth watered but he didn't move. He was too comfortable. His mind was clear and peaceful for the moment. When Frank came in, not from outside but from some other room, Sean made a show of moving around to so Frank would know he was awake.

"Hey, buddy," Frank said. "I was just about to wake you. Need to check your temp again."

"Okay."

"I'll get the thermometer."

When he came back, Sean opened his mouth for a repeat. His temperature, Frank said, was just right. But he was concerned about frostbite. And so he had Sean check his fingers. They felt warm and tingly, which Frank said was good, and then the big man bent down and squeezed his big toes. They, too, were warm and tingly.

"Looks like you're a-okay!" Frank announced.

"I feel pretty good," Sean said. "Thank you."

"It's no trouble," Frank said.

Sean smiled. He knew it was trouble. He knew he wouldn't be alive but for Frank. But he had no idea how to express his gratitude. And then, quite suddenly, he burst into tears. They streamed down his face and his body was racked with sobs. Frank came right up to him, put one of his hands on Sean's shoulder, and squeezed it.

"Hey, now. You're gonna be alright."

"I know," Sean sobbed. "I just can't believe I got myself into this situation. I feel so embarrassed."

"Why? We all get into scrapes, Sean. We all need help sometimes."

"Yeah, but not like that. I can't imagine you would ever let that happen to you. And if it did, you'd know how to deal with it. I was just helpless out there."

"It's a brutal storm," Frank said. "Haven't seen anything this bad in years. It came out of nowhere."

"I should have been prepared," Sean said.

"I wasn't prepared," Frank said. "As soon as it started snowing I knew I had to get my ass in gear. Went out and got supplies, filled up the truck and my gas cans. I felt stupid, too, man. But it's just bad luck. There was no warning."

Frank paused for a minute. Sean could see his eyes in the flickering firelight, moist, intent, of some light color, not dark. The big man moved to a nearby couch and sat down..

"Or maybe it was good luck," he finally said. "If I'd been prepared there would've been no reason for me to make a trip. And then I wouldn't have found you."

"Thank God you did. I would have died."

"Maybe. Maybe not. Why were you out in it, anyway? If you don't mind me asking."

"It's a long story."

"We got time."

"It was supposed to be a vacation," Sean said. "My wife and I, and our two kids. But I had to stay behind a couple of days for work. I'm from California. Los Angeles."

Frank said nothing and Sean continued.

"When I finally flew in to Seatac, I made a decision to drive up to Port Angeles rather than take the ferry from Seattle. My wife's sister lives in Victoria. Her husband is Canadian."

"Nice. Victoria is beautiful."

"I've never been there. Guess I won't be making it now."

"I wouldn't say that," Frank said. "The weather can turn pretty quick up here. So how'd you end up in my neck of the woods?"

"The storm started and I thought it would be okay. Thought I could handle it. Then it got really bad. And I had to go to the bathroom and couldn't find anywhere, and finally I found a turn off but there was nowhere to go so I turned onto your dirt road. Is it a logging road?"

"It was."

"There was nowhere to turn around. I panicked. I did the stupidest thing and braked hard out of frustration. And my rental car slid off the road. I couldn't tell where I was and the car was wobbling. So I jumped out. Is the car a total loss?"

"Not sure," Frank said. "The front end is lodged against a trunk a few feet up. You got kinda lucky there, man."

"I wouldn't call it luck," Sean said.

"If it had gone all the way off the road I wouldn't have seen it."

"I didn't think of that. After I jumped I couldn't make it up to the road again. Too cold. Too slippery. I really thought I was going to die."

"But you didn't."

"Thanks to you. I feel like a fool."

"Stop being so hard on yourself. Use it as a learning experience."

Sean had nothing to say to this. Frank was looking at him intently and though Sean wasn't alarmed, he felt slightly uncomfortable.

"So you live up here?" Sean asked.

"Yep. Ever since I retired."

"You look too young to be retired."

"Worked my ass off for more than twenty five years!" Frank said. "I think I earned an early retirement."

"Where did you live before?"

"Seattle. I started my own construction company during a boom. Got real lucky. Now my sons run it."

"How many do you have."

"Just the two. I visit them sometimes, but mostly I'm on my own."

"Don't you get lonely?"

"Yes," Frank said, pointedly. "But I love the freedom to do my own thing. At heart I'm a loner, I guess. Just love being out here in the middle of the woods."

"Not too far out, though."

"Nope. Say, how's your stomach? Are you hungry?"

"Yes. Something smells really good."

"It's venison stew," Frank said. "Want me to dish you up some?"

"I don't want to impose."

"You're not. It's nice to have some company. How about some more hot cocoa?"

"Sure."

Frank set up a little TV tray table in front of Sean's seat, then brought in a bowl of stew and a napkin. The meat was very rich in flavor, but there were potatoes, carrots and onions to balance it out. Sean ate all of it and then had a second helping. Only after he was through did he start in on the hot chocolate.

"That was delicious," Sean said. "I don't know how to thank you."

"You just did," Frank said.

In the flickering firelight, Sean could see the man was smiling. His eyes glistened and his face was again intent.

"What time is it?" Sean said

Without looking at his watch, Frank said it was around eight.

"Feels a lot later," Sean said.

"You ready for bed?"

"Umm, I don't know how to ask this," Sean said. "Do you have somewhere I can go?"

"A toilet? Sure. Follow me."

The cabin was larger than it first had appeared. Sean had been facing the fire, but the opposite wall had an opening in the middle. It was a hallway, and at the end of it was a small bathroom.

"Does the toilet flush?" Sean asked.

Frank laughed.

"Yes, Sean. It flushes. I have solar power with battery storage, not to mention a generator out back. You're good to go."

Frank left him, and Sean was alone. He felt strange. Grateful, but strange. But it was no wonder, he thought. Never in a million years would he have guessed he would be out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by forest and stars, stranded with a stranger. He felt he was a good judge of character. Frank had done nothing suspicious and had been nothing but kind. He had a gentle, easy going demeanor. But even still, sometimes the man looked at him for too long. It could have been because he was unused to being around people, or it could have been something more. Sean didn't know. What he wanted more than anything was to call his wife, to let her and his kids know he was alright. He knew they must be very worried. But it would have to wait. After finishing his business, Sean went back to the main part of the cabin.

"I'm pretty tired," he told Frank. "Mind if I go to bed?"

"No," Frank said. "Where do you want to sleep?"

"Um, what are the options?"

"You can sleep on the couch if you want. That's the warmest, but it's not too comfortable. I have an extra room with a decent bed. Or you could sleep with me."

Frank's eyes were bright. Sean thought he sensed eagerness in them, but he didn't know for sure. Not really. Frank might only have been interested in making sure he was warm. Who knew?

"The spare bed sounds good," Sean said, as casually as he could.

"Good deal," Frank said. "Let me go in there and make sure it's all made up. I'll be just a minute."

When Frank gave the all clear, Sean went into the room for a look. It was a small room, but had a double bed and looked clean. There was electric lighting, but it was pretty dim. The kind of lighting that makes one sleepy if one wasn't already sleepy. Sean yawned and gave Frank his thanks.

"It's nothing. If you need me, the door to my room is right across the hall."

"Thanks again," Sean said.

"Have a good night."

"You too."

With that, Frank left, and Sean was quick to get into the bed. It was warm enough and would soon be warmer, due to his own body heat. He would've liked to have shut the door but worried that doing so would cut off the heat from the fire in the main room. When the bed was warm, he got up, took off everything but the thermal underwear, which fit rather loosely, and then turned off the light and hopped back into bed. He shut his eyes and started to doze, but only lightly. Many things came and went from his mind in a haphazard kind of way. It had been an eventful, one of a kind day, and there at the end of it, things had turned out alright. He was sure that in the morning everything would look shiny and new, and he would figure things out from there. And then he slept.

Something came to him, not long after he fell under. A noise. A chilling noise, sharp and hoarse at the same time. Sean bolted up in his bed, his eyes gone wide very fast. The noise came again and again, louder, coming nearer. Cries in the night. A woman, begging for help in the most anguished, tortured voice imaginable. Bereft shrieking, inhuman and terrifying, curdling the blood, and absolutely intolerable. Shivering, Sean shot out of bed, walked briskly across the hall into Frank's bedroom, where he stood looking down at the large, resting form in the dim light.

"Frank," he whispered. "Are you awake?"

"Yeah."

"What is that noise?"

Frank was silent for a moment, and then the cry came again.

"Just a mountain lion. It's okay."

"A mountain lion?"

"It's outside. Can't hurt you."

"Can I sleep with you tonight?"

Frank did not answer, but threw the blankets aside and Sean got in, settling himself quickly. Frank was on his side, facing him, and Sean would never know why he did it, but he placed both of his hands on Frank's chest. It was a big chest, and hairy. Frank's hands were soon on him, feeling his breasts, his nipples, trailing down his stomach. Sean felt a surge at his center, a surge of blood, and that meant he was getting an erection. Frank seemed to know because he reached down and took it in his big paw and Sean followed his lead and did the same with Frank's cock. It was hard and silky, and seemed large, but Sean was no judge. Frank gently tugged on him and Sean did his best to reciprocate, but he had no idea what he was doing.

Without a word, Frank moved his body around, jostling under the blankets, and then his upper side was facing Sean's lower side, and vice versa. A sharp intake of breath when Frank took him inside his mouth. It felt good. After a long, hard day, it felt great. Frank sucked him gently, easily, with a steady, constant rhythm. The hair of Frank's beard was warm and sometimes ticklish on his balls.

Sean took in Frank's scent. There was no avoiding it. Musky, but not sweet. An animal smell. It was hard to concentrate. He reached out, took ahold of Frank's cock again, guided his mouth down to it and took it inside. A salty taste, but more than that. A strong, foreign taste. Like licking the walls of a locker room shower, he thought. His own cock was very hard, very sensitive. He tried to focus on sucking Frank, but he didn't know how. But the cock never slipped from his mouth and never flagged. Sean could do no more when his mind was so full of pleasure.

Thoughts of his wife and family touched his mind, but briefly. He was doing what he had to do. Did he enjoy it? Yes. But that was beside the point. One of his legs was lifted up, and then he felt Frank's beard on his tender parts. And then a wet explosion of sensation, when Frank's tongue came into contact with his anus. Sean shivered, from his toes to his neck. Frank's cock fell from his mouth but he could not close his lips. His mouth hung open, and drool spilled from it as Frank licked and suckled a part of him that had never been touched by anyone besides himself.

The tongue became more insistent. It pressed inside of him. The feelings intensified, deepened. It was something new, something totally unexpected, that feeling, as if his anus was coming into bloom for the first time. Sean could feel Frank's tongue gently scraping away inside of him, gently teasing him open. He was iron hard and his balls tingled the same way his hands had earlier when they warmed after nearly freezing. There was a heat inside of him, centered in his anus, that felt like nothing he'd ever experienced. He knew, in a vague way, that he was being prepared, but this did not alarm him. The feelings were too rich, too exciting to cause distress.

It went on for a long, long time. His anus and Frank's tongue. Centers of the universe. When Frank withdrew and nudged him over onto his stomach, Sean knew what was coming. He accepted it. Frank climbed on top of him, using his knees to push Sean's legs further apart. And then he felt Frank pressing against him. That did not feel so good. The part Frank pressed against was so tender, so sensitive. But the pressure was relentless and soon his anus gave way to Frank's force. The man's cock soared into his insides in one mighty push, and then the pain exploded. Sean couldn't help but cry out, but he didn't struggle.

The pain was blinding, and for a long time, but it slowly subsided as Sean's insides settled around the large intruder. Frank was kissing the back of his neck but was otherwise still. It was Sean who moved first, just a little attempt at adjustment to see if he could take the pressure off. But the discomfort remained and so he just lay there, as still as he could be, for whatever happened next. He could no longer feel his penis and had no idea if he was still hard. He suspected that he was not. It didn't matter one way or the other because all sensation began and ended in his butt hole. And his butt hole was occupied by Frank.

The first movements were slow, shallow. They did nothing to relieve the pain. At times, this gentle thrusting inside felt worse than simply being impaled. But as before, the pain became bearable in time. Frank was pushing into him a little faster, a little harder as each minute passed. The power of his large body was reverberating through the bed, and it was pushing Sean's body forward a tiny bit each time Frank drove his cock inside. The smell of the man seemed to grow stronger as he fucked. A potent smell, inescapable and overpowering. Sean's mind did not drift. There was no respite from the reality of what was happening between he and Frank. He could think of nothing else. But gradually he became aware of a new sensation. Not in his anus, but in his cock.

It had awakened. It rubbed and scraped against the mattress each time Frank pushed himself home, and it felt very, very good. So good that a moan escaped his lips, a moan that he could not suppress. Frank seemed to take this as a cue. He became rougher, his cock digging in harder and deeper. In moments, there was a slapping sound, a steady beat from Frank's loins slamming repeatedly against his bottom. The friction on his penis became more intense, the rubs more frequent due to the faster rhythm. Sean felt his balls tighten up beneath him, his penis rigid and straining. The bed rocked and rolled and Sean gave up fighting it and moaned at frequent intervals, and then Frank really gave it to him. His cock scraped nastily against the sheets a few more times and then it exploded, spitting his seed out with painful violence. And still Frank rode him.

But not for long. He emitted a low, gruff growl as he slammed in a few more times, and then the growl pitched even lower. Frank slammed home a final time, pressed himself hard against Sean's rear and then roared like a bear as he unloaded. There was no mistaking what was happening. Sean knew and he knew it was the man's right, his reward. He understood, in that moment, what it was like to be a woman. A woman who gives herself to a man in exchange for safety and protection. Frank was claiming his due, and Sean knew it was right and good. He accepted Frank's semen in the same way he had accepted Frank's right to use his body earlier. Not through any type of coercion or force, but from pure gratitude.

Frank remained on top of him for a long time, but finally flopped off. They were face to face again. In the very dim light from the snow muffled moon outside, Sean could see Frank's eyes considering him, shiny and intent. Frank reached out and touched his cheek, just for a moment. Then his arm went down to rest and so did his head. Soon he was asleep, with the gentlest of snores, a comforting sound. There was much to think about for Sean, much to consider, but that was for the future. In the moment all he wanted was to get a good night's sleep. As soon as he set his head down on the pillow he was there. Sometime in the night his body curled into Frank's and the larger man's arm came to rest over him, a shield against the outside world.