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Maybe Ben would have noticed the storm clouds on the horizon closing in on them sooner, if he weren’t so busy staring at the tips of his shoes as he drags himself up the mountain one strenuous step at a time.
He’s exhausted. And sweaty. And tired. Did he mention exhausted already?
Yeah. Because he is.
Sam’s fun idea of going on a vacation in the alps together was never Ben’s favorite, but since his counter-offer of a “trip to Disneyland Japan” was vetoed by Adam, now they’re somewhere in the middle of nowhere, Germany (maybe they’ve already crossed over into Austria?), trudging up some stupid mountain Ben forgot the name of. Off road backpacking, Sam called it – it’s just hiking without the delightful comforts of secured walking paths and cabins with fresh food and something to drink every couple of miles.
Ben will never admit this out loud, but right now he misses Colorado and the comparatively easy hikes Sam took them on when they visited him there.
He’s just not build for the heat and the exertion and the—
A drop of water lands on his cheek, a shiver accompanying the single raindrop as it trails down his face. Ben looks up. The summer heat is still just as oppressive as it was half an hour ago (as it was this morning when they started their trek from last night’s campsite), but now the sky is a tumultuous gray. Currently on their way up a steep incline, they are surrounded by trees and far-off mountain peaks – as if boxed in, the clouds are balling up in the spaces in between.
“Shit.” Sam curses.
“How bad is it?” Adam asks.
Neither one of them is even out of breath. Ben hates them. Taking this unexpected break to gather his wits, Ben rests his forearms on his thighs, head hanging low. He doesn’t want to stare at the dangerously quickly growing stormfront up ahead. Right now he wants to pull in enough air for the incessant pain between his ribs to ease somewhat. His legs are burning, not even the delightful green-blue pattern of his pants enough to lighten his mood.
“Well,” Sam draws the word out, the way he does when he’s trying to soften the blow. “We’re about a three hour hike away from the cabin we wanted to stay at tonight. And” – even without looking up Ben knows Sam is shaking his head a little as he calculates their chances – “the storm will most likely hit in about ten to twenty minutes. So, not good.”
“Not good?” Adam’s voice rises – both in volume and in pitch. A few birds in the surrounding trees complain loudly. “That’s bad! That’s very bad, Sam! We’re in the middle of nowhere! Do you see any shelter? Because I don’t.”
“It’s not that bad.” Sam tries to sooth Adam.
“Yes, it is! Look at Ben!”
Ben raises one hand in a ‘wait a second’ gesture, before straightening up. His stomach clenches, he’s just so hungry. And exhausted. Mostly he’s feeling a bit nauseous. “Why are there so many damn bugs, Sam?”
Judging by the incredulous look on Adam’s face, that wasn’t what Ben was supposed to say.
Oopsie.
“Bugs?” Sam repeats.
“Yeah. Bugs. I ate like three last night when I went looking for a bathroom. And even now they’re swarming me.”
They are.
“Maybe you just taste particularly good to them?” Sam stares at him as if his answer is some sort or revelation. It isn’t.
“Goddammit, It’s because you’re dressed in colors most bugs can actually perceive. You look like a flower.” Hands on his hips, Adam sighs. He looks like a divorced dad forced to spend a weekend with his troublesome kids – Ben’s never going to tell him this, except for maybe later when it’s funny. “But none of this helps us any, considering we’re about to be stranded in the alps in the middle of a storm.”
“In my defense–” (nobody asked Sam to defend himself) “every weather app I checked promised good weather for the duration of our trip.”
“I think the heat was a warning.”
“A warning?” Adam repeats Ben’s non sequitur.
“Yes.” Yesterday they’d trudged through valleys and up the mountain in horrid 90°F degree weather, with a humanity closer to lakewater than actually breathable air. It makes sense mother nature would take the matters into her own hands sooner rather than later. “Summer storms are very common here in the region. Especially during late August. They can come on quite suddenly, too.”
“And how do you know that?” Sam asks, the silent ‘and why didn’t you tell us sooner?’ pretty damn loud.
“Oh, I probably did some research on it at some point.” Ben shrugs. “And it’s not like I am some wizard who can do magically accurate weather forecasts. I just thought, you know, makes sense.”
Drop by drop the dirt path they are on darkens as the rain slowly begins to fall. Throwing his arms up in despair, Adam allows himself twenty seconds to just curse wholeheartedly, before he places his backpack down and begins searching for his rain gear. Because of course Adam packed rain gear.
(Ben’s pretty sure he doesn’t have any)
(he’s not stupid, it’s just that his rucksack isn’t that big and between fresh pants to change into, enough underwear and bug spray to outlast the apocalypse, and a couple of extra protein bars because Sam never carries enough, a rain jacket just didn’t rank that high up on his priorities)
(judging by the slightly guilty look on Sam’s face, at least Ben isn’t alone in his stupidity)
“I want you to know,” Adam growls, the frustrated edge to his voice underlined by the growing water stain on his back as he rummages through dozens and dozens of useful knickknacks, “that you are both fully grown men with travel and hiking experience. Yes, even you Ben. Knowing this, I – of course – brought extra rain jackets for you people.”
Triumphantly standing back up again, Adam holds three small folded up balls in his hands. Pink, yellow and green. Ben already knows which color he’s getting.
“Oh, it’s pink.” He catches it perfectly as Adam throws it at him. It’s a woman’s size – Ben expected that as well. “That’s gonna clash horribly with my pants.”
“I got you the largest one they had in store.” Adam tells Sam as he passes him the green one. “If it doesn’t fit… well, you should have thought of that sooner.”
“Thank you.” Sam says with real chagrin. “Sorry.”
Ben, meanwhile, has pulled the little ball open (there was a zipper!) to unfold a bag-like construction that somewhat, maybe slightly, resembles a rain jacket. It’s not exactly fashionable, but at this point he has no room to complain.
At least it’s going to keep him dry.
Thunder rolls across the sky, accompanied by a gust of wind and rain. The animals in the trees all around them have fallen silent, the echoes of the storm creating a rather ominous feeling as the world grows noticeably darker. It doesn’t help that the thunder sounds like falling stone, each noise amplified up to a thousand thanks to the solid mountain walls encircling them.
Ben feels the rather thin fabric of the raincoats between his fingertips, one eye on the rapidly deteriorating weather above.
He amends his earlier statement. If they’re lucky it will keep them somewhat dry.
He’s not sure these are made for the kind of storm they’re about to experience – to be fair, Ben’s unsure anything is built to withstand that level of rain and wind.
(It’s all very A Storm In The Rocky Mountains, Mt. Rosalie – only they’re in the alps)
At least their rucksacks are all waterproof, even if they look like cartoon characters as they huddle together in their color-coded rain gear to plan their next step. By now it’s more than just a few drops of water, condensation fogging up his glasses as the air around them rapidly cools down. Extreme weather conditions would be so fucking interesting if it weren’t for the very real danger they represent.
“What’s next?” Adam looks at Sam as if he has all the answers.
To be fair, most of the time Sam does.
“Well,” again, Sam draws the word out. Oh uh, that’s a bad sign. “We really should find shelter until the storm stops.”
“I assumed as much.”
Adam’s sarcasm is biting. Ben has to stifle a sardonic giggle. Now is not the time.
“We’re not close enough to the peak to be in any real danger of lightning hitting us, but we should still avoid large trees and cliff edges – uh, there’s— okay, as little of our bodies as possible should touch the ground, and we should avoid lakes or streams or anything with too much flowing water, obviously. Otherwise we should find a place that shelters us from the rain and wind, that’s gonna be the most dangerous part.”
“Sounds reasonable.” Adam nods. “Up or down?”
“Down, but only as long as it’s safe.”
In unison they turn to assess exactly that. The ground they’re standing on is pretty steep, the “path” they’ve followed little more than a bit of dirt less overgrown with brambles and shrubbery than the rest. Nothing here has been touched by humans in a long time, the trees narrow and in parts rotting, thanks to some local pest ( Borkenkäfer the pamphlet Adam got down in the valley called them). Maybe a hundred feet above them a stream cuts through the forest, already swelling with water. It only started raining five minutes ago, but nature is already responding in kind. It’ll take them a while to get back to the valley – or just last night’s campsite – but Sam said to keep away from flowing water…
So, down they go.
Or at least they try to.
Slowly, each step a battle against the howling winds tearing on their clothes, they look for shelter. The storm hit at the worst possible time, considering the incline they’re on. With the forest down below, and the rockface up ahead – neither place is perfectly equipped for waiting out a storm. Brambles love Ben’s pants, every few feet a struggle now that they’re trying to move downwards rather quickly. The ground is mostly made up of roots and muddy soil, occasionally interspersed with large rocks that are never as secure and stable as you’d want them to be. Ben’s trying not to fall, a few feet in front of him Sam is a lot more successful in that particular endeavor. It’s all turning slippery real quick as more and more rain falls – it doesn’t help that every time Ben reaches for a tree to help keep him upright, either Adam or Sam will look at him disapprovingly.
Trees are evil, after all. At least as long as they function as A+ lighting conduits.
Oppressive heat is giving way to the fresh smell of burning ozone mixed with pine trees and rotting foliage – any other day, any other moment, really, and Ben would soak it up. Gone is the stink of sweat and dead animals, replaced with the freshness of a world waking up after slowly drying out.
Only, his clothes are soaking wet, Adam’s rain jacket nothing against the wrath of whatever local deity is responsible for the weather here, and his boots have gotten stuck in yet another root growing out of the ground, almost making him faceplant.
It’s all very unsafe.
Ben gives into the need to communicate this to his friends.
“It’s fucking insane trying to climb down right now.” he yells. Still, the howling wind and echoing thunder steal at least half his words.
“What?” Sam yells back.
“WE CANNOT GO DOWN LIKE THIS.”
Sam’s only two or three yards up ahead, Adam maybe a couple of feet behind Ben, and still it takes all his power for his voice to reach them.
Just minutes ago, the world was sunny and bright (even if Ben was miserable), and now it’s been transformed completely. Ben shivers. His legs are still achy, his clothing damp, but now there’s actual fear growing in his heart. Clouds are blocking the sun, visibility going from a mile down to maybe two hundred feet, if that. Hell, Adam’s shitty attempt at rain gear has taken on a completely new role: now it functions as a visibility marker, the bright colors making it easier to keep each other close.
“I know!” Sam bellows.
He stops, waiting for the others.
His giant frame is hunkered down, trying to appear smaller so that lighting doesn’t pick him as its most likely target. While it’s improbable for lightning to strike him, every piece of flying debris – be it a broken off branch or clumps of dirt – smatters against Sam’s back. Ben’s mostly just covered in wet leaves. Looking back at Adam, he seems to cut through the howling storm with the most ease.
Least amount of surface area, it makes sense.
Adam’s shaped according to the laws of aviation – very aerodynamic. Unlike Ben and Sam.
Still, by the time Adam reaches them, he’s shivering.
“What next?”
Even though they are huddled together closely, it’s hard to understand what he’s saying. The frown on Adam’s face speaks louder than his voice, Ben thinks. Not for the first time he’s strangely grateful for his friend’s expressive face.
“We cannot stay here.” Sam carefully enunciates every word.
“We can’t go on! One of us is going to fall!” Ben’s incessant anger is covered up by the need to raise his voice to be understood. As the one who almost took a stumble down the mountain like three times just now, it’s his turn to say something. He doesn’t want to die in some ditch in Germany! Come on!
“We have to, buddy.” It would sound kinder if Adam didn’t have to scream to make himself heard. Thanks to the direction the wind blows, half his face is completely wet, dark strands of hair sticking to his forehead, while the other side is weirdly dry. Ben wonders if he looks the same. “This is rockslide central. One of these trees gives, and the entire incline comes down with it.”
“Urgh.” Just because Adam’s right doesn’t mean Ben likes to hear it.
Pushing wet hair out of his face (didn’t he wear a hat? Where did that go?) Ben squares his shoulders. There’s water dripping into his eyes, everything a mix of dark grey and muddled green, and yet Ben tries his best to spot some sort of shelter. It’s near impossible, especially with his glasses on – next to him, Adam’s taken his off. Ben doubts that’ll heighten their chances of seeing something.
The time between each beat of thunder and each stroke of lightning steadily shortens.
Ben swallows. He doesn’t want to know what the storm will be like once it’s straight overhead. It’s already bad enough right now, his boots slowly sinking into the mud the longer they stand here and wait.
“Over there!” Thanks to his greater height (and perfect fucking eyes) Sam spots something in the distance. For Ben, it’s just a dark blur behind some trees. Maybe Adam—
Adam’s squinting at the structure, clearly struggling to make it out, before nodding in agreement, “Yeah. Let’s head over there. It has to be better than this.”
Sticking closer together this time, they slowly break away from the path (what is left of it, anyway) to reach the ominous shape in the distance. Three colorful ducklings steadily moving forward.
If mother nature wasn’t currently trying to kill them, this would give Ben a lot of material to make fun of them down the line. Maybe – once he’s no longer actively in danger of dying – he will use it anyway.
There’s no expiration date on a good joke, after all.
The smell of ozone grows stronger the longer they move, dampness seeping even in the last dry layers of clothing. Wet boxer briefs are chafing his ass, and Ben— well, Ben’s over it. He wants to go home. No more hiking, no more beautiful nature, no more wild deer and creepily intelligent cows and dry witted jokes from Sam.
He wants his queen sized bed in Chelsea with the freshly washed sheets his mom gifted him when he moved out. He wants a hot shower, and some of that lavender body wash Maeve recommended. He wants Five Guys or TGI Fridays or Wendy’s or Chili’s or— okay, he’s not yet desperate enough to go back to TacoBell. But, he still desperately wants the comforts of home.
Anything, to escape the doom pressing down on his chest, and the shock racing through his body as something cracks ominously behind them. The sound triggers some innate animal instinct – a panic in all of them.
Turning around lightning fast – Hah! Pun intended! – Ben can feel the ground give underneath his hiking boots. Adam, just a short distance away, pales in less time than it takes for Ben to tip backwards.
“Ben!” Adam’s scream overpowers the steadily growing rumbling coming from above – but on its own, it’s not strong enough to stop Ben from falling.
There’s no time for him to react, not really. One second, he’s looking at Adam, seeing his face turn from determined to frightened, and the next, everything is a whirlwind of color, pain, and rain. There’s no fear – it’s too quick.
Ass first, Ben slips down the incline, the world blurry and cold (and ugly) as he trips, lands on his hip, rolls sideways and then–
A couple of pine trees stop his descent before he’s too far down. At least that’s Ben’s assessment once he opens his eyes again, head still spinning. His back hurts, as does his butt, but otherwise he’s mostly just miserable. And covered in mud. And leaves. And oh, so wet. There’s at least one rock digging into the skin just above his ankle, and a bramble has permanently fused itself to his leg.
Life fucking sucks.
His glasses are smeared with dirt, his entire body vibrating from shock. There’s so much adrenaline coursing through his veins, Ben has no idea where to put it – so he just sits there, some yards down from where he just stood not even a minute ago, trying to breathe.
It’s harder than he remembers it being.
Breathing, that is.
Sam’s surprisingly clean hand materializing in front of him is a welcome surprise.
Looking up, the worry on his friend’s face is shocking.
Somehow it is this kind of reaction – the frown on Sam’s forehead, the downturned corners of his lips – that finally makes it click for Ben. He almost just died.
Holy fucking shit.
He almost just fucking died.
Yikes.
“You okay?” Sam asks, and this far down the trees offer more protection, the wind not quite as howling.
“Uh…” he’s shaking – Ben raises his hand to grab Sam’s and that’s all he can focus on. He’s shaking. “Yeah… I think so, I mean… maybe a bit bruised, but…”
“GUYS!”
Adam sounds scared. That’s the first thing Ben notices, even before he looks up. And then he does, wide eyes trying to focus on what Adam just saw, and he realizes quickly that the panic in Adam’s voice is justified.
Because there’s a reason Ben turned around – there’s a reason he slipped.
Up ahead, maybe ten or twenty yards above them, a couple of trees have come loose. And now they’re slipping, the soil not nearly dense enough to stop the slow – but growing – rockslide from making its way down the side of the mountain.
It’s headed straight for them.
This is bad.
Wow, Ben’s really good at putting his panic into words.
Grabbing Sam’s hand, Ben lets himself be pulled up. His body protests the sudden movement, his entire backside one giant bruise, but right now there’s no time to focus on any of that.
“Where’s that thing you saw?” Ben hates how scared he sounds.
Like a child.
He’s not.
He’s a grown ass man who is going to survive this. Even if his ego comes away a little bit battered and worse for wear. Next to him, Sam doesn’t seem to fare much better. He’s deathly pale on a good day, but right now he looks downright sick. But at least he’s not shaking – at least right now Sam’s still in control.
“Over there.”
Sam points somewhere right of Ben, before tightening his hold on Ben’s hand. It doesn’t help the feeling of childish inferiority any, but Ben follows Sam when he starts to pull. Above them, Adam moves in the same direction. Glasses too dirty and wet to see much, Ben can do little more than stumble as Sam forces him into a near run, trust the only thing keeping him upright – and away from stray trees.
Rain pelts down on them. The sound of Adam’s curses is accompanied by thunder so loud Ben can feel its echoes in his bones. His entire body vibrates with the strength of it, the frantic beat of his heart a fitting backdrop to the chaos all around him.
It’s all a blur.
The freezing rain, the bruising grip on his wrist, the pain clinging to every step, the disorienting world distorting around him… the only thing Ben’s sure of is the rockslide, and the deepening sound as it slowly grows in strength and speed.
If this were a movie – and, Oh God, does Ben wish this was a movie – he would applaud the sound design. It has all the building tension of a horror movie right before the killer comes around the corner and brutally slaughters the slut.
It’s that gnawing sense of anticipation, the horrible knowledge that whatever happens next is going to be bad.
Ben doesn’t notice Sam stop – or, well, he notices it once he runs head first into Sam’s back, his dirty face leaving another stain on the bright green of Sam’s jacket. Quick to steady him, Sam turns around.
“Why did we—?” Ben starts, then stops. It’s pretty obvious, once he calms down enough to actually look (dirty glasses be damned).
A small wooden cabin next to a solid stone wall. It’s dingy and dusty (and probably a bit wet even on the inside) but it’s better than standing out here in the rain. It’s better than waiting for death via trees and rocks and mud.
“Why aren’t we—?” He tries again.
But even that is answered quickly.
“Adam.” Sam says, his face grim.
The horror in Ben’s gut deepens.
Turning around, Ben scans the woods behind them. They are a blurry mass of dark green-gray-brown but even so, Ben’s pretty sure it shouldn’t move like that. Again, Adam’s stupid colorful raincoats come in a clutch, because even with his sight this shitty, Ben can still make out the bright yellow dot appearing behind a tree.
He’s still there. Adam’s still moving.
He’s struggling, that much is obvious, but none of that matters since he’s still coming for them.
Sam falls silent next to Ben, one hand holding onto his shoulder, the other one opening and closing following a rhythm only Sam can hear. Ben himself seems to have lost his voice, considering he can’t even offer Adam some encouraging words – not that Adam would hear him.
Another gust of wind cuts through thin layers of clothing, Ben almost on instinct stepping closer to Sam in the hopes of some residual warmth.
With bated breath they wait – in theory it’s just a couple of yards, not that big a distance, but in reality it stretches on. Especially with the imminence of the rockslide growing by the second. By now the entire incline is moving, and even if it’s dangerous, Ben wishes Sam would just go back out there and pull Adam out.
The yellow blob goes down twice, before Adam finally reaches them, filthy and with at least one stick nestled in his hair. As the distance between them closes, Ben can see more and more details. The honest, naked fear in Adam’s eyes and the grim lines etched deep into his face enough to make Ben ache for his friend.
“Adam—” Sam starts, but Ben’s quicker.
Stepping out of Sam’s protective grip, Ben rushes forward. He stumbles, but this once he knows there’s nothing he has to fear. Adam catches him. In return, Ben tightens his hug.
“Buddy…” this close, Adam sounds horribly fragile. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” It’s a lie, but only a tiny one. “And you? I saw you slip—”
“I’m just so, so, so cold.” Adam tightens his grip. By now he’s shaking so much, Ben shivers with him. “I saw you go down, oh fuck, Ben you could have died, oh motherfucker, Ben, I was—”
“I’m okay. I promise.”
Ben doesn’t know how to ease Adam’s fears – even six years of friendship haven’t taught him that yet. Instead, he offers to stay like this. If Adam can feel for himself that Ben’s still alive (just a slight tumble and maybe a sprained ankle), at some point he’ll calm down on his own.
Only, there’s a couple of problems with that plan.
“Guys.” Sam interrupts their very manly and not at all tearfilled reunion. “We really need to get indoors like yesterday.”
“Yes, yes, of course.” Adam shakes himself. Bit by bit, Ben can watch as Adam puts himself back together. The pieces don’t quite fit. “Yes, come on. Can you walk?”
“Buddy, I ran.”
Ben’s smile is big and fake and all the reassurance Adam needs. Adam steps back, and together they turn towards the cabin – Sam’s up ahead, the width of his shoulders not broad enough to hide that he, too, is shaking. Drenched in dirt and rain, even his experience with Colorado winters isn’t enough to keep him warm.
He looks lonesome as he takes big steps up the, well, porch would be too favorable a word… up the front part of the cabin. Ben is familiar with the taste of guilt – right now he swallows it back down as he follows Adam these last couple of steps.
Behind them, the mountain turns into a mudslide.
A dramatic stroke of lightning paints the sky a dark purple, the rugged peaks black teeth reaching into the thunderous sky, not helping any with the dark feeling of foreboding overcoming Ben.
(It has all the makings of a next Battle of Chesma at Night )
Ben sneezes the moment they step through the door. Sam’s using his phone’s flashlight to illuminate the space – looking around, it’s definitely an improvement to outside. If only slightly. Built at some point in the last century, the cabin’s obviously designed to offer shelter to lost hikers. Only nobody’s been doing the upkeep. There’s an old wood stove next to the window, with a stack of rotting branches next to it, and a small shelf with emergency equipment Ben is pretty sure is older than his mother.
Maybe the blankets are still good to use?
By now all three of them are pretty damn cold. And Ben wants to at least dry off before he pulls out the change of clothes in his backpack. If this is turning into one of these ‘cuddling for warmth’ scenarios, he’s out.
There’s only so much a man (Ben) can take, and right now he feels pretty damn bruised already.
“Let’s get ready to hunker down” Sam declares and he makes it sound as if they have any other choice. Hands on his hips, phone placed on top of one of the shelves lining the wall to offer the most light, he looks ready for just about anything.
Something tells Ben that’s a lie.
“We need to get dry first.” Adam puts down his own backpack, the shaking softer now that the wind is no longer actively trying to tear him apart. The low light is doing none of them any favors, but somehow Adam manages to look the worst.
And that even though Ben is the one currently more mud monster than human.
“Does anyone have something I can clean my glasses with?” Pulling them off his face, it’s a wonder he could see anything at all. “I would like to no longer be blind, please.”
“Yeah, sure, wait a second…” Adam pries the wet rain coat off his body, throwing it on the dusty floor, before digging through the rucksack – it doesn’t take long before a kleenex is pushed into Ben’s waiting hands. “And now get out of these wet clothes. Both of you, actually. Sam? Can you give us the blankets? They might be dusty, but I don’t think we can—”
Watching the exchange, Sam exhales. Now that they’re safe, all that goal oriented conviction slowly seems to bleed out of him, his face suspiciously empty as he follows Adam’s commands. He’s not falling apart, but Ben doesn’t like how pale he is.
Not that he can focus on that, considering Adam is pulling on the edges of Ben’s wet clothes like an annoying dog.
“I can do this on my own, Adam, thank you very much.”
“Once you’re undressed and dry, I need to check you over.”
“Like hell you will.”
“Ben.” Adam’s voice is flat enough, Ben looks up from his attempts to open the buttons of his bright yellow shirt without hurting himself further, to actually make eye contact. “You fell down a ravine right in front of me. You will let me check you for injuries if you want to your not.”
“Oh, he’s scary like that.” Ben stage whispers, if only to ease the tension in the room somewhat.
Earlier it was the intense heat and brewing storm laying heavy in the air, now it is the weight of Adam’s worry.
“Listen to him.” Sam says, like a traitor. He’s not even looking at them.
“Urgh.” Ben rolls his eyes – still, even he knows it’s best to listen to Adam’s fussing. If only because it will make everything easier for all of them.
(even if he isn’t enjoying the intensity of Adam’s gaze)
It has all the charm of a high school locker room as they undress, all their wet clothes being collected as one heap in the corner close to the front door. They’ll have to hang them up later, in hopes of maybe drying them out, but right now they have other priorities. Damp and mostly naked – Ben refuses to pull down his boxer briefs, thank you very much – it’s even more evident that this cabin might be a shelter, but it’s not airtight.
The goosebumps don’t lessen, even as Adam – probably twice as cold by now considering there’s not an ounce of fat covering his frighteningly visible ribs – hands him one of the blankets. Ben tries not to breathe in too deeply, afraid of the killer bacteria potentially hiding deep within the wool – and simply put, he doesn’t want to know what forty year old sheep smells like.
Sam’s a silent sentinel towards the back of the room. One of the blankets slung over his shoulders, he’s kneeling by the wood stove, silently working as if this is an everyday occurrence. It’s not. It’s really fucking not. It doesn’t help that he looks solid next to Ben and Adam – not for the first time Ben wonders if maybe that’s Sam’s detriment. He looks so strong, it’s easy to forget he, too, is just a guy.
“Now, let me see—”
Ben’s barely had the time to dry himself off, and Adam’s already all over him. Pulling the blanket away from him (and suddenly stinky old wool is the best thing Ben’s ever felt), Adam examines him with a critical eye.
“Turn around.”
“For a man in pink boxers, you are horribly bossy, Adam.” Crossing his arms in front of his chest, Ben tries not to shiver too much. Now that they’re no longer actively dying, his body is slowly reminding him that he indeed did fall down a fucking incline.
“For once in your life, just do as you’re told.” Sam’s tired voice cuts through the room, accompanied by the crack of wood as Sam breaks a piece in two to fit better in the stove.
Ben takes a step away from him.
His ankle hurts.
“Are you okay, Sam?” Adam bites back.
It’s always Adam who bites back.
“Yes.” Back ramrod straight, Sam pushes another piece of wood deep into the stove. He still hasn’t changed into dry clothes. It’s a bit silly, how tense they are, considering their state of undress. “I’m trying to get us warm. Now, take care of Ben.”
“You know, I can hear you?” Ben intersects. Mostly because their relentless fussing is annoying as hell sometimes. “And I am not some damned child.”
“We know.” With a sigh, Adam focuses on him – whatever just happened between Sam and him will need to get resolved later.
(maybe Ben’s just reading too much into it – they’re all on edge)
“I’m fine.”
“And I want to see that for myself.”
Dutifully, Ben turns around. With his back towards the room, Adam can’t see him roll his eyes. Small blessings. Not that it matters much, considering the startled sound Adam makes once he sees Ben’s back.
“You said you were fine.” It sounds like an accusation.
“I am!” Ben shrugs. It only hurts a little. “A bit bruised but that’s all.”
“Sam?” Once again, Adam ignores Ben. For maybe the first time in their friendship, Ben’s actively growing annoyed with it. “Do you have disinfectant in your emergency kit?”
Before Sam can answer, Ben does, “I have some. Which I could tell you if you were to ask me.”
“I—”
“No, I get that you’re worried.” Ben turns back around, careful not to step too forcefully onto his sprained ankle. Adam’s eyes are wide, his shoulders hunched up underneath the blanket. Ben’s cold just looking at him (well, okay, Ben’s cold either way, but Adam’s just— yeah). “But I’m okay.”
“Your back’s all scratched up.”
“That might be, but I’m alive. It’s fine.”
Adam worries his lip. It’s pretty obvious he wants to argue. Judging by Sam’s growing silence, and the steady force with which he rips wood apart (fucking Hulk over there in the corner) Ben’s pretty sure Sam wants Adam to argue as well.
Fucking worrywarts.
Maybe a joke will help?
“Hey, we’re just three half-naked dudes in a log cabin… if you start rubbing ointment on my back we’re already halfway to PornHub’s new bestselling porno.”
Ouch, that was a bad one.
His audience is dead silent.
Outside the storm takes it up a notch. Ben didn’t even know it could do that. Howling the wind tries to tear the roof off their shelter, rain pelting against the closed door and lone window. Ben shivers – and he’s not the only one.
Looking like a (dirty) drowned rat, there’s something strangely helpless about Adam, now that Ben stopped him in his tracks. He’s not sorting through their clothes, nor is he cleaning the cuts on Ben’s back (or the one on Sam’s neck, Ben spotted just now). He’s not scurrying around trying to be useful – instead he just stands there, staring at Ben with his hands raised.
They’re at a stalemate.
Adam needs to fuss to feel good, Ben’s kinda sick of being treated like a baby, and Sam’s completely turned off his human emotions now that they are no longer actively dying.
It just sucks that Ben’s not in the mood to mediate.
He already barely survived one near-death experience today, he doesn’t need to add Adam trying to chew off his head to the list.
Right now, Ben wants to put on some dry clothes, take the blanket Adam stole from him, and huddle up as close as humanly possible to the fire Sam’s trying to start. And then? He wants the luxury of feeling miserable for himself for a while.
Unfortunately – as Ben knows only too well – you don’t always get what you want.
Ben glances at Sam to see if he’ll do something, but somewhere between the doorway and the stove Sam tuned out. Which is also something someone will have to take care of sooner rather than later. And unlike Ben, Sam doesn’t fit so neatly into Adam’s area of responsibility.
Despite being the one who fell down a fucking ravine, the horrid realization that he might be the most emotionally stable one right now, slowly dawns on Ben.
Both Adam and Sam are overcompensating, probably because of some deeply misplaced sense of guilt or something completely stupid, and now Ben – who just wants to be left alone to lick his bruised ego – is the responsible one.
Yikes.
They are so fucked.
“Adam?”
“Yeah?” There’s hope in Adam’s eyes, a few drops of water running down from his hair. They make the lines on his face deeper, the panicked worry simmering under the surface only barely hidden by the furrow of his eyebrows.
“Put on some clothes.”
“I can’t just—”
“Put on some clothes.” Ben repeats, placing his hands on top of Adam’s shoulders. Damn, he’s bony. How that is possible considering all the food Adam enjoys eating, Ben will never know. “And then, once you’re no longer fucking freezing, you can take a look at my back.”
Adam’s silent for a long moment, probably struggling with the 180 his universe just took. Then he nods. Pulling in a deep breath, he straightens up. Slightly.
“Okay, okay, okay.” Adam steps away from Ben. “You’re right. I’m— like, yeah. You’re right. I should put on some clothes.”
“And give me back my blanket if you make me wait out here all naked and shit.”
It’s seemingly the right thing to say.
A push in the right direction, at the very least.
Wrapped in stinky wool (and how Ben missed it!), he sits down. The floor is not as cold as the air around them, most of the worst pain easing now that Ben’s no longer putting pressure on his fucked up ankle. Out of the way, Ben watches as Adam struggles to pull a fresh (thankfully dry!) shirt over his head, his entire body trembling like a dancing skeleton. An actual flashlight joins Sam’s phone light, Adam’s water bottle functioning as a lamp. The more light they pour into the room, the darker the outside appears to Ben.
At least the growling sounds of the rockslide have calmed slightly.
Sam’s still busy with the oven, long hair in utter disarray as yet another match falls out of his shaking hands without starting a fire. He must be getting frustrated, but not once does he make a noise.
It’s honestly disconcerting to watch.
If Ben thought Sam might let him, he’d get up and offer to help. He’d wrap his hands around Sam’s shaking ones, gently pry the matches from his fingers, and light the fire himself. Only Sam hates being touched like that – only Sam’s not quite present and Ben doesn’t want to make it worse.
Let him figure out the fire. By the time he’s done, he might just be Sam Denby again.
Dressed in clothes way too thin to suit the plummeting temperatures (his khaki shorts and white t-shirt a familiar sight), Adam returns to Ben, emergency kit clutched against his chest. Hairy arms covered in goosebumps, Ben almost offers his blanket to Adam. In the end he doesn’t.
Adam has his own. It’s his own damn fault for not taking it with him.
“Your back.” Adam says, and he sounds more like himself now. Less panicked, more just ‘somewhat anxious’.
“But only because you asked so nicely.”
Shuffling a little, Ben turns until he sits on the blanket (his ass hurts but he’s pretty sure that’s really just an unfortunate bruise) with his back facing Adam. This time he’s the one in control, even if Adam’s the one taking care of him. It feels better. Ben hates it when things just happen to him – even if he is really good at playing along.
Cool hands ghost over the skin on his back. Not even his steely resolve to keep Adam from worrying further is enough to stop the pained hiss escaping him, when Adam brushes against one of the raised welts. That might have been the pine tree stopping his descent. Fucking tree saved his life, but now Ben is for sure paying the price.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay – I can withstand a little bit of pain if it means these bitches don’t get infected.”
“Yeah.” Adam’s chuckle is small. It sucks that Ben can’t see his face. “We gotta show those bitches by covering you in disinfectant.”
“That’ll teach ‘em.”
“For sure.”
It’s their usual banter but without any of its usual ease.
Sam doesn’t react.
They are silent for a bit as Adam works. Every now and then Ben flinches involuntarily – either thanks to the freezing brush of Adam’s nimble fingers, or the burning pain of alcohol wipes on surface level scratches. He’s really not that hurt. His ego took the biggest hit. That, and his ankle probably.
He should tell someone about that.
“Thanks.” Ben pulls the blanket back up as soon as it feels appropriate to do so. At least Adam has some clothes to keep him warm – Ben stares longingly at his own backpack. Not yet. But soon. “If you— I think I sprained my ankle. If you can check?”
“Sure, yeah.”
Changing sides, Adam kneels down in front of him. It’s strangely subservient – Ben’s not sure whether he likes that or not. It’s certainly not a bad feeling. Especially when Adam gently takes Ben’s left leg to check his foot for any potential injuries.
It’s a lot less demeaning for Adam to fuss over him, if Ben reimagines himself as a king.
Yeah, okay, maybe the past few hours are getting to him as well.
The moment Sam gets the fire started, a warm glow joining the diffuse light coming from their flashlights, Adam stops in the middle of pressing down on the part of Ben’s ankle that hurts. The orange tinge coming from the oven returns some warmth to Adam’s face, his hair one hell of a mess now that it’s starting to dry. Adam’s nervous. Ben doesn’t have to read his mind to know – it’s obvious considering how deliberately Adam swallows.
“I was really scared.”
It’s a confession. It shouldn’t be.
“I know.” Ben shrugs. All that attention is uncomfortable, even if Adam’s the one baring his soul. Maybe specifically because of that. “Sorry for almost dying?”
“Don’t joke about that.”
“I’m not.”
Adam raises an eyebrow. It’s a pretty damn verbose eyebrow.
“Really! I’m not!” His voice rises enough to make Sam turn and look at them. “I’m fucking scared as well!”
There’s a beat of silence as Adam looks at him – really looks at him – to see if Ben’s taking him seriously. Ben wishes this could have waited until he put on a shirt.
Adam lowers his head, “I just… I saw the mudslide and then I saw you fall and I couldn’t— fucking dammit, Ben. I couldn’t move. I was frozen. The floor gave out under you and— and everything stopped. I stopped. If Sam hadn’t—”
“I wasn’t hurt.” It’s aimed at the room – Ben sure hopes Sam is listening as well. “Even if Sam hadn’t come for me – thanks for that by the way, man – I would have made it back to you on my own.”
“But I didn’t know that!”
Leaning back, Adam’s only barely resisting the urge to grab his hair and pull on it.
“I thought you were dead.”
Sam’s been silent for so long, Ben almost doesn’t recognize his voice when it cuts through the room.
“What?” Ben knows he’s staring, but what else is he supposed to do?
Sam’s sitting by the wood stove, long strands of blond hair clumped and dirty, only an old brown blanket protecting him from the cold, confessing to the horrors. No wonder he’s been slowly imploding on his own, if that’s the kind of thoughts he’s been having.
“When you fell, I thought you had died.”
“But why?”
“And it would have been my fault.” Ignoring Ben – ignoring Adam who looks as if he has no idea what to do now – Sam continues. “You— you were the one who said it was too risky for us to run like that. And then… I saw your back crash against that tree. You didn’t move after that.”
“I’m okay.” It feels meak when compared to the sheer depth of Sam’s fear.
“But how was I supposed to know that…” Turning to face them, pale face glowing orange, his eyes are empty. If Ben thought Sam would let him, he’d get up and hug him right now. He might do it anyway. As soon as Adam lets go of his foot and the world makes slightly more sense again. “I saw you lying there, and it would have been my fault. I planned this trip. You wanted to go to Disneyland! You wouldn’t have almost died at Disneyland, Ben. Shit.”
“Never underestimate Disneyland related accidents—”
“Buddy?”
“Yeah?”
“Not now.” Adam shakes his head, but he’s smiling.
Finally.
Ben was worried he’d lost his touch.
“I’m all good, Sam. I promise. Adam, tell him I’m good.”
“He’s okay. He really is, Sam.” There’s real relief in Adam’s voice when he says that. More even than Ben’s own reassurances, that’s what Sam needed to hear. Fucking idiots and their annoying (slightly heartwarming) overprotective streak.
“Adam patched me up real good.” Wiggling his eyebrows, Ben pulls the blanket tighter across his body. “I’m gonna be sore as fuck tomorrow, but let’s be honest… I would have been either way, tumble or no tumble.”
Sam doesn’t quite believe him, but at least he’s no longer actively dissociating.
Small victories.
Ben takes what he can get.
It’s time for a change in topic.
“How does it look out there?”
“Wet,” and the dry deadpan sounds a little bit more like the Sam they all know and love.
“You should get dressed.” Even Adam’s playing at normality, hands on hips as he surveys the room. In a matter of minutes, everything in their backpacks will be organized and itemized – Ben can tell Adam’s ready to get going by the nervous twitch in his hands. “The both of you. I’ll hang our wet stuff up to dry next to the fire. How much wood do we have, Sam? How long will that carry us over?”
“A few hours.” Standing up, Sam towers over them both. Ben didn’t know legs could be this long – or this pale.
“I doubt we’ll find dry wood out there… if we’re stuck here for the night we might have to huddle together for warmth.”
“Dammit.” Ben says it with feeling. He knew the universe had it out for him today – so of course the day would end with him sandwiched between his two bony friends as they try to generate heat.
“I thought you liked hugs?” Adam teases him. Placing Ben’s backpack in his reach, it’s almost as if this is just another Wendover trip or shared vacation. Only a bit wetter than usual.
“Oh, I love hugs. I even like cuddles, especially when the other person is my girlfriend or the surface is covered in blankets and pillows and shit… but you two? On dusty rat-infested wood? No, thank you.”
“Hey.” Sam’s interruption is mostly comedic.
“Adam’s elbows are so pointy, last time we shared a bed I almost lost an eye.”
“And I apologized for that. Three times.”
There’s a conspiratorial edge to their banter, Ben and Adam easing the tension so Sam can finally relax as well. It’s strange to be the one who got hurt, and yet be the least affected by it. Ben’s okay – yeah, he got scared, and they’re not out of the woods yet, considering the very real rockslide/mudslide/whatever boxing them in, but… yeah, he’ll be fine. And helping Adam and Sam get over themselves eases the helplessness he’s been trapped in.
Pulling on a new shirt, on the other hand, helps with much of the more blatant discomfort he’s been left with.
He’s warmer now, for one.
Also less vulnerable.
(Ben’s kinda sick of feeling vulnerable)
“Come on, let’s see how we’ll get out of this mess.” Clapping his hands together, Sam straightens to his full height; it sounds almost like a battlecry. It doesn’t quite have the same charm as a hurried “but it’s 7 a.m. and Ben’s the runner so we have to go, go, go” but Ben will take what he can get.
With a sigh, Ben allows himself to relax. He won’t be of much help with his sprained ankle, but at least he can make sure the team morale stays up.
They’re okay.
For now.
But they’re okay.
Hours later, the storm has long since passed on. While the world outside is slowly returning back to normal, they’re still stuck in this little cabin, far away from everything.
The mudslide makes it impossible for them to venture back out, especially now that Ben’s ankle has swollen to twice its original size. It doesn’t help that Sam discovered a cut on Adam’s leg the guy himself had completely failed to notice. Or that Adam freaked when he saw the blood on Sam’s neck – or that Ben freaked when they checked their rain gear and a slug fell right into his hands.
(the streaks of dried dirt on their faces make for rather charming make-up)
Still, they have Adam’s flashlight for ambience and Ben’s protein bars for dinner, Sam’s random collection of energy drinks keeping them well hydrated. Even with the fire dying, it’s no longer freezing in the cabin.
Ben will never admit this, but the fact that they are basically cuddling certainly helps.
Adam’s fallen asleep a little while ago, head resting on Ben’s lap. It makes sense. After calming down slightly, he went ham on every single task that needed doing. Thanks to him their clothes are dry (if dirty) and the National Guard knows where they are so they can send someone tomorrow to help them get out of the mountains. It’s fascinating to watch Adam completely charm strangers on the phone, but Ben understands why the guy might be completely exhausted by this point.
It’s only fair.
Running his hand through Adam’s hair, Ben enjoys the simplicity of the action. Fast asleep, Adam looks younger – Ben hates to think that he’s responsible for the lines on Adam’s face. Maybe for his next birthday, he’ll gift him an anti-aging cream… and an apology for all the trouble.
Sam’s a solid presence by his side, Ben’s head growing heavier and heavier as he leans against his shoulder. Sam took care of the fire, and organized their food, everything done with delightful efficiency, as Ben watched and told stories – now he’s staring blankly at the long dead flames, each breath deep enough to count as meditation.
“You good?” Ben asks quietly, as not to wake a sleeping Adam.
“Hmm.”
“Oh, you’re feeling wordy today, I see.”
“I think we talked enough for one day, don’t you think?” Sam glances down on him, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards. Slightly.
Ben counts his wins carefully. This is one of them.
“It’s really not your fault.” Ben says, because he didn’t really earlier. “None of it.”
“Ben—”
“No. I agreed to go on this trip like an adult and I’m the one who accidentally slipped. It’s nobody's fault”
“I guess…”
“No, you gotta agree with me.”
“Ben.”
“Uh uh.” Ben shakes his head, Sam’s shoulder growing more comfortable by the minutes. “I need to hear you say it.”
“Say what?”
“Say: ‘This is not my fault. Ben Doyle is right and I am wrong. This was just an accident.’ Come on—”
“I will not—” Sam’s laughing. It’s suspiciously light and airy. Ben loves it.
“Come oooooooon.”
“Adam’s sleeping.”
“And I’ll wake him up if that’s what it takes.” Ben would not. He respects the sanctity of sleep too much to do such cruel things – but Sam doesn’t know that.
“Don’t you dare—” Sam sighs. “This is not my fault. Benjamin Doyle is a bully and a—”
“Hey!”
“So, how do you like the taste of your own medicine?”
It’s easy to forget how funny Sam is when he’s feeling confident.
“Hm…” Ben makes a face. “Not bad, if I’m being honest. Just proves that I’m the supreme ruler of comedy.”
“Whatever you say.”
They fall silent, but by now the tension is gone, and Ben feels suspiciously warm.
“Thank you.” It slips out without him noticing – not that he cares to take it back. He means it.
“For what?”
“For saving my life.”
“Ah, that’s nothing.”
“Liar.” Closing his eyes, Ben allows Sam to hold him up. “I know the two of you would be completely useless without me.”
“Now that I agree with.” Sam sounds tired as well. “But don’t tell Adam.”
“Oh, he knows.”
“Yeah…. yeah, he does.”
Ben allows this quiet moment to carry him away.
All they offer each other is companionship, and like the people in A Game of Tric-Trac , Ben knows this moment will stay with him forever. Secretive and kind of stupid, but entirely theirs.
(if nobody ends up painting a likeness of this moment to commemorate their survival - right now, Ben doesn't feel particularly tempted)