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It’s this shabby little thing about twenty feet away from the cabin with a little moon-shaped cutout toward the top for a window. Not that it helps when it’s pitch black outside anyway. If Alex and I weren’t trapped out here, this outhouse would be kind of cute, all old school, like something you’d see in a movie.
But this isn’t a movie and pissing in this hole every day is about the worst thing ever. Luckily Alex and all his boy scouting knew to dump the ash from our stove into it to keep the smell down. Don’t get me wrong, it still stinks, but I guess not as bad as it could.
I step inside the outhouse, taking in a deep breath before I close the door. I still can’t believe this is even happening.
I try to steer my brain away from thoughts of this literal shitty situation, thinking about the chemistry that seems to get hotter and hotter between Alex and me. I have no idea what either of us are waiting for. I would have fucked his brains out after that window broke, desperate for some action. Action other than the window shattering would have been nice.
Rushing. That was his excuse. Like I give a shit if we rush into this. It’s pretty much who we both are and I’m over waiting on him and his impeccable self-control. I’m waking his ass up when I get out of here.
But first I’m obviously going to brush my teeth because not showering is something I can’t control. I smell bad enough as it is. Luckily, he doesn’t have any other options.
I’m smiling like an idiot when I open the outhouse door, hellbent on making sure nothing stops me from getting laid this time. My body is already buzzing, turned on by just a few thoughts of what Alex’s body feels like wrapped around mine in the night. I squeeze my legs together, the ache almost more than I can bear.
How the hell have I gone this long without having sex with Alex? Even I’m impressed, not only by my own self-control but also by the guy who wakes up with a hard-on every morning. I wonder if he’s been jerking off in the outhouse.
I’m laughing at myself and thoughts of Alex rubbing one out when I look up and see a black bear between the outhouse and the cabin.
I scream so loud that I’m certain I’ll scare the bear away, but instead it roars, moving closer to the cabin. My first and only thought is Alex. If that bear somehow gets inside, it will kill Alex.
My heart is hammering in my chest, beating so fast that it pulses hard and loud in my ears. I have no idea what to do, but I have to get to Alex.
I scream out his name, my voice echoing in the vast emptiness that surrounds the cabin. In a vacuum of nothingness, there’s no way he doesn’t hear me. The bear still unfazed by the loudness of my voice, stays put, watching me, tracking every slight movement I make.
After skiing for almost all my life, I know that bear attacks happen to skiers when they startle a bear. That’s what I’ve done. These woods are this bear’s home and I’m standing in its fucking living room right now.
“Delaney!” I suddenly hear Alex scream, the bear once again letting out a roar of fear when it sees Alex standing on the porch of the cabin.
“Alex!” I yell back, his name coming out on a strangled shout. “I’m in the outhouse.”
“Close the door and don’t come out until I tell you to!” he calls out to me, and I do exactly what he says even though everything in my body is telling me not to. I can’t leave Alex out there all alone.
Don’t be a coward, Delaney!
My hands are shaking as I reach to push open the door. I have no idea what I’m going to do, but I know I can’t have Alex out there fighting this bear alone. We’re in this together, we always have been, always will be.
But just as I push the door open, a gun blast shatters the stillness around us. It’s so loud that my ears begin to ring, disorienting me and I scrunch my eyes shut. I stumble back a little, the door to the outhouse closing on its own.
I hear the sound of Alex cocking the gun, the unmistakable click I recognize from movies, and then he fires it again.
Getting my bearings, the blast doesn’t startle me the way it first did, but the ringing in my ears remains. I shove the door open, looking to where I saw the bear, but it’s gone. I scan the forest and around the cabin, making sure it’s clear. I dart from the outhouse, the snow sucking at my boots, threatening to pull them off, but I don’t care. I have to get to Alex.
“Alex,” I call out, my voice shaking and I’m nearing the point of tears. I can’t lose him, not out here, not like this. We survived a fucking avalanche.
He’s sitting on the ground just outside the cabin door. His eyes are wide and the shotgun is resting next to him, the shells scattered all around like he didn’t have a plan. Not that I think he would have. We can’t plan for anything that happens here.
I begin sobbing the second I see him, throwing myself into his arms, unable to control the rush of emotions I’m hit with when I see he’s okay.
“Shh,” he murmurs, shushing into my hair as he wraps his arms around me. “The bear is gone. You’re okay. You’re safe.”
He holds onto me, my hands fisting the soft worn-out fabric of the flannel shirt he’s wearing, never wanting to let go. Those few minutes when I was in the outhouse and Alex wasn’t with me, felt like the longest minutes of my life. Everything was moving in slow motion, the gripping fear of the unknown and the idea that I could have lost Alex.
We cling to each other for what feels like forever, and I can’t imagine ever letting go of him after that. My brain goes over millions of what-if scenarios as the silence covers us, the only sounds are that of my ragged sobs and the hard exhale of his breathing.
The bear could have killed Alex if it had attacked him. What would I have done if it had attacked him and he survived? We aren’t equipped to deal with trauma out here. It was a miracle that neither of us weren’t severely injured in the avalanche.
The more I think about it, the harder I start to cry. Each day we’re out here is taking its toll on me. Gripped with the constant fear of never being rescued or something horrible happening before we are. Today just confirmed all my fears. It’s only a matter of time, and I’m not going to waste our time out here, not connecting with Alex.
“It’s okay,” Alex says again, his voice a whisper, but I catch the shakiness, the worry he feels too. “I didn’t kill it,” he now says, and I pull back, swiping at my eyes and sniffing back the sobs that keep coming.
