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“FUCK!” I jump up as soon as I sit down. My ass is aching and as soon as I put my weight on it, it felt like I was getting spanked again all at once.
“I am not sitting down on that hard fucking…”
Jason looks pleased with himself. The only thing that takes the edge off his smugness is the way he’s still damp from his dip in the river. We’ve both drawn metaphorical blood today.
“Alright,” Soren relents. “You tried. Briefly. But I’ll take it. Let’s get you settled and have some food. Maybe that will improve the mood around here.”
I’m still not seeing anything that makes me feel hopeful about the meal situation. This is a camp devoid of most things that are usually compatible with life. I don’t see anywhere to sleep, anywhere to eat, or anywhere to… you know.
“What the fuck are we going to eat out here? I don’t see a chef? Or a caterer.”
“We have rations.”
Jason goes to the center pillar which is built out with cabinetry. I guess having it in the center of the structure keeps things drier than they’d otherwise be. I take a glance inside and see that they really do have everything impeccably ordered. There are bedrolls stacked and folded. They don’t look completely comfortable, but what here does? I wonder if they even have pillows, or if pillows are an impediment to inner peace. The blankets look like the scratchy old fashioned military kind. With every ocular revelation I contemplate another unspeakable horror.
Jason hands me one of the packs. Spaghetti Bolognese, apparently. “I’ll show you how to add water so it heats up,” he says.
I shake the thing in his face. “You’ve got to be fucking killing me. I paid twenty grand, and you’re serving me two-dollar MREs?”
“You tell me where you can get MREs for two dollars,” Jason grunts. “Ten bucks minimum.”
“I’m not eating that stuff.”
Jason’s back to scowling at me. “Do you have to fight everything, all the time, every step of the way?”
“You’re trying to feed me dog food!”
“Well, missy, if you’re too spoiled to eat what’s offered, you’re free to provide your own food.”
“Try the spaghetti,” Soren says. “It’s actually one of the better ones.”
“One of the better ones. Not really selling me very hard here, you know,” I sigh.
“Just try,” he says in that eminently reasonable tone.
I have had a very long day. It was not easy getting here. I’ve been traveling for several days now. Conventional transport got me to Kathmandu, but since then I’ve been taking local options. I’ve been pulled by a donkey, I have accompanied chickens, I have hauled my luggage in and out of several boats, and I pepper sprayed two different men. I was looking forward to a nice room, a hot bath, and a good meal. Instead I’ve got absolutely nothing except a bloody mary on an empty stomach and a fucking foul mood. I can understand a bare bones service, but this doesn’t even qualify as hospitality. It’s the exact opposite of hospitality.
“No. Thank you.” I hand the MRE back, and I go and sort my bags. I have a soft sweater that I can use to pad my ass a bit when I sit down. I have a lot of things. The fishing rod was a good idea, but I don’t have that much else in the way of supplies. A few snacks, okay, a box of chocolate candy. But that’s not going to last long out here. I knew I was going to have to fend for myself when I left New York, but I had no idea how much fending there would be.
3
Soren
She looks miserable. For the first time since she hit our camp like a hurricane, she’s stopped being a ball of energy and instead she’s going through her pink cases as if there’s some chance the solution to being lost in the woods with Jason and me is in there.
I nudge Jason. “This isn’t great.”
“No,” he says. “It’s not. We should have picked the vlogger who wanted to record the whole thing for the Internet.”
We chose Aslin for a reason, and I still believe in that reason. She needs our help. She’s not been easy so far, but she’s obviously smart, and therefore she can be talked to, reasoned with.
“I’m going to talk to her.”
“Just let her sulk,” he says. “She’ll come around when she gets hungry enough. Let her settle in.”
That’s actually a good idea. I know he’s not thrilled with our new guest, but he does have some good common sense when it comes to handling difficult people. I decide to leave her to it, and I start setting up the beds. First I unroll them, then I add the blankets and the pillows. The center pillar of the camp has a stone outcropping on one side where a fire can be lit without burning the entire thing down. And there are canvas drop downs on each of the open portions of the outer wall which can be closed in the case of bad weather. This might look primitive, but it’s also a very cozy little place that most of our guests come to enjoy. I’m sure Aslin will be no different.
