Joe woke to a splitting headache, a stiff back and ribs that smarted, making it hard to breathe deeply. At least the arm was at a low ebb of pain in its sling. Rachel's head was still on his shoulder, and he could hear her slow, steady breathing in sleep. He realized he needed to pee, but he didn't want to wake her, because he didn't know how long she'd been sleeping, and she needed sleep as much as he did.

It was so quiet where they were. He wished he could see more of his surroundings. Didn't anyone visit this park? He couldn't hear any cars pulling in or out. Someone had to bring him to a hospital. He needed to set his arm and have the rest of him checked out. The fact that he woke up was a good sign he didn't have a serious concussion, at least, but who knew what kind of internal injuries he had after that beating?

He waited until he thought his bladder would burst, then sighed and brought his good hand up to stroke Rachel's cheek. 

"Mmmm," Rachel mumbled.

"Hey, Rachel," he said, low and gentle. "I need to get up."

His fingers ran through her hair and trailed down the back of her neck. He could tell himself he was trying to rouse her, but the gesture felt too intimate. He didn't stop, though. Her skin erupted in goosebumps where he touched, and she arched and breathed deeply, and groaned.

"Hey, Rachel," he said. "Are you awake?"

"Fuuuuuck," she groaned. "My mouth tastes like a sock, my eye feels like a grapefruit, and my whole body feels as stiff as a board. People our age need to sleep in beds, not sitting up against a tree."

"They also need to visit the bathroom more often. I'm going to spring a leak soon if I don't."

"Oh, shit, sorry. Let's get you up."

Once they were up, she led him to a secluded spot. He waited for her to give him some privacy. When she didn't back away, he cleared his throat and said, "Was there something you needed?"

"Just making sure you can unbutton and button your trousers without help."

"Um..." He fumbled with his button, and eventually, with some dextrous manipulation by his fingers, got that part done. "Good to go on the unbuttoning. I don't know if I'll be able to do the other."

"I'll stand by."

"You might want to stand by a few feet away. I don't want to embarrass you."

"Will you be able to hold yourself up while you do it?"

"I can manage."

She stepped back, and he did his business. Pulling his underwear and pants back up wasn't the problem. It was getting the button back through the goddamn hole with one hand. As if Rachel could read his mind, she was there, already doing the job for him, and he was the one who was embarrassed. 

"I'm sorry you have to do this," he said.

"It's not the first time I've fumbled with a man's pants." She was very businesslike about it, though, and was done in seconds.

"Thanks," he said. "Do you need to go?"

"I better."

He waited while she went deeper in the woods. When she came back, she put his arm around her shoulders and they began walking again.

"It's already the afternoon," she said. "Neither of us had anything to eat or drink since last night."

Her statement made him feel thirsty, but hunger wasn't an issue, even if he'd vomited everything in his stomach earlier. "What do you suggest?"

"If we walk a little we might find a picnic area, maybe a water tap, but unless we encounter any other people and play Yogi Bear on them, I don't think we'll be eating until we can get a ride into town."

They found the picnic area, which had a water tap, and they drank as much as they could without bursting. Joe was even able to wash some of the blood from his face and hands. As they sat for a while on the benches, which seemed like a mountain of pillows compared to the hard ground of before, Rachel said, "If we'd just walked a little longer this morning, we might have found this place instead and had a little more comfort."

"I don't think I could have, I was dead on my feet. Plus it was dark, like you said."

"I feel refreshed now. I'm glad you cleaned yourself up. You still look like a prize fighter who went twelve rounds, but at least you're not so much of a horror show."

"Where the hell is everybody? This is a park, right?"

"I know. It's pretty cold, but still, you'd think some hardcore hiker or a dog walker would be out today."

"Should we wait? See if someone comes?"

"That's the gamble, isn't it. We either wait and hope someone comes, and try to convince them to give us a ride, or we walk and try to hitch from the road. Both options have about an equal chance of getting us a ride, but at least if we wait here, we don't have to walk."

"Plus, there's water here."

"Water won't sustain us forever."

Joe thought about it a while. "Why don't we wait a while, and if no one comes by, we go to the bathroom, in an actual bathroom this time, fill up with water and take off."

"That's about as good an idea as any other. I hate waiting around, but I don't want to push you if your leg isn't going to cooperate."

"Thanks."

They sat in silence for a while. Joe found Rachel's presence restful and undemanding. She didn't feel the need to fill the silence with idle chat.

Finally he felt the need to say something. "I wonder if Lauren and Al are okay."

"I know. What must Ralph be thinking? I wonder if he's trying to call us right now to see where the hell we are."

"Hopefully they woke up, and Ralph told them where we went, and maybe they can come looking for us."

"Do you think they'd know where we are now, though?"

He thought about it for a moment. "No. I don't think so. I never told Ralph where the site in Aldergrove was, and Lauren doesn't know it either. She'll have to ask Johnny. But still, even if they went there, they wouldn't find anything, because we never stayed there."

"We're fucked, aren't we, unless we can get a ride from someone."

"Still no one around?"

"Nope."

"This is ridiculous. I think I'd rather move and risk my knee than sit here shivering."

"Thank God, I was afraid to ask if you wanted to go."

They made their trips to the bathroom first, Rachel helping him again with his button after he emerged from the men's room, drank more water, and then set off back for the entrance to the park. Fate seemed determined to keep them from getting home, because no cars entered the park.

He thought he could hear cars pass them a little later, and thought they were back on 272nd Street. "Are we on the road now?" he asked.

"Yes. A few cars have passed, but none have even slowed down."

"Did you try sticking your thumb out?"

"I did. Have you ever noticed that people don't hitch rides anymore? Too dangerous now, especially for women. You don't know who's picking you up, or whom you're picking up. Too many horror movies about serial killers on the road, when the possibility of getting killed is probably very low."

A little later, after more quiet walking to preserve their energy, Joe said, "Do you think I'm the reason they're not stopping?"

"What? Why would you say that?"

"You said it before. I'm a horror show. And I'm massive. Who'd want to stop for me? I wouldn't want to stop for me."

"That's terrible. People are terrible. You're obviously injured. Why wouldn't anyone stop to help you?"

"Most people are interested in only one thing when they're on the road: getting where they're going. They don't want to get involved in anything or make an unscheduled stop. They're expected by others."

"All they'd have to do is bring us to the nearest hospital, or even a gas station! We can call someone from there!"

"Do you have a quarter?"

"What, for a payphone? Are there still payphones around? I was just thinking of asking the clerk to use their phone."

"There are still some around, and the clerk might tell us to fuck off."

"No, I won't believe that. They can even just call nine-one-one for us if they want."

The trouble was, the cars weren't stopping, and they didn't encounter a single gas station even on foot. 

Eventually Rachel stopped them, and Joe said, "Want to rest?"

"It's not that. We've reached the end of the road, so to speak."

"What are you talking about?"

"We're at Zero Avenue. We've reached the Canada-U.S. border."

"Oh." He thought for a moment and said, "Isn't there a border crossing around here?"

"Yes, I think there is. Let's go west from here, because I think I see a concentration of roads and buildings that way."

As they made their way along Zero Avenue, the sounds of cars passing grew louder. Joe felt a little more hopeful that they could find succour; if a passing motorist didn't pick them up, perhaps a border guard could radio for an ambulance, if that were possible.

Joe heard a large vehicle pull up in front of them. Rachel stopped.

"What is it?" Joe asked.

"I think someone's pulled over for us."

A door opened and closed. A man's voice said, "Hello. Looks like the two of you need some assistance."

"We do," Rachel said. "If you could drive us to the nearest hospital, we'd really appreciate it."

"Absolutely. Hop in. Does your friend need help getting in the truck?"

They both helped him into the cab of what appeared to be a large pickup truck. "Thank you again," Rachel said as she opened a door behind him and climbed into the back seat. 

"I'm heading that way anyway," the man said.

As he pulled away, Joe let himself appreciate the warmth of the cab. He hadn't realized how cold he was until he was back in what was probably room temperature.

They drove some time in silence before the man asked what he'd probably been dying to ask since he'd laid eyes on them. "May I ask what happened to you two?"

"We were beaten and robbed north of here." Rachel was talking for them, just like she used to when they were kids, and Joe was happy about it, because he was just too tired and in too much pain. "They took our car. We were stranded with nothing."

"I'm sorry to hear that. You'd think that kind of thing only happens in the city."

"Yes. Well."

"You sure you don't want to go to the police first?"

"My friend here needs a doctor before we do anything else. Besides, there's not much we can tell the police. We have no way of identifying them."

The man said nothing as he drove.

After a tense few minutes of silence, Rachel suddenly said, "You can let us off here."

"I'm sorry?" the man said in surprise.

"We'd like you to let us off as soon as you can pull over safely."

Joe wished he could look back and ask Rachel what the hell she was doing, but he could barely see anything, and twisting like that would hurt. Something in her voice, though, alerted him that something was wrong.

"What are you talking about?" the man asked. "There's nothing around here! We've only driven a few minutes."

"You know what, I've changed my mind, okay? There's a border crossing right there, we'll ask the guards to help."

The man didn't appear to slow down or veer off the road. "You're crazy," he finally said. "Just let me take you to the hospital."

"Funny how you were headed there already. Why would you be headed to a hospital when you look absolutely fine?"

He clicked his tongue in annoyance. "You misunderstand me. I just meant I was headed in that direction."

"Can I ask what you do for a living, Mr... I'm sorry, I don't know your name."

"I don't know yours either."

"I have a feeling you know his, though."

Joe's blood ran cold. What was Rachel saying? Did she know something about this guy that he didn't?

"I've never met either of you before," he said.

"Do you do a lot of work in the cold?" Rachel asked. 

"I farm, if you must know. We have pretty cold mornings right now."

"Is there even that much to do right now? It's autumn."

"You don't know much about farming, do you. I have animals, you know. They still need to be fed, milked, mucked, all that."

"Oh, okay. So that's why you have a balaclava in the backseat?"

Joe's good hand whipped around before he knew what he was doing, striking the man a blow on his cheekbone. If he'd been facing the man head on, he might have knocked him out. All he managed to do was startle him and make him lose control of the truck for a second, hissing in pain and shouting, "Motherfucker!"

The loss of control nearly brought the truck across the centre line, forcing him to pull the wheel back the other way and eliciting blared horns from cars going in the opposite direction. He brought the truck to a screaming stop on the shoulder and said, "Fine! Get out!"

Joe didn't need any more incentive. He opened his door, asking, "Rachel, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm coming."

"This is what I get for trying to be nice," the man grumbled.

"I think what you were doing was penance," Rachel retorted.

"Fuck you!" he screamed, and roared away before they even finished climbing out of the truck, before they could close their doors. The sudden jolt of the truck moving made Joe lose his balance and fall backward, and the sensation of it was surreal, because he didn't hit the ground, he seemed to keep falling past the x-axis until he landed on a down slope and rolled, and his knee and his broken arm protested every time he rolled on to his stomach, which was bad, because he finished his roll on his stomach among grass and damp.

He must have been in a ditch. How appropriate. He'd begun his life playing in ditches, and he would end it in one.

He didn't die, though. That might have been a mercy. His full weight on his broken arm made him scream like a banshee, and he flailed like a turtle on its back until he felt hands on him, helping him turn over. 

"Oh! Joe! I'm sorry! Oh, Jesus!" Rachel was kneeling beside him now.

He groaned and reached out with his good hand, which felt bruised now; he didn't know if it was punching the man's face, hitting the hard cheek bone, that injured it, or trying to break his fall.

Rachel's hand found it and gripped it hard. It was cold and trembling. "I'm so sorry!" she cried, and he thought she was crying now.

"Not your fault," he croaked. "You didn't know he'd speed away like that."

"I didn't stop you from falling, though!"

"How could you have? I would have crushed you under me and maybe hurt you worse."

"I stumbled too," she admitted. "But you went flying. Jesus, how much more hurt can you get?"

He chuckled at the absurd question and then regretted it. The ribs. He was in agony all over, exhausted and in despair after having that brief flicker of hope in the truck. "It was partly my fault," he said. "I shouldn't have hit the guy."

"I don't blame you."

"Sometimes I can't control myself. I had an Incredible Hulk moment."

His statement made Rachel stop crying for a second, and then she chuckled, which made him feel better. "A what?" she asked.

"You know how my favourite superhero was the Hulk when I was a kid? When he got angry, Dr. Banner changed into the Hulk and started smashing. That's kind of what I did."

She was quiet for a moment, maybe thinking about what he'd said. "So, normally you're Dr. Banner? He's the mild-mannered alter ego?"

"Yeah."

"I can see that. Classic take on the Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde story."

Joe gasped as he realized the truth of that. "So, whoever created the Hulk just stole the idea from an earlier story? Way to ruin my childhood heroes."

"Don't be so dramatic. Most stories borrow from earlier ones. So, what made you so angry? Was it what I said about the balaclava?"

"Yeah, but it was building up as soon as you asked to be let out. I knew you wouldn't do that unless you thought we were in danger. That was the fuel. The balaclava was the spark."

"I found it peeking below the rear passenger seat. I don't know if he was trying to hide it or if it had just been there forever."

Joe snorted. "Come on. Cold mornings farming? That's a load of bullshit. Wear a toque, sure, maybe a scarf. But a balaclava? That's to hide your face."

"So, you think he was one of them too?" Rachel asked.

"Almost certain without him confessing it. What you said about penance: I think you might be right. Maybe he felt guilt over what he did and offered the ride to the hospital to make up for it. But I think he was also trying to see what we knew."

"Yeah, I think you're right. Those questions. Asking why we didn't go to the police was a nice bit of diversion."

"That fucker. I bet his buddies didn't even know he was doing that. So, now he's a coward in two ways."

"God, I wish I got the plate number of that truck, but when I stumbled I didn't get a good look at it."

"Nothing we can do about it now."

A pause. Then she began sniffling again. "Oh, Joe, we're even worse off now than when we started. At the bottom of a fucking ditch."

"We just have to try again."

"Do you think you can get up?"

He sighed. "Maybe in a little while. I think I just need to lie here for a second. My body's saying 'enough.'"

"I don't like the sound of that."

"Just give me a bit."

"Maybe I can try to flag someone down while you do."

"Okay."

He lay face up while she climbed out of the ditch, and he could hear her yelling and pleading for cars to stop. After a while, she gingerly made her way back down.

"They wouldn't stop," she said. "Even for me alone, they wouldn't stop. Now there's no one around as far as I could see." She put a hand on his face, and it was cold and refreshing, comforting. "You're shivering."

"It's cold."

"It is, but you shouldn't be lying there shivering."

"I don't think I can get up yet."

"Don't you quit on me, Joe!"

"I'm not."

"You have a wife and family to get back to! I'm not going to let you give up!"

"Okay." But he still didn't move.

"You're not paralyzed, right? You can move your legs?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's just everything hurts."

"The cold is your bigger problem. Maybe you're in shock, have you ever thought of that?"

"The fall was pretty shocking."

"That's not what I mean!"

Suddenly she was lying beside him, draping herself over him as gently as she could, one arm snaking across his chest, one leg over his waist and groin. "Here, let me warm you up a little," she said, breathing on his neck and rubbing his chest. "Maybe that'll help."

It did help a little, but the extra warmth was incidental. Her body pressed into him felt too good, and to his surprise and embarrassment he felt himself swelling.

She cleared her throat and said, "At least we know there's one part of you that isn't broken."

"I'm sorry."

She said nothing, but kept trying to warm him. He didn't know how long she kept that up, but eventually she stilled and just held him.

"Rachel?" he asked.

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

"No. I'm cold, I'm tired, I'm hungry and hurting, and I just want to go home."

He felt her shivering now, and instinctively wrapped his good arm around her. "We will," he promised, even though he couldn't even foresee getting up in the near future.

"How did we get ourselves into this?" she asked.

"I made a stupid mistake," he said, "and I'm sorry as hell that I let you come along."

She was silent for a moment before she said, "To be honest, I didn't really want to stay, I was angry at Al and Lauren, and I thought going out for a while would cool me down."

He grunted a laugh and winced. "Honesty at last. I thought you were going to let them off scot-free."

She sighed and seemed to relax a little. "You're warming me up. Your arm's cozy."

"Thanks."

Her face was near his neck. He could feel her breath. He bent his head to touch it to hers, and she rubbed hers against his like a cat.

He trailed his hand along her back, down to her hip, along the length of the leg thrown over him. She responded by rubbing that leg against his erection, which was still throbbing.

"Rachel," he whispered. "I'm in danger of making another mistake."

"Do you think we'll die here?" she asked, apropos of nothing. "I don't want to die without having sex one last time."

"I don't think we'll die here."

"But I'm so cold, we could die of exposure out here."

"Let's keep holding on to each other, then."

They did, but they didn't stop moving against each other, touching each other. It was dreamlike and surreal, but Joe didn't want to stop, didn't want to think about how wrong it was.

Her face crept close to his, and he felt her lips on his, gentle, moist. His swollen lips burned, but he opened his mouth to hers, and she pulled the zipper down on her coat a little, took his hand and pressed it against her bra. He'd forgotten her shirt was acting as his sling and, surprised and drunk on lust, he squeezed, and she emitted a moan and arched into him.

Then she grabbed him through his pants.

"Jesus, you're huge," she breathed. "How does Lauren deal with this?"

He couldn't answer, he was so focused on not ejaculating while she gripped him. His hand fumbled and slithered under her bra cup and found her nipple, and she cried out in surprise and pleasure and sought his tongue with hers.

He fondled that lovely breast, bigger and fuller than Lauren's, and thought he could just about do this until he died, whether or not it happened here, but then she broke away and said, "I think my period's done, but I'm still messy down there."

He didn't understand what she was trying to say, but he brought his hand down between her legs and, indeed, felt wetness through her pants. It had to be a period accident; he didn't think he could have gotten her that wet so soon. The idea that he could, though, that he was turning her on, made him wild, and he did his best to rub her through her pants, picturing where her button might be. She gripped his hand between her legs and made animal noises as he worked her, until she shuddered and bucked in climax, and still held it there while she lay gasping against him.

Then she said, "Let's not overthink this," and began unbuttoning his pants. 

He lay still, partly in disbelief at what was happening, and partly because movement was painful. She did everything, shimmying down his pants and underwear, exposing him to the cold air, which was both shocking and exhilarating; pulling her own pants and underwear down just enough. She loomed over him, straddled him awkwardly with her pants still partly on, and guided him inside her.

"Holy shit," she breathed, pausing just a quarter way in. "It's like jumping on a flagpole. This is going to take some finesse." She panted as if doing Lamaze breathing, lowering herself a little at a time. "Hoo-boy, I can feel you in my back teeth."

She was warm and tight, and he didn't care if she got blood on him; it was all he could do not to explode right now. Rachel was peering down at him, and he wished he could see her better through his eye slits. She probably looked radiant, victorious, like a Valkyrie. She'd conquered him, and he was as weak as a kitten, unable and unwilling to deny her. If this was what Al enjoyed on a regular basis, he was a lucky man. 

Rachel was right; they couldn't overthink this, because now they were betraying Al and Lauren far worse than Al and Lauren had betrayed them the night before.

"I'll be gentle," she said, as she slowly rocked. "I don't want to hurt you more, and I don't want to tear in two."

"Rachel," he breathed. "I love you."

"No you don't," she said. "Not like that."

"How about, if I die tonight, I'll die happy knowing I'm with you."

"That's better. I'll say that too."

"Can I say I've wanted you since we reunited?"

"Just once. Can I say I wanted to know what your cock would feel like inside me since we reunited, and I saw how big you'd gotten?"

"You can say that over and over again. Have you told Al that?"

"Are you fucking kidding me? This is his worst fear realized. He feels inadequate where your cock is concerned." 

He felt a spiteful pride in that. He felt like he was fucking his smaller, milder competitor, figuratively, while he was fucking his wife, literally. Just as quickly, he felt ashamed of his spite for Al, because he was the one doing wrong. It didn't stop him from lifting his hips a little to plunge himself deeper into her, though, and she rewarded him by groaning out, "Fuck."

She rocked a little more before she said, "I reassured Lauren I never wanted you because I'd never be able to take this." She slowly pumped up and down on him. "I guess I lied."

"She's not going to be happy with you."

"She'll kill you if she finds out. Good thing they took your sword."

Lauren would kill him. At the moment he didn't care. This was the craziest, worst thing he'd ever done, and all he wanted was for Rachel to keep going and that he'd last forever.

His good hand cupped Rachel's smooth butt cheek and squeezed. She gripped his arm and rocked a little faster. "Oh, boy!" she said, "Oh, here I come!"

He lasted only a little longer than she did. Just like that, he'd fucked his second ever sexual partner, and coming inside her made him feel magnificent.

To his surprise, she continued riding him. "I'm taking as much advantage of this beast as I can until you deflate," she said.

"I wish I could fuck you forever," he cried, and she ground herself into him until she came again, and by then he was quite limp.

She stayed atop him for another minute, then rose slowly and pulled up her underwear and pants. She pulled his pants back up and said, "I might have made you crusty with my menses."

"Do you think they'll remark on that if we ever get to the hospital?"

"God, I hope not, or I'll have some explaining to do if they tell your wife."

She lay down beside him again and said, "It might be a good time to decide what we tell Al and Lauren, if we survive this."

"Do we have to tell them anything?"

She sighed and snuggled him for warmth again. "Joe, I know you're a good person. Pathologically good, in fact. Your Catholic sensibilities have been a constant annoyance in our friend group since we were kids."

"I feel strangely proud of that."

She chuckled. "It's because you're so good that I know you're going to feel incredibly guilty about this if we finally get to a hospital and survive, because we can tell ourselves we did this in a moment of weakness brought on by our circumstances, but we both know that's only partly true."

"Would it help if I told you I wished you'd never married Al?"

"No it wouldn't, and fuck off, what did you want, for me to be the second wife in your harem?"

He sighed. "No. More like, if there were a different timeline where Lauren never moved to Queensborough, and I actually took you up on the offer you made when we were seven."

"Oh, sweetie," she said regretfully. "That's a nice thought, but Al would also have to disappear from that timeline, and would you really want to live in that timeline? Could you really live without Lauren?"

"No." He didn't even need to think about it.

"Good. Now, I know I'm going to feel guilty about this too. Al and Lauren's indiscretion paled in comparison to what we did, and I'm going to have to live with my betrayal, but I think I'll eat myself from the inside out if I don't tell him something."

"I see what you mean. We could say we were cold and hurt, and we didn't know if we'd survive, and we comforted each other."

She chuckled. "Comforted. I like that. It could mean all sorts of things. Didn't the Japanese keep Chinese women as sex slaves during the war and call them 'comfort women'?"

"Don't let Lauren hear you say that."

"Okay, so, what if they ask us to elaborate? I think we're going to have to give them a little bit of what we did."

He sighed. "Okay."

"Let's go as far as the handies, and reiterate that we never took our clothes off, which is basically true. Al will be sad I touched your cock, but I think that's the only way he'll believe the story." 

"Jesus, Rachel, that's pretty calculating of you."

"I know, I'm such a bitch!" she groaned. "I'm going to guilt-fuck him before I tell him, just to butter him up."

"Do women really do that?"

"All the time. It's the equivalent of you guys buying flowers and jewelry."

He chuckled. "Okay. That will be our story."

"Good. Now, how are you feeling? Want to try to get out of here?"

"Give me another minute. I'm tired out from sex, now."

"But I did all the work! Are you going to fall asleep on me now, too?"

He did, after they snuggled a little longer. She dozed, too, but they woke up in the early hours of the morning, and with renewed effort they pulled themselves out of the ditch, Rachel pulling from the top while Joe launched with his good leg. They walked a few more hours, Rachel acting as his crutch, and then finally, finally, a semi pulled over and a kind-hearted trucker gave them a lift all the way to Vancouver where he was making a delivery. Vancouver General Hospital was the closest to his destination, and from there their story found its happy ending with a cast on his arm, a brace on his knee, pain killers, IVs and sedatives, and when Al and Lauren tearfully reunited with them the next morning, they remembered their stories.

Joe's fondness for Rachel never diminished after that, not even after Lauren told him news that completely changed his life.

If you read the last novel in this series, you'd know Rachel didn't tell Al the whole truth of what she and Joe did, and this chapter might make you think less of her, but don't we all try to diminish our mistakes to make ourselves look better? Isn't it human to commit lies of omission in order to preserve harmony? Here, as well, Joe and Rachel's complicated friendship finds its ultimate expression when it's pared down to its essentials, just the two of them in the middle of nowhere, with no one to pass judgement. What this will mean for them later, you'll need to discover by clicking "Continue reading." If you liked what you just read, hit "Vote" and leave a comment.