Wilderness

By Stephany Brandt

Ben and Mike have never been camping in the Pacific Northwest before, and when their friend Jesse offers to take them on a guided trip, they can't refuse.

Everything goes as planned until they take a fateful hike around a lake bordering the Three Sisters Wilderness Area.

Jesse suddenly falls ill and needs to go back to camp. He hopes a little sleep will beat his illness, as Ben and Mike wait, hoping Jesse will get better.

Then Jesse wakes up.

He is no longer himself, and proceeds to play a game of cat-and-mouse with his friends through the forest over the next few days, battling exhaustion and illness as they all try to survive in the wilderness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stephany Brandt
• Release date: Dec 30, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370065370

Stephany Brandt

Stephany (Steph) Brandt is a speculative science fiction author based in Oregon, and their novels are set in the Pacific Northwest both in present and future times. They focus on tales in our near future that delve deeper into the nature of good and evil, discuss what it's like to be an outsider, and explore the nature of love during trying times.They are heavily influenced by writers like NK Jemisin, Martha Wells, Ursula K. LeGuin, Robert A. Heinlein, Stephen King, and Stephen Baxter.Their current titles include Here, Perfect, Darkness, and Wilderness, as well as numerous short stories. They received their creative writing training at the University of Oregon.Steph lives in Eugene, Oregon with a pug from another planet.They are also owned by their writing room and travel companion: the 1985 Volkswagen Van "Henry."

Book preview

Wilderness

WILDERNESS

STEPHANY BRANDT

VICIOUS BUNNY PRESS

Copyright © 2023 by Stephany Brandt

---

All rights reserved.

---

Second Paperback, Hardcover and eBook Edition, 2023

---

Paperback, Hardcover and eBook Edition (2023) License Notes:

---

Thank you for purchasing Wilderness. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to purchase their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer.

---

This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in book reviews.

---

Wilderness is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental. Thank you for your support.

---

Published in the United States by Vicious Bunny Press, LLC

---

www.viciousbunnypress.com

---

Cover Design Copyright 2023 by Ida Jansson, Amygdala Design.

http://www.amygdaladesign.net/

Original Cover Design Copyright 2017 by Kristi Galbraith, Red Studio Inc.

https://redstudio.net/

---

Photo Credits: Forest and stormy sky images - Gregg Galbraith, Red Studio Inc. Hiker Image - Chabala, iStock by Getty Images

---

ISBN: 979-8-9873504-4-7 - Print

ISBN: 979-8-9873504-3-0 - Ebook

ISBN: 979-8-9873504-5-4 - Hardcover

For my Mom and Dad

You’ve Always Believed

CONTENTS

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

Twenty-Five

Epilogue

Author's Note

Glossary of Terms

About the Author

Also by Stephany Brandt

Coming Soon

PROLOGUE

Since time immemorial, it had lived in the forest. That place of quiet, darkness, and calm: where food was plentiful, and souls so easy to pursue. Whether partnered with a sabre-toothed cat, a bear - or later, cougars and wolves - it had always known that its job was to hunt.

Then came the creature called Human. Varturshan had never known such freedom and joy as it came to understand the capacity of these creatures: their ability to create and destroy was unmatched, and their hunger always insatiable.

In this form, Varturshan found its perfect mate: to hunt and pursue in ways that it had never experienced before. The only weakness was the physical body in itself, which had to be swapped in order to survive.

So it lived in this forest, hunting and feeding, always hungering for more.

ONE

Ben and Mike hardly noticed the hours they’d spent cramped in their plane seats. A deep alcohol-induced sleep carried them through turbulence, a baby fussing two rows back, and two drink services.

Moaning softly, Ben writhed in his seat as a nightmare of the bad night wracked his brain. He could smell the whiskey on the man’s breath, hear the techno music blaring in the background; it was just loud enough to muffle Ben’s screams. The leaden feeling of numbness still echoed in Ben’s limbs.

If you look to the right, ladies and gentlemen, crackled the pilot’s voice over the PA, you can see the beautiful Three Sisters Wilderness Area…

Ben jumped awake, looking around wildly in panic for a moment, then saw his fiancee and sighed in relief.

Nightmare again? Mike smiled kindly.

Yeah. Same one. Ben smoothed the wrinkles in his shirt, praying his fear sweat didn’t smell too badly.

Mike bristled. That fucker’s gonna wish he died when I find him…

Remembering only glimmers of the man’s face, Ben felt deeply helpless. You’re not gonna find him. I don’t even know his name. Ben felt this truth sink in his chest like a stone.

And that’s a good reason why I’m not allowed to go to Australia right now. I’d find that bastard, I swear, and kill him. There was a ferocity to Mike’s voice that helped Ben feel safe. Though Ben dwarfed Mike by a few inches at least, the fiery German always radiated an air of competency that Ben craved.

It was still my fault. Ben sighed, remembering how the worst nightmare night of his life started with innocent drinks at a club, laughing and enjoying the company of other men who just wanted to dance with him.

Bullshit. The statute of limitations exists for a reason, luv. You have time. Don’t be any harder on yourself. Mike reached over and kissed Ben gently on the lips.

Ben didn’t fight Mike’s token of endearment and gave his spouse a weary smile, hoping it might satisfy Mike’s urge to nurture. Ben had asked Mike Müller to marry him only the week before their trip to visit Central Oregon, and already Ben was feeling the pressure of the wedding his handsome German fiancee wanted. They’d talked flowers, music, and a guest list already, and with every subject Ben drank another little bottle of Jack Daniels. He wanted to live life with Mike, but the desire to marry had surprised even him.

A disembodied voice crackled over the PA. We have only minutes to go before landing. Please bring your trash to the aisle, stow your belongings and put your seat-backs in the upright position. Your flight attendants will be by to pick up your trash and any remaining drinks from our service.

Ben searched the pocket in front of him and found 5 tiny empty bottles of Jack Daniels, while Mike stared at his group of 4 empty Stolichnaya vodka bottles. They’d smuggled the whole bounty from the duty-free shop in LAX.

You hand these over to her? Ben asked as he leaned towards the aisle. He got a nice whiff of his own rancid armpits in the process, and blushed as the flight attendant drew near.

"No problem, meine Liebe," Mike winked as he fumbled for his own bottles.

Ben took the opportunity to practice his own German, a touch he knew his fiancee loved. "Danke, babe."

Mike chuckled. You’re the only Australian I know who’s more German than a German.

This made Ben grin, as Mike addressed the OCD that had plagued Ben since his youth. Ben spoke the age-old statement of German zen: "Alles in Ordnung," which made Mike break out in knowing laughter.

Trying to make small talk, Mike pierced Ben with his deep blue eyes. You think we oughta get rings?

Whenever you want. Ben breathed deeply and felt a panic attack coming on as he imagined all the choices Mike might choose, and just how much they would cost.

As almost an answer to Ben’s thoughts, Mike chirped. Well, then, I’d like one with a big diamond. He looked to Ben and gave him the sweetly beautiful expression that Ben just couldn’t say no to. Do you think you can afford that?

Ben wondered just how much he could put on his credit card, and how long that would take to pay off, but he answered his fiancee’s question with a kind smile that matched his true feelings. Anything for you. Ben knew he meant those words.

Fiddling with the empty liquor bottles like they were pieces of candy, Mike giggled. Ah, we celebrate our impending nuptials.

The stewardess walked by and Mike handed her the empty liquor bottles, flashing the woman a peek of the grin that had won Ben’s heart while thanking her; Ben fought jealousy as Mike dropped the little bottles in her trash bag.

At that moment Ben caught a whiff of his own breath, wrecked from hours of drinking and the following dehydration; he smacked his lips and tried desperately willing some kind of moisture from his own mouth. Foiled, Ben grabbed for the tin of mints he always kept in his carryon, sucking on one as he wondered how Mike could kiss him with such rancid breath. Yet Mike always seemed so pleased to oblige.

Below them, the land looked like something from a Mad Max movie: the ground was dusty tan covered with small dull grey bushes. The only bursts of green came from scraggly juniper trees, willing themselves to grow from such an arid plain. Ben’s eyes tried registering the contrast from the lush green forest they’d just flown over, his mind in some kind of overwhelm.

The plane looped away from the mountainous forest and approached a small asphalt strip in the center of the sagebrush sea. Next to the strip was a modest building where other planes sat parked neatly on the tarmac, and the whole organization drew closer by the minute. It looked like some kind of miniature play set coming to life, and Ben watched the white tubular outlines of the planes grow bigger as they descended.

Please prepare for landing, voiced the captain over the intercom as the stewardess tidied up the coffee trays and other fodder.

Suddenly the plane rocked, leapt up, and dropped like a roller coaster; Mike and Ben looked at each other and Mike’s face grew concerned as Ben’s own face turned green. The stewardess strapped herself into her tiny jump seat at the front of the aircraft and Ben regretted his decision on the Jack, closing his eyes and humming softly as he reached for the seat pocket in front of him. His fingers caressed the top edge of the airsickness bag.

The plane bucked like a bronco as Ben watched the wheels lower from their compartments in the wing outside his window; each wheel locked into place with a loud thump that shook his seat a little. The small bushes below suddenly seemed bigger and bigger, the trees growing tall and gnarled like something from the depths of Mordor.

Ben’s eyes focused past the wingtip and towards the broadening sunset: the sun sank behind a line of shockingly large mountains, whose peaks progressed from a gnarled snag farthest to the east, concluding with a grand conical mountain in the west. The biggest still bore glaciers clinging to its northern flanks. As the sun sank below the peaks its intensity magnified, and Ben thought instinctively of the green flash his Dad always told him to look for as a child. The light cast eerie sunbeams and shadows on the mountains.

Fuck yeah, whispered Mike as he watched the sunset over Ben’s shoulder.

Ben agreed as he tried looking out the window and breathing deeply. Mmmm-hmm. He didn’t want to risk moving too fast and barfing on his fiancee.

With almost precise telepathy, Mike gazed on Ben with concern. "How ya doin’ Liebe?"

I’m a little sick. Ben spoke in short breaths, trying to control the vomit boiling within.

We’ll be inside soon. I’ll get you some water. Mike stroked Ben’s arm soothingly.

Ben smiled weakly. Thanks.

Always. Mike met Ben’s smile and squeezed Ben’s shoulder reassuringly. Then he peeked out the window again. Jesse sure knows how to pick a place.

Yeah, beautiful. Ben agreed with a small nod.

Makes LA seem impure, continued Mike. Ben just nodded in agreement and stared laser beams into the seat back in front of him.

The plane drew near the runway, then dropped suddenly to the tarmac with a bang; Ben gripped his armrests so hard his knuckles turned white. The propellers outside Ben’s window roared furiously as they tried slowing the little plane down. The Bombardier anchored itself, and braked to a reasonable speed - then the pilot taxied towards the airport.

Expert landing, chirped Mike.

Yeah, kudos, agreed Ben weakly as he fumbled with the barf bag in his hands. His face looked like hell, but he was glad he hadn’t needed his emergency crutch.

The little turboprop taxied to an area just next to the tiny terminal and parked at the end of a small line of other commuter aircraft; Ben counted the names of airlines he knew like United, and the strange new ones like Horizon and Allegiant. He watched a small team of men in orange vests furiously unload luggage from the rear of the aircraft, while some tied the plane to its moorings, and others tended to the engines.

They loaded the excess carryon luggage on a white-roofed trolley and wheeled the trolley near the walkway extending from the plane. Within a few minutes the aircraft was prepared, and they lowered the stairwell for the passengers to disembark.

Ben fidgeted in his seat as he watched the rest of the passengers stand and stretch their achy legs, hearing the overhead containers popping open around the cabin. The man directly across from him reached for his duffel bag emblazoned Callaway in gaudy lettering, while the woman in front of him desperately tried turning her smartphone on, cursing Samsung under her breath.

He looked around as the rest of the passengers stood and admired how small he felt amongst the forest of bodies. Ben sat as long as possible, since crunching his frame below the overhead bin didn’t sound appealing.

Mike rummaged in the seat back for the fitness magazines he’d bought at the newsstand in LAX. Already getting prepped for our wedding day, Ben thought jealously. Ben’s belly had slackened over the year and was no longer the taut surfer’s stomach that Mike had fallen in love with, and he wondered how long it would take to work off the extra lattes he’d been drinking.

With a groan and popping knees, Mike stood and beheld his fiancee in the seat below. Fuck, I can’t believe I’m getting you to go camping!

Ben looked up with a smile. Hey, this is what love does to a man, makes him go out on a limb.

Mike giggled. You’re gonna have to get dirty, you know. Actual dirt under your fingernails.

Ben scrunched his face only partly in jest. Oh God.

And smell like sweat, Mike continued.

Somewhat sarcastic, Ben raised his eyebrows. No cologne?

No cologne. Mike shook his head. Maybe deodorant. Cologne will attract bugs.

Shit. Bugs? Now Ben was really worried.

Mike reached down and stroked Ben’s shoulder, then gave him a kiss. Just close your eyes and don’t think about it.

Ben savored the kiss from the man who was to be his husband. The bugs will not get me.

No. They will not get you. Mike stood back up with a grin.

Fiddling with his cell phone, Ben suddenly felt the fear of going out into the unknown wilderness without his constant stream of technology. Will we have cell service there?

I think so…pretty sure. Mike checked his own phone and shook it.

This calmed Ben’s nerves and he sighed. Good. Good.

Finally, the rows before Ben and Mike cleared and Ben stood, curving himself around the base of the overhead bin to get a tiny bit more space. Mike reached up to the overhead bin and wrestled Ben’s big rolling bag out of the compartment, handing the luggage to Ben with a grunt.

Here’s your bag. Mike smiled as he passed the shiny piece emblazoned with the Quiksilver logo.

Thanks. Ben tried balancing the thing on Mike’s empty seat.

Mike stared at his own Louis Vuitton piece, then back at Ben’s far more humble carryon. Would you be okay if we got matching luggage after we’re married? So I can show the world you belong to me? He grinned sweetly and gave Ben another wink.

Ben played along, feigning ignorance. The ring won’t be enough?

Which got Mike going even further. Nope. We’re gonna have matching outfits too. Now Mike began giggling softly.

Ben reached out and kissed Mike. Yes, dear.

Good answer. Mike eyes twinkled.

Wriggling under the overhead bin, Ben tried fighting the cramp building in his lower back. God, this thing’s tiny.

Hang in there. We’ll be out in just another minute or so. Mike craned his head to where the line at the front of the plane moved slowly out the door. As if on cue, the man waiting in the aisle beckoned for Mike to follow the line, and Mike greeted him with a kind nod. Thank you for that.

Wait for me, luv. Ben hustled to follow Mike out of their cramped seats - his knees wanted to buckle from being in the sitting position for too long.

Mike turned and gave Ben another one of his winning smiles, which lit up his face. Oh, absolutely. Always.

As they stood and moved down the aisle Ben smelled the scent coming from the door: it was dusty and fresh and hot and piney all in the same breath - so unlike the smell of rubber, humidity and oil from Los Angeles. Ben couldn’t help sniffing the air like a dog while he walked down the stairs, to where a wall of dry heat hit him.

Ben pulled his Quiksilver bag along, staying between the yellow lines which marked a safe trail for passengers to get from the plane to the airport doors - without being beheaded by another waiting plane. Mike led the way, reaching back to take Ben’s hand.

Just like home, eh? Mike’s face was already showing a sheen of sweat.

Yeah. Reminds me of a nice day in Perth. Which was actually the truth: the intensity of the heat had a strangely Australian flavor. Ben suddenly craved the chill of air conditioning and hurried his step to follow Mike to the airport terminal.

Stepping inside the revolving door, the frigid air assaulted Ben - he thought someone must have read his mind as his sweat instantly cooled. Across the main room of the baggage claim, a tall man wearing what looked like hiking gear waved cheerily at Mike and Ben. He trotted across the lobby, a grin plastering his face, and Ben remembered the pictures Mike had shown him of his old college buddy Jesse Williams. The two had met when Mike did an exchange year at the University of Oregon, and had stayed friends when Mike returned to his university in Germany the following fall.

What a sight it is…Mike Müller in the flesh! Jesse hugged Mike vigorously as he chortled his hellos.

Mike allowed himself to be shaken like a dog’s toy in Jesse’s bear hug, then clapped Jesse on the shoulder as the tall man returned Mike to Earth. How’re you doing, Mr. Jesse The Fantastic?

Jesse shrugged. I’m hanging in there. He stood back and appraised Mike, who stood a good five inches shorter than Jesse. Damn. I would say you look older than you did when you were in Eugene, but you still don’t. He gave a chuckle to finish the sentence.

Acknowledging the fact that he still often passed for a person ten years younger, Mike blushed. Yeah. Still resemble a teenager, huh?

Sorry, you’re gonna get carded for sure. Jesse’s eyes sparkled wickedly.

Oh, joy. Mike sighed facetiously.

Throughout this whole exchange, Ben stood a couple feet behind Mike, watching everything and feeling like the tourist outsider that he was; seeing his fiancee so comfortable with a tall handsome man made Ben’s insecurities suddenly all come out in force. As if he suddenly felt it too, Mike turned and hugged Ben, bringing Ben up to nearly a foot from Jesse. Ben could smell the strange earthy scent of the native Oregonian as he drew near.

This is Ben! The man brave enough to be my…fiancee! Mike nearly shrieked like a girl as he shared the big news with his old friend.

Ben braced for what he figured would be an uncomfortable moment: Ben didn’t know if Jesse knew Mike was gay or not. As he tensed for the inevitable, the moment passed like a wave of cool water.

Jesse’s face brightened like he’d been told of any other normal heterosexual engagement announcement. Shit! You guys are getting married?

Mike fussed and fluttered like a teenaged girl. Yeah! We just did it. Ben proposed last week.

Congratulations you guys! Jesse’s voice was sincere as he held out his hand to Ben in a welcoming moment. So, you’re gonna make an honest man out of Mikey here?

Ben accepted Jesse’s firm handshake shyly. Yeah, I’ll try.

He’ll do more than try. He’s already made me an honest man. Mike giggled.

Yeah? With raised eyebrows Jesse continued the joke.

Which got Mike to put his hands on his hips in a mock-feisty gesture. I’m not lying about my weight anymore.

Jesse bust out laughing hard, holding his stomach from the waves of mirth. Oh, Mike…

Through this whole exchange Ben felt keenly lost, like he was an outsider in the jokes that Mike and Jesse had clearly shared for years. He watched as his fiancee nearly flirted with this tall, handsome American, and it took everything in Ben’s being to not want to run back to the plane, or fight Jesse right there in front of the baggage claim.

As if he felt Ben’s discomfort, Jesse smiled in a winning way and caught Ben’s gaze, trying to include Ben in the joke. Hope you’re ready for life with this one.

Yeah. He’s got me hooked. Ben smiled, his jealousy suddenly melting to a kindly acceptance of Mike’s old friend.

Glad he does. You guys ready to hit the pubs tonight? We’ll celebrate your upcoming wedding? There was an earnest sparkle in Jesse’s eyes that made Ben want to trust him.

Mike jostled over to Jesse, brandishing his cell phone. Are you kidding? I have a list made. He pointed to an app where a long list of beers waited. I promised Ben I’d show him why Oregon beer is better than Australian beer.

Now it was Ben’s turn to join in on the joke. Sacrilege! He knew secretly that the beers he’d purchased from some of the Oregon breweries far surpassed the Fosters of his native land.

Shrugging in a mock-offended way, Mike looked to Jesse. See what I have to deal with? Then he cuddled Ben to his side. So you know I have to win. The two kissed sweetly to end the pretend battle.

Jesse took Mike’s phone and surveyed the list of beers listed in bright purple lettering. Good choices, man. As your chauffeur and guide, I’ll make sure we visit them all. Then he winked as if sharing a secret joke. Prepare your livers.

Feeling queasy already, Ben thought about the last bout of hard drinking that had left him throwing up mightily, and then battling a cruel hangover the next day. Awesome.

On that note…looks like you guys have been partying already? With a chuckle Jesse stepped back and observed Ben and Mike’s bloodshot eyes.

Yeah, good service on that plane… Mike bashfully admitted.

Well I hope you got some more room, for going out tonight. Jesse’s voice held both bravado and thrill of sharing a new experience with friends.

Mike breathed deep, like he was steeling himself for battle. Oh, yeah. I feel a hollow leg coming on…plenty more room in there! He patted his thigh for emphasis.

A loud beeping noise called from the end of the claim area, where a bright light above the baggage claim conveyor belt began flashing; Jesse led the group towards the waiting crowd, where they watched the belt move torturously by with no luggage on it. At long last one bag emerged from the tunnel on the belt and crept by all the expectant passengers - Ben noted sadly that his bag was never first.

It took ten minutes of staring at other peoples’ luggage before a bag fell out of the tunnel the men recognized. Yes! hooted Jesse. Bertha is back! The heavily scuffed and tattered duffel bag with a yellow body and bright apple green straps lumbered towards them on the conveyor belt. The faded O logo of the 2010’s-era Oregon football team still clung to the side: a throwback to the fandom of their college days, Jesse saw it and laughed.

Hey, I’m a sucker for memories, shrugged Mike with a smile.

Bertha had carried beer, cigarettes, and the occasional joint in her year of service as Jesse and Mike’s dormitory storage bag, and she was sure to return to service in the same fashion on this trip.

I thought I’d bring the old girl along and see if we can still get into trouble, laughed Mike.

She’ll be hell as a backpack, countered Jesse, hope you brought something more useful.

Oh, yeah, for sure, Mike added, this is for the ambience.

Nice. chimed in Ben, feeling completely out of place and missing the mutual joke between his fiancee and Jesse.

Minutes later two expedition-style backpacks wrapped in clear plastic trundled down the belt; Mike grabbed the red one and Ben the forest green. They were fresh from REI and still smelled of the sewing room, but Jesse made no comment on the outdoor-readiness of his guests. Within another few seconds, Ben’s Quiksilver luggage and Mike’s flashy Louis Vuitton suitcase trundled within grabbing range.

Ben tried wrangling his backpack, carryon, and his bulky rolling bag - all while watching Mike somehow expertly load everything on his back and body like a five foot seven sherpa. Jesse reached out and offered to grab Ben’s smaller rolling bag and backpack, and Ben obliged - albeit embarrassed about his lack of smooth carrying skill. He keenly felt naked and unprepared next to Jesse’s manly outdoorsiness.

Ben and Mike followed Jesse out the revolving door on the building's north end, met again by the oven-like heat.

Mike whistled. Dang! It always like this?

Yeah, been even hotter this summer, said Jesse. Hopefully those thunderstorms in the forecast turn out to be mild. Otherwise there’ll be a fire or two started.

Really? Ben stared at the sky. In June?

Jesse looked at Mike and shrugged. Yeah, we had a shitty winter, so things are toasted out. Good for bugs, though: you need less Deet!

As Mike scuttled on ahead, Jesse waited back, walking next to Ben. So you guys met at work? He tried delicately breaking the ice.

Yeah. He has the cubicle across from me. Introduced himself the first day.

…And you fell in love? Jesse gave a kindly smile, showing a true interest in Ben and Mike’s relationship.

Yeah, something like that. Ben felt strange opening up to Mike’s old friend.

Ah, Mike. He’s never met a stranger. Jesse chuckled.

Yeah, we also surf together. Ben wondered what intimate details of his relationship with Mike he should share.

This actually got a guffaw out of Jesse. Bet he’s terrible at that.

Yeah, but he tries hard.

That would be Mike: go big, even if it ends badly.

Nervous, Ben made a laugh that he hoped sounded more genuine than scared. Yeah, definitely.

Walking across the blacktop, a Volkswagen van with a pop-top waited. The paint was tan above and green below, but a parade of dents small and large danced across its fenders and quarter panels. The marks of a hard life.

Henry! cheered Mike as he trotted towards the old van. He lives!

Yeah, had to give him at least one trip this year…otherwise he gets jealous, grinned Jesse. The old Vanagon had been their vehicle of choice for many a wild college adventure, and Mike hadn’t seen it in years.

Ben stood and stared at the vehicle that had been his dream car since his dad gave him a tiny model of a Volkswagen surf van when he was ten. Shit, you really have one of these things?

Yeah, he captured me in college. Jesse sighed wistfully. A marriage, you know? For richer, for poorer, ’til death… As he uttered those last words, Jesse’s eyes flicked to the conspicuous dent on Henry’s flanks.

I had a toy when I was little. Always wanted the real thing. Ben sighed and remembered when he first opened that present, wrapped in green and red Christmas paper.

Jesse chuckled ruefully. Yeah, Henry’s owned me for a while now, and I am his dutiful slave. He pat the side of the van like it was a trusty old horse.

So cool, mate. Ben hoped he was starting to come off naturally around Jesse, who made Ben feel so desperately uncool with every word and action. Jesse seemed to ooze outdoorsy confidence - the kind that Ben most certainly lacked.

From up ahead, Mike waited by the passenger’s door, tapping his foot. Hurry up you two! Unlock this thing!

This got Jesse to hustle