Far Country (57 page)

           
Pete set Steve’s yellow nylon gear bag on top of the old oak stump and tossed
his own backpack against a large root to use as a pillow. He turned back to
Steve, swatting at a bug on his neck.  “Quit stalling, Steve!” He
ordered.  “I don’t want to still be here at – ouch!” He swatted another
insect on his arm, and then another.

           
Steve was taking a few deep cleansing breaths, gathering his focus before he
dropped over the side. “Don’t rush me!” He complained. “I’m
jus
…Owe!”
He swatted something that had just stung his hand.  A sleek black and
yellow body fell to the ground.

           
“What…?”

           
Steve looked up. Pete was literally dancing now, brushing and slapping
frantically at about ten black dots hovering in the air around him. Suddenly,
Steve was aware of the angry hum of a thousand tiny wings taking flight.

           
A yellow jacket stung him on the cheek and another pierced his arm. A burning
hot needle of pain lanced through his neck.

           
“Run!” Pete shouted. Steve unsnapped his D ring and raced after Pete’s
retreating back, the swarm driving the men before them in a furious onslaught.
They burst from the tree line and onto the main trail, but the yellow jackets
were not content with chasing them from their territory. Pete and Steve covered
another quarter of a mile at a pounding run before the angry swarm faded into
the distance. Gasping for air, the two men stumbled to a stop and began
slapping and brushing the last of their attackers off of their clothes and out
of their hair.

           
Steve looked at Pete’s face. At least ten angry red welts dotted his cheeks and
neck.  One eye was already swelling shut.  Steve was sure that he
looked no better.

           
Pete was also staring at Steve’s face, knowing that he was essentially looking
in a mirror.  “Deb is
gonna
kill me!” He groaned
miserably.

           
“Kill you? You mean, kill ME!  I’m the best man! I’m supposed to be taking
care of you! – ouch! – he hissed as he a straggler got in a final sting on his
leg.

           
Still breathing hard and looking thoroughly miserable, Pete started walking
determinedly toward the Park Headquarters three miles away.  “Come on,” he
said grimly. “We need to get back to civilization and take some antihistamines
to counteract the venom.”

           
Steve hesitated, looking back up the trail.  “What about my equipment? My
bag and ropes?” He asked.

           
“You’ve got to be kidding!” Pete said with a laugh. “It’s sitting on a wasp
nest, remember? That’s the best guarded piece of personal property in the
park!”

           
“Right,” Steve conceded after a moment, falling in beside Pete.

           
It was a long walk back to the headquarters building. They limped in, sore and
miserable, and headed for the first aid kit in the lounge.  Jill had just
come on duty when they arrived and she stared in shock at their swollen and
misshapen faces.

           
“What happened to you two?” She asked in an awed whisper.

           
Steve found the antihistamine tablets, shook out a couple and tossed the bottle
to Pete, who did likewise. “He threw a backpack at a wasp nest,” Steve mumbled
through swollen lips.

           
Jill continued to stare aghast at the two men. “But Pete, you’re getting
married next weekend! You’re a mess! What did Deb say?”

           
“She hasn’t seen me yet,” he answered, scooping a handful of ice out of the
freezer and rubbing it over the fiery welts on his face.

           
“She’s going to kill you both!” Jill informed them solemnly.

           
Steve glared at her. ‘Thank you for those encouraging words, Jill,” he mumbled
in irritation as he grabbed a handful of ice too and slathered it over his
face.

           
Slightly chastened, Jill opened the medicine cabinet again and rummaged around
for some aspirin to feed them as well.  “I’ll call Chuck and Terry,” she
told them.  “They were supposed to be off today, but I think I can talk
them into covering for you two. You should probably go lie down for awhile,
don’t you think?”

           
“Thanks, Jill,” Pete said with genuine relief at her offer. “I think you’re
right about that.”

           
They drove the short distance back to the trailers, and arrived in time to see
Deborah dash out of her trailer and stare wildly down the private drive,
watching for them.  Pete looked at Steve and shook his head in disgust. “I
think Jill called more people than Chuck and Terry,” he commented in resignation.
He had hoped to slip into his trailer and be in bed before Deborah had a clue
about what had happened.

           
As it was, he barely made it out of the truck before Deborah was at his side,
staring at his face and arms in shocked horror. “Oh Pete!” She cried out as she
counted more than twenty stings on his face and arms alone.  “Oh honey!
What were you two thinking, playing stupid games so close to the wedding? Are
either of you allergic to bee stings?”

           
Pete rolled his eyes in disgust. “They were yellow jackets, not bees. And I've
gotten stung before so there's not much chance of that, is there? I mean, we’ll
be miserable for a day or two, but there's no need to make it worse than it is.
I bet you’ve never even met anyone who’s allergic to bee stings!”

           
“Then you’d lose!” She retorted. “Both Sarah and David Bolton were allergic –
remember Steve?

           
Steve paused and thought back. “Yeah, I guess they were.” He recalled at last.
“It wasn’t something I ever really thought about, though.”

           
Deborah gave a short laugh. “He wouldn’t ever let me forget -every time David
gave me flowers he informed me that he was risking his life!”  Suddenly
her thoughts swerved back to the present.  Her eyes narrowed. “Why were
you two messing with yellow jackets for, in the first place?” She demanded,
back on track again. “I don’t even understand why you’re out of bed this early!
In two years you’ve never gotten a single bee sting, and now here it is just
days before our wedding and you look like you have the mumps and the measles
both!” Her voice had risen a notch and was taking on a hysterical note that
made Steve wince.

           
“We didn’t  do this on purpose, Deb!” Pete finally told her heatedly. “If
you don’t want to help pull out these stingers, then I’d appreciate it if you’d
just save your lecture for another time!”

           
Pete rarely raised his voice to anyone, let alone Deborah, and the effect was
immediate.  She blinked as if just coming out of a trance and her hand
flew to her lips in contrition.  “Oh
Petey
!
You’re so right! What am I doing?  Let’s get you two inside and do what we
can.”

           
Steve waved a farewell and turned with relief to his own trailer. “I’ll be over
to check on you later, amigo.” He told Pete.  “I’m sorry to have gotten
you into this mess!”

           
But Deborah had a different plan. “Steve! It’s not a good idea to stay over
there by yourself! What if you do have some kind of reaction?  Or what if
Pete does after I leave for work?  You two need to stay together!  As
soon as you get a shower and change clothes, come back over to Pete’s trailer.
It will be much easier for me to check on the two of you today.”

           
Pete’s eyes met Steve’s as Deborah took him by the hand and towed him toward
his trailer. “I told you she’d make us pay for this!” He whispered darkly.

           
Steve watched them disappear into the trailer with some trepidation. He’d been
looking forward to stretching out on his bed and letting himself succumb to his
misery, but now it looked as if he would have to hang out at Pete’s for regular
observations. Glumly he headed for the shower. He let cool water pour over his
sore body and said a prayer of thanks for running water. Slightly less
miserable than before, he slipped into a loose fitting pair of shorts and a
clean t-shirt, and then he made his way back to Pete’s trailer.

           
Steve and Pete catnapped throughout the day, waking only to eat, take more pain
pills and antihistamine tablets, and to answer Deborah’s careful questions on
her periodic house calls.

           
At the end of her shift, Jill dropped by with an ointment to rub on the
welts.  It was guaranteed to reduce soreness and swelling. Deborah all but
snatched the tubes from her, and smeared the contents over most of Pete’s
swollen face.

           
Steve watched her careful ministrations to Pete for a full minute before
finally saying, “What am I? Chopped Liver?”

           
Deborah glared in his direction and tossed him the tube of ointment. “Right
now, it’d be hard to tell the difference!”

           
She continued to hover over them most of the evening.  All in all, when
she finally fell asleep on Pete’s bed, they were both relieved.

           
Bored, uncomfortable and restless, they tried to concentrate on an old movie
that Deborah had put in shortly before she fell asleep. 

           
“Steve, what are you going to do about the money now?”  Pete asked idly as
he slumped
bonelssly
on the old
sofa.   

           
“Nothing!” He said emphatically. “At least, nothing for now.  As far as
I’m concerned, the Three Hundred Dollar Falls can keep it’s treasure!” He
yawned, but he didn’t really feel tired. He shifted uncomfortably in the chair,
then felt his eyelids closing from lack of stimulation.  He forced them
open, knowing that if he took another nap now, he’d be up the rest of the
night.

           
A light tap on the door drew their attention, and Chuck cautiously opened the
door a crack.  “You guys bored?” He said in a stage whisper, sticking his
arm though the open door and waving the latest x-box game in the air.

           
Pete sat up, excited.  “Wow! When’d you get that?”

           
Chuck grinned. “Just this afternoon. I thought it might help pass the time…”
For the first time since the incident happened, Chuck looked at Pete and
Steve’s lumpy blotched faces.  “Whoa!” He whistled in awe.  “You guys
are
messed up!”

           
Steve would have rolled his eyes at this gross understatement of their
condition, but the swelling on his eyelid made the gesture physically
impossible, and painful to even contemplate.

           
“Come on in!” Pete told him, ignoring his comments, his eyes fastened greedily
on the game. He pulled himself into a sitting position on the sofa.

           
Chuck carefully closed the front door, and then at a sign from Pete, quietly
shut the door to Pete’s bedroom, where Deborah was still sleeping soundly. He
popped the disk  into the machine and the familiar logo flashed across the
screen.

           
“All right!” Steve exhaled in anticipation. “I vote that the groom goes first!”

           
“All right!” Pete grinned in reply. “Give me those controls!”  The screen
filled with the incredible graphics, and the three men sighed in appreciation.
"Who's playing against me?"

           
“Me!” Steve called in an intense whisper.

           
“Hey, I bought it!” Chuck complained.

           
“Then take it home and play it on your own machine!” Pete teased.

           
“Can’t,” he admitted glumly.  “Jill’s over there and she’s watching some
mini series
marathon thing.  I’m going crazy!”

           
At some point during Christmas, Jill had finally managed to stake her claim on
Chuck. The progress had been slow, but the two were making steady headway
toward a romantic relationship at last. There were times, though, when it
seemed as if Chuck wasn’t quite sure how it had all happened.

           
“Fine,” Steve relented. “You play now, and then I’ll play the winner.”

           
“Deal!” Chuck agreed, heading to the kitchen on a snack raid.  He returned
with a bag of chocolate chip cookies, salsa, two bags of chips and soda for
everyone.  For the first time that day, Pete and Steve forgot their
general misery as they immersed themselves in the fortunes of the intense game.

           
When Deborah awoke around four o’clock a.m. and stumbled out of the bedroom,
feeling guilty for not checking on her charges for hours, she found the living
room littered with cans, cookie crumbs and half eaten bags of chips. In the dim
light of the X-box, she could make out Pete, sleeping peacefully on the sofa.
Steve was snoring quietly in the chair, and Deborah thought that she recognized
Chuck’s huge frame sprawled on the floor.

           
She started to pick up an overturned soda can, but suddenly, she stopped
herself and instead, moved quietly to the sofa.  She rested her hand
lightly on Pete’s forehead, feeling the mild perspiration from the fever he had
been running all day. He seemed cooler, at least, and his breathing was
normal.  Fondly, she dropped a kiss on his hair and stepped away from the
chair. After surveying the scene for another minute, she turned back to the
bedroom with a smile and firmly shut the door behind her.