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Chapter 1

“Hey Prehn, you want to come with tonight?”

I looked up from the book on blacksmithing I was reading. It was friday night, and my room mates were about to head out to the clubs as usual. I wasn’t one for the bright lights, loud music and places crowded with smoke and drunks, so normally I stayed back and enjoyed the precious little time to myself. I read, occasionally watched a movie with the small handful of other marines still on the base at the theater, or I’d find something that needed to be done or could be improved on Winona, my bus turning camper. Tonight however, for whatever reason, I felt compelled to go with.
“Eh, hell, why not. Who knows, I might even enjoy myself,” I said, tossing the book on my bed and pulling on my shoes. “Just as long as we don’t wind up in front of First Sergeant on monday.”
Ward looked back with a gleam in his eyes, “We’ll do our best, no guarantees.”

Riley heaved a backpack that looked so full that it was about to burst along the seams, “I don’t know about you two, but I’m not coming back till I have too. We were going to start at Kelly’s downtown and work our way from there. Who knows, we might even manage to get Prehn laid before the weekend is over!”
I shook my head as I sniffed myself, did I need to change this shirt?

“Your just jealous that I have something you don’t,” I said.

“Virginity isn’t something you have, it’s a lack of something,” joked Ward.

I made a face of disgust and changed shirts. The one I was wearing reeked of sulfur smoke and sweat from running the forge behind the bus earlier.
“Keep in mind it’s not because I can’t find a partner. I’ve gotten plenty of offers, but you know the rules I play by,”
“I know, one person and that’s it,” grunted Riley, struggling to get the zipper fully closed on the backpack. “You gotta wake up though, that’s such an old way of thinking. Your never going to find someone insane enough to want to go traipsing into the middle of nowhere or who can stand your constant projects. Face it, relations just don’t last that long anymore. It’s a bang-and-move-on world.”

He got the zipper closed finally and I followed them from the room.

Police cars were outside Kelly’s, so we changed plans and rumbled down to a nightclub I had never heard of. Ward almost lost control of his rusted out truck as we hit a patch of loose gravel in the parking lot, nearly missing a couple of early intoxicates as it skittered sideways into a parking place next to a dirt pile.
I looked up as we crunched our way through the fallen leaves to the doors. The sky was crystal clear, the round orb of the moon low and bright in the sky. Tonight was going to be a cool one, maybe even frost.

The club was a smokey mix of flashing lights and blaring music trying to be heard over the non-too-sober roar. I would have sworn the jets I worked on were quieter. My two roomies headed towards the bar as I sought an empty chair in a corner. The feeling that coming with had been a mistake growing in my gut.
The club was extremely crowded, in fact there was barely an open seat, let alone a vacant table. Suddenly my eyes homed in on a small table along the far wall. A young lady roughly the same age as I was with long, brown hair was seated on one side. She looked like someone who worked a lot outdoors. Worn and dirty jeans were tucked into her slightly muddy and battered work boots. Beneath her red flannel shirt I could tell that she was by no means a model form, but definitely in good shape. However, it wasn’t her clothes or apparent outdoor life or healthy condition that had caught my eyes.
For some reason, I don’t know why exactly, anything on the neck of a person, especially on females, catches my eye. The faded brown collar she wore didn’t stand out at all, in fact it almost blended in perfectly with her slightly unkempt hair, but it still snagged my attention. She slouched back sideways in the chair, leaning her back up against the wall. Behind her tired expression I notice her eyes watching me back.

I hesitated for a moment before changing course and heading in her direction. Why not? She obviously didn’t really feel like being here either, and she just might turn out to be interesting.
Her eyes were the only thing that moved as I made a beeline for the chair on the opposite side of her.
“Hello, this occupied?” I nodded, trying to sound cheerful before collapsing in the empty seat.
“Hey there devil dog, and yes it’s empty,” she replied, not moving.

How did everyone do it? Did boot camp leave some mark on my face only everyone else could see?
“Do we walk funny or something? By the way, the name’s Steve Prehn.”

She turned and I saw spark in her eyes that accompanied a faint smile, “Mine’s Rebecca Huston, and if the haircut wasn’t enough the walk would be. Very few people have the guts to just walk up and sit down next to a complete stranger without some time stuck in limbo debating it. You guys would look confident trying to stop a rampage dump truck with your bare hands.” I had to grin at that.

“I guess we do get a bit cocky,” I said, mimicking her in leaning back against the wall. We were quiet for a few minutes as someone who had a few too many attempted to sing a song by Korn. My mind drifted and I tried to ignore her. Soon though I found it much more important to try and push the terrible squawking from the microphone from my ears. In desperation for escape my thoughts drifted back to the woman beside me. It had to be rough being single and putting up with every guy and their dad trying to get with you. I suppose at first it might be nice to know you attract people, but like people thanking you for serving it must get old very fast.

After someone bought the torturing singer off with another beer a few minutes later I broke the silence with a question that had started to irk me.
“Why do you wear it?”

“Hmm?” she replied.

“The collar. Hint a bit of a canine side, decide to go with that instead of a wedding ring, kicks and giggles, fashion statement, got an owner, I’m just curious, why?”

She looked at me with an expression I had difficulty reading, then she laughed.
“You Marines really are something you know that? The last guy who tried to make friends with me didn’t have the guts to ask about that until almost four months later.” She shook her head, “I wear it because it shows how we’re controlled and entrapped by society and civilization. I’ll take it off the day I feel that I am truly free.”
Interesting concept.

“Cool,” I replied, not really sure what to think. “I guess I kind of feel the same way, only instead of trying to do anything about it I imprisoned myself more by enlisting.”

She gave a chuckle.

“We all do stupid stuff, the best we can do is learn from our mistakes,” she said, “most people think I’m a real weirdo for thinking like I do, and I’ve learned from the mistake of trying to please others. How long do you have left?”

“Too long,” I replied, watching another Karaoke-er get taken out by a flying backpack that looked a lot like Riley’s. “It’s actually only about ten months, but it seems like eternity. After that it’s good-bye Uncle Sam, I’ll never hold another government job as long as I live.”

“Good luck with that,” she said, “It seems like every day the government acquires a new part of our lives, soon nothing will be privately controlled anymore, even your kids.”

“I know, welcome to the Nanny state, where the government thinks it knows best so it’s going to just do everything to make sure everyone is taken care of.”

She spat. “Fuck that. I’ll take my freedom over a lazy life any day.”

“So would I, I think that’s the reason I enlisted, but I don’t think I’ve been able to defend it too well when people have been so eager to give it up.”

A drunk stumbled in front of us and threw up. Ward ambled by and gave him a disgusted look before noticing us and coming over to our table.
“I hate being designated driver.” His eyes caught the young women next to me, “You finally found someone to talk to! Congratulations, keep up the good work!” He turned to the woman next to me and nodded, “Evening ma’am. Excuse my friend here if he’s inexperienced, your probably the first female he’s spoken to in years” he said with a wink.
I groaned. If you ever want to ruin a young friendship throw sex into it. One could expect that from Ward. I didn’t expect, however, for Rebecca to speak up.

“Is this what you have to put up with?”

I nodded, “He’s my room mate.”

“Oh man, I feel sorry for you.”

Ward grinned before he turned and walked away. “Have fun!” he yelled as he disappeared into the crowd.

We sat a few minutes more, the smoke burning my nostrils and throat. The noise and lights planting the seeds of a headache as well. A new song started with an extremely loud, throbbing base that made my head throb more with each pounding beat. I was about to move myself out to the parking lot for a breath of fresh air when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Rebecca was leaning over the table.
“I said, would you like to get out of here?” she yelled.

I nodded and yelled back, “Yeah.”
I caught Ward before we went out to door, communicating to him I’d find my own way home tonight. He gave me a wink as we went our own ways.

The cool air was refreshing against my face as we left the smoke and noise behind. The moonlight washed my headache away and my lungs thankfully took the clean air.
“Where to now, I don’t have a car...”

Her tired expression had seemed to be left back at the door, and the more steps we took the more alert and cheerful she became.
“No problem,” she said, “I have my truck ... I honestly don’t know why I ever go to these places, I hate just about everything about them.” As if to prove her point an intoxicated couple burst from the doors, a young man laughing loudly as his partner emptied her stomach into the bushes.
“I know what you mean. I usually don’t go myself, but for some reason I tagged along with my room mates tonight. Probably to keep them from bugging me next weekend.”

She stopped next to a battered old Chevy. The coating of mud and the big off-road tires made it look like something a young man would drive, not a woman. She seemed to notice my puzzlement.
“I got ol’ Jenny from dad when he retired,” she said, fishing in her pockets, “she’s been with us as long as I can remember, and just doesn’t seem to want to die.”

The cab smelt of fresh cut pine, making me pause as I climbed in the passenger side door. She saw me sniff the air and smirked.
“You asked me if I have a canine side, but by the way you smell everything I’d say you definitely have one.”
“Your dad worked construction?” I asked, ignoring her comments.

“Nope, I’m a carpenter though, and I use the truck for work a lot.”

I nodded, “Cool, I need to find out how to do that. I’m trying to put a floor in my bus but I’m not quite sure how to do that without making it a hazard.”

She nodded and turned the key. There was a shake as the engine complained before the diesel growled to life.
“I could teach you a bit. Where too now? Normally we could hang out at my place but the neighbors above me are having a really rowdy party.”

“Beats me,” I replied, picking a ball of fur off the floor that was mixed with sawdust and twigs. “The barracks on the weekends sounds a lot like your place,” the fur caught the moonlight and shown a soft cream color, “damn the moon’s nice out tonight.”

“Let’s go watch it,” she said, shifting into gear and accelerating out of the parking lot, “I know of a great place to do it.”

An hour and a half later the city’s lights were far behind me and I was sitting on a cushion in the bed of the truck watching the moon slowly climb towards the heavens. We talked for a few hours. She asked about my time in the Corps and my interests. I was an air framer and a hobby blacksmith, working with metal and enjoying every bit of it while knowing almost nothing about wood. She was a carpenter by trade, building houses for people under a larger construction company and made a little furniture in her spare time. Both of us shared a keen interest in the outdoors. I was an avid camper and hiker, having picked up a lot of tricks a strong interest in survival, most of which I had learned from my time in Boy Scouts. She hadn’t been so fortunate and lacked the experience I had, but was just as interested never the less.

A wolf howled. I shivered, my insides twisting at the eery note. Rebecca noticed.

“Are you ok?” she asked, eyeing me.

“I’m fine,” I replied, “ it’s just getting a little chilly.”

She hopped out of the bed and started poking about in the cab. I followed her over the tail gate and stood looking over her shoulder.
“It’s almost three in the morning, wow.” She withdrew, holding an old bottle filled with a clear liquid.
“Hop in,” she motioned. I went over to the passenger side and climbed into the towering vehicle as she slid into the driver’s seat. I was tossed the bottle.
“Grandma made it. I’ve never tried it but she said it helped her to fall asleep. It’s close to explosive so I figure it must be almost pure alcohol. Have some, it should help warm you up.”
I eyed the bottle suspiciously, various scenes from “Arsenic and Old Lace” kept floating through my mind until she snatched the bottle from my grasp.
“Look Mr. Paranoia,” she uncapped and drank a big mouthful. “...it’s safe... Wow” she gasped. “It’s really strong.”
She passed the bottle back and I grinned, taking a more modest mouthful myself before recapping the bottle.

It felt as if it were taking the skin off my tongue and throat as it ran down into my stomach. Underneath the burning in my mouth was a taste I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

****
A crow cawed, it’s muffled voice followed by the sound of a stiff breeze sweeping leaves along the ground. My mouth tasted like glue and my head hurt like hell. I opened my eyes and squinted them against the intense sunlight that shone through the windshield. What the hell? Where was I?
There was a younger woman slumped over in the driver’s seat next to me, the soft sounds of her breathing having a bit of a calming effect. My heart began to slow as my mind got up to speed again. Lemme see, I had decided to go out with the guys last night. I remembered going to some club...
The sun glinted off something buried in the hair of the woman next to me, a buckle? That woman I met at the club, Rebecca. We had left and had gone out someplace in the middle of nowhere to look at the moon and stars. I remembered the wolf howling, and... that was about it.

Rebecca was still sound asleep against the steering wheel. It looked really uncomfortable so I gently put my hand on her shoulder and pulled her back. She sagged against the window, a happy smile on her face as she left a small puddle of drool on the wheel. She was dead to the world.
I shifted my feet and felt them roll something across the floor. Bending over made the world swim. I picked the bottle up and looked at it. According to the sun it was mid afternoon, and we had drank only a little bit. I had consumed pure alcohol before, more than I had last night and it did nothing but get me drunk, not render me unconscious for twelve hours. I set the bottle gently behind the seat, where it clinked off something. I looked closer, the familiar shape of the front sight post of an Armalite jutted out from underneath the corner of a folded blanket. I left it where it was, but wondered what a beautiful young lady was doing with a banned assault rifle hidden in her truck.
I sat there for a few minutes more, my eyes beginning to wander along with my mind. I didn’t feel like trying to wake her up, she had drank a bit more than I had and was definitely smaller, so it only made sense that she would be out longer. The rifle actually made some sense, if she lived alone it was definitely a good idea to carry at least a deterrent.
My eyes fell on a the small pile of sawdust, autumn leaves and different colored fur on the floor of the truck. It was a dirty truck, but there wasn’t a scrap of garbage in it, a good sign in my eyes. The windshield had a large crack that ran along the base of it almost the entire width. The dashboard was worn and scratched to hell, including a series of nasty cuts above the glove compartment. I opened it and started pawing through the contents. The registration certificate stated that the vehicle was indeed registered to a Rebecca L. Huston. There was also a flashlight, a pair of corroded needle nosed pliers, a wadded up coat hanger, an old kitchen knife, box of matches... your standard glove compartment crap, complete with old McDonald’s napkins and plastic utensils. I pulled out a proof of insurance with her name and address on it. According to the insurance company she lived in a suburb opposite the city the base was next too.
“Finding my secret identity?”
I jumped. She was still slumped back against the window, but she was awake and looking at me. “Sorry Rebecca ...”

“Please, everyone calls me Bark.”

I gave her an odd look.

“I did it a few times inadvertently in high school,” she explained, “Unfortunately in front of a class and it earned me a name that has stuck like friggin’ epoxy.”

I nodded and she continued.

“I don’t think that was just booze we had last night. Help her sleep I bet it did; Grandma was either into narcotics or really had one hell of a problem nodding off at night.”

“Your telling me,” I replied, “that stuff had me down for the count until about an hour ago.”

She chuckled, then groaned and rubbed her face. “Man, does your head hurt this much too? I feel like I’ve got one hell of a hangover.”

“Most of a hangover is from dehydration, if you drink some water you should feel better” I said, instantly feeling like an idiot.
Apparently she thought differently though, because she jerked upright and brought the truck to life. “Then let’s get something to drink,” she said as she navigated through the harvested cornfield to the road. “This headache sucks.”

A little while later we pulled into the driveway of an older house in severe need of a coat of paint. The pealing white chips left half of the wooden siding exposed to the elements, where it had faded to a dull gray.
“I have the bottom, and couple of collage kids rent the top,” she explained with a jerk of her thumb towards a stairway the ran up the outside of the house. Concrete steps lead up to an open porch on the front. On the porch was a stack of two by fours, half buried by a pile of maple leaves that seemed to take up almost the entire porch by themselves.
She pushed through the pealing door, which lead to a small living room. Straight ahead was a hall that looked like it lead to a kitchen, and on the right were a pair of doors. I followed her into the kitchen where she filled a pair of huge plastic cups from the tap. Handing one to me, she opened a drawer and rummaged around until she found a piece of paper and a pen. It took several attempts before she found one that worked. I drank about half the glass as I watched her scribble something on the paper before handing it to me.

“My address and phone number.” She winked, “I want to see this bus of yours sometime, and if you share a bit on your woodsman ship, perhaps I’ll lend a hand putting your floor in.”

She dropped me off in front of the barracks, asking me if I wanted to do something next weekend. I agreed to give her a call and went up to my room. Neither Ward nor Riley were back yet, so I used the bathroom and lay down to take a nap. Whatever had been in that bottle was still making me sleepy.
My room mates didn’t return until late sunday, and when they did they were both hungover. Riley eventually asked me about Rebecca.

“So, did ya score any this weekend big man?”

I shook my head, “Nope.”

“Sorry to hear that girl didn’t work out,” said Ward, “wanna go with us next weekend?”
I cracked a smile, “Sorry, I’ve got other plans.”

“Oh, I see how it is now!”

I wanted to wipe the stupid grin off his face.

“Not a girlfriend, but she sure as hell beats hanging around you two.”

Ward gave me a pat on the back. “Congratulations man, I knew you’d find women eventually.”
I sighed and lay back in my bed. Ten more months. Hopefully the bus would be finished before then and I could stay out there instead of trapped in here with the Marx brothers.

****

I called her Thursday night after I had gotten off work. The phone picked up after the third ring, but all I could hear was the whisper of someone’s breath.

“Uh, hello?”

Silence.

“Is Rebecca Huston there? I’d like to speak with her please.”

The breathing changed into a panting. I envisioned someone’s dog drooling over the receiver.

“Hey there, I don’t remember meeting you there fur ball, although you left a lot of your fur in Bark’s truck. Pretty cool that you learned how to answer the phone. Could you go get Rebecca?”

The panting continued. I hung up, figuring she must have been busy or not at home and I’d just call back later. I had forgotten to ask about her dog, judging by the immense amount of fur in her truck it must be fairly big and shaggy. I tried to picture what it would look like for a few minutes before giving up and heading to bed. I’d call her tomorrow.

****

I jumped, bashing my head against the head board, one of the down sides to being tall on a small bed. My phone rang again, and I fumbled about in the dark until it’s smooth shape collided with my fingertips.

“Yaw- ello?” I half yawned.

“Hello?” came a soft voice from the other end. “This is Bark, sorry I missed your call earlier. Hope I didn’t wake you up.”

I grunted and sat up. “It’s all right” I slurred, “jus' wanted ta know what you wanted to do this weekend, if anything. I think yer dog picked up the phone before.”

“What?Oh, uh... he’s not mine. I watch the neighbors sometimes. They must have taught him to do that.”

“He must shed a ton too, you've almost got a secondary seat cover in your truck from it. As for this weekend I’m open for ideas.”

She chuckled. “How about we go camping? I know a good spot, just tell me what to bring.”

I thought for a moment, then; “A good knife if ya got one, blankets or sleeping bag, coffee can, matches, and a hatchet or saw. I got the rest. You sure are friendly and trusting for having just met.”

There was a giggle, “I don’t know, you just smell honest I guess. Something tells me I can trust you. I know I’m being foolish, but it’s all right. I can handle myself if you go against my intuition.”

“You think so? Remember I’m a marine, trained to kill. That rifle in your truck might be effective, but it doesn’t do much good behind the seat.”

“Oh, I forgot that was still in there. Relax will you, unless your planning on raping and murdering me. Are you?”

“No not really.”

“Then don’t worry about it. Stop by my place around eight on Friday, does that sound good?”

“Twenty hundred, good to go, see you then.”

“Bye”

I lay back down, staring up at the ceiling and listening to Ward snore. I was still amazed at how fast things had taken off. Hell, we had only talked for few minutes before she had invited to take me out on a deserted road in the middle of the night to look at the moon. I figured she either had a concealed weapon of considerable power, or she was an over confident idiot. Part of me would be uneasy knowing she had a .357 magnum stuffed in her jacket, but I definitely hoped she wasn’t stupid either. I drifted off eventually, wondering what the weekend would bring.

****

I tossed the worn and faded canvas tent bag onto the small pile of camping equipment in the back of the bus, climbed in and closed the emergency exit door behind me. The bus was a complete wreak on the inside, about ten percent done with a conversion over to a motor home. I had pulled out all the seats initially, so I had to bolt one back in behind the driver’s seat before I could use it to take Bark and myself camping. I began working my way through the mess of pipes and piping, lumber and tools. My first renovations had been to the fuel system, adding two fifty-five gallon heated tanks just in front of the wheel wells for unrefined cooking grease. It was cheaper than diesel fuel and as long you used standard diesel from the regular tank to flush out the fuel lines it worked fine. I had just finished adding heater cores to the tanks to keep the fuel from solidifying during chilly weather. The next step would be to frame out the interior and run the piping and electrical, but with the little free time I had the project was moving painfully slow. Hopefully it would be finished by the time I was discharged, otherwise I’d be stuck living with my aging parents until it was finished.
I climbed into the driver’s seat, fastened the seat belt and began running through a short checklist. Fuel selector was on diesel, main power was... I flipped a large circuit breaker on the dashboard... on. Both heat exchangers to the rear fuel tanks were off. I turned the key and the engine whined before growling to life, spewing oily black smoke out the back of the bus. Oil pressure was good, and the alternator hadn’t conked out yet. The new compressor for the brakes seemed to be working. Good, that had been a royal pain to replace. I opened the fluid line to the rear fuel heaters, then waited for the exhaust to run clear before shifting into gear and rumbling my project out of the parking lot.

Bark was sitting on her front porch dressed much the same way I had last seen her. A medium sized duffle bag was at her feet. Under the sleeves of her forest green jacket I could see long underwear. I had forgotten to mention that when we had talked. We weren’t as far north as I was from, but it was still November never the less and the nights did get a bit frosty. I wondered momentarily what else lay hidden under or in that jacket of hers.

“So this is the bus?” she asked, looking over the massive beast idling in the street. “You should paint it something other than yellow,” she said after a few seconds, “if you ever needed it to disappear for a while it would be a pain in the ass to hid as is.”

“Unless I hid in a parking lot,” I countered. “I thought a bus any color but yellow would stand out.”

I followed her aboard and watched her look over the chaotic mess in the back.

“Looks like you've got a bit of a start on the interior. What are those two tanks back there? Water and sewage?” I shook my head.

“Extra fuel,” I replied, “Those are the unrefined grease tanks. Once the engine gets up to temperature you can switch over. The best part is you can refuel at Burger King for the price of a Whopper.”

“Oh.”

She tossed her bag under the bench and slide in behind the driver’s seat.

****

The campsite was in a forest preserve about ten miles past where we had watched the moon a week before. We pulled in and she showed me the gravel road that led eventually to the shores of a small lake. Someone had build a small fire ring out of medium sized stones and had dragged a log of considerable size up next to it to serve as a bench. Navigating the huge bus down the narrow and winding road had been somewhat of a challenge, but we had made it. It was still beyond me how we were going to get out again, but I’d cross that bridge when I got there.

“So, Mr. Mountain Man, what’s the secret to camping?”

“The secret?” I repeated, unloading the tent and dutch oven and passing them over to her. “To camping or living in the woods?”

“Same thing.”

“They aren't. Camping is taking what you do at home and finding a way to do it out here. Living in the woods is watching how the native animals live day-to-day and mimicking it yourself” I explained.

“Isn’t that called survival? I mean, your living like an animal then.”

I shook my head, “No. Survival is just trying to stay alive. Sure, you might be living like an animal, but then again, they seem to do pretty well where we usually just freeze or stave to death. No one has ever survived for more than 90 days in the wilderness, because after that it becomes living in the wilderness.”

There were a few minutes silence while we sorted out the food and put it back in the bus. We were starting to put up the tent when she next spoke.

“I’m sorry, I’m still having problems picturing myself gnawing on a stick in order to build myself a home.”

“Ah, that is what separates us from our four legged counterparts.” She gave me a confused look. “Look, animals have all the tools they need already built in, do they not? They cut, stab, and kill with their teeth, their claws are for digging and climbing and such. Their fur doubles as armor and insulation, far better than any clothes we have been able to come up with I might add. Us as humans don’t have these things built in. Our teeth are close to useless, our claws even more so, and what little hair we have is a joke.”

“all right then, how to we mimic the masters, get bit by a werewolf?”

I gave a chuckle, “No, we find a substitute. Clothes replace fur, a knife replaces teeth and claws, and on like that.”

I held the pole as she pounded in the last stake with a rock. “So tell me Rambo, how does one cook their meat with no matches for fire? Or do we just eat it raw?”

“Eating it raw is not a bad idea. In fact it’s a good one. Cooking destroys a lot of the essential vitamins and life saving fat in meat. That and the fire will make you smell like smoke, making it more difficult to hunt.”

She made a face of disgust. “Yeeck, I don’t think I could just take a chomp out of a raw Bambie steak like that.”

I grinned. “Don’t worry, we’re going pretty cushy this time. I even brought a dutch oven and was going to try to make a pie. If you ever want me to show you some survival stuff though just let me know.”

“Ok,” she said, a smirk forming on her face, “I forgot the matches and lighter fluid, so you might as well show me how to light a fire without them.”

I couldn’t have been happier to comply.

About two hours later I was relacing my boot next to a small campfire in the fire pit. Bark was shaking her head as she broke up a branch for fire wood. “I boot lace, a friggin boot lace. Cheater, I thought you were going to rub two sticks together.”

“That works too,” I laughed, “but it takes a lot longer. The key is to use what you have and think outside the box.”

She gave me a smile, like she knew something I wasn’t going to learn about.