Caveman (6 page)

His face stays impassive as I speak except for his wild eyes and that muscle still ticking in his jaw. He takes a step towards me and I fight the urge to back away, repeating to myself that he’s not going to hurt me. When he’s only inches away from me and I can almost feel his breath on my lips, he speaks in a low, dangerous voice.

“I’m only going to say this once. That guy in the picture? He’s not me. He is a stupid boy who thought things would one day get better, that he would get everything he wanted. That guy is who the man who hired you is looking for. He’s not me. I’m not him. I don’t know what other words to use to make you understand.” He holds my gaze for a long, silent moment and then walks to the door. “Eat and leave the plate there. I’ll clean it in the morning.”

And then he’s gone.

D
amon didn’t sleep in the cabin the last two nights. He hasn’t said a single word to me in two days. He comes in to leave a plate of food on the table for me and he goes out again. He thinks that way I’m going to drop the subject but he doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know I can be an annoyingly stubborn bitch.

So I have a new plan. Get him to admit – even in anger – that he is, in fact, Damon Sawyers. After his little speech that night, I know he must have had good reasons to leave and I don’t want to know them. Okay, no. I’m dying to know. I’m just not going to bother him about it. If he wanted to tell me, he would have already.

I’m seriously considering telling Mr. Sawyers that I found his brother’s grave here in Alaska if Damon really wants to be left alone. This place has become his home in these seven years and I would never want to take someone out of their home. I just want him to admit that it’s him I’ve been looking for.

I’m thrilled that I found him. Actually thrilled, with the urge to jump around and shout out in glee. Other than the small detail that he’s not admitting it, he’s exactly like everyone described him. He took care of me when I was hurt, makes sure I don’t die of hunger or thirst every day and let’s not forget the part where he took me to the hot spring. I mean, what better way for a guy to show his true character than carry a half-naked woman on a rocky path so she can have her hot bath? And not molest her, mind you.

My feminine ego is still a little bruised by that actually. Here I am, drooling over him whenever I catch a glimpse of him shirtless and he had me half-naked against his body and wasn’t affected. I mean, it’s not like he has much of a choice in women out here in the wild. And if my assumptions are correct, he must have been all on his own all this time. So how can a girl not be offended?

I’m being paranoid, I know. If anything, his non-action shows more about his character. But that crush I’ve developed on him – yes, I can now admit it is a crush – has me wishing he wouldn’t be so nice. That he would see me half-naked and
do
something about it. I mean, something other than find me a hot spring to bathe in.

So, as I said before, I have a plan. And it starts as soon as he comes back from wherever he is currently hiding.

He walks in as usual with a plate of food. When he turns around to leave again, the first phase of my plan is on.

“Damon, can I talk to you for a moment?”

He freezes on his way to the door and his hands fist on his sides. I don’t give him a moment to argue about the use of his name and go on.

“I was wondering if there is a way you could draw me a map towards the nearest road? My ankle is almost completely well and I thought I’d get out of your hair.”

He doesn’t turn around and doesn’t answer me. I’m holding my breath in wait of his response and I really don’t know what I want it to be. That he will do it? That he can take me there? That he doesn’t want me to leave at all?

Who am I kidding? The girl inside me with the crush on him wants him to take me in his arms and tell me that I’m not going anywhere. That he will keep me with him forever. Enter wedding bells.

He turns his head to the side so he can look at me out of the corner of his eye. “I’ll think of something.” And he’s gone.

Okay. I’m a little disappointed. Not only did he not argue me leaving but he completely bypassed the part where I called him by his name. I got no reaction whatsoever.

No worries. I just have to be more persistent.

“Good morning, Damon.”

“Thank you, Damon.”

“Damon, I’m going up to the spring again.”

“Damon, is there something I can do to help around here? I’m feeling pretty useless.”

“My ankle is doing pretty well, Damon. Thank you for taking care of me.”

“I know what you’re doing,” he says in a low voice after three days of the same pattern.

“What am I doing?” I ask innocently.

He looks up from where he’s rearranging the logs in the fire. “Trying to get me to admit I’m him.” He pushes to his feet. “It’s not going to work because I’m not.” He starts for the door.

“I know every single thing about you. It’s my job to. Okay, I’ll admit that – since you’re my first case that doesn’t involve photographing other people having sex – I’ve also become slightly obsessed in finding you and everything about you. I know you had a rough time growing up because of your father and I know how close you were with your brother. I know you were also close to Victoria, your brother’s girlfriend. Do you know they’re married now? Do you know they have a child, a little baby boy? Do you know you’re an uncle?”

His back stiffens but that’s the only reaction I’m getting so I push on.

“I also know about your bitch of an ex and you’ll be glad to know that she’s unhappily engaged to a prick who’s cheating on her. Or maybe you won’t be glad because you’re a good man. Someone that gets involved with charity and makes sure every person that’s working under him is happy and well taken care of.”

I see his shoulders moving as he breathes in and out and then he grabs the doorknob and pulls the door open.

“I know you’re Damon Sawyers not only because you are the man in the picture but because everything I just described is still you. You took care of me, without even knowing me. You pulled me out of a burning airplane and carried me across the forest. Bandaged my swollen ankle and made sure I didn’t walk and make it worse. Made sure I had food and a place to sleep in and clean up. Okay that last part could have been for your own benefit because you couldn’t stand how I smelled but you get my point.”

He turns his head to the side again. “I’m not him,” is all he says.

You stubborn little— “Then who are you? What’s your name?”

“I’m no one,” he says in a voice just above a whisper. “I have no name.”

He’s half-way out the door when I speak again. “I know you, Damon. You may not know me but I know you. I knew you for almost four weeks before I met you and I know you now. And I understand. Not the reason you’re out here all alone but the fact you want to keep that reason to yourself. I’m not asking you to tell me and I’m really not asking you to give anything up. Well, I’d like you to give up on your stubbornness and admit I’m right. It’s what I need to feel like I’ve done my job. I promise I won’t even tell anyone I found you if that’s what you want.”

He turns his face fully towards me and grabs the handle from the outside, as if to pull the door closed when he leaves. “I’m not him,” he repeats. There’s something different about the way he says it though. Something in the way he’s looking at me. Like he’s pleading me to understand.

And that’s when I do understand. “You’re not him because you never were or because you’ve changed and left that Damon Sawyers behind?”

Is that relief I see in his eyes? “I’m not him because he never existed. He was a lie, one that was used until no longer needed and then thrown out like yesterday’s trash. You want to call me by that name to keep conversation, fine. But it doesn’t change the fact that the Damon Sawyers you’re looking for is dead. He died the day your file says he disappeared. He died on July 24, 2008.”

He holds my gaze for a long moment and I can’t help the tears that drip on my cheeks. To give him a small nod of understanding is all I can do. I think he hesitates, maybe even leaning forward as if he’s about to come to me but he doesn’t. Not even when I silently urge him to do so. He just backs away and pulls the door close behind him.

I slowly walk to my briefcase and take out the case file and a pen. With the tears still leaking out of my eyes I scribble down a few words and then go to sleep.

I’m more than surprised to find Damon sleeping in front of the fireplace when I wake up. Not only because he actually slept in the cabin but also because he actually slept
in
. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him sleep in the week I’ve been here. He somehow seems both calmer and wilder. It brings a small smile to my lips.

That smile disappears as soon as I remember last night’s talk. He has said his final words. I’ve made my decision about what I’m saying to Mr. Sawyers. It’s time for me to leave, try and find my way back to civilization, back to my life. I’m going to ask Damon to draw me an estimated route and I’m going to try and make it back on my own. But why do I feel sad about it?

Well, duh. Because I’m going to be leaving him here. Behind. Alone. Because at some point in my stupid mind I imagined he’d be admitting his identity and coming back with me. I had even pictured about his reunion with his brother and sister-in-law and that I’d be part of their joy and happy tears. My imagination can run wild at times.

I quietly make my way out of the cabin and follow the path that leads to the small river. I’ve always been good in navigation and I don’t find it hard at all to find my way through the trees once I’ve walked the route once. I chuckle to myself as I think how I’d be okay if I had to live the rest of my life here. As long as I found a way to occupy myself and help Damon…

There I go again. Imagination running wild once more.

At the river I pour cold water on my face and neck. I find a spot behind some rocks to do my business and then throw some dirt over it to cover the smell. Survival skills 101. Once I brush my teeth and use my little cup to rinse, I’m ready to go back. The new plan is to wait for Damon to wake up and ask him to help me—

I freeze. Right there, a few feet away on
my
side of the river is a bear. A big-ass brown bear that’s casually drinking water, not minding me at all. Has it seen me? Smelled me? Noticed me at all? Do I have time to turn and run or should I just drop down and play dead? Does that shit even work with a bear?

Before I can think of anything else, two arms wrap around me from behind. Normally I’d scream but I think I’m too scared to even think of screaming. A small whimper however does escape my lips until I realize it’s Damon.

“Don’t move,” he breathes in my ear. His one arm is wrapped low around my belly below my navel and the other is just under my breasts. My whole body is pressed firmly against his and I feel his heart beating and his chest moving as he breathes.

I do as he says. I don’t move and I actually try to also keep my breathing to a minimum. The bear lifts its head and – oh, yep! – it has seen us. It has definitely seen us and now it’s coming slowly towards us, sniffing the air as it does. I press further into Damon and his hold on me tightens. Does he have a way to defend us? I don’t think I’ve seen anything other than the axe around the cabin and I doubt he has it with him. Oh my God, we’re going to die.

“Damon—”

“Ssh.” His mouth presses against the shell of my ear and I shudder. Really, body? Now? “Just watch. No matter what, don’t move.”

How could I? How could I move when he’s the only thing that’s keeping me from fainting?

The bear sniffs around, taking steps towards us and stopping. A little further forward and stops again. It sniffs the air, the ground, the trees. It grunts low and I whimper again in response. There’s no possible way for me to get any closer to Damon but I do and his hold tightens even more. Does he do it to comfort me or keep me still? Or maybe both?

The bear gets so close that I can feel the warmth emanating from its fur. Damon’s hand moves from my lower waist and he turns his palm slowly towards the beast. Oh my God, what is he doing? The bear’s muzzle gets closer and then it’s pressing against Damon’s palm. My mouth drops open but no sound comes out. The bear is smelling him and… nuzzling his hand? Is it a pet bear or something?

I think I about die when the bear’s attention turns to me and it presses its nose to my belly. It sniffs me and its exhalations feel like they’re burning my skin they’re so hot. But that’s all it does. Just smells me. It turns its head to the side and opens its mouth in a big, loud yawn. I press my lips together and close my eyes tight. Please, please let it go away soon. I’m too young to die of heart attack.

Finally I hear its paws thudding away lightly. I don’t open my eyes until all I can hear is the birds chirping and, when I do, the bear is nowhere to be seen. Damon’s arms are still wrapped around me, his face right next to my ear. I’m breathing in short gasps and it takes me a while to realize I’m alive and not bear-chow.

I let out a small whimper and spin around, circling my arms around Damon’s neck and pulling him down to me. “Oh my God!” I breathe, unable to get my voice to sound any louder. “Oh my God!” It’s all I seem to be able to say.

Damon’s arms are still around me and he holds me to him. I think the way I’m holding him – bent a little low to accommodate my height as I press my face into the crook of his neck – might be uncomfortable for him but he doesn’t protest. He just holds me back and then his hands smooth softly over my back.

I don’t know how long it takes me to calm down but he still hasn’t moved. I think we could have become a hefty meal to other wild animals during the time I’m holding him there but I really don’t care. He makes me feel safe and that’s the only thing I need right now. And he smells safe too. Clean, earthy, fresh. Of course there’s no sign of cologne or deodorant out here but even if there was he wouldn’t need it. He smells so good the cologne making industries should ask him for a sample.