The interior’s not anything to write home about. It’s about twenty feet deep and not all that wide. There’s a lot of debris and dried leaves in the cave, but it’s big enough for the two of us to lie down inside with room to spare, and it’s dry from the endless rainfall outside, which automatically makes it a win.
Mendoza points at the piles of leaves around the edges of the tiny cave. “We can gather that up and use it as tinder for the fire. If our wood’s even halfway dry we might be able to get something going. Just check for scorpions before you stick your hand in. I’m going to gather some leaves to make a bed.”
I don’t point out that everything in the jungle is soaked. That’s obvious. If he’s getting leaves, maybe he has a plan to dry them. “Tinder. No scorpions. Check.”
He dumps the dead snake near the entrance and then disappears off into the jungle. I unsling the bundle of wood and check it. It’s a little damp but hopefully usable. I concentrate on prodding my walking stick into all the piles of leaves, and then when I’m convinced there’s no creepy-crawlies, rake it into a pile off to one side of the cave.
Rafe brings massive palm fronds and long, leafy ferns, stacking them at the front of the cave while the rain just pours and pours. Then, he moves to a section of the cave, unbundles the wood, and covers it with tinder, then starts striking his knife against a stone. “Works in the movies,” he tells me. I can’t tell if he’s joking or not.
I watch him for a few minutes, but as the sun goes down, it’s getting colder and colder, and I’m shivering in my clothing. It’s not keeping me warm at all. In fact, I might be warmer without it. So while he tries to get the fire started, I strip off my layers. Since it’s raining, there are no bugs, and the mud has long since washed away. I peel off the jacket and my T-shirt, and then I pull off my pants and my shoes. It takes longer with one hand but I’m afraid to use my bruised wrist even though Rafe is convinced nothing is broken. It doesn’t matter if it’s not broken; it still hurts like the dickens. I’m in my panties and my bra, and while I’m chilly, the wet clothing isn’t sucking my will to live.
“Got it,” Rafe says quietly, and he picks up a bundle of tinder and begins to blow on it.
“Fire?” I say, breathless with excitement. I move in close to him to see.
His eyes go wide at the sight of me in just my bra and panties. “Ava,” he says, strangled, his gaze on me. Meanwhile, the flame starts to go out.
“The fire,” I remind him, and he immediately starts to blow on it again. “And I took my clothes off because they were making me cold. Once we get the fire going, you should take yours off, too.”
He shakes his head and doesn’t look in my direction. I glance down and yup, Godzilla has appeared once more. For some reason, this gives me a twinge of sympathy. This has to be difficult for Mendoza, because I’m getting naked around him and grabbing him and he probably has real, legit reasons for being a virgin at his age.
So I say nothing else, just squeeze my sodden clothing free of water and then lay them flat so they can dry. It’s not as effective with one hand, but it gives me something to do. Mendoza gets the fire going decently, and it’s so warm and wonderful I want to cry. He feeds more tinder to it even as the wood underneath hisses. “I don’t know how long it’ll last,” he tells me. “So we’d better cut up the snake now and cook it while we can.”
“Sounds good,” I tell him and to my surprise, it does sound good. I guess two granola bars in as many days is what it takes for me to enjoy the idea of eating snake. “Want me to cut it?”
“I’ve got the knife,” he says, getting up abruptly. “Just watch the fire and I’ll handle it.”
I feed twigs and dried leaves to the fire as he cuts up the snake, and then spits it on twigs. We cut up even more to cook and then dry for walking rations tomorrow, which sounds horrific but beats an empty belly. And while we wait on the food, Mendoza gets rid of the entrails and the skin by leaving the cave again, even though it’s dark outside and it’s not smart.
It’s clear he’s avoiding me. It’s also clear he’s not about to take his clothes off. When he returns to the cave, he rinses his hands with the runoff at the cave lip, then toys with the leaves near the entrance to the cave. “These aren’t quite dry yet.”
“Then come sit with me.” I pat the stone floor next to me. “Please.”
He does, his gaze carefully on the fire.
“We’ve got a few minutes before the food’s ready,” I tell him. “Don’t you want to get out of those wet clothes?” And because that sounds horribly porny, I add quickly, “They’ll dry faster and you’ll be warmer.”
He shakes his head. “This is fine.”
I sigh and move toward him. “Can we be practical for a moment? This isn’t about getting sexy. This is about staying dry. I’ve been covered in mud all day, and bugs, and I’m about to eat snake. I haven’t seen a hairbrush in forever. I’ve never felt less sexy in my life. But I know I’m warmer with my wet clothes off, and you will be, too. And since we don’t have blankets, you’re my biggest source of heat, okay?”