Wilson Peak Pt. 03


The girl in my sleeping bag moved. I woke immediately. Her head rolled off my shoulder and she took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. This was an extremely good sign. I held my breath, hoping that she would open her eyes. Her body had warmed a bit and when I took a mitten off her hand, I saw that her fingers were slowly regaining color. But I wanted her core to warm so I pulled her closer and held her tightly to my body. To my surprise she rolled her head back toward me and snuggled against my shoulder while hugging me with her left arm. I stayed like that for another couple of hours, dozing intermittently.

Soon, I could see the first streaks of dawn creeping behind the curtains. I listened closely to her breathing, which was deeper and regular, unlike a few hours ago. I thought this would be a good time to warm the cabin and make some hot coffee or tea, in case she woke soon. Carefully disentangling myself from her, I replaced my body with a blanket that I wrapped around her best I could. I zipped the sleeping bag until only the top of her blonde hair showed. I quickly dressed and turned the thermostat up to 70 degrees—a huge use of propane I knew, but it had to be done. Then I made a pot of coffee.

After checking her one more time, I put on my jacket to go outside. But the door wouldn’t open because, as I feared, snow had drifted up the side of the coach. I also knew that when the sun hit that snow, the top layer would melt and turn to ice, making it twice as hard to remove. So I grabbed the shovel, gathered my strength, and forced the door open.

The snow gave way and I pushed my way outside. A stiff, cold wind was still blowing light flurries and drifts had climbed 5 feet up the coach, practically covering one window and just below the other. I dug the drifts off the sides and away from the door. Then I climbed on the roof and cleared the solar panels and satellite dish of snow. From there I could see that the road was buried in at least 15 inches of snow, so I was definitely going nowhere.

Back inside the RV, I took off my snow gear and checked on the girl. Her breathing was good and her color was getting better. I briefly considered getting back in the bag with her, but decided that once the cabin had heated sufficiently, there should be enough warmth for her. Besides, I didn’t want to be that close to that nude body if I couldn’t fuck her.

I poured myself a cup of coffee and checked the weather. This area might get more snow today followed by cold temperatures tonight. I decided to block off the driving cabin so as to have less room to heat. As I was placing barriers to do so, a voice startled me.

“Where am I and who the fuck are you?”


I finally decided on a 28 foot Coachland. Not because I thought it was any better than other brands but because it had few miles and was in terrible shape. It had been repossessed from the original owner who had basically trashed the interior and engine. The bank decided it wasn’t worth fixing and was going to trash it. So I bought it, had it towed to my place and went ostim escort to work.

And let me tell you, the neighbors were none too pleased to see that thing in my driveway. I couldn’t blame them. It looked like hell but was too big for the garage. Fortunately the garage was separate and a bit behind the house, so it didn’t show as much.

With the help of my mechanic friend Eddie, I pulled and sold the engine and transmission. I replaced them with a more powerful engine and transmission with more low end torque and towing capacity. Inside I replaced all the cushions, curtains, shades and bedding. The walls were okay but the flooring had to be replaced. The furnace and AC were good, so I just had them cleaned and serviced. I replaced the 3.0 generator with a 4.0 which used the same amount of fuel but produced more power. The deep cycle batteries showed some wear, so I got new ones. I replaced the refrigerator, but the stove, oven and microwave were okay, just in need of cleaning.

I put in a new toilet and pump system for water in the coach. The slideouts were okay except for some fiberglass damage to the rear one.

Then I drove it to my friend Jason’s fiberglass shop. A month later I picked it up fully repaired and repainted. I had what amounted to a new RV custom done for under 50K.

But more importantly, when I was working on it, I was happy—and that felt really good.


I turned to see the popsicle girl wrapped in the blanket. She had grabbed a knife from the counter and was pointing it at me.

“Listen, I’m sure you have a lot of questions,” I said, “but…”


“Just calm down,” I said, “I found you unconscious in the snow. Your clothes were soaked and…”

“Did you rape me?”


“Did you rape me you son of a bitch?” She took a step toward me, waving the knife.

“No…I wouldn’t…”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” I said, “I don’t fuck unconscious women.”

That seemed to confuse her a moment.

“Did you touch me?”

“Look, just let me make you a cup of coffee and…”


Okay, I’d had enough of this bullshit. I put down the panel, picked up my coffee cup and moved toward the pot.

“All right, you wanna kill me, go ahead,” I said, “I’m getting some coffee.”

She backed up, clutching the blanket to her and keeping the knife pointed at me.

I poured a cup, then calmly walked to the sofa and sat down. She looked confused so I motioned that she should sit across from me. Cautiously, she did, arranging the blanket around her. I explained that after finding her, I had to remove her wet clothes. I told her about the mittens and socks, but left out the part about getting in the sleeping bag with her. She looked doubtful.

“I was just following directions,” I said.

“Whose directions?”

I pointed to the radio. “You were dying. The police dispatcher said I had to raise your core temperature.”

She looked at me, at the sıhhiye escort knife, and put it down. Her face was clouded with confusion. Now it was my turn to ask questions.

“What happened to you?” I asked, “How did you end up in the snow?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“Did you come up here with someone else?”

“I don’t remember.”

“What’s your name?”

She thought very hard. “Eve,” she said, “Eve Bellame.”


“Um, yes…I think so”

“Well Eve, do you want me to notify someone that you’re okay?” I asked.

“I don’t know!” she said, and began to cry.

“Ok, then let’s do this. You just had a very close brush with death,” I said, “you need rest. I’ll fix you some hot tea and you go back to sleep for a while.”

“Where are my clothes?”

“Hanging in the bathroom, but they’re still wet,” I answered, “I’ll give you a sweatshirt and sweatpants to sleep in, because you need to stay warm.”

She nodded at me. Her eyes seemed unfocused. “Can I use the bathroom?” she asked.

“Of course. I’ll show you how to work the toilet.”

I made her drink two big cups of tea to warm and hydrate her, then she went back to sleep.


With the coach fully functional, all I had left to do was customize it. I set about building extra cabinets and a custom made bed frame with storage under the mattress. I hung a series of cabinets above the bed and installed extra shelving. I gutted the existing cabinets in the kitchen and built roll out racks and a sliding spice rack in the pantry. I took out the dishwasher and built a cabinet for pans. Who the hell needs a dishwasher in an RV?

I installed a good CB radio and bought some matching walkie-talkies. I got a good wireless router and a hot spot and the interior was done.

On the rear, I added a custom bike rack that would lock them securely in place. I also added a theft proof trailer hitch and backup camera that worked wirelessly with my phone. I fortified the roof and added solar panels, a satellite dish, an antenna for the CB and another that worked with cell phones.

I felt like now it was time for a shakedown trip. I waited until there was a big storm headed into the mountains around Denver and drove right into it. I stayed in the mountains for a few days and just let it rain and blow from all directions. Aside from a couple of minor leaks, everything worked as designed.

I was getting ever closer to that dream trip.


I worked around the coach most of the day—mostly digging it out of the snow even though more was falling. But I knew from experience that it was best not to let it build up. Every half hour or so I’d step in and check on Eve, to find her sleeping deeply.

At lunch, I made myself a sandwich and heated up some tortilla soup I bought from a wonderful little Mexican restaurant I’d found. Then I took a nap of my own in the forward berth and it felt good.

When I woke, Eve was still sleeping so I checked the satellite dish, hoping to ankara escort get an internet signal. No such luck. “Guess I’ll just have to rely on CB,” I thought.

I was able to get the weather channel again. Forecast for tonight was snow stopping but windy and temps in the low 20’s. That was damn cold. Looking outside I could see the sun would be setting in about an hour, so I better get my chains out and clear the path to the road one more time.

When I came back inside, I checked on Eve but she wasn’t in bed. I heard the toilet flush and saw her come out of the bathroom, still a bit unsteady on her feet.

“Hi,” I said, smiling at her, “How are you feeling?”

“Better, but sore,” she said, “and hungry.”

“I can help with both of those,” I said, “I saw the cuts and bruises on your arms and legs, like you’d been in a fight. A hot shower will help. Meanwhile, I’ll make you some dinner.”

“Sounds great.”

“I need to turn on the water heater and it’ll take a few minutes to get good and hot,” I said, “would you like some coffee or tea while you wait?”

“Yeah, some tea would be great.”

I started the water heater and put the kettle on.

“I did a couple of searches on hypothermia while you slept and I need to ask you a couple of questions,” I said in my most authoritative voice, “Any headache or confusion?”

“Um, no,” she answered.

“Rapid heart beat? Shortness of breath?” She shook her head.

“Okay, good. Anything unusual?”

“Just sore and a little weak,” she said.

“Then I guess we brought you back from the dead,” I said with a smile.

She smiled back, but something else was on her mind.

“How did you warm me?”

Now it was my turn to smile. “I had to take off my clothes and get in the sleeping bag with you,” I said, “then I had to hold your body to mine to transfer heat.”

“Interesting,” she said, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth, “did you do anything special to transfer heat?”

“I rubbed you.”

“Rubbed me?”

“The dispatcher said I should concentrate on your groin area,” I answered, “so I did.”

“I see,” she said with amusement, “I guess I’m lucky you were here.”

She locked eyes with me and we stared at each other a few seconds before the whistle of the kettle told me the water was boiling.

“I guess you are. I’ll get your tea.”

I noticed her watching me as I was pouring her tea. The look on her face was hard to read—amused? Predatory?

“Do you always have to go to this much trouble to get a date?” she asked as I sat across from her.

“Not always,” I answered, “some women are actually willing and conscious.”

This caused her to laugh and spit some tea back in the cup. But as she leaned forward, she winced with pain. I knew I needed to find out what happened to her, but I wasn’t going to push. Just then, the light on the water heater came on. The water was hot enough for a good hot shower.

“Okay, you’re good to go in the shower,” I said, handing her a washcloth and towel, “Enjoy it, but remember there’s only 5 gallons of hot water and we have to make it last.”

“I’ll be quick,” she said with a smile.

“Grab some other sweats from the dresser if you want,” I said, “there’s also a robe in there-whatever you need.”

Again I got the enigmatic look as she closed the door to the bedroom.

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