Primal - By D.A. Serra Page 0,17

man. His survival is built upon a foundation of knowledge that is so far removed from his life that it is inaccessible, even to his imagination. In this moment, on this rickety dock, he faces the fact that he is a completely dependent individual. He has no practical skills, and no idea how to survive. The sudden acknowledgment of his dependency makes him wonder if maybe he has lost a bit of what it means to be a man. He feels the fresh cold air fill in his lungs and he likes it. He feels bigger and taller standing on this dock with the bitter wind and the spitting lake. He likes the power in his hands, pulling the boat in by the rope, with its tough spine and coarse bristles slicing across his palm. He hadn’t realized he was missing this connection. Civilized living with its take-out food and glossy magazine lifestyle precludes the opportunity to be a man in this fundamental way. Perhaps every man needs to go fishing in the wild with his son now and then. He is going to make the most of this. He gives Jimmy a thumbs up.

Jimmy smiles back at him. Hank knots the rope to the cleat on the dock. He looks up triumphantly to Alison…and…oh, her head is back between her legs. Damn. He will get her inside in front of the warm fire, pour her a glass of wine, and settle her down with her book. She’ll be relaxed then. It’ll be fine. He will make it fine.

“Okay, everybody out” the captain says. Hank steps down into the speedboat, takes Alison’s hand, and helps her up onto the moving dock. Jimmy darts off agilely.

“Just follow that trail about fifty yards up to the lodge.” The captain throws off their suitcases, reaches out, unties the knot, and starts to back the boat away.

“Wait!” Alison asks, “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah. Need to beat the storm. Easy, just up the path. Follow the sign.” And he rooster tails back onto the lake.

Alison turns to face the wall of woods in front of her and is relieved to see that the sign and path are clear. She walks quickly toward solid ground. “I need to be on something not moving.” She steps off the dock and plants both feet onto the ground. She takes a long deep breath. She bends over with her hand on her thighs and breathes deeply. Beneath her feet, the ground crawls with beetles, rolly pollies, spiders, mites, and the air is thick with mosquitoes so warlike they bite her through the denim of her jeans. Hank and Jimmy grab the suitcases and join her.

“Honey,” Hank begins, “let’s get where you can sit down and relax.” He takes her hand and they start up the path. It is such a good feeling to have his fingers intertwine with hers. They wrap strongly around her skin-to-skin, such a simple act with tendrils directly into her heart. Already she feels better. The dirt path is poorly maintained with large rocks and arthritic looking tree limbs splayed across it.

“Gives new meaning to the road less traveled by,” she says. Hank looks over and grins as she continues. “Hopefully it isn’t miles to go before I sleep.”

“Dad, Mom’s doin’ poetry again, make her stop.”

“Why would I do that?”

Exasperated he responds, “Because I’m on vacation.”

“Oh.”

“Okay, I get it.” She answers Jimmy, “We’re entering a poetry free zone. Although I’m pretty happy you even recognized it’s poetry. Do you know who it is?”

“Stop!”

She giggles. Hank squeezes her hand affectionately. After a few steps, the forest closes in all around them like a giant green fist. This is where green is born, she thinks. Here in this forest everything is soaked in lime and jade and covered with a thick verdant moss that climbs up and over every rock and every log. It is so vivid she can taste it on her tongue when she talks. She feels the green on her cheeks and on her eyelids.

As they walk up the trail toward the lodge the rain begins, a few drops at first, and then in earnest. The canopy formed by the trees serves as a living umbrella. When they become too sodden, they dump a bucket’s worth on the path. Although it isn’t far from the dock, up the path to the lodge, the distance she has traveled from her comfort zone feels infinite. Alison peers off to her left. She notices that even in the middle