38 - The Abominable Snowman of Pasadena (3 page)

“Maybe he’s seen the Abominable Snowman,” I suggested.

“How do you know there is such a thing?” Nicole taunted. “We haven’t seen any
sign of him yet.”

“Nicole, people have
seen
him with their own eyes,” I replied. “And if
there’s no such thing, what are we doing here?”

“Some people
say
they’ve seen him,” Nicole said. “Or maybe they
think
they’ve seen one. I won’t believe it until I get more facts.”

The plane circled the small town. I played with the zipper on my new Arctic
jacket. I’d been hungry a few minutes earlier, but now I was too excited to
think about food.

There really is an Abominable Snowman down there, I thought. I know there is.
I felt a chill, despite a blast of hot air from the plane’s heater.

What if we find him? What will happen then?

What will happen if the Abominable Snowman doesn’t like to be photographed?

The plane flew very low now, getting ready to land. We touched down with a bump and taxied along the runway. The plane
lurched as the pilot put on the brakes.

Something big loomed at the end of the runway. Something huge, white, and
monstrous.

“Dad, look!” I cried. “I see him! The Abominable Snowman!”

The plane squealed to a stop right in front of the big monster.

Dad, Nicole, and the pilot all laughed—at me.

I hate that. But I couldn’t blame them. The big white monster was a polar
bear.

A statue of a polar bear.

“The polar bear is the symbol of the town,” the pilot explained.

“Oh,” I murmured. I knew I was blushing. I turned away.

“Jordan knew that,” Dad said. “He was just playing one of his practical
jokes.”

“Uh—yeah.” I went along with it. “I knew it was a statue all along.”

“You did not, Jordan,” Nicole said. “You were really scared!”

I punched Nicole in the arm. “I was not! It was a joke.”

Dad put an arm around each of us. “Isn’t it great the way these two kid each other?” he said to the pilot.

“If you say so,” the pilot replied.

We hopped out of the plane. The pilot opened the cargo hold. Nicole and I
grabbed our backpacks.

Dad had brought a huge, airtight trunk for film, cameras, food, sleeping
bags, and other supplies. The pilot helped him carry it off the airstrip.

The trunk was so big, Dad could fit inside it. It reminded me of a red
plastic coffin.

Iknek Airport was like a tiny wooden house, just two rooms. Two pilots in
leather jackets sat at a table playing cards.

A tall, brawny man with dark hair, a thick beard, and leathery skin stood up
and crossed the room to greet us. His gray parka hung open over a flannel shirt
and deerskin pants.

This must be our guide, I realized.

“Mr. Blake?” the man said to Dad. His voice was low and hoarse. “I’m Arthur
Maxwell. Need some help there?” He grabbed one end of the trunk from the pilot.

“This is an awfully big trunk you brought,” Arthur added. “Do you really need
all this stuff?”

Dad reddened. “I’ve got a lot of cameras, tripods and things…. Well,
maybe I overpacked.”

Arthur frowned at me and Nicole. “I’d say so.”

“Call me Garry,” Dad said. “These are my kids, Jordan and Nicole.” He nodded
toward us.

Nicole said “Hi,” and I added, “Nice to meet you.” I can be polite when I
have to be.

Arthur stared at us. Then he grunted.

“You didn’t mention kids,” he mumbled to Dad after a minute.

“I’m sure I did,” Dad protested.

“I don’t remember it,” Arthur replied, frowning.

Everyone was silent. We pushed through the airport door and started down the
muddy road.

“I’m hungry,” I said. “Let’s go into town and get some food.”

“How far is it to town, Arthur?” Dad asked.

“How far?” Arthur echoed. “You’re looking at it.”

I stared around in surprise. There was only one road. It began at the airport
and ended in a pile of snow about two blocks away. A few wooden buildings were
sprinkled along it.

“This is it?” I cried.

“It’s not Pasadena,” Arthur grumbled. “But we call it home.”

He led us down the muddy road to a diner called Betty’s.

“I guess you’re hungry,” he grumbled. “Might as well eat a hot meal before we
set out.”

We settled into a booth by a window. Nicole and I ordered hamburgers, french
fries, and Cokes. Dad and Arthur ordered coffee and beef stew.

“I’ve got a sled and four dogs ready to go,” Arthur announced. “The dogs can
pull this trunk of yours and the other supplies. We’ll walk beside the sled.”

“That sounds fine,” Dad said.

“Whoa!!” I protested. “We’re walking? How far?”

“Ten miles or so,” Arthur replied.

“Ten miles!” I’d never walked that far before. “Why do we have to walk? Why
can’t we take a helicopter or something?”

“Because I want to take photos along the way, Jordan,” Dad explained. “The
landscape is fascinating. You never know what we’ll come across.”

Maybe we’ll come across the Abominable Snowman, I thought. That would be
cool.

Our food arrived. We all ate in silence. Arthur wouldn’t look me in the eye.
He wouldn’t look any of us in the eye. He stared out the window while he ate.
Outside on the street, a Jeep drove by.

“Have you ever seen this snow creature we’re looking for?” Dad asked Arthur.

Arthur speared a piece of meat with his fork and popped it into his mouth. He
chewed. He chewed some more. Dad, Nicole, and I all watched him, waiting for his
answer.

Finally he swallowed. “Never seen it,” he said. “Heard about it, though. Lots
of stories.”

I waited to hear one of the stories. But Arthur kept on eating.

I couldn’t stand waiting any longer. “What kind of stories?”

He swabbed at some gravy with his bread. He stuffed it into his mouth.
Chewed. Swallowed.

“A couple of people in town,” he said. “They’ve seen the monster.”

“Where?” Dad asked.

“Out by the big snow ridge,” Arthur said. “Beyond the musher’s cabin. Where
we’re staying.”

“What does he look like?” I asked.

“They say he’s big,” Arthur said. “Big and covered with brown fur. You might
think he’s a bear. But he’s not. He walks on two feet like a man.”

I shuddered. The Abominable Snowman sounded a lot like a vicious cave monster
I saw in a horror movie once.

Arthur shook his head. “Personally, I hope we never find him.”

Dad’s jaw dropped. “But that’s what we’re here for. It’s my job to find him—if he exists.”

“He exists all right,” Arthur declared. “Friend of mine—another musher—he
was out in a blizzard one day. Ran smack into the snow monster.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“You don’t want to know.” Arthur stuffed more bread into his mouth.

“We certainly do want to know,” Dad persisted.

Arthur stroked his beard. “The monster picked up one of the dogs and made off
with him. My friend chased after him, trying to get the dog back. Never found him. But he could hear the dog whining. Pitiful howls.
Whatever happened to that dog—it sounded pretty bad.”

“He’s probably a carnivore,” Nicole said. “A meat-eater. Most animals around
here are. There’s so little vegetation—”

I jabbed Nicole. “I want to hear about the snowman—not your stupid nature
facts.”

Arthur flashed Nicole an annoyed glance. I figured he was thinking, What
planet is
she
from? That’s what I’m usually thinking, anyway.

He cleared his throat and continued. “My friend came back to town. He and
another guy went out to try and capture the snow monster. Darn foolish, if you
ask me.”

“What happened to them?” I asked.

“Don’t know,” Arthur said. “They never came back.”

“Huh?” I gaped at the big guide. I swallowed hard. “Excuse me? Did you say
they never came back?”

Arthur nodded solemnly. “They never came back.”

“Maybe they got lost in the tundra,” Dad suggested.

“Doubt it,” Arthur said. “Those two knew what they were doing. The monster
killed them. That’s what happened.”

He paused to butter another slice of bread.

“Close your mouth, Jordan,” Nicole said. “I don’t want to look at your
chewed-up french fries.”

I guess my mouth had been hanging open. I shut it and swallowed.

Arthur seems like a weird guy, I thought. But he’s not lying to us. He
definitely believes in the Abominable Snowman.

Nicole asked him, “Has anyone else seen the snow monster?”

“Yep. A couple of TV people from New York. They heard about what happened to
my friend and came to town to investigate. They set out into the tundra. Never
came back, either. We found one of them, frozen to death in a block of ice. Who
knows what became of the other.

“Then Mrs. Carter—she lives at the end of Main Street—she saw the snow
monster a few days later,” Arthur continued in a low voice. “She was looking
through her telescope and spied him out in the tundra. He was chewing on bones,
she said. Don’t believe me, go ask her yourself.”

Dad made a noise. I glanced at him. He was trying to keep from laughing.

I didn’t see what was so funny. This snow monster sounded pretty scary to me.

Arthur glared at Dad. “You don’t have to believe me if you don’t want to, Mr.
Blake,” he said.

“Call me Garry,” Dad repeated.

“I’ll call you what I please, Mr. Blake,” Arthur said sharply. “What I’m
telling you is true. That monster is real—and he’s a killer! You’re taking a
big risk, chasing after him. No one has ever caught him. Anyone who goes out
after him… doesn’t return.”

“We’ll take our chances,” Dad said. “I’ve heard stories like this before, in
other parts of the world. Stories about monsters in the jungle or weird
creatures in the ocean. So far the stories have never turned out to be true. I
have a feeling the Abominable Snowman will be no different.”

Part of me really wanted to see the snow creature. But part of me hoped Dad
was right. I don’t deserve to die, I thought—just because I want to see snow!

“Well,” Dad said, wiping his mouth. “Let’s get going. Everybody ready?”

“I’m ready,” Nicole piped up.

“Me too,” I said. I couldn’t wait to get out in the snow.

Arthur said nothing. Dad paid the lunch check.

We waited for change. “Dad,” I asked, “what if the Abominable Snowman is
real? What if we run into him? What will we do?”

He pulled something small and black out of his coat pocket.

“This is a radio transmitter,” he explained. “If we get into any kind of
trouble out in the wilderness, I can radio the ranger station in town. They’ll
send a helicopter to rescue us.”

“What kind of trouble, Dad?” Nicole asked.

“I’m sure there won’t be any trouble,” Dad assured us. “But it’s good to be
prepared for emergencies. Right, Arthur?”

Arthur smacked his lips and cleared his throat. But he didn’t reply. I
figured he was angry because Dad didn’t believe his stories about the snow
monster.

Dad returned the radio transmitter to his coat pocket. He left a tip for the
waitress. Then we spilled outside into the cold Alaskan air, ready to head out for the frozen
tundra.

Was an Abominable Snowman waiting for us somewhere out there?

We would soon find out.

Smack!

Bulls-eye. I hit Nicole in the middle of her backpack with a snowball.

“Dad!” Nicole cried. “Jordan hit me with a snowball!”

Dad had his camera in front of his face, clicking away, as usual. “Good for
you, Nicole,” he said absently. Nicole rolled her eyes.

Then she ripped off my ski cap. She stuffed it with snow and smushed it on
top of my head.

Snow trickled down my face. The cold burned my skin.

At first I thought snow was cool. I could mush it up in my hand to make
snowballs. Fall down in it without getting hurt. Put it on my tongue and let it
melt into water.

But I was beginning to feel the cold. My toes and fingers were getting numb.
We had already walked two miles out of town. When I looked back, I couldn’t see
it. I could only see snow and sky.

Only eight more miles to the cabin, I thought, wiggling my fingers inside my
mittens. Eight more miles! It was going to take forever. And all around us,
nothing but snow—miles and miles of it.

Dad and Arthur trudged beside the dogsled. Arthur had brought along four
Alaskan huskies—Binko, Rocky, Tin-tin, and Nicole’s favorite, Lars. They
pulled Dad’s big trunk and the other supplies in a long, narrow sled.

Nicole and I each carried a backpack filled with emergency food and other
supplies. Just in case, Dad said.

In case of what? I wondered. In case we get lost? In case the dogs run away
with the sled? In case the Abominable Snowman captures us?

Dad snapped pictures of the dogs, of us, of Arthur, of the snow.

Nicole threw herself backwards into a snowdrift. “Look—an angel!” she
cried, waving her arms up and down.

She jumped up and we checked out the snow angel. “Cool,” I admitted. I lay on
my back to make one, too. When Nicole came closer to inspect it, I whopped her
with a snowball.

“Hey!” she cried. “I’m going to get you for that!”

I leaped up and darted away. The deep snow crunched under my shoes.

Nicole ran after me. We raced ahead of the dogsled.

“Be careful, kids!” Dad called after us. “Stay out of trouble!”

I stumbled in the snow. Nicole pounced on me. I wriggled free and bolted
away.

What kind of trouble could we get into? I thought as my feet crunched along.
There’s nothing but snow for miles around. We couldn’t even get
lost
out
here!

I turned around and ran backwards, waving at Nicole. “Try and catch me, Miss
Factoid!” I teased.