Authors: Michael Abbadon
Chief Adashek stood shivering outside the entrance to the Control Tower, struggling to button his sport coat against the bitter cold. He hadn't bothered to put on his parka; he'd just come out for some air. Wasn't it the smokers who were supposed to go outside?
He noticed a bumper sticker on an old pickup parked across the lot: "EAT MOOSE - 10,000 WOLVES CAN'T BE WRONG." Above the lot, in the window of the terminal building, two uniformed cops were waving to him. They'd brought the police van, and decided that if it was going to be a long wait, it should be in an area where flight attendants might happen past.
Adashek gave up trying to close his jacket, and settled for folding his arms snugly across his barrel chest. As he watched his breath take form in the cold air, the thought occurred to him that O'Donnell and his copilot might be freezing to death that very moment.
He felt responsible. He'd asked the pilot to make the pick-up. There hadn't been time to send a plane out from Fairbanks. O'Donnell had been on a cargo run to Deadhorse up at Prudhoe Bay. Stanton had dubbed O'Donnell's old twin-engine DC-3 "Santa's Sleigh." Every year it carried Christmas presents back and forth between the men working the oil fields at the top of the pipeline and their families in the cities to the south.
Deadhorse. The frozen edge of the world. Nothing but Inuits and oil riggers. What a place to spend Christmas, Adashek thought.
He had flown up there himself four months earlier. Another homicide report had come in, this one on the brutal murder of an Inupiat family in the White Hills. A fisherman, three teenage girls, an eight-year-old boy. All of them decapitated, slit open and gutted, stretched out on the ice like bearskins. Two weeks earlier, 120 miles east on Knifeblade Ridge, two unidentified Caucasian bodies had been found naked in the snow, partially eaten. Their heads were never found.
The fact that no oil company employees had been killed didn't make the owners of the companies any less worried. They put pressure on Billy Higgs, the local sheriff in Deadhorse. But Higgs had his hands full with drunken riggers and wife beaters; he'd need an army to track down some maniac killer striking at random across the frozen 500-mile expanse of the North Slope.
When the oil companies decided to advertise for bounty hunters, Higgs turned a blind eye. They put an ad in the local paper and were deluged with offers. Trackers, bear-hunters, trappers, ex-military, ex-convicts, ex-killers. In the end, three different men were sent out over a ten-week period.
Two of them were never heard from again. The third went on trial for manslaughter — he'd killed the wrong man.
Adashek had had enough; he knew what had to be done. He flew to Deadhorse with a case of rifles and thirty rounds of tranquilizer darts. He found a guide and went searching for the Yakuutek. If anyone could track down the elusive killer, he knew it would be those primitive hunters. They were wilder than the rest, one of the last arctic tribes discovered by the white man. Remote and untamed, they lived always on the move, following the migration of the caribou herds across a thousand miles of frozen tundra. They were the only ones who still lived in huts built of ice. They rode dogsleds; shunned snowmobiles, Evinrudes, gas stoves, alcohol. They believed "white man food" would turn their brown skin white. They ate raw caribou meat, dipped in seal oil; and sucked the roe from whitefish, caught through the ice on fishhooks cut from the teeth of wolves.
Hunting was in their blood.
Adashek knew they wouldn't hunt the man for money. Money meant nothing to them. But he had something else they wanted.
Three years earlier, on the Anuktuvik Pass, Adashek had arrested a Yakuutek hunter with a sixteen-year-old girl tied to his sled. The girl was the man's daughter. Months earlier, she had run away from the tribe, and her father had gone searching for her. When he finally found her, it was in a strip club in Fairbanks. The hunter grabbed her by the hair and dragged her off the stage. On his way out, with the girl in tow, he ran a seal harpoon through the club owner's neck.
The hunter had served three years. Adashek made a deal with the parole board: exchange the killer of one man for a man who'd killed a dozen. They knew a bargain when they saw it.
So did the Yakuuteks, who also liked a good hunt.
How many days had they chased him, the Chief wondered. He wished now he'd given them bullets instead of darts. But there was no way to know if the right man had been caught until he could be identified by Dr. Katukan.
From behind the terminal, an Alaska Airlines 727 rose with a deafening roar, climbing steeply into the western sky. The sun was heading down. It would be dark in a few hours.
"Chief Adashek!"
He turned to the door. It was Dr. Katukan.
"We've got them!"
The storm was blinding. Jake O’Donnell squinted down through his side window, searching for a glimpse of the landscape through the impenetrable curtain of snow. For a brief moment, he thought he saw the treeless peak of a mountain.
"We're still over the Endicotts," he shouted into the radio mike. "Got ourselves a real blizzard goin' here!"
"Only... worse..." Stanton's voice came through faintly, broken up with static. Donny had reattached the torn radio wires, but the unsoldered connections were barely making do.
"My wings are freezin' up," Jake called into the mike.
The plane was bouncing badly, buffeted by the winds. Donny looked questioningly at Jake and jabbed his thumb skyward.
Jake nodded, shouted into the mike. "What's the ceiling on this storm?"
Static, then a few words: "...rough... 'teen-thousand feet... ride it..."
"How high?" Jake shouted.
"...thousand... fifteen-thou..."
"Fifteen-thousand feet," Jake said to Donny. "No way we're gonna make that. We gotta plow through."
Now it was Adashek's voice that sputtered over the radio: "... dangerous... don't... chance..."
The plane lurched jarringly. "Damn right it's dangerous," said Donny.
The radio sputtered. "... you... sidearm?"
"He's askin' if we got a gun," said Donny.
Jake thumbed the talk button. "I gotta gun, Chief. But if we go down here, won’t be nobody left to use it."
Now another voice came through the radio, a voice they didn't recognize. "... Doctor Ka... careful... sedative... shows any sign..."
Jake glanced at Donny. Donny shrugged.
"Repeat that, please," shouted Jake. "We do not copy. Please repeat."
The Chief's voice choked through again. "...shows any... way... use the..."
Jake slammed the radio with the bottom of his fist. "Please repeat. We do not copy."
The voice was inaudible, buried in noise. Jake smashed the radio again. A burst of static, then: "... kill..."
"Chief?" Jake banged on the radio. "Chief Adashek, do you copy?" He banged again. "Fairbanks!"
He looked at his copilot. The voices were gone.
* * *
In the din and jostle of the cargo hold, amid tottering piles of hides, bulging canvas bags, and creaking pine crates, the spruce cage rocked its sleeping giant. The creature lay in a chained heap, bounded in layers of hide, his hirsute body damp with fetid heat. A weight like a mountain of snow pressed upon him, and the air felt as close as a coffin.
Dreams grew like tubers in the dark. Specters of the rotting dead passed through his fevered brain like grub through his gut — limbs, fingers, tongue, bone — torn from life and ripe with blood.
The dreams whet his hunger. A tiny flicker of light flared behind his lidless eyes.
Frosty was awakening.
Josh's voice blared in Kris's ear. "Can you hear me okay?" Kris moved a dial on the plastic earpiece, and his next words came in softer: "You can adjust the volume—"
"I got it, I can hear you fine," she shouted. She was standing at the top of the ski ramp; Josh was somewhere below. Along with producing "navigational" beeps and tones, the headpiece amplified ambient noise, including the sound of Josh's voice. In spite of the distance between them, he sounded appealingly intimate.
"Okay, now," he said. "After you push off, just stay over your skis and let the sound of the low tones be your guide."
Josh had adjusted the ski ramp to a flatter angle, which relieved her but also made her angry: Why hadn't Lorraine done the same? Because she enjoyed torturing people, thought Kris.
She hesitated at the edge. "I don't know... I'm still..."
"You won't get hurt," Josh said. "You're surrounded by safety padding and nets. And I'll stand right here and watch out for you."
Her heart was racing. "You promise?"
"I promise," he said.
Kris took a deep breath. She pushed off.
The skis swished beneath her, the air brushing past her face as she glided forward through the dark. She gained speed, but when the bass tone pulsed suddenly loud and fast, she became frightened, whipping her head left and right. She heard Josh's calming voice in her earphones: "Keep your head still, Kris. Move with the sound." But the sound seemed to be all around her at once. She pulled to the side and tried to stop. Her momentum was too strong. The bass tone blared as she rammed full-on into a heavily padded post, bouncing back and rolling off into the springy net.
She lay there for a moment, trying to get her bearings as the net swayed to a stop. To her surprise, she found her fear was gone. Then she felt the touch of Josh's hand.
"You okay?" he asked.
Kris turned her head toward him. "I thought you promised you’d watch out for me?"
"Well, I’m right here watchin’, aren’t I?"
Kris laughed and fell back in the net.
* * *
Linda Carlson stood in her parka at the window to the ski room, watching Josh help her grinning daughter out of the net and onto the floor. "He seems so good with her. How come I haven't seen him here before?"
Andrea was signing papers at her desk. "Josh is a volunteer. He loves the work, but he has a job in Anchorage. He's only able to come up once or twice a month. I think if we could pay him he'd be here full time."
"Kris looks so happy. I'm almost afraid to take her home."
Andrea looked up, suddenly inspired. "Why don't you let her stay with us? Erin and I are leaving for Pine Summit at five."
"You going to the condo?"
"Myron had the day off from the station. He and Troy are already up there. We're going to spend the weekend skiing. Kris is more than welcome to come along."
"Gee, I don't know..."
"Why not? It'll give her a chance to continue her training. And you can have some time to yourself for a change."
"Are you sure it's not an imposition?"
"Not in the least. I'd like to get to know Kris better. And Erin would love the company."
Linda turned and looked back through the window at her daughter. Kris was out of her skis; she and Josh were playing hide-and-seek.
"I suppose we could use a little break from each other," Linda said.
"It couldn't hurt," Andrea said, gathering files from her desk.
Linda turned from the window. "I wonder if she'll go."
"C'mon. Let me drop these off in accounting and we'll go ask her."
* * *
Josh pressed his body flat against the padded wall. He watched Kris turn and face the center of the huge room.
"Ready or not, here I come," she called. She walked slowly forward, scanning the room with her headpiece. She started moving toward him.
Josh held perfectly still as she approached.
"I think I'm getting warmer," she said, her smile uncertain. She came right to him, stood within arm's length. Then she turned demurely away. "I give up," she said. "Are you still in the room?"
Josh didn't answer.
She waited a moment. Then, slowly, she turned toward him. She reached out, feeling the air, the tips of her fingers just inches away.
"Josh?" she said softly.
He reached out, wordlessly, and took her hands in his. A shimmer of delight crossed her face.
Josh looked at her hands, her delicate fingers and perfect, pale, unpainted nails. On her right hand, a violet scar marked the web of flesh between her thumb and forefinger.
"What happened to your hand?" he asked.
"I was bitten by a dog," she said.
"I'm sorry..."
Josh stared into her mysterious, slate-blue eyes. She was lovely, dark, ethereal. A creature of heaven laid bare to the world. He felt drawn to her, and moved closer.
Kris raised her hands to his face, and let her fingers tenderly explore its contours. Josh stood motionless, yielding to her touch. She whispered his name.
He reached out, caressed her cheek. Kris turned her lips to his hand. The soft rose flesh brushed his fingertips.
A door slammed. Josh turned.
Lorraine was heading into the room. He took a step back away from Kris.
"Don't hear much skiin' goin' on in here," she said loudly. Neither Josh nor Kris spoke.
"You in here, Einstein?"
Josh glanced at Kris. "Yeah," he said. "Over here."
Lorraine walked over, stopped in front of them with her hands on her hips. "I thought you said she'd be racin' the slalom when you were through with her, Josh. What's a matter, she not fallin' for your sweet talkin'?"
Josh didn't answer. He glanced at Kris, who looked suddenly vulnerable and uncertain.
"Oooohhh... I get it," Lorraine said. "She
has
been fallin' for it." She turned to Kris. "Careful, honey. You may not of noticed, bein' blind and all, but this boy's a
wolf
."
Kris turned away, blushing.
"Forget about Einstein here with his radar gun. There's only one way to learn and that's the hard way, so get your butt back up on that hill and let's get crackin'."
She headed off.
Kris stood numbly. Josh looked at her, then looked toward Lorraine.
"No," he said.
Kris raised her head. Lorraine spun around.
"What?"
"I said 'no.' She's going to learn my way. With my equipment."
Lorraine put her hands on her hips, bobbing her head. "And who the hell crowned you king of the bunny hill?"
"Me," said Kris, suddenly piping up. "I've switched instructors."
"Oh, you have, have you? Girl, you're talkin' crazy. You either stick with the program or you're outta here."
"Just give her a chance, Lorraine," Josh said.
"Huh! With
you?"
"It's been going well so far."
"Oooh, yeah, I can see that, Prince Charming. She comin'
right
along." Lorraine headed for the exit. "I'm not gonna forget this, Josh!" She whipped open the door just as Andrea and Linda were coming through.
"Lorraine? What's wrong?" Andrea asked.
Lorraine huffed, marched off down the hall without a word.
Andrea and Linda entered the room. "Josh? Everything all right?"
"Fine. Just a little difference of opinion."
"You wouldn't believe this headpiece Josh made, Mom. It's almost like I can see things!"
Linda put her arm around her daughter. "We were watching you from the window, honey. Looks like you're doing great."
"She's a natural," Josh said. "I can't believe how quickly she's picked it up. She's skiing like a pro."
"How'd you like to try it out this weekend?" Andrea said. She told her about the skiing weekend and invited her along.
"Oh, I don't think so," Kris said. She seemed to be looking away from Josh. "I've only just started, really."
"It'll be a good chance to practice," Linda said.
"We can do some cross-country, too, if you like," Andrea said.
"It's nice of you to offer, Mrs. Parks, but... I don't want to be any trouble."
"You wouldn't be any trouble at all. We'd be happy to have you. And you and Erin will get along great."
Again Josh noticed her looking away. "No," she said. "I... I think I better just practice here, if that's okay."
"I think you ought to go," Josh said. Kris turned toward him. "Sounds like a lot of fun to me. In fact, I've got some free time on Sunday. If it's all right with you, Andrea, I'll fly up and join you for the day. Give me a chance to see Kris use the equipment out in the real world."
Kris lit up. "Really? You'd come up?"
"The more the merrier," Andrea said. "What do you say, Kris?"
Kris smiled. "Long as Josh will watch out for me."
Josh laughed. "I promise you, Kris, I will."
"Oh great!" Linda said, and gave her daughter a big hug.