Survive

by David Haynes

  There was Lisa too. A love he had never once doubted for a second and now did. Listening to the howling wind – thinking about how much he had taken from her, taken her away from, and forced her to do – made him wonder how she could still feel the same way about him. Looking at the shadow of her sleeping body in the night, he wondered. And his heart beat just a little faster.

  It was mid-morning when he pulled the canoe onto the foreshore. Lad jumped out and waited on the gravel, his nose elevated and twitching at the scent of a town, of more humanity than he had seen or smelled in months. He looked at Jonesy for reassurance. This wasn’t a world he knew. It wasn’t one either of them were familiar with anymore.

  Jonesy clambered out of the canoe and patted Lad on his flank. “Ready?” he asked the dog. He pulled a tarp over the pelts and antlers. He didn’t like leaving them but he knew Wilkes would come and pick them up later.

  He hitched the rifle over his shoulder and followed Lad up the bank toward town. The sign proclaimed a population of ninety-four but Jonesy had never seen more than twenty people at any one time, even in the summer. In a couple of weeks, there would be half that number.

  Big Six got its name from the six companies that set up mining operations at the end of the nineteenth century. Six companies all looking for gold, six companies that weren’t so big by the time they left. Traces of that time still haunted the town. Men who thought that somehow those big companies missed something, left something in the ground that modern machinery could find. Jonesy recognized them by the fathomless look in the blackened sockets of their disappointed eyes.

  Big Six was one street, one icy and desperate-looking through-road to another town just like it fifty miles away. There were three stores on one side of the street and an open expanse on the other. A tract of houses had been forced together behind the stores, and smoke rose around them like a scene from a Victorian London slum. Lad trotted beside him, holding his nose to the air as if the smells were the sweetest scents in the world. If there were something aromatic in the air, it was way beyond Jonesy’s senses.

  He stopped by the first building, the grocery store, and took the steps up to the door. It was a scene straight from one of the John Wayne westerns he watched as a kid with his dad. He pushed open the door and stepped inside.

  A stove was burning in the corner and a man the size of a grizzly sat before it, staring into the flames. Wilkes looked up, a thick cigar clamped between his teeth, nodded and resumed his gaze. Jonesy nodded back.

  The store was hot this close to the door so he could only imagine what the temperature was like beside the stove. He stayed where he was.

  “I’ve got caribou and antlers. You interested?” he shouted.

  “What do you want for them?” Wilkes asked without looking up. Pungent cigar and wood smoke hung in a thick ribbon about his head.

  “Few bags of rice, oatmeal and beans. Maybe some coffee, batteries...You got any new paperbacks?”

  Wilkes lifted his great shaggy head. “What do you want for him?” He pointed at Lad.

  Jonesy patted the dog’s head. “He’s not for sale.”

  “Pity,” Wilkes replied, looking at the fire again. “Thought you’d died up there, Jones.” His voice was without humor.

  “Not yet,” he replied, smiling.

  “You’ll have a coffee with me before you head back.” It was an order but Jonesy didn’t mind. Half an hour with Wilkes would satisfy any need for human contact other than Lisa until the spring.

  He walked along the shelves, selecting the items on Lisa’s list, and put them on the counter. The store was barely wider than the cabin and unless you knew Wilkes’s storage system, you wouldn’t find anything in a hurry. He was fortunate. Wilkes was lazy and hadn’t changed his system, such as it was, since his last visit. It had probably been the same for twenty years.

  Wilkes craned his neck and called over, “I’ll let you take some soap and something to wipe your ass on too. Smells like you need it.”

  Jonesy shook his head. “You’re all heart.”

  “How much for the dog?”

  Again. It was always the same. “He’s not for sale.”

  “I’ll swap you this miserable shithole for him. I’ll even throw in the Ski-Doo as a gesture of goodwill.”

  Jonesy and Lad walked over to the stove. Wilkes was sitting on an old packing crate. Beside him were two cut logs that passed for seats, should anyone feel the need to join him.

  A coffee pot that looked as old as Wilkes steamed on the hot plate. Mixed with the cigar and wood smoke, it smelled spicy and rich. Wilkes didn’t seem to feel the heat but it brought Jonesy out in a sweat immediately.

  Lad panted, pushing his nose into Wilkes’s ribs to get his attention. Lad knew who he liked and who he didn’t. Jonesy had only met three people who the dog liked. Two of them were sitting around the stove.

  Wilkes reached into his pocket and dragged out a furry-looking strip of jerky. He gave it to Lad who took it gently and swallowed it without chewing.

  “At least taste it, you heathen,” Wilkes said, giving him another strip and pushing his grubby hands into Lad’s fur.

  “He prefers it raw,” Jonesy said. “And if at all possible, still kicking.”

  “Still after them squirrels, eh?” Wilkes patted the dog’s flank.

  “Unless told specifically not to, he thinks it’s his sole purpose in life.”

  “Good boy.” Wilkes stood up and poured two cups of tar-like coffee. He handed one to Jonesy. “You all set for winter?”

  Jonesy sipped the coffee and winced. It tasted of bourbon. “Just about.”

  “Meat? You got it salted?”

  He nodded.

  “And that dehydrator working out okay?”

  Jonesy nodded again. “Like a charm.”

  Wilkes smiled. “Told you it would. I’ll let you have some more boxes next year.” He moved the cigar to the corner of his mouth with his lips and poured coffee into the gap. “If I’m still here.”

  “You will be.”

  “Sounds like you’re all fixed then.”

  “I’d say so,” Jonesy replied. “Got enough to last until the summer.”

  “Good job,” said Wilkes.

  “Why’s that?”

  Wilkes moved the cigar around his mouth with his teeth. “The satphone didn’t arrive. Mix-up at the depot, or something like.”

  Jonesy felt a momentary stab of fear. He pushed it away. The cache was full to bursting. They wouldn’t need to communicate with the outside world. Yet he could already see the look on Lisa’s face when he told her.

  “Can we get another ordered?”

  “I tried,” Wilkes replied. “No more deliveries until the spring now. They’ve closed down for the winter.”

  Jonesy exhaled loudly. He was confident about the food supply, but he’d been confident last winter too. It had been misplaced. The worst of it would be Lisa. The security the satphone offered was important to her. It should have been the first thing he ordered last spring. But he hadn’t, he’d waited until it was too late. Over-confidence yet again.

  “I’d better take some chocolate too, then.”

  Both men stared into the flames in silence. It was difficult to say with any degree of accuracy how old Wilkes was, since only five percent of his face was visible. The rest was beard and hair. Only a trace of gray flickered around his jaw and the rest was dark brown. Listening to him speak, he could pass for a veteran, but Jonesy had a feeling the man was only a little older than his own forty years. Living for very long up here had that effect on people. Aged them prematurely.

  They had bought Lad from Wilkes last spring. Lad’s mom, Ice, had given birth to a litter of four puppies and Wilkes sold three of them. Neither the remaining pup nor Ice made it through the following winter but he’d never had another dog. Jonesy knew his offers to buy Lad were only made in jest, but the loss of both dogs had hit him harder than the departure of his ex-wife ever did.

  “You
ever get lonely up there?” Wilkes asked.

  “No,” Jonesy answered immediately. He didn’t have to think about it.

  Wilkes sighed. “Man, I do. Sometimes I get an itch right down here.” He grabbed his crotch. “And I’ll be damned if I can find anyone to scratch it for me.”

  Jonesy shook his head, smiling.

  Lad walked to the door in disgust and lay down. He was panting.

  “You want a hand with that stuff?” Wilkes nodded toward the counter.

  “Wouldn’t say no,” he replied. “The antlers are in the canoe on the beach.”

  “I’ll get the trailer hitched up to the Ski-Doo and meet you out front.” Wilkes got to his feet, hunched over and stiff as if he’d been sitting there all night.

  Jonesy put his cup down. “Thanks for the coffee.”

  He carried his provisions out to the front of the store in three stages. Lad followed him in and out of the shop each time.

  As he came out of the store for the final time, snow was falling steadily, obscuring the mountains to the east. But it was not the snow that caught his attention. It was the man standing beside his provisions. The man used his boot to push the sack of rice to read what it was.

  “Can I help you?” Jonesy asked.

  The man was wearing an expensive and pristine-looking jacket and pants. The kind usually worn by tourists and thrill-seekers. An idling snowmobile sat on the road behind him. It also looked brand new.

  The man looked up, smiling. “Sorry, didn’t know they were yours.” His eyes moved to Lad. “Handsome dog you’ve got there.” He moved his hand forward as if to touch the dog.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” Jonesy warned. “He’s not good with strangers.”

  The man shrugged. The way his thick neck strained the jacket’s collar made it appear a couple of sizes too small for him. He pulled back, raising his eyebrows. “Me neither,” he said.

  Was that supposed to be a joke? He didn’t know and he didn’t really care. Despite his expensive-looking clothes and immaculate snowmobile, the man had two teeth missing. There was also the remains of a yellowing bruise on his cheek.

  “You know where I can get a drink around here?” he asked.

  Jonesy turned to his left and nodded toward the store next door. “You might find some in there.”

  The man looked at the store and licked his lips. “The cold always gives me a thirst. What about you?”

  “Can’t say it does,” he replied. The conversation was going nowhere and he had no desire to keep it going. The man’s voice was beginning to grate on him and he didn’t like the way he kept looking at Lad.

  The sound of Wilkes’s beaten up Ski-Doo rattling around the corner was a relief.

  “Enjoy your drink,” Jonesy said, picking up the rice.

  “And you enjoy...” He nodded at the sack of rice. “That.” There was a definite note of sarcasm in his voice, and maybe five years ago Jonesy would have reacted to it. As it was, he ignored it. This interaction was over.

  He loaded his things into the trailer. They weren’t heavy but there was too much to carry in one trip. He ignored the interest of the other man, who watched him load without a word, then jumped on the back of Wilkes’s Ski-Doo. He turned the vehicle and drove back to the river. Lad trotted at the side of them, keeping pace easily.

  After loading everything into the canoe, he turned to Wilkes and offered his hand. “Guess I’ll see you in the spring,” he said.

  Wilkes took his hand and shook it. “If I’m still around,” he replied. He turned the Ski-Doo and drove back to town.

  Jonesy watched him disappear with the usual mixture of relief and just a touch of melancholy. Apart from Lisa, Wilkes was the last human being he would see for four months, possibly longer. But after the brief interaction with Mr Toothless, the melancholy disappeared before he hit the first bend on the Tanana.

  4

  Jonesy unloaded the canoe, packing everything onto the waiting sled then sliding the canoe back into the thicket. Tomorrow he would bring a tarp down and secure it properly for the hibernation it was about to endure. He worked quickly. The temperature was plummeting as the last of the blushing orange sun squeezed itself behind the ridge.

  “Let’s go,” he said to Lad and started the climb toward the cabin. “Reckon we can make it home before nightfall?”

  It would be a close thing. The trip into town had taken longer than it should have and the chat he’d had with Wilkes, although pleasant, had shaved a little more daylight away. Being out at night wasn’t usually a problem – after all, they were about to experience several months of near-total darkness – but wandering through the forest alone was far from ideal. He hitched the rifle higher onto his shoulder and stepped up the pace.

  If it got too late then Lisa would start to worry, possibly set out to look for him, and he didn’t want that. He had Lad to look out for him, but she would have nobody. It wasn’t safe. Most of the grizzlies living in the area would be in their dens by now; the pregnant females waiting for the deepest, darkest part of the winter to give birth to their cubs. But there was one large bear roaming around the valley, plateau and forest who seemed not to notice the encroaching winter. He was dangerous.

  The lone bear had not been through their camp yet this year, at least not that they had seen, but he had watched from a close enough distance to cause Jonesy to fire a shot into the air above his head. The bear had given a disdainful grunt in reply to Lad’s growling bark and turned slowly away. That was two weeks ago and they hadn’t seen him since. It didn’t mean he wasn’t around. It just meant he wasn’t hungry enough to risk coming any closer. For now.

  Jonesy’s breath scorched the air as he breathed slow and steady, heading up the incline. He was better at paddling than he had been, but it wasn’t something he did every day and his shoulders and back complained about the weight of the sled. It was a good feeling, one he savored.

  As they reached the summit of the forest trail, they paused. The wind carried not only the icy sting of winter but also the spicy aroma of burning pine. In the city there were multiple smells, a cornucopia of different scents on every street corner, all mingling and jostling to be top of the pecking order. Out here, there were the natural smells that had once seemed strange but were now barely noticeable. They changed with the seasons and the weather, and the type of animal. Then there were the smells they made, him and Lisa. The smells of humanity, of cooking, burning wood and of the earth closet. In the open, in the bush, those smells were alien, out of place. It lit them up like a beacon to the animals.

  He smiled and pushed on. It might have been a man-made smell but burning wood meant warmth and as the temperature dropped another level on the thermometer, it gave him a fresh burst of energy.

  He pulled the sled in front of the cabin and unfastened their harnesses. It wasn’t quite full dark but the ocher glow from the cabin fell across man and dog. Even the color felt warm.

  He lifted a sack of flour and took the two steps in one leap. He used his elbow to open the door.

  “Today, I have caught and killed a bag of flour!” he announced.

  The cabin was empty. He dropped the flour by the door and went back to the sled. Lad sat like a guard.

  “Lisa!” he shouted, looking into the dusky darkness of the forest.

  When there was no answer, he shrugged and set about unloading the sled. She couldn’t be far away; there was a fresh birch log on the fire. He put the cans in the cupboard and watched Lad stretch himself in front of the stove. The dog would last five minutes and then he’d be panting, waiting by the door to go out. Jonesy knelt down beside him and rubbed his hands together. He sat for a couple of minutes and was just about to get up to check whether Lisa’s rifle had gone when the door flew open.

  A flashlight shone straight into his eyes, forcing him to look away.

  “I wondered where you’d got to,” he said. “We were about to start a search party.” He patted Lad. “Weren’t we?”


  Lad stood up and walked over to Lisa. He licked her hand and then sloped out of the door.

  “I could say the same about you,” she said, closing the door. “You got everything, then?”

  “Everything on the list,” he replied. “Plus, a little something extra.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Extra?”

  He reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a Hershey bar. He winced. “It might have been sitting in my pocket a little too long.”

  She slowly slid the rifle from her shoulder and leaned it against the wall. She winked at him and leaped forward, dropping down beside him. “Give!” she said.

  He pulled it away just before she could take it. “Not yet, Mrs Jones. There’s no such thing as a free lunch around here.”

  She pulled back, a playful grin on her face. “Oh?”

  “No, ma’am,” he said. “In order for you to get your hands on this here bar of finest chocolate, I need you to kiss me.”

  “That right?”

  “Yup.”

  “And if I don’t agree to your terms?” She put her hand on his thigh and squeezed.

  He took a sharp, hissing intake of breath and shook his head. “Then I’m afraid I’m going to have to...”

  She didn’t let him finish. She pounced, straddling him and pinning him to the floor with her knees. He held the chocolate out behind him where she couldn’t reach.

  “No fair!” she shouted.

  “A kiss,” he said. “That’s all it takes, one little kiss.” They both knew one little kiss wasn’t where it was heading. He could have pushed her off any time he liked but he preferred to stay where he was.

  Her eyes narrowed as she adjusted her position. “And then I can have it? All of it?”

  He nodded.

  Lisa lowered her head toward him and cupped the side of his face. “You drive a hard bargain, Jonesy,” she whispered.

  He closed his eyes, waiting for her lips to touch his but she was too fast. She rolled away and grabbed the candy from his hand at the same time.