by Ken Jolly
Herb the Lodge Manager had commented once that he hadn't seen a WWII jeep in ages and I felt duty bound to correct him. "It's an antique from the Korean War."
"You know that's how we beat the Germans?"
"WHAT?"
"The rumor during WWII was that every American enlisted man was given a jeep when he joined. I guess they were confused by how many of those things we shipped into the war theater."
"Well this is mine. Bought and paid for, even if it's a piece of traveling rust and runs rough." Needing a vehicle only three months of the year, it didn’t really get the priorities that it deserved.
As I mentioned earlier the road to Dawson is more like a trail than what you might think of as a road, and never easy. I always travel with a roadside emergency kit in the vehicle, which included food, water, and a sleeping bag in case I have to walk back. As I said, my jeep does run somewhat rough.
This being Alaska I was armed with my STI with the custom wood grips on my hip. This gun saved me many times in Afghanistan and was still my favorite. It was an old gun however; I kept it in shape and shot it well.
This was wild country and while you need protection from the varmints, Jake's warning about the Rashid’s family had not gone unnoticed. The pistol was not a large enough caliber to stop a bear but several times, I've sent one running for the hills at the sound of a shot.
I've lived in rough places and seen what people are willing to do to each other. The only real safety is being armed and willing to do whatever is needed to defend yourself.
There is a story. I don't know how true it is of a German Kaiser visiting Switzerland who was in conference with a Swiss general and commented that the Swiss only have a half million men in their army and the German commanded a million men. He inquired what the Swiss would do if Germany invaded. The Swiss officer slowly sipped his coffee and answered, "I guess we will have to shoot twice before going home." The Swiss are notoriously good marksmen and more importantly understand a good defense.
Everyone in Alaska is armed against wildlife and sometimes people as well. Alaska gets many of the rejects of the lower 48. Sometimes these are not the best citizens. An armed society remains a polite and safe one.
The trip to Dawson takes almost four hours. Even after the trail intersects the highway, it is no Autobahn. The highway may have more potholes than the trail. Winters are hard on roads. Snowplows gouge them; water freezes in the gouges and breaks apart the road surface winter after winter. Overloaded big rigs and cars and trucks with snow tires and/or chains complicate the frail nature of Alaskan roads.
I thought I had become accustomed to my scars but heading into town, I was nervous. Even now when shaving I don't recognize the person starring back at me in the mirror. In the outback of nowhere, living alone I didn't have to worry about my face.
Besides, in Laurel enough time has passed that I had quit being the freak show, but I admit I was worried at how people in the larger town might view me. My hand went up in the habitual gesture of rubbing my face and I can feel the ridges left by the scars.
I planned to stay several days in Dawson. Eat something I hadn’t cooked. I also will admit to having a little cabin fever and it was great seeing something different.
Main purpose of the trip was shopping. Hazel's General Store fills in the blanks, those small necessities, but you can’t get everything. Therefore, Dawson serves as my bright lights and big city. I just don’t get here often enough.
There are only two hotels in town and I heard that one of them allows dogs and the other one has fleas, so I had made reservations at the better one.
Dawson with just a population of about 1300 may seem primitive. For me it was forty times bigger than Laurel and I worried about all of the strangers and the size of the city. It even had traffic lights. I had no idea how much traffic lights might worry me. It’s amazing what you are accustomed to.
The hotel was not bad by Alaskan standards. After all, Dawson is not at the end of the road, only near the end. Still, it did have electricity and hot and cold running water, and you didn’t have to tend the fireplace all night. Yet, the towels were a little scratchy.
After dinner at the hotel restaurant, I went outside. The Northern Lights were in full glory, which was unusual for this time of the year. As long as I have lived here, the lights never get old. Colored bands of green and purple light banded the north horizon with dizzy swirls. I know the scientific explanation but I swear its magic or maybe God’s sense of humor.
Taking advantage of modern conveniences like phones, I called the airport and found Gus. He didn't have an open flight until the next afternoon however; he had enough cargo space to add my packages to his load.
Gus questioned me, "Hey if you are here in Dawson, I guess those guys didn’t find you?"
"What guys?"
"They said they were friends of yours. They seemed kind of shifty, if you know what I mean. That might be just because they are foreigners. Anyway I flew them into Laurel this morning."
This raised the hair on the back of my neck however I wasn’t going to let it show, No one should have been looking for me much less know how to find me. "I'll catch up to them. I’m headed back tomorrow."
This did not feel right in my stomach. I've no friends and the only one who knows where I am can keep secrets. Nobody knew I was here. My own family has no idea where to find me.
The Mountains
The next morning dawned as pretty as the previous day. I grabbed a coffee to counteract the cool morning and headed into town to shop.
Dawson only has the Main Street and only five stores but I was use to only one store where Hazel had the prices jacked up.
Dawson prices were not great however, there is some competition between the stores, so prices were better, and the selection was a lot better. Hazel knows she has a lock on the Laurel market. I smiled. Can you say monopoly?
I was on the South end of town when I spotted an old cabin with a sign swinging in the wind. "Gold for Sale."
I piled on the brakes and brought the jeep to a sliding stop in the gravel. A wild idea had struck me.
Hazel is always pestering people to trade for Gold. Laurel started life as a mining town, until the mines played out. No one in town has seen gold in twenty years but she always wants to barter for it. Suppose I buy a few nuggets and next time I'm in the store I show them off and claim I found it on the mountain. She will wet her pants, and if I'm careful, I might be able to work out some above market value trades. I smiled to myself. "If I get this going everyone in town is going to be looking for gold. Might be a new gold rush?"
I knocked on the front door and an old grizzled guy, stopped short at seeing my scars but led me into the front room that had been converted to a store. He had some suitable natural looking nuggets, which he claimed was panned from the Yukon. After he checked today’s market price I paid by the weight which he measured on a brass antique balance scale.
I loaded the jeep, lashing everything down, except the packages that Gus was picking up. I used horse-packing knots. The hotel manager came out to do some sidewalk supervising. "That looks like overkill."
"It's a rough road."
"Matt, I noticed you always carry a gun?"
“So does a lot of people. Might need one. Better to have one than to need it."
He looked around in mock horror, "Bears?"
"Well there is a town in the Aleutians quite a lot further north from here, where people build iron cages in their houses. When polar bears are sighted an alarm is sounded and everyone goes to their cage like a bomb shelter."
"I take it they have a lot of polar bear problems?"
"It’s their own fault. They built the town right square on the bear's migration route."
"Do you have a lot of bears?"
I smiled, "Not that many, but I used to be a Boy Scout.” I slipped the old gun from my Kydex holster and press checked it. “I like to be prepared."
"Is that all it is? You seem to be watching your back a
nd jumpy."
"Me?"
"Yes."
The jeep backfired when I started the engine. I flinched and pretended not to notice.
I made good time on the highway out of Dawson, even though I stopped frequently to let the jeep cool down. She has recently been developing heating problems. With winter almost here, she would be going into storage soon so I’ll worry about it next spring.
Once off the blacktop and on the dirt I had to slow considerably.
The road was more rut than dirt. Trying to make much speed would shake your dental fillings loose, if you had any.
The canopy of trees closed over me and I would not see the sky again until I broke though the timberline.
I was driving along humming to myself and slammed the brake pedal to slide to a stop to avoid hitting a young boy who couldn't have been over thirteen. He was waving energetically and seemed to want me to stop. As I pulled near, I saw he was disheveled, one sleeve was torn, and he had some nasty scratches.
"Help, our ATV went over the side! My father is trapped."
"Hop in and show me where he is. Is he hurt?"
I discovered the kid’s name was Tom and his family was homesteading near here.
Another half mile down the path Tom pointed me to where their ATV had gone over the side. The ATV tires led through the mashed weeds. I cautiously approached. I think I may have mentioned being scared of heights. The red ATV was about seventy feet down the slope and had stopped on a ledge after rolling. There was a man underneath who was not responsive when I called to him.
I broke out a coil of line and the first aid kit, being thankful for the mountaineering course I had in the army. However, no matter how scared of heights I am you cannot let your fears get in the way. This was becoming my new lesson.
It was a rough scramble down the slope but not anywhere close to having to rappel.
When I was close, the loose rocks and debris seemed to waken or alert the man. "That was fast. I figured I was stuck here a while."
“Tom found me on the trail. Looks to me as if this ledge wasn't here, you would be down on the canyon floor. Talk about luck."
He grimaced, "I'm pinned under the ATV and was scared to try pushing it off in case it started downhill and dragged me with it."
"Smart idea. Are you hurt?"
He looked rueful. "Mainly my dignity. Just a few cuts and scrapes. Is Tom OK?"
I was putting a half hitch on the ATV. "That's a boy to be proud of. He didn't lose his head."
"I’ve always been proud of him."
I tightened my knots. "I’ve got the ATV secured, and I'm going to try lifting it so you can slide out."
I found a fallen tree limb and used a rock as a fulcrum. The ATV shifted and as soon as the pressure released he slipped out to the side.
"Looks to me like you were the cool one. If you had tried to struggle we would have found you down there." I gestured to the canyon floor which was another four hundred feet down. "Do you think you can climb out along the rope using it for a handhold?
He stood wincing a little as he stretched. "Yeah, it hurts but I can make it."
"When you get to the top release the cable on the front winch and drop it to me. We can try dragging your ATV up to the road."
He scrambled up the cliff only slipping a few times. Sending stones dislodged during his struggle up, but they missed me. As I waited, I admired the view from my perch. I might not like heights but I do appreciate views. It was quite a view and he had been lucky. I didn’t get near the edge. Heights do bad things to me. Always makes me feel like jumping.
When the winch hook dropped, I took a loop around the bike that should keep it upright while dragging. I then untied my line and scrambled back to the top of the rocky slope. I didn't want the bike slipping and landing on me either.
Once at the top I shuddered. I’m never comfortable with heights. They might be pretty to look at but they bother me.
I checked the cable and winch. Everything was in order so we slowly dragged the ATV to rest at the top.
"I don’t think it will run. Looks like when it was upside down you lost all of your gas, and it looks like the fork is bent. I’ll give you and Tom a lift back to your place."
"We have a cabin about three miles away. We would appreciate you dropping us off."
I shoehorned them in around my packages and before I pulled away, I looked and shuddered again. I like it when things end well. So many times it doesn’t.
Their cabin was slightly off the regular trail and I had never noticed it on my few trips to town in spite of its obvious large garden. Just proves how not alert I’ve become. I had to have passed this place four times and never noticed it.
His wife came to the door when she heard my jeep pull up. She took one look at the pair of them, paled then pulled out the first aid kit. While working over their cuts she insisted I had to stay for lunch and this delayed departure. Thankfully, we were into the days of long sunlight.
After a proper meal, I was back to creeping the jeep slowly up the trail. Several times stopping and winching on the steeper slopes.
This involves belaying slack on the winch’s steel cable, attaching it to a tree and using the remote control I walked alongside the vehicle as it slowly inched up the hill.
Eventually I reached the crest of the pass from which I would start an even more harrowing descent. Everything that goes up must come down. Sometimes going down is the hard part.
At the top, I paused to view Laurel’s valley. I have to admit the scenery is spectacular. When you live here, you tend to take vistas for granted but I still prefer the ice and white snows of winter. I guess that's a good thing as we only have three months of summer and nine months of winter.
The remoteness and solitude made me feel small in this landscape. It rather puts our perspective of nature into focus. Here nature ruled.
A moving shape below grabbed my attention and I reached for the binoculars.
I scanned the valley where I had seen the streaks of gray rapidly followed each other. Wolves. Normally you never see these. They avoid people.
Wolves hunt in packs and will bring down the largest animals. In addition, they are great stalkers and contrary to popular fiction, they hunt silent. You never know they are following until too late.
I frowned remembering Gus’s news of my visitors. "Man is the real terror to fear.” If Gus is right, I can expect to have some unpleasant company waiting at the cabin. This I was not looking forward to.
I was momentary tempted to turn back to Dawson. I could fly somewhere else and run again.
Maybe a year ago I would have. I've become tired of running. I like this country and feel settled.
Long ago, I used to have a dog. She was an Airedale I named Clementine. As a puppy, I would take her for walks in the neighborhood. There was one house that had a large German Sheppard who would lay in wait and pounce out of the bush. Clem would tear off running when the Sheppard ambushed her.
I figured I had the only Airedale in the country that was a coward. Well she got bigger and one day I saw the Sheppard lying in wait, and was resigned to the chase.
Clem surprised me by laying into the Sheppard. You know after that the Sheppard cut her a wide swath. I figure it’s about time I do the same to the Arabs. I'm tired of running and if I bloody their nose and make it costly, they might get the idea not to send any more killers after me. On the other hand, I paused in thought; it might make the price on me go up.
My reflection was wiped out by faint growling and yips from the valley below. The wolves had pulled down a caribou. Pack hunting at its best. I was feeling a little like that caribou with my foes surrounding me.
I have to fight if I am to stay. This country and my life here is worth fighting for.
I pulled the jeep to a stop where it still overlooked the valley. "I like this place and I'm though running."
Assassins
As usual, Hazel was in the stockroom but emerged when she heard
the door. It has a bell mounted above the door on a spring.
She entered dusting her hands, “Matt, there was three guys looking for you, but they called you Jonah?” she hesitated," They described you to a tee. I gave them directions and sent them to your cabin. They were kind of strange looking foreigners."
“What type of foreigners?”
“I don’t rightly know. If I was guessing, they were Mideast. They didn’t seem sociable.”
That settled it. I sighed. "I guess my cover is blown."
"What?"
I sighed, "My real name is Jonah. That’s why they were looking for someone named Jonah." At her, perplex expression I added, "My father had a sense of humor."
"You are Jonah? Why the fake name? Are you running from the law?
"No nothing like that, more of a feud. A family in Saudi blames me for the death of their brother."
“Did you kill him?"
"No." I reached up and touched my scars. "It was when I got these. His family took it personal and they need someone to blame."
"Is that who those men are?"
“Hired assassins. When they didn't find me did they come back to town?"
She shook her head, "Kind of got busy, but I haven't seen them."
"What type of guns do you have in stock?"
"With your collection, what do you want with another?"
"I always need another. I might have use for a big caliber bolt action with a scope."
Sensing her opportunity to make a profit she jumped in with both feet, "Could be kind of expensive."
I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out the gold I had bought in Dawson. I shook out a couple of nuggets, "Think you might be willing to make a trade?"
Hazel’s eyes got a little wide. She looked obviously greedy. "I told you there was gold up there. Where did you find it?"
"Kind of a secret" I said taunting her.
"Do you think there might be more where you got those?"
"Could be. You interested in a trade?"
"I've got an old 30.06 but it’s got an almost new scope. Jeb traded it last week."
