by Ken Jolly
After pulling the gingerbread out of the oven, he was done in. He took off his apron and left the serving and clean up for the peons. He piled on his winter gear and straddled his rackety old snow machine and headed out for the wilderness he now called home; “home” that sounded good. All he wanted to do was sleep.
Jonah and Jake
I woke in a cold sweat, which is not good, especially this near the Arctic Circle. With the short daylight hours, your schedule does not follow the sun. You had to be disciplined to maintain a healthy routine. I shook my head remembering, dreams, however, cannot be relegated into a routine.
The fire had burned down to embers and the cabin was cold. I rolled out of the rack and groaned. It was close to time to be at work. You wouldn't think living in the back of nowhere that you would have to work.
Right after I bought this place, I had holed up in the cabin for a few months before the reality of what cabin fever means set in. That is when I found a job at the Lodge mainly to get out and see people, though, heaven knows there are not that many people to see in Laurel.
I finished dressing, I put on my winter gear and went out to warm up the snow machine. I had left it around back by the woodpile to take advantage of the cover and for protection from the elements.
Walking around the first corner of my cabin a guttural growl stopped me short. I had forgotten, even though this is my land it’s still wilderness and I’m only borrowing it from nature. There, not more than eight feet away was the largest wolf I had ever seen. I had blithely gone outside without a firearm feeling comfortable in my own backyard.
We humans tend to feel just because we have eyes in front of our heads rather than the side that we are the top predator. We forget that other predators can hunt us. I felt an overwhelming and new rush of terror.
The wolf crouched and barred fangs at me.
Maybe I had surprised it as much as it had me? I took a small step back then, as the wolf did not charge I tentatively took another slow step and after slipping around the corner, I took off in a sprint! I slammed the door though the animal had not followed.
Stupid, stupid of me not carrying a gun, I chided myself!
I grabbed the rifle by the door, opened a window a crack, and waited at least a half hour for the beast to show however, it did not.
Giving it plenty of time to make up its mind to be elsewhere I threw together a breakfast of eggs and heated the venison steak left over from the night before.
After I was fairly certain the wolf must have left, I went back to the snow machine, this time carrying the rifle. I also strapped the .45 on my belt along with an extra magazine in my pocket. When shooting a Semi-auto you didn’t carry the extra magazine just to have more ammo. If the gun malfunctions, sometimes it’s faster to drop and load a new magazine.
Alaska has great open carry laws and this deep in the brush its more common to see a person packing a hog leg than not. Personally, I was not as worried about bears as I was some two-legged critters that might resemble Arabs.
I stepped back out to the frigid afternoon. Snow was still falling but the snow machine was protected. The sun was low on the horizon. This far north it was the land of the midnight sun, no big deal. Yet a day with very little sunlight drove many people insane.
Wish I had a barn to park the snow machine. Just sitting under cover of the wood shed out in the open is not good for it. The vehicle was covered with a tarp. It was made of heavy canvas. In these temperatures, plastic would have cracked if pulled off with a jerk.
A quick heave on the tarp revealed the old junker. I hung the tarp across the outdoor clothesline so I can find it later. Anywhere except the clothesline and this type of snowfall would bury it before evening and finding it might be difficult in the dark. At this point in the winter we only have about four and a half hours daylight and we were losing the weak warmth of the sun. Soon there would be no more sun and we were in winter’s mercy.
The snow machine started after a little effort and I left it idling to warm up. I made a final check of the cabin, stoked the fire, and dampened the stove. Wanted to keep the cabin warm but didn’t want the place burning down due to the unattended fire.
I stopped in front of the single mirror before walking out. Before the disfiguring scars, I was good at avoiding attention and looked disarming. I still have a youthful face, tanned except around the scars. Now no one looks at the monster side of my face, if they do, they look away.
Normal people use their face to act with, and play parts. I did, too. Now with the scars I do not. I have been told that when aroused in violent directions I can look like something rising from an unused corner of hell. Therefore, I go out of my way and try to look harmless unless aroused. I'm afraid I've always had a temper that I have always struggled to control. I talk low and calm and you do not want to hear my command voice.
Dressing for the conditions was the secret of staying warm and protecting yourself from frostbite.
The cold got to everything, especially machines.
I remember one time when it took lighting a small fire under the snow machine engine to warm the oil and loosen the engine so it would start. It had been a race whether the oily engine would catch fire before it warmed enough to start.
I’m not necessarily what you would call, “mechanically minded” and have an inborn hatred of anything with a motor. Motors always let you down when you most need it, especially in harsh conditions. That explains some of my pathology!
The five miles into the village can be a pleasant ride as it was mainly downhill however, today, there was a strong North wind in my face and while the cap and goggles does a lot to protect at these speeds, the wind chill was stinging.
The reduced light also affected trail visibility. However, I know the track like the back of my hand.
Fortunately, this was one of the main trails into town and traffic from the outlying homesteaders kept it open. Snow piled above the brush, which is kicked off the trail by the snow machines all the way down into the valley. This made a tunnel effect in the trail.
With my attention distracted, it served me right when I hit a patch of hard ice. The machine slipped and it careened sideways into an Elder bush. I threw my weight onto the right ski and awkwardly regained the main trail. Sheepishly I admit maybe I know the trail like the back of my hand, but paying attention helps.
One of the few good things about Laurel, there is no rush hour traffic.
The Lodge cleverly has a shed to park snow machines out of the weather, an obvious essential at this latitude. I needed to build something like that at my cabin next spring. I said the same thing last year and never got to it.
Inside Ramos, had already started preps for dinner service so I shed my coat, gloves and hat and went in to help him, when Herb, the manager, stopped me.
Herb is a good guy but does tend to micro manage. He has never seemed comfortable in Laurel except when he tends his herbs.
"Matt, ah, Jonah, you have company. He's in the lounge. Claims to be a friend of yours. He came in on a plane yesterday afternoon.”
I gave Herb a puzzling gesture.
"I don't know, however he came all this way to see you."
“Does he look Arabic?”
“Only if Arabs have red hair.”
There was only one person in the world that knew where to find me and has red hair.
Tonight we were serving the Hunters Buffet to use up the leftovers. Therefore, there wasn’t that much to do. I was free to chase down my visitor.
I peered around the corner into the Lounge and just as I hoped. It was Jake! I surprised myself at how excited I was. Being on the run is a lonely business.
He saw me coming and stood to greet me. I pelted him on the back. We both smiled. It had been a long time.
"Jake, what in the devil are you doing here? Are you sure no one followed you?"
"Relax I was the only one on the plane and besides I came to tell you that you can come out of hiding. The Rashid brothe
rs died last week. The truck they were in had been carrying IEDs and hit one of their own IED and blew up. I understand it was spectacular."
"What?" I asked again barely believing the news,
"You heard me. When you play with fire, it bites back. There's no one left to pay the reward for your hit." He grinned, “You can change your name back to Jonah."
I glanced around the room. "I already have. I’ve quit running."
"Well, you can come back with me. You don't have to stay here." Jake responded.
"It may take me some time. I've pretty settled in.”
I changed the subject. “How have you been doing?" I asked. "Last I heard from you Blackwater was finished."
Jake frowned. "No, they are still there, just changed the name to hide from government investigators. As you know, I’ve had enough. I figured it’s time to get out. The situation has turned a lot more dangerous. Like we always said a person shooting at you ages a man fast."
“Nice of you to come this far to tell me about the Arabs”
“I felt like I was due a vacation and as soon as you can close things here I have plans for us.” We spent some time catching up. It was great seeing him again.
One of the few people I had allowed myself into befriending here in Laurel pulled out a chair at our table. He grunted when he sat down. I grimaced because I saw the con job coming. As I predicted his first word was “How.” In typical Indian fashion, “White man come to hunt?”
I need to stop this before he entered full steam into his Indian act. It was convincing only to the tourists.
"Jake, this is Henry, one of the guides. He’s commonly known around here as Two Fish."
Henry grimaced, “It’s a tribal name," he explained. It gives me a leg up on the other guides." He gestured jokingly across the room, “Most of these hunters feel it is advantageous to hunt with a real Indian guide."
Jake looked at him hard. "Don't I recognize you? Ever been to Afghanistan?"
Maybe it was the tattoo on his arm that might have given Henry away. Two Fish nodded in the affirmative.
Jonah piped up, “Yeah, Henry played in the same sandbox that we did.”
"Yep, three tours. I didn't care for it much because the Brass would never let us win. Their stupid rules of engagement tied our hands while we made targets of ourselves. I finally saw the wisdom of the old Indian saying, “never play by the rules when you can’t win”, so when I did all I could I got out.”
Jake reached over and shook Two Fish's hand. "You did your share. Welcome back. I was private security and just got out myself. I remember hearing stories about you. Pretty awesome if only half of them are true."
Two Fish looked at him closer. "You don't look like you are here for the hunting." He smiled. "Most hunters wear camo. The bright yellow look is kind of interesting."
"I didn't even bring along a long gun. Just here to see..." he looked over at me, "to see Matt."
I hastily corrected him. "It's OK. He knows my real name."
Jake sighed, "This secret identify thing is tough."
Jonah turned and said, "Jake just told me, those Arabs I mentioned are no longer with us. They came to an end by their own devices."
Two Fish laughed, "I see. Sometimes you find justice."
The Hunt for Slocomb
The morning dawned dark and cold as was usual in the Northern latitudes. The weak sun would not be up for quite a while. It was a lot colder than the previous day and most of the hunters might have preferred sleeping in however the aroma of my coffee and bacon eventually dragged them out of the sack. My bacon has even been known to make Muslims convert.
The men sitting around the table were a dismal group, as it had turned even colder outside. The snowdrift that they had been watching through the window last evening was now higher and covered most of the window. Their talk was rather dejected as they contemplated the chances of any success for a hunt on a day like this.
Everyone was reporting a lack of success on their individual hunts the previous day and if the truth was to be known even the guides who were sitting at another table comparing notes were not thrilled getting out into this weather.
As usual Sam's loud mouth was leading the argument,” I hate that you will be losing a day of hunting, but it looks really terrible out there."
A more optimistic hunter spoke up, "Maybe it will warm some after the sun comes up. Does anyone know the temperate?
"I checked when I came down, it’s minus forty five," Sam stated flatly.
Mark who is normally somewhat quiet added a fact to the discussion. "It doesn't matter. If it’s -45 Fahrenheit or -45 Centigrade it’s the only temperature where the two scales are the same."
There was a collective shudder as the men at the table settled back into their coffee cups and pancakes.
"I shouldn't have drunk so much last night. My head hurts," said one guy huddled around the table.
"Maybe you wouldn't have lost so much at poker," kidded his companion. There was a general round of laughter around the table.
Jake came down the stairs and was as vulnerable to the same aromas that had lured the others downstairs. He obviously felt self-conscious around all of the hunters and found a table to himself off on the side.
Herb came from the kitchen carrying more serving platters and stopped to talk to Sam. "Have you seen Henry Slocomb? He hasn't come down for breakfast yet."
Sam shrugged not very interested. "What time did he get back last night? He is probably sleeping in."
"Don't know. I had already turned in." Herb then turned to Frank who was working the front desk. "Frank, go up and tell Henry breakfast is ready." Seeing the crowd queuing up to the buffet for extra helpings Herb rushed the trays over to keep the mob quiet.
A swirl of blowing wind and snow ushered Gus's arrival when the door opened. Gus looked around the lounge until he spotted Jake. Seeing Jake, he crossed the room.
"We need to leave soon as possible. The lake may freeze up anytime," Gus urged.
"Can it really freeze that fast,” Jake questioned?
"It can as cold as it is out there. I wasn't expecting the big freeze for a couple more weeks. However, things are deteriorating fast. We have a window to get out before the next front moves in. Otherwise the plane may be ice bound."
Jake frowned, thinking and came to a decision. "I'm thinking about staying for a while. I think it might be fun being snowed in. You go ahead I'm staying.
"Weather service is reporting a really nasty blizzard moving in. Might be a while before I can get you out of here. The lake is so small we cannot use skis to land if the lake is frozen" Gus warned.
Jake stretched luxuriously. "I like the idea of being cut off. It’s been years since I've had a proper vacation. Every time I take one, I am called back in. Just let them try that now." He smiled. "They might have a problem bothering me here with no telephone or Internet."
Frank came down the stairs and tapped Herb on the shoulder. They conferred and Herb looked disturbed. Herb raised his voice to command attention in the room.
"Looks like one of our guests never made it back last night. With the current weather conditions, it’s dangerous out there. Gentlemen, I'm afraid we are not hunting today. I need all of the guides to join me while we work a search grid."
"Who's missing?"
"That little English fellow, Mr. Slocomb. His bed has not been slept in. We appear to have misplaced him."
"Is there anything we can do?"
"I'll brief the guides and we will come up with a search plan. Most of you being strangers don't know the lay of the land. We would appreciate you staying here while we search so we don't lose anyone else."
Gus stepped up. "I'm about to fly out and can do a few sweeps on my way out."
Herb, the guides, and Gus gathered around the topo map at the west end of the room. The guide that had placed Henry in the blind for yesterday's hunt pointed out the last place Henry is known to have been. "I went out late yesterday to retr
ieve him, but the blind was empty. I figured the weather had driven him out and he had started back to town."
Herb turned on him, "And you didn't think to check and make sure he was back?"
"Things came up. I was busy bringing others back and I figured he was already here. “He sounded defensive.
Herb turned back to the map, "Well, we have a place to start searching. The blowing snow is bound to have covered his tracks. If we take four snow machines, we can cover all of the trails around this point and work outwards. Someone is bound to find him. Let's double up two to a vehicle. No one goes alone. We have to find him. “He could not last another night out in the rough. Every group take a radio so we stay in contact. We will be monitoring channel seventy eight."
Jonah, who had just walked in, and Jake who was now curious had joined Sam's table to see the commotion.
"Hunting has been terrible and we’re really bummed losing another day." He stared outside at the weather and frowned. "Some of us might be happy to stay in today," Sam conceding.
Hazel and Henry Two Fish must have come in from the back because they entered from the kitchen.
Hazel started, “Jake, I just came in to say goodbye. Gus said he expects the weather to lift for a while and that gives him a window."
"I'm staying," Jake confessed," I’m going to help Jonah get things closed down before he comes with me.”
"You know with the blizzard coming, it may be a week or two before you can get out," warned Hazel repeating the caution as Gus had.
"Sounds fine to me. I noticed you have a used paperback rack at the store. I'll be by after a while and browse for something to read."
“It’s kind of a swap library. When someone gets through with a book, they drop it by. We have a few magazines too.”
"Why do these guys look so down,” Hazel asked?
"One of the hunters didn't make it back yesterday. Herb and the guides have called off hunting for the day while they look for the missing man."
