Donnie stood beside Mike and looked at him with wide-eyed fear. “She won’t rest until I’m dead,” he whispered, leaning close. “You have to do something. I won’t survive the day. Once it gets dark, who knows what she’s capable of?”
Mike couldn’t help but laugh out loud.
“You need to take this seriously,” Donnie said.
“You don’t know her. Look at her.”
Mike watched as Mulluk blew her nose with a piece of tissue paper.
“Thinking, plotting — she’s pure evil,” Donnie mumbled.
“Look, Donnie, Victor and I will be right behind you. Anything happens, we’re right there. We have your back, buddy.” Mike put his arm around the big kid. “Now we better get going, or it’ll be dark before you know it.”
Donnie gripped Mike’s arm and nodded with gravity. “Thanks, Mike. If anything does happen, tell my mother I love her.” With that he turned and glared defiantly at Mulluk as he walked over and sat behind her. Back in the saddle, he gave Mike a tight-lipped, wide-eyed nod and thumbs-up sign.
Mike returned the thumbs-up and trudged back to the idling Polaris.
Victor shook his head. “Young love! Now let’s get going, Mike.” He slid to the back of the Polaris’s seat, pushing himself tight against the backrest.
Mike’s jaw dropped. “You mean …?”
“Take it away, Mike. You saw me. Throttle on the right, brake on the left. Mulluk will behave now, so just follow the girls at a decent speed.”
Mike tried not to look too excited, but he knew he was grinning like an idiot. Some of his friends in St. Albert had snowmobiles, but he had always been a passenger, never a driver.
Gingerly climbing in front of Victor, he gripped the handlebars and gave the throttle a little squeeze that only made the engine race. He felt his face heat with embarrassment and gripped the throttle too hard. The machine lurched ahead, almost giving them whiplash.
Victor chuckled and placed a hand on Mike’s shoulder. “Easy. Start to squeeze and gradually make it harder. You’ll get used to it.”
Mike nodded and did what Victor suggested. Sure enough, they moved gradually, then gained speed.
Seeing Mike and Victor go, the girls quickly circled and raced ahead. Mike continued to squeeze the throttle, his heart in his mouth, until they were keeping pace with the other two machines.
“Good driving, Mike!” Victor shouted over his shoulder.
Mike nodded, trying to control his excitement. He smiled as he sped along behind the girls, giddy with the power of the machine as they hurtled across the snow and ice. Was this cool or what?
CHAPTER 10
The rest of the drive to Reindeer Station was one of the best experiences Mike had ever had. As he gained confidence, he swerved into the deeper snow slightly off the trail. A fine powder flew up, sending a cold mist onto his face. Laughing, he closed his eyes and shook his head before veering back onto the trail. They were no longer on the road, of course, but on a trail well worn by snowmobile traffic. The girls sensed that Mike wanted to try new stuff as he gained confidence, so they sped up, slowed down, made sharp turns, and zipped along the edge of snowbanks, keeping their velocity high so the machines tilted slightly on their sides but the force of gravity prevented them from falling over. It was like riding a roller coaster, and Mike’s stomach heaved each time they swooped sideways along the edge of a bank.
Reindeer Station was a small grouping of deserted houses on the bank of a channel of the Mackenzie River. The structures reminded Mike of pictures he’d seen of old houses in the Yukon during the gold rush. The houses were pretty plain but still stood out in contrast to the stark whiteness surrounding them.
Mike and his companions pitched in and gathered wood, which Victor used to start a fire in a clearing near the deserted houses. They pulled up some logs that others had employed for the same purpose, and Mike sat happily by the fire, sleepy and content. Donnie and Victor hunkered down to his right, with the girls on the other side of the flames. Mike didn’t know if it was the heat from the fire or the fact that Mulluk was a safe distance away, but Donnie seemed pretty jubilant, too.
Victor extracted a Thermos from the sled and poured out steaming tea for everyone in cups he provided. Gingerly, Mike took a sip of the liquid and enjoyed the heat as the creamy, sweet substance slid down his throat. Victor went back to the sled and returned with saltines and canned meat, slicing up the latter and handing out portions to the group. Mike had never tasted anything so good in his life.
“So, Mike, what do you think of your first skidoo trip?” Victor asked.
“It’s fantastic! I went out with friends a couple of times down south but never had a chance to drive. And we always drove across farm fields and stuff. It was nothing like this. I never thought I’d be driving on an ice road.”
Everyone smiled and enjoyed their tea, slipping into comfortable silence.
Mike glanced at the old buildings behind them. “Victor, why are those buildings sitting empty like that? And if it’s called Reindeer Station, where are all the reindeer?”
In the 1930s the Canadian government brought Laplanders from Scandinavia and reindeer, from Alaska in order to raise a domesticated herd in the Northwest Territories, and this is where they settled. At that time Inuvik didn’t exist.”
“They tried to move people to Inuvik from Aklavik, right?” Mulluk interjected.
Victor nodded. “That’s right. The Laplanders lived here and raised the reindeer. The idea was to sell the meat and make it into a type of industry for the area. Aklavik existed, but it’s always had a problem with flooding in the springtime. It still does. It gets so bad at times that the streets disappear and people can only get around town by boat.
“That’s when the government had another one of its bright ideas. There was a spot on the river not far from Reindeer Station that never flooded, so they decided they’d move the people from Aklavik to there. The new town was eventually called Inuvik. But there was a slight problem.” Victor bit into a saltine.
“Nobody would move,” Mulluk said, smirking.
“That’s right. No one bothered to see if everyone would move for sure. Even though Inuvik didn’t flood, most people refused to relocate from Aklavik. They were used to it, despite all the flooding. So, in the end, there were two towns — Inuvik and Aklavik. With Inuvik so close to Reindeer Station, the Laplanders decided to move there, too, which by then was larger and had more conveniences.”
Mike nibbled on some meat and a saltine, then asked, “What happened to the reindeer?”
Victor smiled. “Selling them for a profit and creating a type of industry for the area didn’t really work out. A family still owns the herd, but it’s not the kind of thriving business the government hoped it would be.”
“And now Reindeer Station’s a ghost town,” Mike said, studying the abandoned houses. “Let’s see now, up here you’ve got Tuktoyaktuk, Aklavik, and Inuvik.”
“Hey, don’t forget Tsiigehtchic and Fort McPherson,” Donnie chimed in.
“Sorry, I forgot,” Mike said. “Tuktoyaktuk, Aklavik, Inuvik, Tsiigehtchic, and Fort McPherson, where Donnie’s from.”
Donnie nodded and smiled drowsily.
“Mike, do you play hockey?” Trish asked shyly. “What did you do for fun in Edmonton? I mean, St. Albert.”
“I played a bit of hockey, but it wasn’t my favourite thing to do. I mostly played lacrosse. My team won the provincial championships last year. Other than that I skied in the winter when we had time to go to the mountains and played most sports at school.”
“He’s amazing at basketball,” Donnie said. “You should’ve seen him go up against Bobby Vittrekwa and Gwen Thrasher. He’s likely the best player after Tommy Aleekuk.”
Mike grinned sheepishly and stared at the fire.
Mulluk snorted. “I heard about you and Gwen. Everybody says it was love at first sight.”
The girls all giggled. Even Donnie chuckled, holding his glo
ves up to his face. When Mike glanced up, Donnie quickly looked away, but Mike saw his shoulders shake with laughter and punched him lightly in the back.
“Lacrosse is an aboriginal sport,” Victor said.
Mike’s face lit up. “It’s a great sport, Victor. It’s like a combination of basketball and hockey, with lots of running. You can hit the other team or hammer them with your stick. And there’s way more scoring than in hockey. You’ve got to be in shape, man, because you never stop running — just like soccer. And the hand-eye coordination you need is unbelievable.”
“It’s too bad no one plays it up here,” Claudine said. “It sounds exciting.”
Mike’s enthusiasm withered as the full gravity of Claudine’s words sank in. Somewhere at the back of his mind there had been a nagging, sickening feeling that lacrosse wasn’t played in Inuvik. Now the reality was staring him in the face.
Victor placed a hand on Mike’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Mike. I can tell the game means a lot to you.”
Mike shrugged and studied the fire gloomily. “I don’t know if I can live without lacrosse. I don’t know how my parents could do this to me. No one told me Inuvik didn’t have lacrosse. This whole move was going to be a big adventure and I’d have plenty of fun, they told me.”
“Mike, if your parents had told you Inuvik didn’t have lacrosse, do you think it would’ve changed anything? Would it have made any of this easier?”
Mike shook his head but didn’t look at Victor.
“I know it’s hard, Mike, but you have to look for what isn’t obvious. Look around you. Take your time. Something’s waiting for you in Inuvik. Something you’ll take with you for the rest of your life.”
“Right now it’s pretty hard to see anything,” Mike said. “Today’s pretty nice, but it’s not lacrosse. As far as I’m concerned, all I can see is no lacrosse, a monster who wants to kill me, and a girl who plays sports like a boy and wants to beat the crap out of me.”
Victor stared at Mike, baffled by his comments.
“He’s talking about Joseph Kiktorak and Gwen Thrasher,” Donnie said.
“Okay, I see. Mike, sometimes people aren’t what they seem. Just like moving to Inuvik, you have to look deeper. Joseph and Gwen have good hearts, but they’re angry at everything around them right now. Just like you. You don’t know what their situation is, so be patient. Maybe they’re part of the reason you’re here.”
Victor let his words sink in for a moment, then continued. “Gwen and Joseph are searching for something. Maybe you are, too, and you just don’t know it. Maybe it’s here in front of you. We never know what life will bring us, but if we take things with a smile on our faces, life looks a whole lot better. Right now Gwen and Joseph can’t smile. They don’t know who they are.”
“I know who I am,” Mike protested. “I’m a guy who loves lacrosse and misses St. Albert.”
Victor frowned. “Mike, do you really know who you are? I don’t think you do. You’re an athletic boy who loves lacrosse. Lacrosse is a big part of you, and I don’t think your time with the sport is done, but I sense you’re so much more. The first day I met you I could feel your inner strength. I sense the warmth of your heart and how you accept others around you.”
“Mike, your skin is dark,” Victor said. “I’m curious. What’s your heritage?”
“A mix of things, I guess. My dad’s Irish. My mom’s family is from South Africa. I think she’s a mix of Zulu, German, and Filipina.”
Victor raised an eyebrow. “You think? Why don’t you know?”
“I never really stopped to figure it out, I guess.”
Victor motioned in Mulluk’s direction. “My granddaughter there is both Gwich’in and Inuvialuit. She embraces both of her cultures. She’s part of the Inuvialuit group that travels and shows others our traditional dances. She knows who she is and she keeps our traditions alive. By acting out the stories and culture of our people through dance that has been part of us for many years, she finds herself. I think, Mike, you need to find yourself. You need to discover who you truly are.”
“I don’t need to know about my culture. I need to figure out what’s going to happen to me right now.”
“Mike, how do you know where you’re going if you don’t know where you came from?”
Sighing, Mike threw a stick into the fire.
Victor glanced at the sled. “It’s getting dark. We better head for home.”
CHAPTER 11
For the next week Mike left for school, came home, did homework, ate supper, and then went to his room. He never smiled or talked. He simply looked at the floor as if it could provide the answer.
At supper one night Ben asked his son what was wrong. Instead of answering, Mike looked at the floor as if there were a reply there. Finally, he glanced up at his mother, then focused his attention on his father. “Why didn’t you tell me there was no lacrosse in Inuvik?”
“Mike, you know we had to make this move no matter what,” Ben said. “You were upset from the very beginning. Telling you there was no lacrosse here would’ve made you even more disappointed. I tried to tell you a couple of times, but something always got in the way.”
Ben cleared his throat, then continued. “I’m really sorry. I should’ve told you as soon as we found out. I guess in the end it didn’t make things any easier. You’d think at my stage in life I’d know that the truth is the only way to go. I guess … well, I guess I was having my own problems knowing there wasn’t going to be a team for me to coach anymore.”
“I think I understand, Dad. It must’ve been hard.” He picked up his fork and started to eat the chili in front of him. Then he looked at his mother. “Mom?”
“Yes, Mike.”
“What are we? I mean, what culture are we?”
“You pretty much know what I know. Grandma and Grandpa are from South Africa. Grandma’s a mixture of Filipina and German, and Grandpa is Zulu and German. South Africa’s a huge melting pot of nationalities and you’re a result of all that melting.”
“And I’m as Irish as Irish can be!” Ben said, grinning.
Mike almost scowled at his father, then asked his mother, “But what’s our culture? What are some of our traditions?”
Jeannie wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Well, to be honest, Mike, I don’t really know much about our culture or heritage. I was born in England, and we moved to Canada when I was really young.”
“Have you ever tried to find out about your heritage? Surfed the Net? Talked to Grandma or Grandpa?”
Jeannie sighed. “I haven’t really thought about it much, Mike. Grandma doesn’t talk about the past a great deal … and, well, I haven’t dug into things myself.”
Mike turned his attention to his father. “Irish, eh?”
Ben squirmed, glanced at his wife, then burbled, “Faith and begorrah, laddie!”
Mike threw his napkin onto his plate angrily and stood up. “You guys don’t know a thing! And it isn’t funny! How can you sit there and joke about it when you don’t know a thing? How do you know where you’re going if you don’t know where you came from?” Pushing his chair back hard, he stomped out of the dining room, ran up the stairs two at a time, and slammed the door to his bedroom.
For a long time Mike sat on his bed and stared at the wall. Things were so confusing. It hurt like crazy that he wasn’t going to play lacrosse this year. But something inside him was fighting the hurt, and it didn’t really seem as bad anymore. It had been so much fun going to Reindeer Station, and everyone had been so nice. Except for Gwen Thrasher and Joseph Kiktorak, things in Inuvik were kind of looking up a bit. He was getting to know some of the guys at school. Donnie was a geek, but he was a good friend and really funny to be around. Mike smiled to himself in the dark, then heard a bleep from the other side of the room.
Walking over to where his computer glowed dimly in the dark, he plopped into the swivel chair, wiggled the mouse across, and watched as the monitor brightened and the screen saver disappeared.<
br />
“SHOOTER has just signed in!”
Spencer! Their computers had been working for a few days now, but with everything else on his mind he hadn’t bothered much with messages and stuff. Before supper he’d signed on to Instant Messenger and forgotten about it.
“SHOOTER says: Wassup, Mikey?”
“Nothing 2 much U?”
“SHOOTER says: School=[[ and LAX=D.”
“LAX already!”
“SHOOTER says: Spring camp at the garrison.
You playing yet or busy building igloos=D.”
Mike sat back and sighed. He’d forgotten that they’d be training already for the season. Spencer likely played winter lacrosse, too. Mike leaned forward and continued to type.
“I wish! No LAX here!”
“SHOOTER says: That sucks! No LAX at all?”
“No LAX but lots of fun snowmobiling! It’s amazing”
Mike couldn’t believe he’d just typed those words. But it was true. He really enjoyed being out with Victor. He leaned back again. Maybe it was being out with Victor and Donnie more than the snowmobiling. He stared at the ceiling. The computer bleeped.
“SHOOTER says: can’t believe you not playing LAX! Your brain frozen! LOL”
“Ha-ha.”
There was a soft knock at the door. Mike turned and saw his mother outlined in the doorway by the light in the hall.
“Can I come in, Mike?”
“I guess. I just have to sign off.”
“Who are you talking to?”
“Spencer”
“G2G,” Mike typed.
“SHOOTER says: OK bye.”
Mike swivelled in the chair so he could face his mother as she sat on the bed.
“That’s nice. What’s Spencer up to?”
Mike kicked at the floor. “They started training for lacrosse already.”
They both fell silent for a moment.
“Are you okay, Mike? I know the move’s been hard on you, but it seemed as if you’d started feeling a little more at home. Then the last few days you were so quiet. Now tonight at supper … You just seemed different about things. Is there anything you want to talk about?”
Arctic Thunder Page 8
