Under The Midnight Sun

by Marilyn Cunningham

  “We have emergency supplies. And George said to radio him if we had trouble.”

  He knew the thought was in Malinche’s mind as well as his. What if George was the reason they were here?

  Brian stepped back into the plane and tried the radio. “Mayday, Mayday. We need assistance. Come in if you can hear me.”

  He flipped the switch, waited. Nothing.

  He tried again, giving their location and requesting help. Still nothing. Finally he climbed back down to where Malinche waited. “Perhaps he heard us, but our receiver isn’t working.”

  “Don’t patronize me. We’re stuck here.”

  He didn’t deny it. They needed to find a shelter where they could build a fire. A search would eventually be mounted, but he had no idea how soon. And there was a lot of ground to search.

  He hoisted a bag from the cargo hold and handed it to Malinche, then lifted another onto his shoulder. He also took his rifle from behind the seat of the plane.

  “We’ve plenty of food and water,” he said, trying to make his tone cheerful and confident. “I don’t want to get far from the plane. Let’s see if we can find a shelter nearby.”

  She nodded and shouldered the bag, but her glance around indicated how dubious she was. The land was mostly flat with an occasional rolling hill. Nothing—no tree, no boulder, impeded the relentless onslaught of the wind.

  Brian glanced at her face, momentarily distracted from the peril of their situation. He had expected she would look incongruous here in the wild, with her sleek down jacket and designer jeans, but somehow she didn’t. And she wasn’t complaining, although she must be cold. She was doing just fine, he thought grudgingly. Still, they needed a shelter where they could build a fire.

  Their only hope of rescue was to stay fairly close to the plane. Besides, they couldn’t get far on foot. He scanned the horizon, searching for anything—a mound, a ravine—that might shelter them from the wind. Malinche trudged beside him, now and again shifting the bag of supplies from one shoulder to the other. The weight was too much for her fragile frame. She couldn’t keep this up for long. He should have insisted that she return to Seattle.

  He thought he heard something, a far-off drone. He shook his head. It was only the wind in the scrub brush.

  Then he saw something that brought a surge of optimism; he almost shouted aloud. Several hundred feet away, in the side of a slight elevation, a dark spot appeared. A cave! He hoped desperately it was large enough to shelter the two of them.

  He hadn’t noticed that the faint sound he’d heard had increased to a low drone. He gazed up at the sky.

  Malinche halted, and slid the bag from her shoulder. “Look! Is that a plane?”

  The dark speck in the sky became the definite silhouette of a plane. Brian waved his arms wildly. “Here we are!”

  The plane, directly overhead now, dived toward them.

  Brian dropped his arms, and his mouth opened in dismay. The sharp sounds coming from the plane sounded like rifle shots.

  The plane came so close he thought it might crash before it leveled off, gained altitude, and prepared for another dive.

  He looked at the cave, still a hundred feet away. “Run!”

  Malinche didn’t hesitate. She saw the opening and ran.

  They reached it together and fell inside just as a hail of bullets from the diving plane spattered behind them.

  Chapter Six

  Malinche sprawled headlong into the dust. Pinned by Brian’s arm across her shoulders, she lay there, unable to move, her heart pounding like a trip-hammer. In her mind’s eye, she saw the rain of bullets tearing up bits of grass and turf outside the entrance. Every gasp of breath carried the fine dry silt of the cave’s interior into her lungs.

  Sputtering and choking, she squirmed from under his arm. Twisting her face to the side, she found herself staring directly into his eyes, only a few inches away. She managed a tiny gasp.

  He grasped her arm. “Are you all right?”

  She wanted to laugh or cry or scream—she didn’t know which. Was she all right? Since coming to Alaska, she had been run down by an automobile, shot at by some crazy person, crash-landed in a plane in the middle of nowhere, and she was now lying flat on her stomach inside a dusty cave while someone circled above in a plane, shooting at her.

  “I’m great,” she muttered, wiping dust from her mouth with a shaking hand, “just great.”

  She rolled to her side and sat up, drawing her knees up toward her chest. Halfheartedly, she swiped at her jeans, trying to dislodge the dust, only to have it rise in a cloud to her face.

  “Somehow, this wasn’t what I had in mind when I wondered how my ancestors lived. I really don’t need a direct experience.”

  He sat up, too, drawing his long legs in from the opening. He was as dusty as though he had just slid to home base. Dark streaks covered his forehead, his nose, ran down his jaw, emphasizing the startling gray of his eyes, the whiteness of his teeth when he grinned at her. Even now, when she was scared to death, he was too darn sexy for comfort.

  Turning serious, he said, “The plane seemed to come from nowhere. It probably followed us the whole time.”

  “Is he still out there?”

  Both she and Brian were silent, listening for the sound that would tell them the plane still circled above them. It came, an ominous, monotonous drone that vibrated all through her.

  “He’s still there,” Brian whispered.

  They waited several more minutes, listening to the plane circle above them like some huge, predatory insect.

  “What if he lands?” Malinche whispered. She felt foolish immediately. Whoever was up there wouldn’t hear them if she shouted, but she couldn’t force herself to raise her voice.

  “He won’t,” Brian said. “He must know I have a rifle, and a pistol. If he tried to get us here, I could pick him off from the entrance. It’s a stalemate. We can’t get out of here while he’s above us, and he can’t flush us out of this cave.”

  “How long will we have to stay here?”

  “Not long. He’ll run out of gas if he keeps this up. He obviously planned to shoot us on the ground, and our stumbling into this cave messed up his plans.”

  “I think this time he meant to do more than scare us,” Malinche said, shivering.

  “Yes,” Brian agreed. “If he shot us out here on the open tundra he could count on wolves or other wild animals destroying the evidence. That is, if we were ever found at all.” He rose to his feet, his head grazing the ceiling of the cave. “Let’s check out this place—we may be here awhile.”

  Brian moved back into the darkness, and she followed closely, curious now that they were safe for the moment. She had supposed they had stumbled into a natural cavern, but the cave was obviously man-made, apparently the abode of the ancient hunters who had come this way.

  The narrow entry, perhaps kept small for defensive purposes, widened into a round room with sloping walls shored up with the long bones of caribou. A minuscule amount of light filtered through the entry, sufficient for them to make out indentations in the wall, narrow benches where sleeping skins must once have been. A blackened spot in the middle of the floor still contained charcoal from an ancient fire. Smokeencrusted walls and ceiling indicated the cave had been inhabited over a long period.

  A glance at Brian’s expression showed he shared her awe.

  Malinche found her voice first. “It must have been here for hundreds of years.”

  “Perhaps thousands,” Brian said. He stood in an attitude of listening, as though he expected long-dead voices to murmur and speak in their ancient tongue. “Maybe this was made by the first people who crossed over from Asia. Think how it must have been. Can you feel the spirits of the people? I wonder if it was used only by hunters for shelter when they were away from the home village, or did entire families live here?”

  Malinche nodded; she knew exactly how he felt, but she wouldn’t have expected such sentiment from Brian. She knelt and p
icked up a piece of ivory that had been carved into a shaft with a hollow globe at the end. It made a rattling noise when she lifted it, exactly as a baby’s rattle would. Perhaps some long-gone hunter had whiled away a winter here, carving walrus tusks.

  “I think a family lived here,” she said softly, almost afraid to break the ancient silence. “Or several. I wonder what happened to them, where they came from, where they went…”

  “I don’t know—but I sure thank them.” Brian said. “We could have walked for miles and never found something like this. We were lucky.”

  “Yes, we were. He must be gone by now.” Malinche moved toward the entrance to the cave. When she heard nothing she peered out. She saw only empty tundra, its brooding silence unbroken by the sound of the plane. Only the wind, relentless as time, moved the grasses in an unending sigh.

  “Yeah, he’s gone—for now,” Brian said, coming to stand beside her.

  “So, what do we do now? We can’t just wait here for him to come back and finish us off.”

  Brian hated to say so, but there was really no other choice They could never walk to safety, not with their unknown assailant unaccounted for. The probability was good that he would be waiting to gun them down. They had to stay where they were for the time being.

  That only pushed their dilemma ahead a few days. True, here they had shelter from the wind. In fact, the cave would be quite cozy when he had a fire burning on the old hearth The food and water would last a few days. After that he might be able to find some kind of game—an arctic hare or fox, perhaps. And there might be water close by. Even if the man in the plane came back again and again, Brian could probably manage quick forays outside.

  But they couldn’t stay here forever. Their only hope was that rescue would come. In the meantime, he had better keep Malinche busy and try to keep her mind off their situation. She’d done fine so far, but it was only a matter of time before she broke down. He felt her hand rest lightly on his arm, and turned to find her gazing up into his eyes.

  “Brian,” she said softly, “why did you finally decide to help me? You’ve gotten yourself into a lot of trouble on my account.”

  “Because you’re so pretty?” he said lightly.

  “Don’t joke. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  He frowned, and laid his hand lightly over hers. “Let’s just say I had some things to resolve, too. Don’t feel that you talked me into anything I didn’t want to do.”

  She sighed. He obviously wasn’t going to say anything else.

  He turned away from her. “Let’s get a fire going,” he said cheerfully. “I’ll gather some dry moss and you rummage around in that pack for matches. You might also unpack our supplies, so we can see how long they’ll last.”

  Malinche watched him exit the cave, and then turned to the task he had assigned her. He was trying to keep her occupied. He would know to the last pack of trail mix what supplies he had. Nonetheless, she was glad to have something to occupy her hands; her mind was racing like a rabbit trying to keep ahead of a greyhound.

  What had she started when she decided to find out who had killed her brother? It seemed naive now, her belief that she could discover what so many people were determined to cover up. This was no casual enemy, but a well-prepared, well-supplied one. She doubted that George had such a systematic mind. Who did her determination to find Dimitri’s killer threaten? Natives determined to allow drilling on Native land? Universal Oil, desperate to remove a thorn from their side? Or could the mysterious Carl Bettnor be right, and Dimitri really had been a spy?

  And what had she started with Brian? She knew at some cellular level that there was a bond between them, one she didn’t want She wasn’t satisfied with his answer to her question as to why he had changed his mind about helping her, but her distrust was somewhat lessened. He couldn’t have foretold this. He was in as much danger as she was.

  THE FIRE, fed by dried moss and dead limbs, blazed in the hearth, its flames glinting off the dark walls and poking long fingers into the corners of the small enclosure. It’s warmth filled the cave. Malinche had taken off her jacket and now stretched out on her sleeping bag close to the penetrating heat.

  Brian lay on the opposite side of the fire, his elbow resting on his sleeping bag, staring unseeingly at the flames. Malinche refused to think about their precarious situation; instead, her eyes took in every aspect of the man. Light flickered across his lean features, high-lighting his strong nose, leaving dark hollows beneath his cheekbones. Burnished to gold by the fire, his hair fell across his high forehead. She was achingly aware of him, a feeling she didn’t try to analyze.

  She had been through too much drama in the past few days. She relished this moment when all she had to do was just be. Morning would be time enough to make plans, assess their situation. To think of all the reasons she shouldn’t get involved with Brian.

  Brian apparently was caught in the same tranquil mood. He smiled lazily, but it caused her pulse to speed up. “Had enough to eat?”

  “I never though I’d say this about nuts and raisins, but it was delicious. It was the instant chocolate that put it in the gourmet category, though.”

  “I took you for a chocolate lover the minute I saw you.”

  “Did you? I decided you were a rugged type whose favorite beverage was a shot of red-eye.”

  He chuckled. “I’m more for a Coke, and maybe a quick beer.”

  “No wine?”

  “I don’t mind a bottle now and then. What I don’t like are the pretensions that usually go with it. Like, what vintage it is, and whether or not you have the correct glass.”

  They continued the casual conversation, but Malinche’s feelings weren’t at all casual. Tension lay under the ordinary words, a keen awareness that grew with each second.

  Finally she spoke her mind. “Brian, you said you’ve never thought of the future. What about the past? Have you ever wanted to marry, have children?”

  He hesitated. “Yes, I’ve thought of it. But I’ve never found a woman who could handle my life-style. I like the way I live, but it’s too hard for a woman.”

  “How do you know? Some women might like that kind of life.”

  He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Do you know what my life is like? Long weeks in the wild, living out of a backpack. All kinds of weather. The people I meet aren’t usually what you’d call trendsetters. It’s not a sophisticated life-style. With your background, I doubt you could even conceive of what it’s like.”

  She started to protest, but hesitated. Perhaps he was right. What did she know about it, except the few things she remembered as a child? After that, her life had been as sheltered as an adoring father with plenty of money could make it.

  “That’s why I came to Alaska,” she said, “to find out what kind of life I belong to. Things haven’t always been easy for me—my heritage—”

  Brian waved a dismissive hand. “I don’t feel sorry for you because of your heritage. You have the possibility of two worlds. You’re not limited, you can take the best from both.”

  “If people let you—but they don’t. You’re an ambiguity and everyone wants to label you. You can’t be just an individual—you must fit into a category Even the census forms don’t have a space for biracial. So we’re forced to choose, to cut off part of ourselves to let the other part prosper.”

  He frowned. “I guess I never thought much about it.”

  “I don’t mean to complain. You’re right, I’m really fortunate. It seems a small problem compared to the life-and-death struggles of the people who used to live here.”

  Brian rose and walked to the entrance of the cave. “Do you feel it?” he said softly. “I should be planning, thinking, deciding how we’re going to get back to the real world, but somehow this cave makes that world seem like a dream.”

  “I suppose it’s because this place is so ancient,” she said, rising to stand beside him. “You can feel those long-ago lives. It brings you back to elemental th
ings. Shelter. Warmth. Food.”

  “Love.” As though it were the most natural thing in the world, he turned and took her in his arms.

  In the hidden center of her being, she had been waiting for this, expecting this, wondering how she would respond. For the moment, her suspicions of him were gone, her self-protectiveness forgotten. She moved closer, seeking the warmth and hard tension of his body. Abandoning everything to this moment, she lifted her arms and drew his head down to hers

  His kiss flamed through her every cell; she felt a jolt of desire so powerful that she shuddered under the impact. No forewarning, no gradual building of tenderness and trust, it was just there, like a fierce summer storm, rolling thunder, flashing lightning. She didn’t think about it, she didn’t question it, she didn’t tear it apart with wondering what it meant, what the consequences would be. She allowed it to consume her.

  “I want you,” she whispered into the heated skin of his throat.

  He took a deep, tortured breath and tightened his arms around her. “Are you sure? Do you want me as much as I want you?”

  From the husky trembling in his voice, the intensity in his eyes, she knew he, too, had been caught unaware by the ferocity of the storm. She understood, as well, his fear that he would take advantage of her vulnerability. “I’m sure,” she murmured.

  Then he was kissing her wildly, deeply, claiming her mouth for his, and she mindlessly returned his passion. Her fingers dug deep into his shoulders, pulling him closer. Her hands tore at his clothing, pushing aside his shirt, and she moaned as his hand captured her breast. The soft sound deep in her throat seemed to spur him on. Her legs refused to hold her and she fell against him; he half carried her to the sleeping bag and they tumbled together onto the soft down. A few deft movements, and they were both naked m the heat of the fire.

  There were no words, only inarticulate murmurs, choked cries; then there was nothing but the insistent demand of the life force. It grasped them, bent them to its inexorable will. The heat of the fire combined with the heat of their blood, and they came together, wildly, deliriously, joyously.