Bertha watched without moving and Justin knew he had to get out of there and fast. She had no way of knowing he was on her side, and she might think he was a greater danger to her family than Bruno was.
He backed up slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, and then increased the pace of his retreat until Bertha could see he was far enough away to no longer remain a threat. She stared at him as if she somehow divined his intentions and made no move to charge—though her cubs were at her feet and might still be considered at risk. She did, however, raise her upper body several times, but did not fully stand on her hind legs.
Justin continued to move away, and began to sing a lullaby as he progressed. "Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral…it's an Irish…my mother sang to me…hush, now don't you cry." He was now halfway up the escape route and was beginning to feel his mission had been accomplished.
Big Bertha was ignoring him completely and had actually begun to play with Little Bertha and Umbriago. They took her affability as a sign she would be willing to give them milk, and they burrowed to find her teats.
Justin climbed to the top of the hill, and turned back to scan the valley. Bruno was nowhere in sight, and it was likely he was still running. Justin hoped so. He hoped the aggressive boar would find his way past the eastern boundary of the preserve and out into the wilds.
Justin was aware he'd been foolish. If his Uncle Rex and his Aunt Martha knew what he'd done, they'd be furious. They might even send him back to Juneau.
And Rachel and Janie would be upset as well. They loved him, and they would hate that he'd put his life in jeopardy. Rachel especially would explode in anger over his close encounter with a violent boar and a defensive sow. Rachel would nag him until he acknowledged he'd been a jackass.
Perhaps so, but Big Bertha was safe again; and so were Little Bertha and Umbriago.
2
Filial Duty
Janie Lemon's neck and legs trembled, and beads of sweat trickled down her forehead. She stumbled across the corner of the prison yard, and it appeared she might collapse at any moment. Her twin sister Rachel steadied her with an arm and a stern look. "Ignore them, Janie, they're trash."
Janie nodded, but it was clear to Rachel that her sister was close to losing control, and Rachel wouldn't allow that to happen. As always she would act to strengthen Janie, to encourage and reassure her; and if necessary function as a surrogate mother or father, a role she often assumed.
The thickset female guard said, "These men live in cages because of who and what they are. Consider the source before you let their catcalls upset you."
Janie tried to smile. "Some of the things—"
"I know, I know," said the guard, "and I'm noting the worst of them. They'll be dealt with later. In a moment we'll be in the visitor's area and you won't have to listen to this garbage. Sorry for this short detour but construction requires it."
Rachel and Janie Lemon, now fourteen, were identical in almost every respect—long, blonde hair, creamy skin, rounded cheeks, and delicately chiseled features—making it difficult to tell them apart. Difficult, but not impossible, for Rachel's eyes were bottle green and Janie's lighter, like undiluted anti-freeze. And for those who knew them well there was another distinguishing characteristic in Rachel's eyes: a fierce strength that was absent in the eyes of her gentle sister.
They knew they were beautiful. Besides the testimony of their own eyes, they were assured by others, men and women alike, that they were developing into extraordinarily attractive young women. But they didn't dwell on such things or flaunt their looks, preferring instead to concentrate on what they could control: behavior, poise, learning, and friendship.
Since their mother was undergoing an intensive two-day therapy at the Western Montana Mental Health Center in Missoula and wouldn't be available for visiting until the next morning, the girls had taken the bus to the Montana State Prison in Deer Lodge to visit their father.
Janie was still shaking when Seth Lemon appeared, but Rachel calmed her by stroking her hand under the table and whispering, "Forget those evil men. The guard told me the corner of the yard we have to cut across will be cleared before we head back." She had stretched the truth, for the guard had told her they would try to clear the yard if schedules allowed.
"Our lives have been filled with evil men," said Janie.
While their father pulled out a chair on the other side of the table, Rachel said softly, "Justin's not evil."
"He's a boy," said Janie.
"Rex is a man, and he's not evil either," said Rachel.
"Who's evil?" said Seth Lemon. "Who're you talking about?" He was slimmer than last year, and worry lines had deepened on his forehead and around his eyes.
Both girls stared at him. "The awful men outside," said Rachel. "And I think you know who else."
"You mean me?"
They didn't answer.
"You mean the Prophet?"
Janie took a deep breath. "The whole Sheba Hill gang."
"That includes me."
They remained silent.
"Why did you come to visit if you feel that way?"
"We hoped you might have changed," said Rachel.
"I'm the same man I always was."
"Sorry to hear it," said Rachel.
He spent the next ten minutes attempting to convince them to recant their testimony of the previous year regarding polygamy and underage marriage in Sheba Hill, Montana. When he realized they weren't going to respond, he said, "Are you going to visit the Prophet while you're here?"
"We'd rather slit our wrists," said Rachel.
"He knows you're in Deer Lodge."
"How?" asked Janie.
"I told him you were coming."
On the bus back to Missoula, Janie sat with her head on Rachel's shoulder. Neither had talked much since leaving the prison, and both were exhausted.
"I feel like I've been in a triathlon," said Janie.
"Bad idea to come down here," said Rachel.
"We had to know."
"And now we do." Rachel shook her head. "Imagine, asking if we were going to see J.J. Flack."
"Father's still under his control."
"I know." Rachel felt a dampness on her shoulder and realized her sister had been crying. Poor Janie…too much, too much; and still more to come.
The Western Montana Mental Health Center was almost as stark and foreboding as the State Prison. They had hoped to find their mother improving and communicative, but in the first few minutes after they were escorted to her room, it was clear she was floating somewhere far away and had no concept that her twin daughters had come from Alaska to check on her progress.
"What do you need?" she asked.
Rachel answered, "We don't need anything, Mother. We came to see about you."
"Me? No one cares about me. My daughters put me here, and they put my husband in Deer Lodge."
"We're your daughters."
Her eyes were glazed and it was obvious that whatever two-day treatment she had undergone had not improved her mental health or lifted her out of her fantasy world. In her letters she had been at least partially lucid. Now she was divorced entirely from reality. Rachel and Janie exchanged sad glances. The polygamous cult of Sheba Hill had destroyed their mother as surely as it had destroyed their father.
3
Barbarians
They stepped off the plane in Anchorage, aware that the two unkempt men who had paid an inordinate amount of attention to them on the flight and in the airport in Missoula were deplaning as well, but the twins were unsure how to handle the possibility of renewed crudities and foolish gestures. Their hope was that the men would be staying in Anchorage or commuting to Nome or elsewhere and not joining them on the Alaska Air flight to Fairbanks. The girls had endured all they could from brutish predators, and they needed the relief of watching their tormentors disappear into a different concourse.
Another passenger was concerned as well. He had been watching the two men with increasing anger, and
as the twins hurried toward their new gate, he eased into a position behind the laughing men who were now closing the gap between themselves and the girls.
The newcomer was an offshore gold miner from Nome who was making an interim stop in Anchorage before catching a flight to return to his dredging operations. He was tall and powerful, and his neck and arms reflected the sustained effort of digging off the northern coast.
"Hey, ladies," one of the men called out when they reached the gate.
"We're not ladies. We're only fourteen," said Rachel. "Please go away."
The gold miner intervened. "In Alaska we don't bother kids."
The men laughed.
"What's funny?" the miner asked.
"You are," the larger of the two said.
They turned their backs on their accuser, as if he were a lobby post. They were both in their twenties, but narcotics and alcohol had dissipated their faces to such an extent they could easily pass for older.
The miner grabbed both of them from behind by their necks and slammed their heads together, producing a loud crack that echoed throughout the waiting room. All who were close by looked up from their books and magazines in time to watch the two young men collapse to the floor. Some spectators rose from their chairs with expressions that showed they were wondering whether they should be concerned about a terrorism incident on their flight.
With the aggressors lying unconscious at his feet, the gold miner shouted to the ticket desk. "Call the state troopers!"
"We hoped they weren't continuing on with us," said Rachel.
"They won't be," the miner said.
On the forty minute flight to Fairbanks, Janie again laid her head against her sister's shoulder. "I'm anxious to get back to the cabin and Justin, Martha, and Rex…and our bears. Sad, mean world when bears are easier to handle than men."
"Some men," Rachel reminded her, "and some bears, too, for that matter. We've seen bears that our friend from Nome couldn't handle."
In Deer Lodge, surrounded by four inmates who were all former elders in the Sheba Hill Temple (including Seth Lemon), the Prophet J.J. Flack, flicked off his iPhone and made a gesture to indicate he was going to smash the instrument against the cinder-block wall. But he thought better of it and lowered his arm to the table. The ability to stay in contact with the outside world had cost him thousands in bribes, and it didn't make any sense to lose that privilege because of a fit of pique.
"The Missoula boys I hired to follow them are in jail in Anchorage," he said with disgust. "They're being shipped back to Montana. Apparently they started acting up in the airport there. I told them to follow and report back and they pull a stunt like this. And the idiots want bail money when they're arraigned. Talk about nerve—but I'll have to give it to them. The Missoula crowd will demand it."
"We know Justin and the girls are somewhere in the Fairbanks area now," said Elder Biggars.
The Prophet grimaced, "Do you know how big the interior out of Fairbanks is? Bear tagging, a cabin in the woods—that's all we know. We need hard information." He looked at Seth Lemon. "…If we're going to find the girls and Justin Patrick and convince them to change their testimony."
"We're not going to hurt them?" said Seth.
"Of course not," said the Prophet, "…at least not the twins—that would defeat our purpose."
"I tried to get them to recant," Seth said. "They sat there like rocks."
"We need to be more persuasive," said the Prophet.
Elder Mobly said, "Even if they recant, we'll still have the bodies at the bottom of the mine shaft to deal with."
"One thing at a time."
After Seth Lemon returned to his cell block, Elder Biggars said to the Prophet, "You know they won't change their testimony. That boy Justin hates us, and he influences the girls."
"The feeling is mutual," said J.J. Flack. "I suspect you're right. That's why I want him dead, I want him in the ground. And I want the girls drugged and taken to the new temple in Whitehorse. I still consider them my wives, and I want them waiting for me when I get out of here."
"We'll have to find them first," said Biggars.
"I'll hire some new Missoula boys. This time we'll double the fee to get the best."
"The Yukon doesn't seem inclined to shut us down the way Montana, Colorado, and Texas did," said Elder Riggs.
"Religious freedom," said the Prophet. "They take it seriously up there, and it doesn't hurt that we changed our name and spread around thousands of Canadian dollars….And U.S. dollars in Helena will get us new trials and freedom—freedom to go to Whitehorse and the God's Way Temple and practice our religion as we see fit."
"The Mounties might come poking around."
J.J. Flack nodded. "That's why I want it to appear the girls died with the boy. Shut that door to Alaska State Troopers and the RCMP. No reason to investigate anything."
"You'll need real pros," said Elder Biggars.
"I'll get them."
4
Subduction
The first indication that something was wrong was the sound of dishes rattling in the kitchen cupboards; and then all questions as to what was happening were answered with a loud swoosh, as if the air had been sucked out of the room. The walls vibrated, the floor shook, the rafters groaned, the roof swayed. The initial shock wave seemed to go on forever. In reality it lasted no more than twenty seconds, but it was enough to cause the twins to leap out of their beds in their pajamas and race toward the front door of the cabin.
As always, Rachel took the lead and Janie followed close behind. They met Justin, Martha, and Rex in the common room and Rex cried, "Outside! The old place is sturdy, but it might come down."
When they stood halfway between the cabin and the shore of nearby Glacier Lake, the ground once again began to undulate. It was unclear whether the movement was from an aftershock or from a continuation of the original quake; but whatever the cause, the surface of the lake began to respond to what was happening deep within the earth. Long, rolling waves topped with foam swept from the distant horizon and crashed at the water's edge, sending spray almost as far as the huddled fivesome. And then astonishingly the waves reversed themselves and began to run toward the far end of the mile-long lake. And as if to demonstrate that the rules governing such things had been suspended, the waves turned ninety degrees and began roaring toward the cliffs on the western side of the gorge.
"What now?" Janie shouted above the grinding noise filling the canyon.
"If the waves turn to the east," said Rex, "we'll see all four compass points."
"But what does it mean?" asked Justin.
Rex shrugged. "No idea. Never seen such a thing."
"Are we in danger?" asked Janie.
Justin put his arm around her. She was actually the taller of the two, but she slipped easily beneath his shoulder. "It's always dangerous in wilderness Alaska," he said. His father and his uncle had died in an Alaskan avalanche two years before, and his voice trailed off. "But we'll be okay."
"What about our bears?" asked Rachel.
Rex said, "They're more resilient than we are."
"And their collars?" asked Justin.
"Take more than a little shaking to cause the collars to malfunction," Rex answered.
"The cubs are more vulnerable," said Martha. "Landslides"—she looked at Justin—"and separation. The sows might run, find new dens, forget their cubs. We'll need to find out. The little ones can't survive on their own."
"Good thinking," said Rex. "We'll check them out later today."
The ground had now stopped moving, and the sun though it hadn't yet risen was beginning to light up the eastern sky.
"Not so bad after all," said Justin. He released Janie and she went to stand beside her sister. He went on, "If I have to be in a quake, I'd rather be up here than in a city full of tall buildings."
Rex nodded absently, but he was staring at the shoreline and the cliffs on the western side of the gorge that were now illuminated by the c
oming morning.
"What's wrong, Rex?" asked Martha. "What do you see?"
"The water," he said, pointing to the now barely perceptible waves. "The beach has retreated three or four feet—and look at the cliff, the water level has fallen there, too—maybe a foot or more. See that horizontal tree limb sticking out near this end? It was almost submerged in the lake yesterday. Now it's high and dry."
"What's it mean?" asked Justin.
"Don't know," said Rex. "I'll get on the radio."
"Should we go back to Fairbanks?" asked Janie.
"The bears can't escape," said Rachel.
Justin frowned and looked at the top of the cliffs toward the expansive plateau that extended nearly the entire length of Glacier Lake. "The helicopter?" he asked.
"I'm sure it's okay," said Rex. "Pretty stable land up there. We'll see later this morning."
The twins had arrived in Fairbanks two weeks earlier from their trip to Montana and had taken a shuttle bus to the Yuktapah Preserve's southern entrance where they were met by bear-management rangers, Rex and Martha Carlson and by Justin Patrick, Rex's nephew (by marriage). Then they helicoptered east, deep into the preserve, to Glacier Lake where Rex and Martha were conducting bear-management studies on behalf of the National Park Service.
Rex was tall and muscular—one of the reasons he'd been chosen as a bear ranger. Loading and unloading tranquilized bears was a job for a large man—preferably one with a tall, strong wife; and Martha Carlson fit the profile. She had worked on the docks at Dutch Harbor before joining the park rangers, and she had off-loaded crab for enough years to build the necessary muscles to help handle the bears.
The sun was now fully risen, and Rex returned from the plateau to announce that the helicopter was fine.
"Good thing," said Martha. "Three sows are on the run…including Big Bertha. Six cubs have been deserted. Earthquake set the ladies off, and they're moving fast."
Justin added, "Bertha's video camera doesn't help much, just a jumble of forest images. She's ahead of the others, but the radio will pinpoint her location."
RUNAWAY TWINS and RUNAWAY TWINS IN ALASKA: BOXED SET Page 13
