by Jim Craig
The community building was locked. The windows were dark and I heard nothing moving inside. I climbed the stairs to check anyhow, but the door was locked. My stomach rumbled at the faint odor of salmon stew leaking through the door frame. I hoped Willie had something in his plane to chew on. It had been a long time since I'd eaten anything. I pulled off my pack and ran my hand through its compartments but came up empty.
Even an old granola bar would have eased the hunger pangs but they'd been left in the plane with the emergency gear. I pulled my pack back on and went down the stairs realizing that I'd left my sleeping bag behind as well.
It was looking like a miserable night ahead. Cold and hungry I wondered what else could go wrong. When I reached the bottom of the staircase I got my answer. It started to rain.
Rain pellets ping panged on the metal light shade above me. I pulled my jacket collar as tightly as I could around my neck. I zipped it all the way to the top and hauled it up just below my nose. My beard was cold and wet. With my baseball cap pulled down hard around my skull I knew I looked like a headless mannequin. I didn’t care.
I pushed out from under the light and headed for the airport. I had a long walk to think about that whole 'I don’t care' thing. Was Charlie buying it? I didn’t know, but it was the only act I had. All I knew was he was dangerous and strange, a hulking head case with a combat knife and a hair trigger. But I’d rather have him think of me as an ally than an enemy.
It was going to be a mile walk down a dark muddy road. Potholes and ruts filled the low spots and thick brush and trees were waiting for me on both sides. I hoped that was all that was waiting for me. I’d seen black bears out here every time I’d flown in. Either the bears or signs of them. Meaning bear poo.
You’re supposed to make noise and alert the bears of your approach. Some tourist hikers buy little bells to hang on their boots. The locals call them grizzly dinner bells. Or carry pepper spray. The bears call that seasoning.
I’d been in bear country plenty of times. Still the thought of an attack never got easier. The image of powerful jaws and jagged teeth shredding my flesh made me jumpy. I had to clench my jaw just to keep moving forward. I tried to remind myself that bears rarely went out looking for trouble. If they knew a human was approaching they would leave. That’s what the park rangers told you.
Drop into a fetal position, play dead and protect your neck with your hands. Good advice against grizzlies. But with black bears, you’re supposed to fight back. How do you tell the difference in the dark? With a face full of snarling bear breath and teeth, you’re going to ask for ID?
It probably doesn’t matter since they tend to go for your head anyhow. I wondered if I would hear my skull crack before it all went dark. I pushed ahead and tried to empty my brain. They say animals can smell fear. If that’s true I was a foul smelling cloud of putrid green panic.
I was walking fast as I moved into a narrow stretch of the road. Dripping foliage pressed in close from both sides when I heard a sound ahead of me. My heart leapt into my throat, and I could feel my blood pounding with an insane urgency.
I stopped. Not because I wanted to, but because my feet wouldn’t move. I was frozen to the spot. The sound moved toward me. I was just about to drop into a fetal position when I saw a flicker of light. Like a flashlight.
I sucked in a breath and tried to think. The wildlife didn’t generally carry flashlights, so it probably wasn’t a bear. Could it be Charlie? Out here in the dark? I glanced left and right. The ditches on both sides of the road were knee deep in water. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
The light came closer. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Only fifty yards or so ahead someone was walking alone in the dark carrying a yellow umbrella with white gloved hands. A flashlight swept back and forth across the road, its beam moving from one puddle to the next. Whoever it was moved toward me weaving a path between the potholes and hopping now and then from one rut to another. With the umbrella in front I couldn’t see a face, but there was something familiar about the way this thing moved.
I considered jumping off the road into the trees. I wasn’t in the mood for company, but my feet couldn’t decide what to do. Besides, the brush was saturated with rain and the cold wet night air was already creeping through my clothes. Not to mention the hungry predators I knew were waiting for me over there. Under the umbrella I spotted white boots.
It was Greta. I knew it even before I saw the boots. She must have sensed me too. Before my mouth decided it could speak she looked up and saw me standing there in the middle of the road. She kept coming and shone her flashlight straight into my eyes.
“Is that you, Johnny? Where have you been?” she asked.
Blinded I raised my hands to block the beam, and blinked to get a look at her. She was smiling at me and didn’t seem nervous in the least. White gloves and white boots like she was just walking through a mall in Santa Monica. She directed the flashlight downward, but the light was still strong enough to reflect up into her face. Her makeup was perfect. Bright red candy lips. Smooth white skin surrounded those delicate blue eyes. Even her bullet proof mascara held dainty accents in her lashes making them look like star bursts above the blue.
I pulled my jacket down so I could talk. “Who, me? I was just wondering the same thing about you."
"I was looking for you, silly." She pursed her lips and cocked her head in a coquettish grin.
Suddenly self conscious I unzipped the front of my coat halfway and rearranged my hat. I had that sensation again of walking in on a stage not sure what part I was playing. I took a deep breath and it started to come back to me. Joe Cool. Hot shot pilot, rescuer of damsels in distress.
"Well, here we are," I said waving my arms at the dark tunnel of trees all around us. "Ready to fly away?"
She laughed and batted her eyes at me. "You know I am."
It was too easy. Like the meaningless bar chatter you hear at the Yukon. Tossing off glib give and take when under the surface desperate cravings roil.
But I knew I had to play along. Getting too real too fast wasn't going to work. "So you seen any bears?” I glanced out into the darkness.
She twirled the umbrella and giggled like I was flirting with her instead of raising the specter of imminent violent death.
“Bears? Oh, I don’t worry about them. You know, if it’s my time, then so be it.” She paused and looked at me closer with a smile. “Why? You scared of bears, Johnny?” Again with the teasing tone.
“No, of course not. I’ve been out in the bush too many times to worry about them.” I couldn’t hold her gaze, and looked away while I wiped raindrops off the front of my coat.
She laughed. “Ooh, I love a man who knows his way around the bush.”
I snorted a surprised laugh and tried to look anywhere but into those eyes. A magnetic pull was holding me in place. She had me in her grasp again, and I felt like I was tipping backwards in a wooden chair. My feet didn’t seem to know how to get away. I turned my head and coughed.
“Geez, Johnny. Should I get out my rubber gloves?”
Then she giggled, and I couldn’t help but smile and look at her. Big mistake. A flashlight reflection danced in the bottom of her eyes. I couldn’t shake the sense that I was staring at the cover of a magazine. I was instantly hypnotized and lost in the allure, the promise of warmth and sensual delights beyond the imagination of a man’s loneliest dreams.
We didn’t speak for what seemed like the longest time. Water drops splattered in the puddles all around us.
“Don’t you ever blink?” I finally managed to ask.
She laughed again, showing a line of fine white teeth. “I’m sorry. Do I make you nervous?”
“No, no, n-nothing like that.”
“You’re a terrible liar, Johnny Wainwright. You know that?”
“Who, me? I never lie," I winked at her doubtful expression.
“Yeah, sure,” she chuckled low in her throat.
/> “Unless I need to, of course."
"You lying now?"
"Of course not," I grinned. "And that's the truth."
She blew air out and shook her head. "Typical man."
"Typical? No way," I feigned a hurt look. "You have no idea, sweetheart." I let my eyes drop and run slowly up and down her frame.
"Oh brother," she chortled and punched at my gut with a white gloved hand.
I caught her by the wrist and pulled her toward me. She didn't resist. I had to duck under the umbrella but then I took a deep breath and inhaled the scent of her. Even her perfume was perfect. Like she'd just stepped off the light stage of a photo shoot. My lips trembled. My eyes closed and I leaned toward her mouth.
The sound of her voice shook me out of my reverie.
“I don’t think Brandy likes me.” She had turned her head and her lips pushed forward in a pout.
That set me back. A splash of cold water where I least expected it. I looked at her closely to see if she was for real.
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, I don’t know. She seemed very cold to me just now.”
I remembered that we were standing on a muddy road a half mile from the airport. She'd just come from that direction. I dropped her hand and took a step back.
"You talked to her?"
“Yes, they're back there at the airport. I brought some food out for you guys. Hot soup and sandwiches."
I tried to picture the two of them together. Brandy, petite, slightly aloof and mysterious, brunette, no makeup. Natural good looks and a great set of round lovely eyes, smoky green and intelligent. Brandy carried herself with a professional air. After all, she was a Learjet pilot back in the real world. But around me, she'd worn unassuming black jeans and sweatshirts. I also remembered a bit of her quirky history. She’d once done some nude modeling for a college art class. Funny how people are. You just never know.
And then, there was Greta. Perfectly sculpted face and body, made up like a doll, stylish blond hair cut in pixie perfection, red carpet charisma, clothes out of designer magazines with names I could never remember.
I imagined the two of them walking into a room crowded with men. First Greta. They would all turn and gape and press in for a closer look, jaws dropping along with their IQ’s. Her smile would illuminate the whole room and draw attention from every corner. She’d hear every pick up line ever invented, and she’d laugh at every one.
Then later, Brandy’s entrance would draw stares as well. But the men would step aside to make room for her to pass glancing carefully to check her out. Those who risked eye contact would be met with cool indifference and distance if anything at all.
Picturing the two of them together was a struggle. I’ve never understood what goes on between women.
“Cold, you say?” I asked, unable to avoid her eyes. Flat blue with sparkles like the sharp edges of glacial ice. They say only ten percent of an iceberg shows above the surface. Leaving a million possibilities in the dark depths below.
“Maybe it was just me. I can’t be bothered with any of that nonsense,” she said with a dismissive smirk. "I don't need the drama."
I smirked inside. Greta flicked annoyances aside with her fingernails like cookie crumbs from a sleeve. I couldn’t see her and Brandy having tea together in this lifetime.
She paused, then looked at me closely. “Wait a minute! Is she the one?” she blurted grabbing hold of my sleeve.
I looked away and said nothing.
“Holy crap! She is!” she marveled. “Okay, now it makes sense. No wonder she hates me. You devil, Johnny Wainwright. She’s come back. What are you going to do about that now?”
I sputtered and wondered how I’d gotten into this mess. I couldn’t tell her what I was thinking. Hell, I didn’t know what I was thinking. Besides, I wasn’t going to throw cold water on this thing between us. Whatever it was. She was asking the perfect question, but I had no answer.
I tried anyhow. “Oh, that whole thing’s over. I don’t even know what she’s doing here.”
“And that’s the truth,” she mocked me, imitating my voice and digging a finger in my ribs.
I stepped back blinking my eyes, grinning sheepishly and rubbing the spot where she’d jabbed me. I hate it when someone calls bullshit on me. Especially when they’re right.
“Well, Johnny, this has been delightful, meeting like this out in the woods, but I really should be moving along. Little Red Riding Hood needs her beauty rest, you know?”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute. Forget Brandy. Do you still want out of here?"
That stopped her. Her eyes narrowed and she stared at me and sighed.
"More than life itself, Johnny."
"Charlie told me he's leaving in the morning. Going back to Taroka with Tamby. He said he's cutting you loose."
I watched her eyes narrow as she listened to me. She dropped her eyes and didn't say anything for a while.
"And what are you going to do?"
"If you still want me to help you, I think I know how to do it."
She looked up at me waiting for me to continue.
"If the fog lifts in the morning, Willie can take me over to get the airplane. I'll come back here and pick you up. Then we can fly to Seward."
She pressed one gloved finger to her mouth tapping her teeth with it and thinking.
"And Charlie thinks I'm going with him in the Zodiac. Back to Taroka to help him close the place down. He doesn't seem to be too worried about the troopers. You know they're still missing?"
She glanced at me then glanced quickly away. "Charlie thinks you're going with him?" she asked.
I nodded. "Yeah, he made me an offer and I let him think I agreed."
She looked at me with her lids half shut and a cunning smile. "You're good, Johnny, you're good. This could work."
It started to rain harder. Big drops splashed on my cap. I shivered and shrugged my shoulders for warmth.
She lifted the umbrella higher above our heads. With her free hand she reached forward, took a handful of my jacket and pulled me toward her.
“Come in out of the rain, Johnny. You’ll catch your death.”
It caught me off guard. I had to raise my hands to keep from banging into her which put my arms around her waist. She smiled again and looked into my eyes. Looking each other over, we stood there belly to belly under the yellow umbrella in the rain. In the dark. Under an Alaskan fog bank. On a tiny island in Prince William Sound.
Raindrops rumbled on the tightly stretched fabric above us. Lilacs and body heat. Her eyes sparkled.
“Hold me, Johnny, please. Just for a minute,” she whispered. She leaned closer and my arms moved around her back. She looked at my mouth then and her other white gloved hand moved up and around the back of my neck pulling at me gently. Our lips came together.
Electricity seemed to flash between us. Her mouth was warm and soft. Her lips and tongue quivered under mine, and my brain turned to mush. All I could see was red satin sheets and her naked curves pulling me down on top of her. We were ready. More than ready to get lost in that slow silky hard motion that we both loved.
Then she pulled back a little and broke off the kiss. Her eyes slowly came open and she stared up at me with a dreamy gaze. I wanted more and leaned toward her again. But she pulled back a little more and cleared her throat.
“Not yet, Johnny,” she whispered. “Let’s save it, okay?”
I could only stare at her, my head spinning. Speechless.
Her hand gradually let go of my jacket, and she smoothed out the wrinkles left by her grasp, her fingers dancing playfully down my chest. The mush began to clear slightly and I glanced around nervously and hoped nobody was watching. Like Willie. Or even worse, Brandy.
But I didn’t need to worry. There in the dark and the rain we were as alone as two people can be.
“You want me to walk you to the airstrip?” she murmured running one finger up and down the jacket zipper
at my chest. “So the bears don’t get ya?” she giggled.
“N-no, that’s alright. Thanks anyway. I think they already got me.”
She looked up at me and winked. "Go get some food, Johnny. I know a hungry man when I see one.” The teasing grin again.
I struggled to think of something to say, but she reached for me again, pulled me in close and kissed my cheek.
“I'll be waiting for you tomorrow, but now I really must be moving along, darling,” she said with an exaggerated flair, her diva routine back in place. She smiled and stroked my cheek with one tiny white gloved hand, her fingers slightly brushing against my lips as if to silence me.
It worked. I was dumbstruck and mindless. I watched as she turned and walked away. The yellow umbrella glowed in the dark as she picked her way through the puddles, the flashlight beam swinging back and forth across the muddy road at her feet.
I waited until she went around a bend and disappeared in the dark. Then I turned my back and did the same.
CHAPTER TWENTY
