Run (End Times Alaska Book 2)

by Craig Martelle

  “I’m sorry. Let me introduce myself. I’m Mike, I run one of the grocery stores in town, but since we’re closed on Mondays, I thought I’d do a little snowmobiling. I’m glad I did. It’s not every day you get to meet people who escaped the damn Russkies. You give us all hope, buddy!”

  “Thanks, my friend. We can follow you, but take it easy, our dogs are tired.” His smile told me that he understood my whole meaning.

  We waited until everyone caught up with us. Husky didn’t want to stop running when the team was called to a halt. She wanted to run up to the humans, as Phyllis had done.

  Phyllis wasn’t sure about Mike, but warmed to him quickly when he produced a small piece of salmon jerky for her.

  Once we had everyone together, I asked Chris to follow Mike first, with Emma. After all, Chris was the Mayor and Emma was our former Mayor. Who better to arrange things on our behalf? Madison and I waved to everyone as they went past. The twins waved, giving us big smiles, but quickly put their hands back on the sleds. We followed the group to make sure we didn’t lose anyone at this point. After a mile or two, I pulled to the side of the river. There were some rocks where I hid my rifle and pistol. This was Canada. I didn’t want to make it all this way just to get arrested. If we needed to be armed, then we’d lost.

  There was no fight left in me. I went from relief, to joy, to exhaustion in the space of minutes.

  We caught up to the teams and, in less than an hour, Mike took us to what looked like a boat launch. The Community mushed up the bank and into town. Mike called two people who must have then called everyone else. Soon, there was a big party greeting us kindly, giving the dogs love and affection and making cooing sounds at little Tony. They shied away from Bill after he let everyone know that he was mildly perturbed at something.

  Mike helped us bring the dogs to an area where they would get water and food. It looked like a stable or a semi-open warehouse. What mattered was that the dogs were sheltered. Those with babies went inside while the rest made sure that our dog teams were taken care of, fed and watered, and safe for the rest they deserved.

  As a group, we went inside.

  Officials showed up, a policeman and a representative from the territorial government. We were being treated as heroes. Word spread quickly that we had escaped. Anything that gave the finger to the Russians was being applauded.

  Any anxiety that we may have had evaporated. We were going to be well taken care of. They secured rooms for us, even bringing clothes (we looked like bush people). We walked together to a gym in a nearby school where we were happy to enjoy the showers. We stripped out of our old clothes and piled them separately. I expected that they’d be burned, but Becca and Darren wanted to keep their hunting clothes. They’d grown fond of them.

  Once we were clean and in our new, borrowed clothing, we didn’t know what to think or what to do. We’d been the Community for years, but now, there were so many new people, and we didn’t have our daily chores, our routine to fall back on.

  I called a meeting for the Community. We sat on the bleachers while the good people from Dawson who were helping us sat nearby.

  I took the floor with Chris beside me. “If you’re like me, you’re wondering what’s next. Well, I don’t know. What have I said? Live for today, plan for tomorrow?” The group nodded their heads. They all looked too thin in their new clothes which fit better than anything we’d worn in years. The Community looked tired, although it was barely after noon.

  “With the incredible people from Dawson’s approval, I think our plan for tomorrow is to do what we do. We’ll take care of our dogs. We’ll make sure we have enough to eat. Tomorrow, we’ll plan for the next day. But today, the only thing I want to do is enjoy life.” The twins both stood and cheered. Their little voices echoed within the gym. The people from Dawson stood and started clapping. The Community stood as one, cheering and clapping.

  I shook Chris’ hand and sat down in the front row, next to Madison where I could hold her hand. The twins were in the next row up and they both leaned over my back and pulled on my ears. They were the only ones who had any energy left.

  Chris started speaking, softly as he did, which quieted the crowd as they craned their necks to hear him.

  “I usually don’t say much, and I don’t see a need for a lot of words here. I think there’s only a few words that matter. We made it. All of us.” Then the real cheering began. The Community left the bleachers to group tightly around Chris. Charles and Aeryn gave Colleen a hand up and stayed at her side as she waddled to the center of the pack to hug her partner.

  The Mayor had entered the gym during my speech. I was happy that she’d stayed to the side. Many politicians want the spotlight on themselves, regardless of what is going on. That wasn’t her thing, and she deserved our respect for it. When we finished, she finally took the floor and talked to us. She started by shaking everyone’s hand and congratulating us all on our incredible journey. She looked forward to hearing more at a banquet that was being put together in our honor.

  We didn’t know what to say.

  We left the gym and walked the short distance to a restaurant with a CLOSED sign in the window. It was warm inside, and we started to shed layers. The food was good. The welcome was friendly.

  To me, it looked like we were all introverts. Maybe you are born with it, and maybe some people learn it. I could see that no one was opening up. They answered the questions, but they weren’t going out of their way to start conversations with the new strangers.

  I asked to see our benefactors separately, waving at Chris to join me. It was always important to set expectations so people weren’t disappointed for the wrong reason or weren’t working at cross purposes.

  When we were alone, I took a deep breath and then spoke quietly. “We’ve lived apart from other humans for the past four years. Please forgive us if we seem aloof or less than appreciative for everything you’ve done for us. It’s not you. We need to get used to humanity once again, used to civilization.” I took a drink from the bottle of water they’d given me. It tasted different than what I was used to, but it was still good.

  The Mayor started to protest, but I raised my hand to stop her. “Give us some time, and you’ll see that there are no better friends than us. And now, some administrative garbage. We have three babies without birth certificates. Out of all of us, I think we have two passports, three if you count my expired one. I can vouch that these people are the kindest and best people on the planet. I can tell you that I believe they are all Americans in good standing, but I expect that when you check, probably all of us have been declared dead. I don’t know how we’ll deal with any of it, but the only way we’ll survive it all is with your help. You’ve been incredible for us so far, and here we are, asking for more.”

  The Mayor stood tall and put her hand on my chest. “We will contact your embassy, and we will get it all sorted out before you do anything else. Don’t you worry yourselves about any of that. You have a home here for as long as you need it, for as long as you want it. If you want to go to the States and have to leave your dogs, we will find them good homes. We may not have a lot in Dawson City, but the one thing we have plenty of is hospitality.” The others nodded vigorously in support of the Mayor.

  Chris stepped up. “Please, have patience with us as we assimilate and get our affairs in order. Thank you for not rushing us and our decisions. For the past two months, we’ve been running through the back country of an Alaska without power, without any support whatsoever. We spent that time thinking about how to survive, not about what to do next. It will be nice to be able to take our time and be comfortable while we talk about what we want for our future. For me and my partner, I think our baby will be born right here in Dawson City. I expect that to happen any day now,” Chris ended with a smile and sparkling eyes. He tripped over the word partner. I thought he was going to say wife. Maybe they talked about it, but it didn’t matter before. In our world at Chena Hot Springs being married was
unimportant. Maybe it wasn’t here either. Yet one more thing we needed to figure out.

  “And we don’t have any money, as far as we know. Sorry about that,” I said so only the Mayor could hear. She pushed me away and laughed.

  We returned to the group. Madison looked at me oddly, wondering why we had to have a private conversation with the Mayor and the others from the town.

  The Mayor saved me from having to answer.

  “Good people from the Community of Chena Hot Springs. It is our distinct pleasure to take care of you until such time as you decide what you want. We don’t care that you don’t have any money,” she smiled and looked at me. I couldn’t meet her gaze. “We know that you’ve lived apart from the rest of humanity for a long time, and that it will take you some time to get used to us. I hope that someday soon, you’ll be able to call us friends. You’ve thanked us profusely for the meager help we’ve provided, but we need to thank you for standing up to the Russians, for surviving when everything seemed to be against you. We offer our hospitality for as long as you need it. As Mayor, I will do everything I possibly can to get your papers, documents, whatever you need to go or stay, in good order. We’ll make some phone calls this afternoon to get the ball rolling.”

  One of the other Canadians produced a notepad and started getting everyone’s full name and birth dates that the Mayor could share with the U.S. government. I was happy that they were handling that paperwork. I couldn’t stomach dealing with the administration that abandoned an entire state and all its people.

  When she mentioned the phone, I waved to get her attention. She joined us, and Madison asked if she could use the phone. The Mayor slapped her own head and pulled her people together. Everyone who had a cell phone plan to call the U.S. at no additional cost volunteered to let the survivors from the Community use their phones.

  You never forget the phone number that you grew up with. Madison punched in the numbers, as if she had just made the same call yesterday. A tired, older-sounding, but very familiar voice answered. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Mom. We’re coming home.”

  EPILOGUE

  It only took a week to get all of our paperwork in order so we could go back to the States. In that same week, news of our escape from the Alaskan DMZ went viral. Reporters and news crews started showing up. The city’s available rooms filled up with visitors of all types, and our privacy ended. We took to staying in our rooms or working with the dogs. The twins liked the attention, just until they hated it. They were the media darlings. Diane was a favorite as a toddler, and Bill chased away even the heartiest reporter. Little Tony found his way into the arms of every female reporter, but he was never more than one step away from Jo or Emma.

  During the week, we made arrangements for our weapons, even the pistol, so I took my snow machine, which was very happy to get filled with fresh gasoline, and picked up my firearms that I’d stashed under a rock along the frozen river. The local police put our weapons and ammunition into their storage locker. They were there should we need them again.

  Volunteers took care of our every need. We never lacked for something to eat. I think we all gained at least five pounds that first week, maybe ten, but we were okay with that. I think we’d been on the verge of starvation.

  Abigail spent nearly all of her time with the dogs. There were a couple kennels left in Dawson, owing to its place on the Yukon Quest route from before the war. A young man ran one, having taken over from his father who had retired and moved to Arizona. This young man and Abigail hit it off as there was nothing either of them liked better than the dogs. So Abigail took all the dogs and moved in with the young man at his kennel.

  That was accomplished in less than a week. The twins were put out as they considered the six dogs from each of their teams as their dogs. Abigail assured them that their teams would be ready whenever they needed a mushing fix. Abigail also suggested that they think about moving up to twelve-dog teams as they were ready and could easily handle that size team. That made the movement of the dogs to the kennel much easier for the children. They wanted to get back into the weather and practice mushing the bigger team. But that would have to wait for a different time.

  Two crates were supplied so we could take both Phyllis and Husky to the United States. But then we didn’t need them as someone was so taken with our story that they sent their private jet to take us wherever we wanted to go. We wanted to go back to Pittsburgh, but on the way, we’d drop off Darren, Becca, and little Bill in Portland, Oregon, which we discovered was her home. Darren lived in northern California, so they’d drive to his parents’ home.

  We’d also drop off Amber, Lucas, and Diane in Boise, Idaho, Amber’s home town. Lucas wouldn’t tell anyone where he was from, which didn’t matter to any of us. The reporters seemed to take it as a challenge, which made Lucas quite uncomfortable. We didn’t know if Lucas was his real name, and we didn’t care. The embassy ginned up papers for him so he could enter the United States. Even they weren’t going to break up a family at this point.

  Even Phyllis and Husky got papers. They were less than amused with the shots from the vet, but everyone took their medicine as we prepared to head south.

  The big day came, and we said goodbye to Chris and Colleen and Emma and Jo, who’d decided to stay until Tony got bigger. Abigail stayed because of Phillip, the kennel guy, and all the dogs. We couldn’t have been more pleased because we knew our dogs would be well taken care of. Chris and I had pulled Phillip aside and made certain that he understood if we received a call from Abigail and she was crying, we’d be back, and there would be hell to pay. Phillip promised to treat her well. Chris and I probably looked far meaner than we really were, but we had to make the point.

  With the twins and our dogs, the small jet was packed to the gills, but we had almost no luggage, so we were well within weight limits. When we took off, I looked at Lucas, remembering the last time we had flown.

  He looked back knowingly and started to laugh. We fist bumped as the jet raced into the sky. Our better halves shook their heads.

  Next stop, our hometowns. After that, we had an invitation to the White House and a special offer from the President himself. Now that the next phase of the treaty was in effect, he needed people to resettle Alaska before the Russians did. We had yet to decide whether we’d go to the White House and visit the man who’d abandoned us. We also had to look at the Americans who voted him back into office during our time out of contact.

  That was all water under the bridge. We had to live for today.

  But we knew we’d return to Alaska. There was no doubt about that.

  End of Book 2

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Many good friends supported me as I transitioned from a life traveling as a management consultant to the life of an author.

  First and foremost, I’d like to thank my wife, Wendy, for continuing her work as a University Professor without pause, which allowed me to delve into writing. My mother-in-law, Mary Whitehead, has been very supportive. She’s always a good one to call and talk with.

  My best friend, Bill Rough, and his better half, Linda, were stalwart through many phases of my life and were the first ones to read this book and provide feedback. I’m honored to call them friends.

  Frank and Sheri Mellott have been great sounding boards as I worked through some plot lines. They always have time to listen.

  My classmate from law school, Bob Ruhe has been a great friend through the years and took the time to read a draft copy of the book for me. Thank you Bob for taking time out of running your business to give me a hand.

  So many others stood by me as I moved from a normal full-time job to what I get to do now – Larry Hintz, Rick Gainey, Risto St. Luise, Brian Walden, and so many more. I apologize for not mentioning you here for those I have surely missed. Once a book is finished, it’s a rush to finalize all the details and get it into print.

  Website: http://www.craigmartelle.com/

  Facebook: https://www.fa
cebook.com/AuthorCraigMartelle/

  Twitter: https://twitter.com/rick_banik

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Craig is a successful author, on track to publish ten books in 2016. He’s taken his more than twenty years of experience in the Marine Corps, his legal education, and his business consulting career to write believable characters living in a real world.

  Although Craig has written in multiple genres, what he believes most compelling are in-depth characters dealing with real-world issues. Just like Star Trek, the original series used a backdrop of space, the themes related to modern day America. Life lessons of a great story can be applied now or fifty years in the future. Some things are universal.

  Craig believes that evil exists. Some people are driven differently and cannot be allowed access to our world. Good people will rise to the occasion. Good will always challenge evil, sometimes before a crisis, many times after, but will good triumph?

  Some writers who’ve influenced Craig? Robert E. Howard (the original Conan), JRR Tolkien, Andre Norton, Robert Heinlein, Lin Carter, Brian Aldiss, Margaret Weis, Tracy Hickman, Anne McCaffrey, and of late, James Axler, Raymond Weil, Jonathan Brazee, Mark E. Cooper, and David Weber. Craig learned something from each of these authors, story line, compelling issue, characters that you can relate to, the beauty of the prose, unique tendrils weaving through the book’s theme. Craig’s writing has been compared to that of Andre Norton and Craig’s Free Trader characters to those of McCaffrey’s Dragonriders, the Rick Banik Thrillers to the works of Robert Ludlum.

  Through a bizarre series of events, Craig ended up in Fairbanks, Alaska. They love it there. It is off the beaten path. He and his wife watch the northern lights from their driveway. Temperatures can reach forty below zero. They have from three and a half hours of daylight in the winter to twenty-four hours in the summer.