A SPECIAL PERSON
The man’s private jet landed at Latrobe Airport east of Pittsburgh. We met him there and went into town for lunch. He didn’t beat around the bush.
“My daughter was one of a few who stayed over at Denali after the summer tourist season. She was coming home at Christmas that year,” he said, his eyes started to glisten with tears as he relived a painful memory. “After it happened, I personally went to the resettlement camps in Washington and in southeast Alaska, talking to anyone and everyone. No one had come from Denali, but some people had attempted to pass through. The Russians had a military checkpoint there. In the official reporting, there was a ‘safety’ stop north of Anchorage, but nothing as far north as Denali. The officials documented the checkpoint in Tok even, which corroborates your story.
“I’ve used up all my resources trying to find her but no one’s been allowed back, until now that is. I will pay you all you want, do anything you ask of me, if you’ll only go to Denali and try to find her. I’ll give you a satellite phone so you can call,” he said quietly. “So she can call.”
He stared at his hands. He was probably younger than he looked. The worry regarding his daughter had aged him, as it had done to Madison’s mother.
No one should lose a child. And no one should have to continue without knowing. I looked at Madison and she shrugged but then nodded.
“I’ll do it. I’ll run down there, and we’ll look for her. Where did she work and were there any other places she mentioned, a favorite camping spot or something like that?” I continued with the questions until I was sure he had nothing else for me. The situation piqued my interest. The President had implied that there may be others who survived. I was certain that there were people secreted away in dark corners of the interior mountains who lived the subsistence lifestyle. They might never be found.
If there was any hope for survivors in Healy, the town at the entrance to Denali National Park, then we had to look. I didn’t want to walk that whole way.
“Do you know how to refresh old gasoline?” I asked the man.
“No, but I have engineers who can help you…”
BACK TO DAWSON CITY
We returned to Dawson City on the summer solstice. When we exited the private jet, Husky and Phyllis ran down the airplane’s stairs and across the parking apron to jump on Abigail. Phillip was with her, as was Chris, Colleen, and their baby girl Hermione. They were both huge Harry Potter fans, it turns out.
Jo and Emma had never left Dawson as they wanted Tony to get stronger, which he did, more than doubling in size since we last saw him. When we were able to fight our way past our dogs, we were pleasantly surprised at how everyone had more meat on their bones. Civilization had been kind in some ways.
Lucas and Amber followed us off the plane, holding Diane’s hand as she was big enough to negotiate the stairs on her own.
Becca and Darren were already in Dawson City. They’d gone on an extended camping trip in the woods of northern California because they found the world of their former lives so stifling that they couldn’t live in it. They’d run away and were happy when we finally got in touch. They couldn’t think of anything better than returning to Alaska as settlers, so they took a commercial flight to Canada as soon as possible.
Most of us cringed when we heard Bill bellow something at his parents. At a little over two years old, it appeared he had two speeds: high gear and overdrive. We were happy to see him, too, despite that fact that we weren’t happy to hear his lungs were stronger than ever.
As were mine. The stem cell treatment made me feel like a new man. I had more energy than I thought possible. I had one medication that I took once a day, but I could carry ten years’ worth with us, without taking up much space. If we didn’t have some type of commerce reestablished by then, we probably would have failed.
Looking at the group of close friends who’d become family, I didn’t see any of us considering failure as an option.
With a new determination we gathered at Abigail and Phillip’s kennel outside of town. We finally had the privacy we all sought, along with the camaraderie we’d missed. They say you can’t choose your family.
I think they’re wrong.
THE RETURN
The sun shone twenty-four hours a day this far north. We weren’t constrained by the light although it was hot out, relatively speaking. We had wheel carts for our dog sleds. These rickety contraptions would get us where we wanted to go, but the ride would be nowhere near as smooth as what we’d experienced on the way out.
The added bonus was that we could use the roads this time. I purchased a four-door quad with a trailer where I put my trusty snow machine. It had been completely rebuilt. I brought along extra gasoline, but most importantly, I had the knowledge to recover and reinvigorate old gasoline. I’d have to filter it and juice it up, but then we’d be able to have a running vehicle again. The best way to use old gas was in an old engine. Vehicles from the 1960s or 1970s could burn any type of gas, especially once it was spiced up with a little avgas. We knew where there was plenty of all types. I was certain that we’d be riding in vehicles sooner rather than later.
I had a small toolkit with the quad in order to work on old engines. The usual tools were easy to scavenge. As long as they were out of the weather, they wouldn’t rust in the dry interior of Alaska. The tools I carried were to set points within the carburetor, fuses, and the more unique items that might not be readily available.
I forced myself to stop thinking about everything I had in front of me. I looked over the group, the new people selected in secret by the United States Government. Under the Treaty, there could be no government sponsorship of settlers, but they did it anyway. They told me that I could turn down any of the selections, but I was given no options. Being the military governor of the territory carried no weight.
Besides all of the member of the original Community of Chena Hot Springs, we added only four people. I figured that austerity had lost its attraction or the government’s efforts to market the new homesteading had fallen flat. I looked at the newcomers and wondered.
Ben was an older native Alaskan, an Athabascan. He knew fishing, and he knew the area around Fairbanks. With the resort destroyed, we intended to establish a settlement on the southwest side of Fairbanks or even Nenana, about fifty miles to the south. We needed access to the river as we needed access to the water for fishing and power.
Ben’s wife Clarisse was a joy to be around. She was a little stout, but always friendly. She would have come along regardless, because of Ben, but she’d been preserving for decades the food that Ben killed or picked. She’d help us prepare for the winter, something that we’d need to do as soon as we picked a spot to settle.
We wanted to get it right the first time. We’d build on the work we would do each year. If we moved, we would have to start over.
Two very young engineers joined us. I wondered how they were picked as they seemed ill-equipped to deal with the Alaskan wild. I thought they were straight from Silicon Valley. I didn’t see any callouses on their hands, like the hardened members of the Community had. Even the twins looked sturdier than our engineers. I had to ask.
“What brought you guys into this?”
“Dude! We co-wrote a paper on power generation in remote Arctic communities when we were finishing our Masters at MIT,” the man said with pride. I nodded.
“Em. Eye. Tea. Alright, Mit, but can you put that knowledge to practical use? This is going to be austere, with a capital A.” That sounded as sarcastic as I meant it to be. We couldn’t carry any dead weight. Everyone here had to take care of themselves and their families. We’d share, but we didn’t want another John in our midst. We’d barely survived the first one.
“Mit? My name’s Cullen, and he’s Shane.” The second man tipped his head. “We can build it. We have an idea what survived from the blast,
but if we can get outside the EMP zone, then we’ll be able to build something better and faster.”
“What’s that?” I asked as I pointed to a pile of boxes that looked heavy.
“That’s our gear,” Cullen said matter-of-factly. He stood next to Shane. Ben and Clarisse had a quad and pulled a trailer of dog food. Everyone else had their dog sleds. Cullen and Shane wore hiking boots.
“Who’s going to carry that for you?” I pointed at their gear and then to our menagerie of transportation.
They looked around dumbfounded. The residents of Dawson City, there to see us off, started laughing. Mike, the first man we’d met in Canada, came to their rescue.
“Here. Take mine.” He pointed to the quad he was leaning against. It was a two-seater but had a long bed. I pulled out my new cell phone and started typing a text.
“You are the man, Mike. What’s your phone number?” I asked. Mike gave it to me, and I finished my text and put the phone back in my pocket. Then I fished it back out and put it on airplane mode.
“My buddy Frank will give you a call and we’ll buy you a new quad.” I held out my hand. We shook firmly.
When I looked back, Shane and Cullen were still standing there. I ambled up to them and waved them to lean in close.
“Gentlemen, if you become a burden, we’ll leave you behind. If you become a problem, we’ll feed you to the bears. Now load your gear on the quad I just bought for you while we watch.” I looked for some kind of acknowledgement, but there was nothing. They looked at each other and back at me.
I shrugged and walked away. It wasn’t my call whether they came or not, although I was starting to lean toward leaving them behind. I wanted to check on everyone else.
The twins had a twelve-dog team each, and they beamed. Abigail and Phillip both mushed sixteen-dog teams as they carried Emma, Jo, and Tony, along with towing sleighs loaded with more supplies. Chris, Darren, and Lucas mushed twelve-dog teams, with their partners and children in the sleds. They towed small sleighs loaded almost exclusively with dog food. With our three quads, that made our group. We had a total of twenty-two people and ninety-four dogs.
I was happy we wouldn’t have to run under the cover of darkness. Our travel would be tough enough with running the dogs on the roads. I expected we’d have more than one crash and skinned bodies. Colleen had a robust medical kit with her.
I was worried that we were traveling too heavy. Most of us had something electronic with us. How quickly we had gotten used to civilization, but then again, while living at the resort, we had power and running water. The Community had done without for only a brief period. Madison and I had grown used to a wood-burning stove and no electricity for the better part of two years. Then we re-spoiled ourselves with the introduction of the bigger generator.
I also had a satellite phone secreted away within the quad. That was a special treat we’d surprise the others with at a later time. Our benefactor said we had unlimited minutes. I expected that we’d use all of those between the adult members of the group.
When the engineers were finally ready, I figured everyone wanted to hear something motivational. I’d been thinking about what to say ever since we were told that we could return home. So I stepped in front of the people assembled. They quieted down as everyone gave me their attention.
THE JOURNEY BEGINS
“I never thought we’d be going back to our former home,” I started, then swallowed as my throat had gone dry. I took a drink from an offered bottle of water.
“What we saw as a wasteland is now more like the wonderland that Jack London saw when he ventured into a wild Alaska over a century ago. Will we have to live as he did? No, we won’t. There are homes throughout Alaska that we can borrow, use as we need to, then leave behind if we need to move on. When we’ve won the diplomatic war to regain Alaska for the United States, then we’ll get more support than we’ll ever want.” I hesitated. This wasn’t easy. We’d seen the world change around us, but it wasn’t the world that had changed. It was our role in it, how we treated each other, who we’d become.
“I realized that I didn’t like the old world after we returned to it. Mercenary. Driven by things. People who’d lost their way. I preferred our world, the one we are returning to. I’m not willing to call a place civilization; that’s reserved solely for the people who make it that. When we get back to the interior, we will have civilization once again. Not what we saw in the Lower 48, but what we see here, in our group of friends and family.” Everyone’s eyes were locked on mine. I had to look away. I didn’t know what else there was to say.
“Time to go?” I asked, then added in an old Alaskan joke, “We’re burning daylight. The sun will set in another two months, so let’s not waste it!” No one cheered. No one clapped. We reached out, touched shoulders, shook hands, and then turned to our own thoughts.
It was something we did well in the Community – introverts hanging out together, not needing to talk to share the experience.
I saw Chris out of the corner of my eye as he pulled the two engineers to the side. After a brief exchange, the young men nodded vigorously. Chris was not a violent man, but he was physically imposing. I would have to find out later what he told the newcomers. So far, I wasn’t impressed. I saw them as dead weight, years from making a difference for the Community. In time, we’d see if we needed to feed those two to the bears.
They may have thought I was kidding.
Chris might see something different. We were far stronger than the group that John tore apart years ago. Together, we were better. I wasn’t sure that these two made us better, but I’d give them a chance.
I shook my head and made sure that we were ready to go. Just like before, I’d lead the way, but this time, we would get to take the road. The Yukon River was flowing freely and we had to cross it using the bridges. We left heading northwest on Highway 9, also called Top Of The World Highway. It added fifty miles to our journey, but vastly reduced our risk over traveling the back country.
At fifty miles a day, we were only eight to ten days from getting to Fairbanks. We could base out of our old home to start, but couldn’t stay long. We wanted to get to the river where we’d have water and fish, a way to irrigate, and the moose that came there to drink. We needed to stock supplies for the winter.
There was much to think about over the next week. I had a small notebook and pen with me. I promised myself that I’d keep good notes as we went, although I had no plans to do anything with them.
As soon as Bill started bellowing at something. I started the quad and worked my way past the dog teams. I headed up the road at a slow pace, letting Abigail fall in behind me. The twins followed her, driving side-by-side for the present. Then Chris and Colleen, with the two other quads behind them. The rest of the dog teams fell in line with Phillip bringing up the rear.
I looked back often as we led the parade, but Madison kept hitting me in the shoulder. I then realized that this road still had traffic. If anyone was coming, we needed to slow the oncoming vehicles down so they didn’t run into our people and their dog teams. But arrangements had been made. We were safe.
The mayor of Dawson City put out the word far and wide and the radio station blared our status. We were oblivious to it all, simply being pleasantly surprised that we had the road to ourselves as we crawled forward on the highway. We started later than I wanted. It was ten in the morning when we finally left the Dawson City limits. That meant we had another sixty-six miles to the border. I expected we’d have to camp within Canada on the first day.
Which brought us back to Mike. He said that he’d follow us in his truck and deliver dog food so we didn’t have to dig into our supplies while we weren’t yet in Alaska.
The excitement of the trip wore off quickly and we settled into the grind. We’d run the dogs for an hour before taking a break. It was too warm for them. We went through a lot of water,
but we had access to as much as we needed. Mike would figure prominently if there was a follow-up to my memoirs. In the interim, Frank would pay him well.
Mike didn’t ask for any money, but paying him well was the right thing to do. It’s what civilized people did.
It’s what we were looking forward to on the other side of the border.
WELCOME TO ALASKA, THE GREAT STATE
The second morning out of Dawson City we crossed into Alaska. I was surprised to see border guards securing the border while acting as immigration officers. They seemed to be waiting for us as they waved us down. We presented our passports, and they dutifully stamped our exit from Canada on this day. They looked around, then leaned close and told us to give those Russians hell.
We laughed as we told them our entire goal was to never see a Russian, but to establish a settlement and rebuild civilization.
Rolling across the border, we pulled to the side of the road and waited as the others came to the checkpoint, showed their papers, received their stamps, and continued on. We moved to the Davis Dome Wayside where there was a huge Welcome to Alaska sign. Abigail set up to water her dogs and the others as they arrived.
Everyone went through the checkpoint dutifully and painlessly, except the engineers, who couldn’t find their passports.
Once in Alaska, we were able to carry our weapons. I expected we’d see all types of big game as we traveled this road through the mountains, including bear. Darren had a new 300 Winchester Magnum with a healthy stock of ammunition. My 45-70 was in a gun case on the side of the quad and I was happy to put my shoulder holster on containing my trusty M1911 .45 caliber pistol. Chris also carried a weapon; this one he’d purchased in Canada: a .30-06 hunting rifle.
Return (End Times Alaska Book 3) Page 4
