by Alan Russell
She poured the sludge into each of the dogs’ bowls, and they started lapping it up. Everything would be gone before the cold had a chance to freeze the liquid.
With the dogs now cared for, she carried the empty stockpot back to the cabin. The pot was old and had been mended countless times. As she opened the cabin door, Baer suddenly appeared in front of her. He extended an arm, stopping her passage, acting like a human tollbooth.
“Strip,” he said.
“What?” She hoped she’d misheard.
“Strip,” he repeated.
“Why? I swear I’m not carrying a rock or any weapon.”
“Then take off your clothes and let me see.”
“Why don’t you frisk me? That might save me from freezing to death.”
He shook his head. “You’re up to something. I know it. I can feel it. And you need to understand the consequences of your actions.”
Nina tried to hide the wave of relief she was feeling. He suspected something was wrong, but he had nothing tangible, or so it seemed. Still, Nina knew better than to just yield to his demands. She was sure that would make him even more suspicious.
“You’re paranoid. And I shouldn’t have to pay the price of your paranoia.”
“The sooner you strip down to nothing, the faster you’ll be able to come inside and warm up.”
Nina tried playing the baby card, as she had on other occasions. Making him defensive might keep Baer from scrutinizing her any closer than he already was.
“What if the baby gets a chill?”
“Then this will teach you not to put the baby in danger in the future. I know you’re up to something. I can see it in your eyes.”
“This is crazy.”
“I’m waiting.”
“Goddamn you to hell.”
He smiled and then offered up a line from his favorite poem: “Then ‘Here,’ said I, with a sudden cry, ‘is my cre-ma-tor-eum.’”
“You’re a bastard.”
With unfeigned reluctance, Nina removed her clothing. Each layer’s subtraction brought the weight of invasive cold, and it became harder and harder for her to breathe. But Baer wasn’t satisfied until she was naked. Even her boots had to come off. She was forced to stand there completely naked while he rummaged through her clothing. In a matter of seconds, her exposed flesh turned bright red, as though she’d been burned.
Baer stared at her hard nipples. In a husky voice, he said, “You could cut diamonds with those things.”
Through chattering teeth Nina managed to say, “I’d—rather—cut off—your—balls.”
Baer laughed and stepped aside. Nina almost fell into the cabin. Her hands felt like blocks of ice and were so devoid of feeling, she had trouble opening and closing her fingers merely to pick up her clothing. She dragged her coats and pants over to the stove and stood just inches from it, desperate for its warmth. Even after five minutes had passed, she was still trembling uncontrollably.
“You need some food in you,” said Baer. “That will stop your shivering.”
“I’m—shivering—because you’re—an asshole.”
“You’re beginning to look better. I guess your temper is warming you up.”
While he prepared tea and broth, Nina made him work around her. She only gave up her spot at the stove when she began feeling dizzy and knew she needed to get off her feet. The next thing she remembered was hearing a voice and thinking someone was shouting from a distance. She opened her eyes and shook her head. Baer was standing in front of her holding a steaming mug. Nina had no idea how long she’d been asleep; the aroma of cooking meat told her it had been a while.
She took the hot mug; it warmed her hands and soon warmed her insides. When she’d first come to the cabin, there had been two full containers of bouillon, one beef and the other chicken. Only a teaspoon or two of the chicken bouillon remained. As she slurped the salty liquid, she could feel her equilibrium returning. It was the nourishment she needed, or maybe it was what her baby needed.
A few minutes later, she got the bloody meat she was craving. Baer had cooked up a caribou roast, along with what must have been the last of the Eskimo potatoes. Nina gorged on the meat.
While she sucked at the marrow, Baer worked on his furs. She pretended to not observe his tying together pelts. It was clear Baer was making preparations for the winter move. How much time did that leave her? Did she have a week? Did she even have a day?
If she was to attempt her escape, it had to be soon. No, not soon. Now.
But I’m not ready yet, she thought. Her heart was racing, and she felt faint. Imagining the moment was different from daring it. There were only three outcomes: a successful escape, recapture, or death. The monster had already threatened to cut away some of her toes should she ever try to escape.
In high school Nina had played Emily Webb in Thornton Wilder’s Our Town. Her family had helped her rehearse the lines. Even now Nina could remember Emily’s final farewell to Grover’s Corners and her family.
Was she that ghost already?
A dozen years had passed since her performance. “It goes so fast,” she thought, remembering Emily’s words. “Oh, earth, you’re too wonderful for anybody to realize you. Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it?”
Until now what Nina had remembered most about the play was how her family and friends were in the audience, and how loudly they cheered when she came out for her curtain call. She’d posed with roses instead of smelling them. She’d smiled for the cameras instead of insisting her family join one another in a group hug. Instead of celebrating a play, she should have celebrated life.
I never understood the play until now, Nina thought.
She remembered Emily’s lament, Emily who had wanted one more look at her precious world before being taken back to her grave.
It was time to say good-bye to Grover’s Corners, thought Nina, and take on the challenge of finding a way to survive.
She gathered her warmest clothing and wrapped herself in layers while Baer continued doing his packing. All of her extra socks went under her vest.
Nina took her plate to the kitchen and began cleaning up. She pretended to snack on the leftover food while stuffing hardtack under her clothing. Her heart was pounding so hard that she was afraid if Baer said anything she wouldn’t be able to hear it.
She finished up with the dishes and then walked to the door as she had dozens of times before. Nina usually visited the outhouse before being locked into her holding pen for the night. She reached for the door handle and then held the door tightly so that the wind wouldn’t pull it from her hands. She was holding her breath, not daring to look in Baer’s direction save from the corner of her eye. He didn’t even bother to look up from his work. When she shut the door behind her, she had to lean against it for a long moment while gathering her breath. She swallowed down several mouthfuls of cold air, readying herself for the race.
The primitive solar lights registered her presence with a feeble flicker. Nina had rehearsed what to do scores of times, choreographing each step in her mind. She knew that every moment counted. Her window of opportunity was ten minutes at most.
She had left her snowshoes outside the door and quickly put them on. There was just enough moonlight to illuminate the pathway to the doghouses. Nina called out a muted greeting, alerting the dogs to her presence and staving off their barking. After their long day, they exhibited no desire to run out to greet her, but instead remained curled up in their houses.
Nina stepped inside the wanigan. In the corner of the meat shack, hanging from a hook, was one of Baer’s old backpacks. It was empty, but wouldn’t be for long. Nina hurried around the wanigan, reclaiming items she’d hidden. Beneath an old fishnet, she retrieved a broken fish spear with a three-pronged head. Then she dragged a makeshift bench to the middle of the floor. It was rickety but supported her weight. A big beam ran the length of the ceiling; hanging down from it were chains and hooks that supported cuts of meat. The
beam worked as a shelf of sorts; two weeks before, that’s where Nina had found Baer’s secreted ulu knife.
She’d known about the knife but not its location. On several occasions she’d spotted Baer using the knife to cut meat in the kitchen. When she’d asked him about its funny design, Baer had said it was a tool historically used by Alaskan Natives. The knife looked something like an ax blade. It had a wooden handle, which you rocked up and down when cutting things. Baer said he’d made the tool himself, shaping a slate blade. It was clear he preferred his bowie knife for most tasks; it was also clear he’d hidden the ulu knife, which was why Nina had made a point of looking for it whenever an opportunity presented itself. She quickly filled the pack with other items from around the wanigan.
Into the backpack went an old pot, tinder, char cloth, flint, and matches. There hadn’t been a spare emergency tarp, but she’d found heavy plastic, which she thought could work as a substitute. One of her best finds had been the reflector blanket taken from the airplane. An old caribou hide would have to serve as her sleeping bag, along with plastic bags that she’d fill for insulation. Along with the ulu knife and spearhead, she packed rope and some snares. She filled the rest of the pack with jerky, taking much of what remained.
Nina stopped outside. Just off the pathway was a bowling ball–size rock. She suspected it had been unearthed when the cabin was built. Nina carried the stone along with her.
Her presence was beginning to make the dogs restless. Nina bought their silence with some of the jerky. As they happily began their gnawing, she took the ulu knife and cut all the lines, ropes, and harnesses that went with the dog sled. After that she wrapped the rock in plastic so as to muffle its sound and began hammering at the sled. Each blow made her cringe, but it didn’t take her long to bend the runners, smash the footboards, and crush the brakes. For the time being, the wind was her ally. It whistled and whipped and masked the hammering.
When she finished she was sure even Baer couldn’t jury-rig the sled without a day’s work.
She went back inside the wanigan. In addition to its being their meat locker, it was also the storage locker for spare traps. Nina bypassed the biggest of the long spring traps, a bear trap that must have weighed close to fifty pounds, choosing instead the wolf trap. The bear trap was too big for her to safely operate, and she feared losing an arm while trying to depress the springs.
She hurried down the path. She didn’t have the time to set the trap with Baer’s methodical manner. He liked to dig out a spot and then anchor the trap with one or two stakes. Sometimes he used wax paper to prevent the trap from freezing up. He was also careful about making sure the pan was free of snow. His final touch was to camouflage the area surrounding the trap with twigs and ground cover.
Even with the moonlight, the trail was obscured, shadowed over by trees. Nina picked one of those deep shadows that extended to the middle of the path and placed the trap on the ground. She hoped it would pass for one of the many rocks and roots along the path.
Her time working the trapline had only reinforced her hatred of traps. They were nasty things, toothed and mean. At least she didn’t have to bait this trap. It was a blind set, put in a spot Baer might be likely to step in.
Do your job, she prayed. Catch a monster. Have my enemy step on you. Snap shut and shatter his foot. Amen.
Maybe it wasn’t an appropriate prayer, but Nina didn’t care.
With trembling hands she spread apart the waiting jaws. The teeth of the wolf trap were around ten inches apart. That should be large enough, Nina thought. Baer and his boots should fit within that space.
Nina finished and carefully backed away from the trap.
She made sure her backpack was secure and then, by the stingy light of the moon, set off down the path. In her hand was a staff Nina often took on their outings. She took a few steadying breaths, but they didn’t stop the pounding of her heart. It felt like a drum solo was going on in her chest. She wondered if the monster would be able to hear her telltale heart.
It felt as if hours had passed since she’d stepped out of the cabin, even though she doubted more than ten minutes had gone by. She walked at a deliberate and steady pace. This race wasn’t going to be won by the swift, and she had to avoid overheating. Perspiration was her enemy. A chill could kill her.
She looked back. The cabin was no longer in sight. What would Baer do when he realized she’d fled? Would he come right after her, or would he wait until daylight to begin his tracking?
What she knew of Baer—what she hoped—was that he would wait until morning. At night it would be much harder to track her, and even Baer would have to worry about where he was walking. There were plenty of places you could break your ankle or leg or neck. You could fall over a cliff or into a crevasse. The danger of falling into a tree well would be all too real.
“Nina!”
She almost jumped. His shout was loud enough to be heard over the wind. It sounded as if he was close by. Nina stood still.
“You don’t want to do this!” he yelled. “You’ll die out there. And you’ll kill the baby.”
Nina exhaled pent-up air. He hadn’t snuck up on her. He was shouting from the cabin. But was he already trying to close the distance between them? Was he sneaking down the path?
“Do you have a death wish? Do you want to murder the baby?”
That was his real concern. The all-important baby. Nina opened her mouth to reply, but then snapped it shut. She couldn’t let him know where she was.
That’s when she heard the snap of metal and the sweet music of Baer’s screaming.
His screaming didn’t last long. She could feel him taking the measure of his situation. She could hear the pained intake of his breaths. He is in agony, she thought, and she was glad. She opened her mouth to taunt him, but then thought better of that. Someone had once told her the most dangerous animal in the world was a wounded grizzly bear.
The trap had done its job. Now she could put distance between them. Heartened, Nina set out into the night.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
“What do you think, Sister?”
Nina waited a few moments to speak again, listening for an answer.
“I heard the snap of the trap. And I heard him scream. I want to believe he cried out in pain. That’s what it sounded like. But everything he does is designed to deceive. Did he really step in that trap, or is he trying to get me to step in his trap?”
Nina looked back to reassure herself that the monster wasn’t sneaking up on her.
“He’s flesh and blood. He’s not the bogeyman. He can bleed and die. And I can make my escape and survive just like La Loba did.”
Nina took a moment to listen, made sure she didn’t hear any pursuit, and then continued walking and talking.
“Last month I was working the trapline with Baer when I had this feeling I was being watched. Before my captivity I’m sure I wouldn’t have sensed that, but my senses are more attuned now, and I’ve even come to rely on my little voice. It’s not intuition, or at least not exactly. It’s an awareness I never had before.
“There was this energy working its way up the back of my neck, and so I turned, and that’s when I saw the wolf looking at me. Its coat was completely white. We stared at each other for a moment or two. It was such a short time, but it was so intense it felt as if we stared at each other for hours. And then the wolf silently disappeared into the woods.
“I was visited by my guardian spirit. I did not tell Baer what I saw, but I’m certain that it was La Loba. She and you are what kept me going.”
Despite her predicament Nina found herself smiling. “I thought back to how she left a pile of shit right next to a trap she’d sprung. How the monster raged, but he could do nothing.” The memory made her laugh. “I’ll never forget her act of defiance. Or your act of defiance. It’s nice to have two guardian spirits. In my mind I can still see my ghost wolf. La Loba Fantasma.”
Her laughter and the memory felt good. They
warmed her. They inspired her. For a moment Nina was able to forget how spooky it was walking through the wilderness in the mostly dark night. The light from the moon was such that she couldn’t see very far ahead of her or behind her. It helped that the wind had died down. When she’d set out, there had been gusting that threatened to knock her off her feet. Now it was a steady ten- or twelve-mile-an-hour wind.
She tried keeping to a steady pace. This was a marathon. Consistency was the key. In another hour she would build a fire and hydrate. In the meantime she had to come to a decision.
“The question is, Sister, should I be listening to my little voice, or should I listen to my ears? If Baer’s hurt, that means I should reconsider my escape plan. If he’s laid up or slowed down, I need to rethink the course I planned. I could take the more direct route to Manley Hot Springs, which might mean as much as two fewer days of walking. I wouldn’t need to have everything work out just right. It would only be a matter of surviving the marathon and getting to Manley.”
Nina turned around and tried to see through the moonlight. There was no sign of pursuit. Baer wasn’t there.
“That’s what I want to do. But you know what my little voice tells me? It says stay with the original plan. It says he’s coming after me. It says he wants me to believe he’s hurt, because then I’ll be easy prey for him. He prides himself on his use of tactics. It would be just like him to pretend that he was hurt. Nothing would please him more than his sneaking up on me unaware.”
Nina’s pace slowed, the impasse weighing on her steps.
“You gave me your rules, Sister. And your eighth and final rule was to kill the monster. After what the monster has done to us, you’d think I wouldn’t have any qualms about taking his life, but some part of me still hopes I won’t have to. Before all this happened, I never could have imagined myself a killer. It’s hard getting my mind around that.”
Nina took another step forward, and this time she picked up her pace. “But I guess I’ll just have to. I’m going to stay the original course.”
