by Alan Russell
Would an unused woodstove be a good place to hide a gun? She reached her arm down the hole, but only found old ashes at the bottom of the canister. In the open area between the three legs of the woodstove, she found a rusted can filled with sand. In the middle of the sand was a candle. That would solve one immediate problem. It was growing darker by the moment.
Nina lit the candle and began searching the small space. She remembered how the ulu knife had been hidden among the beams in the wanigan, but there were no rafters in the shack. She searched the spaces in the crude wooden floor, but found nothing. Then she started rapping on the walls. The shack had no window, and only a solitary shelf about the same size and thickness as a railroad tie. Atop the shelf were old cans and jars. Baer hadn’t gotten around to hanging a rack of moose antlers; it rested next to the wall. Hanging from the rack’s points were skins and a few old snares. On the ground next to the antlers sat a box of kindling and small sticks.
Nina tapped around the shelf, but couldn’t find any area that sounded hollow. She held the candle up to the metal cans and jars. All had been recycled from their original purposes and were now being used as containers. She took the top off of one glass jar and found that it was filled with Baer’s spruce pitch salve. Other containers housed fishing line and lures. One five-gallon plastic construction bucket that had held joint compound was acting as Baer’s tool chest, as well as the repository for his oddments. Nina sifted through it, moving aside screwdrivers, old saw blades, pliers, nails, screws, bolts, nuts, wiring, and braces. The only way to get to the bottom, she decided, was to pour out its contents.
She tipped it over. One of the last items to fall out of the bucket was a plastic Ziploc bag. At first glance Nina could only see a greasy rag, but then she noticed it was wrapped around something. She opened the sealed bag, removed the rag, and found herself holding an old revolver.
Nina had never held a gun, and she took a few minutes to familiarize herself with it. She found a pin below the barrel and pulled it out. Then it was just a matter of the cylinder swinging to the left. To her disappointment, the bullet chambers were empty.
She went back to sifting through the overturned bucket and was relieved to find another sealed plastic bag holding four bullets. Were they the right ammo? She fit them into the chambers and closed the cylinder. Everything seemed to fit and click. She’d planned on testing the gun, but with only four bullets, she couldn’t do that.
As far as Nina could see, the revolver had no safety. She stored the gun inside her parka and hoped she wouldn’t end up shooting her foot.
Normally Nina might have been concerned about carbon monoxide poisoning from lighting a woodstove indoors, but the shack was anything but airtight. It was a wind deterrent, but not windproof. Smoke was a bigger concern; the woodstove wasn’t vented to the outdoors. Nina decided to take her chances. She filled the bottom with tinder. When that started to flame, she added additional fuel. There was surprisingly little smoke.
A few minutes later, the water began boiling. It was anticipation of the food even more than the cold she was experiencing that made Nina’s hands shake. The idea of having a meal of pasta and beans had her drooling. She knew her body had burned a lot of calories walking and staving off the cold, but she hadn’t realized how hungry she was.
Nina boiled the beans along with the pasta. She salted the water and, using a handmade wooden spoon, snuck tastes of the liquid while everything cooked. The idea of drinking starch-infused water might have once made her gag, but now it tasted like the nectar of the gods. She kept drinking from the small pot while continually adding ice.
The end result of her cooking resembled a stew. Nina didn’t pace herself. It took her less than a minute to finish everything.
Feasting on seconds sounded like a wonderful idea. Nina melted more snow and ice, and then added lentils along with a piece of jerky. While the mixture boiled, she went in search of more wood. Even though the smoke seemed minimal, she left the door to the shack open for ventilation. As quickly as she could, she gathered an armful of sticks and small branches. Then it was just a matter of adding pasta to the pot and waiting.
The second time around, she didn’t eat quite as hurriedly. Nina knew she’d need the calories. Her full stomach and the shelter were conspiring to have her lie down and sleep. But she couldn’t.
This was a race where she couldn’t win through speed. Baer was faster and stronger than she was. At the end of the day, he was probably no more than an hour behind her. He would have made his camp by now. He would know that time was on his side. He would know the limits of her endurance.
Baer would think she was traveling without a clue as to where she was going. He didn’t know about her secret ally. He would never guess she was in his hunting shack.
Nina closed her eyes and tried to ignore the irritation she was feeling. It almost felt like a grain of sand was lodged under her eyelid. Her lips felt chapped as well. Even though her entire body had been covered, the cold had found ways to breach her armor.
She rubbed her nub of a finger, trying to spark her anger, but it wasn’t enough to get her moving.
“I can’t afford to fall asleep, Sister,” she said, but she did.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Nina awoke shivering. The candle had gone out, and the shack was in darkness.
“No!” she cried, panicked that she’d sabotaged her plan.
But maybe it wasn’t too late. She lit the nub of a candle, put some food in her pack, and braced herself for the cold and the dark, and most of all, what awaited her.
She’d known that once the monster was on her trail, she wouldn’t be able to shake him. That’s why she was leaving the hunting shack. That’s why she was traveling in a direction that went against her every instinct.
She was glad for the darkness. Her eyes still hurt. And she didn’t want to see what she was walking into.
Nina picked her spot and made camp just before dawn. Her pupils felt as if they were sunburned. She resisted scratching at them.
She moved like a zombie, shuffling instead of walking, lurching instead of moving. Her thoughts were slow and lumbering, and she had to remind herself to complete the tasks at hand. She gathered wood and made a fire. Her eyes hurt, and she decided to cover them up by cutting off a piece of the tarp and making it into a bandana.
Blind man’s bluff, she thought. Or blind woman’s.
Nina hoped she’d set up her camp in time. Baer would have tracked her like he would any animal. He believed in stealth, and few things made him happier than delivering a kill shot to an unsuspecting creature. Baer believed a deliberate hunter was the best kind of hunter.
That’s why he wouldn’t have tried following her trail in the dark, or so she hoped. He knew his prey and wouldn’t have felt it was necessary to continue tracking her at night. He would have assumed she had no idea where she was going or what she was doing.
“Do I know what I’m doing, Sister?”
The coldness Nina felt wasn’t only from the elements.
She stayed close to the fire, only moving when absolutely necessary. The way she was hunched over, Nina knew she looked defeated. Her body shivered violently, and she thought, Someone just walked over my grave.
Or maybe a monster was looking at her through the scope of his rifle. She could feel a heat, first in the middle of her forehead, and then her heart. That’s how Baer liked to line up his shots. He picked the best angle and kill shot.
What was it he saw?
Would he shoot her from a long distance?
No. That wasn’t Baer’s way. He would want to humiliate her. He would enjoy sneaking up on her. He would want her to piss her pants.
Nina had tramped around the area, had done her best to make it look like her tracks were coming and going in several directions. If he suspected she’d been to his hunting shack, he might keep his distance.
Her face and ears were covered. She wouldn’t be able to see his approach or hear it. He w
ould take note of that. He would think she was snow-blind, or so she hoped.
But even then Baer wouldn’t make a direct approach. He’d circle around. He’d get downwind of her. And then he’d carefully move in, getting as close to her as he could without her knowing he was there.
Know your enemy, Elese had told her. She did.
Nina felt the telltale heat on the back of her neck. Nina was sure she was being watched.
She resisted the impulse to give in to her alarm, to remove the scarf and look around. It was one thing to imagine she was being watched, and another thing to confirm it. She needed to follow her plan, even though she knew at that moment she might very well be in Baer’s crosshairs. What if he announced himself with a shot? He might think her proper punishment was to put a bullet in her foot.
The baby will stop him from doing that, Nina thought. Baer wouldn’t chance hurting the baby. She prayed that was so.
How close was he? Because the scarf only loosely covered her ears, she could still hear. She didn’t think even Baer could approach unheard. When she walked, the icy snow crunched under her feet. She tried not to show in her posture how carefully she was listening.
There—that might be something. But it was a far cry from the crunching noise she made while walking. Baer, though, was more animal than human. Would he stalk his prey by crawling along?
Her whole body prickled as though a rake were going up and down her spine.
She’d witnessed how Baer liked to sneak up on his prey. It wasn’t only because he prided himself on getting an easy shot. It was his way of proving his superiority.
She fought the impulse to look around. He needed to believe she was a lamb ready to be led to slaughter. That was the story her body language needed to tell.
She couldn’t panic, scream, or run, no matter how hard her heart was racing. She had to be ready for his attack or touch or voice. She tried to control her breathing and her nerves. It wouldn’t do to hyperventilate now. The torture of just waiting was the hardest task of all. But this wasn’t a fright show where a dressed-up character was going to jump out and scream, “Boo!”
Here the threat was all too real, but she couldn’t let fear immobilize her. She would have to respond more appropriately to the threat.
Minutes passed. She began to believe she’d only imagined the noise. All of this time, she’d been relying upon a feeling. She hadn’t definitively identified Baer with any of her five senses. What if it was only her nerves that were talking?
She couldn’t linger in this spot much longer. Survival meant finding a way back to civilization.
Nina took a deep breath. The cold hurt her lungs. I need to get moving, she thought. But that wasn’t what her inner voice was telling her. She heard another sound. Or was it the wind?
So she waited. Hiding her anxiety made the wait that much harder. She swallowed down her scream. It was like holding down vomit.
And then a voice whispered in her ear, “Miss me?”
She reacted instantly, throwing herself away from the sound of his voice. As she rolled on the ground, she pulled the scarf from her eyes.
Baer was looking at her. He appeared to be disappointed that she hadn’t screamed. He must have been anticipating her terror and shock.
What he wasn’t anticipating was the gun she was holding.
“I give up,” said Baer, raising his arms and smiling his jackal’s grin.
Nina didn’t lower the gun. She centered it and pulled the trigger.
Nothing.
She pulled the trigger a second time. Another click.
“I guess you never learned about old ammo,” said Baer, “and cold ammo.”
As he lunged at her, Nina pulled the trigger again. This time there was more than a click.
Baer stopped in midmotion, neither advancing nor retreating. For a moment Nina wondered whether she’d missed. The shooting hadn’t gone as she’d planned. In her mind she’d imagined herself assuming a shooter’s stance and firing under control. Instead, she’d panicked and shot wildly.
One second there was nothing. In the next, the front of Baer’s jacket bloomed red. He staggered back, one uncertain step and then another. His hand reached down to his chest, and he looked at his blood-soaked glove.
“You stupid, lucky, fucking bitch,” he said.
“You need to work on your dying words,” said Nina.
Then she shot him a second time.
He backpedaled for several steps, but couldn’t find his balance. He fell to his knees. Nina watched him look around in surprise. Then he sprawled face-forward into the snow. The tracks she’d made in the pristine white snow filled with red.
Nina felt nothing except the cold.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Nina paused in midstep at the sound of a wolf howling nearby. Or maybe she was just hearing things. Distinguishing between what was real and what wasn’t was becoming increasingly difficult for her, as though she hovered between worlds.
“Is this what happened to you, Sister?” she asked. “Did the cold take away your will?” She wished she’d been able to ask Baer what had happened to Elese before he died.
Nina kept walking. By her calculations Manley Hot Springs was still at least thirty miles away. At the moment it might as well have been a million.
“I thought when I killed Baer, everything else would fall into place,” she said. “What I didn’t take into account was this place.”
The night before, she’d made it back to the hunting shack and slept for a long time.
In the morning she’d felt she could do this. The walk to Manley seemed possible, especially with the monster being dead.
Besides, what were her options? Going back to the cabin would have only delayed the inevitable death from starvation. And she didn’t want to kill the dogs in the hopes they’d provide enough meat to get her to spring and to safety.
“In running terms, I’ve hit the wall. My tank is empty. There aren’t even any fumes. Did you lie down in the snow, Sister? Did you curl up and go to sleep?”
She trudged forward a few more steps. “I shot him in cold blood, you know. But I have no regrets. The monster will never imprison another woman. The monster is dead. Maybe my heart has already turned to ice.”
She stopped walking and looked around. “Is it time?” she asked. “I keep lightening my load. It’s like I want to float off.” She’d rid herself of the pistol and the rifle she’d taken from Baer’s body. They were too heavy to keep carrying, and she was in no condition to hunt game. All of her will was focused on putting one foot in front of the other.
“Is it true the Native people used to deal with infirmity and old age by getting on an iceberg and floating away? That’s kind of what I’m doing now. Is that what you did, Sister? I think maybe I’d rather have a Viking burial, though. At least I’d have a fire.”
Nina began shaking her head. “That makes me think of Sam McGee. You must have heard that poem a million times as well.”
As much as she didn’t want to, she was hearing the words in her head. But she was hearing something else as well.
“It’s time for a fire,” she said.
It took Nina longer than she would have liked to gather the firewood and set everything up. The ephemeral daylight was already in retreat. She moved as if in a stupor, and although she tried to hurry her limbs, they only seemed able to respond with Frankenstein-like movements.
“Just like you suggested, Sister,” Nina said. “The rule of three.”
She finished compiling her third X. “X marks the spot,” she announced. And then she added, “I tried to make you proud.”
Even to her own ears, Nina sounded delirious. Everything had caught up to her: her tiredness, the cold, the shock. But she was going to see this fire blaze. It was too bad she’d be the only one to see it. Since fleeing Baer’s cabin, she hadn’t seen or heard a single aircraft.
“Maybe God will see my fire.” The fire resisted taking.
“Do
you remember the story of the Little Match Girl? With each strike of the match, she saw a different vision. And with each lit match, we learned of her hopes and dreams. And then with the lighting of her last match, her soul went to heaven. Should I be remembering my hopes and dreams like she did? I’ve never been much for looking back. I’ve always tried to look ahead.”
The fire finally caught. As the wood began to burn, Nina was surprised by the flames’ colors. “It must be the pitch and sap in the wood,” she said. “Look at those blue flames, green flames, and ruby-red flames! We’ve made a rainbow. Do you remember the Northern Lights? I don’t think I ever saw anything as pretty.”
She put part of a spruce bough atop a fire. The smoke darkened. Then she raised and lowered more greenery, sending smoke signals high into the air.
“I am here,” she said. “I was here.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Evan Hamilton covered his mouth and yawned. How in the hell had Martin talked him into this? He’d gotten up in the middle of the night and driven to Anchorage. Then he’d had to take a predawn flight to Fairbanks. Martin had said that was the most convenient airport from which to fly out just before sunrise. Of course, sunrise was around ten thirty in the morning. Not that the emerging sun put the cop in a better mood. He and Martin were flying to Bumfuck, Egypt, on another wild-goose chase. There was no putting it off, though. If you were to believe the National Weather Service, in the next twenty-four hours, a huge storm would be descending on Fairbanks and most of Alaska’s interior.
Hamilton looked out the window to the desolate winter landscape they were flying over, and he shook his head some more.
“Whenever I get in one of these small planes,” he said, “I can’t help but think I’m about a half inch from dying. I mean, that’s how thick the fuselage is, right?”
“You feel any better flying in a large jet?”
“I do. I always think I’m about an inch from dying.”
