by Sarah Davis
Penny picked up her pace to the treatment area. She did not notice the staff paused in their motions, fear, and pain etched onto their faces as they focused on her mother who stood leaning against a doorframe, her face as white as the wall behind her.
No…
A heavy weight draped itself over her shoulders, an oppressive cloak, that made it difficult to breathe. Something else happened. Something more than she’d dreamt.
“An explosion?” her mother choked out.
Oh my God …Penny clutched at her head, sucking in a rugged breath. No, not daddy.
Not her father.
Dr. Eelyn Osborn let the phone drop from her hand and a technician close by picked up the dangling receiver and placed it back on the wall. Mother reached out to daughter.
“Penny,” she cried. “Oh, Penny. There was an attack at the hospital. Ben—” her mother choked on a sob— “he didn’t make it. He died. Your father’s dead.” Eelyn pulled Penny tight against her while sobs shook the woman’s lean frame.
No, no. He can’t be dead. He just hasn’t had time to call us.
At least Lucy stayed home today. Aunt Bianca, their mother’s sister, had arrived for a week-long visit to pick out dresses for her upcoming wedding to the guitarist and would be home with Lucy. She escaped the carnage…but no, of course, she had seen…through Penny, through their bond, their link.
Their mother slid down the wall, pulling Penny with her.
Penny, can you hear me? came the whisper of Penny’s identical twin in her mind.
Lucy, oh Lucy. Penny’s sluggish thoughts seemed like wading through molasses. You are alright! Penny’s weeping intensified.
Penny, I’m here now. Tell me what happened. Lucy urged, the fear in her voice crushing Penny’s spirit.
Our father. Daddy. He’s gone, Lu. He’s gone!
TWO YEARS LATER
Edge of the World
“Penny, hand me the sponge forceps,” Dr. Osborn requested, her face mask muffling her voice.
Penny reached across the pale blue surgical drapes that covered the anesthetized dog and found the clamp that was needed on the neatly arranged tray. She palmed the cool steel shank and handed it to her mother, handle first.
The longer Penny stood at the table in the stifling blue surgery gown, the more sweat beaded and ran down her neck. The muscles in her right calf cramped and she wished in vain she had taken a few extra moments to stretch after her early morning run before answering her mother's call for surgical assistance. Luckily, the slow, rhythmic whoosh of the ventilator covered any whimper that might have escaped Penny’s lips. Her mother, understanding as she was, wouldn’t appreciate an interruption of her concentration. Penny stretched out her leg as best she could while standing and retracting the abdominal wall of Fred the dog.
Her mother spoke, mostly to herself, providing something like a running commentary. “Okay…would you look at that…oh, boy…you would think…at least they paid closer attention this time…”
The mixed-breed dog on the table had eaten two socks and a pair of little girl underwear. Doc Vincent Utqiaġvik (Barrow), Alaska’s sole veterinarian, removed underwear from the dog three months earlier, just a month before Penny and her family arrived in May. Her mother worried there would be adhesions and scarring to complicate the operation.
Not saying much for the dog’s tastes, Lucy commented in Penny's thoughts. “His intestines look much better than what Vincent documented in the file. Less inflammation. The old incisions healed well,” her mother said.
Penny envisioned Fred’s folder and the handwritten notes in Doc Vincent’s surgical report. She had snuck a look at it before the surgery. An “old schooler,” he refused to use modern technology, like a computer, when a pen would suffice. Penny’s exposure to years of her mother’s atrocious scribble at home, and while working as her assistant, made it easy to decipher the aged doctor’s notes. Indeed, the reddened intestines presented with a better prognosis than those the color of grape juice with spots of yellow peritonitis. Amazingly the dog had pulled through with a complete recovery from the first surgery.
The iron tang of blood overpowered the disinfectant scent of the small surgery room. It surrounded Penny, and she imagined it collecting on her exposed skin, absorbing and working through the many cracks in the mental barrier she built and fortified over the years. She swallowed hard and closed her eyes for a moment, forcing back unwelcome memories.
Clearing her throat, she returned her attention to her mother preparing to suture the abdominal incision. Penny piled the sponges into a neat pyramid. Once she counted twice and was certain all were accounted, she began cleaning up, following a protocol she learned when she was twelve. Turning all garbage into her used gloves, she aimed and tossed her make-believe ball into the garbage can, with her blue surgical gown and cap following. She heaved a sigh of relief as her dark hair fell free from its constraints and hung in her typical ponytail.
Finally, air flow.
After a quick wash, she returned to the room’s sole surgical table to check Fred’s level of anesthesia. Per her mother’s instructions, Penny altered fluid rates and administered medications to help ease recovery and prevent pain. She began tidying up the room, hopeful it would speed things up.
Her mother's presence was essential on today’s flight. The removal of a polar bear’s tracking collar required a veterinarian to oversee the tranquilization, health monitoring, and reversal of sedation.
The sooner they were airborne, the sooner Penny could focus on her own. The only thing preventing Penny from performing the same job as her mother on this trip was her lack of credentials. The countless hours spent assisting her mother over the years lent her a glimpse behind the curtain, as it were, but led to Penny’s understanding that her path did not follow the same as her mother’s.
Penny mentally listed her week’s duties.
Begin the prelim report for research paper, check on the status of females with COYs (cubs of the year), guitar lessons with Noah’s students, catch up on Army’s blog, get Blue started on pulling heavier loads, hopefully weather cooperates for more flyovers…
Aren’t you forgetting flying to the moon, tea with the prince, and rescuing the last viable dragon egg from the alternate universe? Lucy asked.
Penny smiled. She and her sister communicated telepathically. In fact, she couldn’t recall a time when her sister wasn’t in her head. She was rarely distracted by the faint tingle in her skull signaling her sister’s presence. Their mute conversations filled any emptiness in Penny’s wakeful hours.
Early on, and into their childhood, her sister Lucy struggled with verbal speech. Practice, practice, practice was the best way for her to improve. The rule stuck until those times when the twins were too loud. Then their mother or father would tell them to use their inside voices. Of course, this meant something quite different than the common understanding of not yelling inside.
One hour later, Penny went in search of Sam Little, the clinic’s everything man. He cleaned kennels, cleaned the facility, took dogs out for walks, checked on animals during evening hours, and even answered phones. He did not assist in surgeries unless absolutely necessary, and only during his normal work hours. Today was an exception as he covered for Linda, the clinic’s only technician. He was taking care of Linda’s weekend animal caretaker duties so she could visit her sister in Juneau. He had an engaging smile, one he showed often and, although he was their mother’s age, Penny and her sister found him charming and very easy on the eyes.
“It really is crazy what some animals will eat,” she murmured.
Yeah, remember that corgi back in Pasadena, the one that ate nine used tampons?
That poor puppy was so sick, even after the surgery. Mother didn’t expect her to make it, Penny responded.
Mother expects everything to die, especially right after she works on it. Easier to take the loss, if expected.
Penny rolled her eyes as she thought of her mother. Lucy
was right. That woman never sugarcoated anything when it came to patient prognosis. There had been many times a tender lie would have sufficed over the blunt, probable truth.
Taking a steadying breath, Penny smoothed the wrinkles that resided between her eyebrows with her fingertips. Inhale peace, exhale pessimism.
“You okay?” Sam appeared in front of her in the hallway to the kennels, one eyebrow raised over his icy blue eyes. She noted the buzz cut of his hair and wondered if it would be curly or straight hair should he ever grow it past a half inch length.
“Yeah. Ah, thanks.” She presented her best smile.
“So,” he leaned against the wall and placed his hands in his pockets, “I guess you’re studying up to be a vet like your mom, are you?”
“No,” she said.
“No? Don’t like fixin’ up animals?” A tiny bit of southern drawl snuck into his otherwise local accent.
“Oh, I like helping her. Great mother-daughter bonding,” she replied wryly, considering plenty of their bonding was over a surgical table. She suddenly found it difficult to meet his gaze. She didn’t care for the unexpected twists and turns with which her mother dealt. The emergencies, the different types of owners. Realizing her thoughts were running away with her, she mentally shook herself and made eye contact with Sam. “I’m leaning more toward a career in arctic marine biology.”
“Polar bears aren’t as cuddly as on the holiday commercials, though, are they?” his grin shrewd.
“No, they are rather amazing predators, though.” Her heartbeat quickened thinking about the thrill of seeing a polar bear, much less standing beside one. She knew not everyone landed their dream job. She never really imagined she’d have such a prospect when she started at the University of Alaska-Anchorage three years earlier. Opportunities were very rare due to tough competition for limited funding.
“Well, you be careful out there,” he said as he stepped away from the wall.
“Yes, sir. Here.” She held up the bag and shook it. “Can you hang this by Fred’s kennel? Mother wanted to show the owners later.”
“Little girl’s underpants. And a couple of socks,” he clucked his tongue. “Wonder if ol’ Fred will be back a third time? I remember the first time he came in.” Sam shook his head. “Ah, well. Nothin’ doing. I’ll take care of these and the patient. Army’s here. Been waiting outside for you,” he said giving her a smile and a slight wave as he walked away.
Penny jogged to the end of the hall and opened the side door of the clinic. The bright sun greeted her while the 40°F chill took her breath away. It was 7:30 a.m. yet the constant presence of the mid-June sun gave the impression of mid-day. She waved, then held up five fingers to her boss, research leader, Native Alaskan, professor, and neighbor, Dr. “Army” Armstrong Volkov.
Army nodded from inside the black, jacked-up, twin-cab truck. Grey exhaust puffed out of the straight pipes. The bone-rattling grumble guaranteed it was not a vehicle made for sneaking around in, unless you lived near an erupting volcano. Penny loved it and hated it at the same time. There was irony in studying an (almost) endangered species, due to the warming arctic, while driving a loud, exhaust-spewing monstrosity. Army insisted the truck was not as bad as it sounded or looked. His nephew, Noah, modified it to be better for the environment. Better didn’t equal beneficial. But then again, when living at the top of the world, you made do with what you had.
Back inside, Penny attempted to stretch out her still-cramping leg, tendrils of dark hair hat escaped her ponytail tickled her face whenever she bent forward.
I really, really, really hope this dog figures out little girls’ clothing is not good to eat. Don’t care to do this again. This girl has her own job to attend to!
Her proclaimed five minutes ticked by. Penny stretched her soreness to almost the point of relief. She searched for her absent mother and found her in the small clinic office. Eelyn was changed and getting her coat on.
“Hurry up, pokey,” Penny said. “Flight is being delayed for your slow self.”
Eelyn groaned as she stood up, nearly every joint popping in the process. “Just let me grab this,” she said while reaching for an open yogurt container.
“Utensils aren’t that expensive here, mother, especially if you wash them afterwards.” Penny lifted an eyebrow and shook her head at Eelyn's use of a tongue depressor for a spoon.
Eelyn snorted. “Oh, but hurry, hurry, hurry” she said, her arms pumping in a fake run. Spikes of her short pixie-like hair bounced before Eelyn pulled a knit hat onto her head. They were a contrast. Although the same height, Penny was lean with long espresso colored hair where her mother was softer with mousy-brown hair. The softness was deceiving, though, as Penny had seen her mother pull calves, wrangle tiger cubs, and carry large dogs without breaking a sweat.
She and Penny locked eyes as slow smiles spread across both their faces. Eelyn reached up and placed a warm hand against Penny’s check, her thumb caressing one of the two dimples that Penny and her sister inherited from their father.
“I just need to speak with Sam. Will be quick,” Eelyn said, breaking the moment. Penny stifled a sigh.
As they approached him in the hallway, Sam waved his hands.
“Go on, git going. Everything will be fine. I got it,” Sam muttered, shooing them out into the cold.
Penny took a deep breath of the beautiful Sunday morning. Releasing it slowly, for a moment she imagined herself the dragon she pretended to be as a child.
At least her nose wasn’t freezing up like when she first arrived mid-May. They were in the middle of a significant heatwave right now in mid-June, with temperatures expected to stay above freezing and even reach the sixties by the end of the month.
“Come on, dragon breath,” her mother said as she tugged on Penny’s grey down jacket.
Penny broke out another eye-squinting grin, put on her sunglasses, and jogged to the truck. She was not yet used to the constant light that infused the area, even though most days were overcast, or a hindering fog encased the oppressed landscape. Today was a welcome oddity: clear skies and little wind.
It would be a good day to tag polar bears.
“Pablan, Penelope. Ready to hunt Nanuq?” Army asked as she hauled herself into the back seat.
She responded with a broad smile and a nod. "Please, call me Penny, Dr. Armstrong."
"Only if you call me Army."
Army drove the three of them from Doc Vincent’s clinic near the center of town, south to the airport where Army’s helicopter and two other passengers awaited them. The unusually clear, endless blue sky fused at the horizon with the slate blue of the sea as Army drove out of town along the coast. While Eelyn and Army chatted away amiably in the front, Penny directed her attention to her intended research on arctic species’ acclimation to the warming north and what impact the exhaust-spewing vehicle had on said environment.
Funny how you can’t research something without making an impact on it in some way, thought Lucy.
Yeah, funny … not funny.
The scenery drew her attention from her thoughts. Houses stood above the ground on pilings to keep the heat away from the tender tundra, as if pulling up their pants against the wet ground. While shades of grey and whitewashed out the scenery, here and there, muted colors caught her eye…a faded teal home, a bright red truck, a yellow four-wheeler, a sign with bright green lettering. Many yards held varying degrees of junk. A refrigerator scrapped out for parts. Three sorry-looking snow machines in obvious stages of disrepair or dismantle. The newer parts of town to the north didn’t have as many such lawn decorations, but no matter the money coming in from oil drilling, the town was a bit too far off the beaten path for the majority to ship parts overnight. Residents sensibly used what was available for parts.
Her fingers found the pocket-sized figurine of a polar bear she carried in her jean pocket. Their parents had given them a set of arctic animal figurines for their fifth birthday. Disgusted, Penny gave the penguin back to
her parents, much to their delight. Lucy confiscated the polar bear and marked the cheek with a black marker, much to Penny’s displeasure. On presenting it to Penny as if bestowing a precious gift, Lucy announced that the bear was Penny’s guardian, and she must always keep it close. And Penny had.
Although her sister did not dream of future events like Penny, she only recently inclined to ask why her sister had made those marks. Three small marks. Scars across the left cheek. Lucy avoided answering, instead referring to the guardian nonsense.
Since moving to Alaska for college, glimpses of the scarred polar bear snuck into Penny’s dreams. And the more recent move to Utqiaġvik had resulted in an increase in dream sightings. Be that as it may, Lucy presented no further answers on why she had marked the bear figurine all those years ago nor had any idea why Penny was now seeing the bear in her dreams.
The sight of the partially open ocean, when visible between the buildings, drew Penny’s focus back to the day’s work. It stretched out away from town, a vast grey mass, unfriendly, uninviting. Especially for the bears that relied on the ice for hunting.
The black truck pulled up to the airport where the other three team members lounged in the hangar office.
Noah Volkov, Army’s nephew, was seven years Penny’s senior. An army veteran too, he worked security in Prudhoe Bay on a three-week-on/three-week-off rotation. During his off time, he flew helicopter for hire, assisted his uncle and the team, or tinkered on some machine or another. Penny had spent less time working with Noah and more time playing guitar with him. He didn’t pry, didn’t find the need to fill silence with words, and she found his aloofness comforting. His unique eyes still gave her the chills, slate blue with an inner vibrant ring of green.
Winter, Noah’s constant canine companion when he was not in Prudhoe, had amber-colored eyes set within his wedged-shaped face. His ears were black, as was the band that draped across and down his back, ending at a black tail tip. The colors blended smoothly to varied shades of grey and white throughout the rest of his body. Lanky and thin, there was a lot of body to fill out. From nose to rump he was longer than any dog Army had, close to five feet long. And he was a wolf-hybrid.