Inside Voices

by Sarah Davis

  Pulling back from the memory, Penny countered with a shrug, “My mom was just playing around. She does that, you know?” She stroked Winter’s back as he walked beside her.

  “Yeah, I thought we were in for a good laugh,” he chuckled.

  “She had that black-and-blue mark on her forehead for quite a while.”

  “And you, though… ‘I don’t play very well.’” He pretended to twirl his hair, bumping his shoulder into hers as they walked.

  “Well, I would like to play better.” She pushed him away. “And I don’t twirl my hair.”

  “We can’t all play like Steve Vai,” he said. As far as Penny was concerned, Mr. Vai was one of the best guitarists of all time. “But if anyone could match him, it would be you.”

  “Aww, stop. I don’t have that kind of talent.” Penny failed to hold back her blush.

  “I’m just kidding. You’re alright.” Noah snapped his fingers.

  “Yeah, right? I can keep up with you, mister. That’s all that matters.”

  The fog gradually descended as the dogs played and worked off energy. Visibility fell to a quarter of a mile. The world held them close beneath a cloak of eerie half-twilight.

  Penny had quickly checked the data logger before heading out, just to make sure no bears were in the vicinity. Of course, untracked bears and other predatory beasts lurked in the tundra, but with over twenty dogs encircling the two humans, their risks were slight, so she hadn’t even considered bringing the handheld on the outing. After their lengthy and uneventful walk through the fog, they returned the horde to their respective areas in the backyard to begin feeding.

  Inside the shed, the dust motes rose and swirled around Penny in the washed-out light streaming through the two small windows. Abundant shelves and cabinets lined three and a half walls with sleds hung in between. Kennels, wheels, and other crates of supplies filled the cramped room. She collected two buckets from the countertop along the far wall facing the dog yard.

  When Noah returned from tethering the dogs to their houses, Penny handed him a bucket of canine entrée - a gourmet dish of whale blubber (or muktuk), white fish, and dog kibble. As they distributed the delightfully smelly meal, Penny worked to quieten the enthusiastic dogs with her mind, a feat that would leave her with a headache.

  The yard held rows of square wood dog houses. Each dog was tethered by a six-foot chain to a rough wood box house, arranged in groups of four. Several of the dogs stood on top of the houses barking and howling their anticipation.

  Once they were all fed, Penny ran back to her house to grab her guitar and a box of French Toast cupcakes she had made the night before, a special treat for her boss and his nephew. Noah waited with the dogs so that Winter and Blue could finish eating. When they arrived at Army’s house, where Noah also lived, Army greeted them at the door with a grave expression. He waited until they were all settled around the kitchen table before speaking. Blue and Winter curled up on the rug by the door.

  “Autopsy results came back,” he said. “About Kate.”

  Kate. Edgar’s owner.

  “Anything abnormal?” Noah asked him.

  “Yes…” Army ran a hand through his long, wet hair, unbound from the usual long black braid. “Kate died before the bear got to her.”

  Penny asked, “How?” A sense of dread settled on her shoulders. She leaned forward, pinning her arms between the table and covered her mouth with her hands.

  The authorities reasoned a polar bear, or bears, caused Kate Kingston’s death. She was the second victim of an attack that spring. Both were young women in their twenties, and were found in their hunting cabin. Only now one’s death could not be blamed on the white beasts.

  “There were marks around her neck indicating strangulation, but her spinal cord had also been cut, most likely with a scalpel. The mauling was postmortem but not very long after her death.” Army stood and began pacing. Noah leaned back heavily in his chair, his face ashen.

  “Wasn’t there another polar bear attack? Before I arrived? Ah, Rena, I think,” she asked. Army nodded in response. “Do you think that’s what happened to the other girl?” Penny asked.

  “Based on this discovery, the sheriff’s department is requesting an exhumation. Rena’s family declined an autopsy when Rena died, but they are willing to allow one now. I guess we'll see, but I suspect…well.” He exhaled and rubbed a hand down his neck, resting his other hand on the back of the chair. “I knew both girls. So did Noah. Rena lived here her whole life and Kate most of hers. Those two girls would have known better.”

  Trepidation settled along Penny’s spine. A person murdered. Possibly two people. Did that mean a killer lived in their midst? Her nightmares of an ominous, shadowy figure lurking in a shadowed background - were they warning premonitions instead of shadows of past nightmares as she had once thought? Was she sensing a great evil skulking about the town?

  Perhaps your gift is evolving, her sister considered. The vague dreams Penny had in Anchorage had intensified once they arrived in the North Slope community.

  Penny would not describe past nightmarish premonitions as a gift. Her life was shattered in Pasadena with the shooting that upset nearly the entire country. The one that took her father’s life.

  She had brushed off the recent nightmarish dreams that hindered her sleep as nothing more than bouts of fear and self-doubt brought on by living in a barren landscape. But they persisted.

  Yes. Look at today. Although it didn’t happen, I believe what you envisioned with Noah and the bear might have happened if you had not interfered. I don’t know why the visions have changed, but maybe it’s a good thing. Leave it to Lucy to see the good in the bad.

  The ever-present guilt over not having been able to stop the violent event in Pasadena gnawed at her. Her premonition had been of the aftermath, not the chain of events.

  Penny wondered then whether she should share her visions of the shadowed figure with Army and Noah or her mother. She didn’t understand the visions, nor could she make out details, just like before. No, surely they would find her strange. Or stranger. And her mother had her own worries; Penny had no desire to add to them. Besides that, the visions couldn’t be anything more than a response to anxiety or stress induced by the constant daylight. She stayed silent as Army and Noah discussed the possibility of a serial murderer. No other unresolved disappearances occurred in the past year, and no other polar bear attacks happened due to vigilance of the community and swift action of the Polar Bear Outreach and Patrol. Nothing that could be out of the ordinary like the two girls.

  Noah leaned closer to Penny.

  “You know, it might be best to stay on the safe side and take extra precautions. Safety in numbers and all that,” he said.

  Penny allowed a small, crooked smirk, exposing a dimple. “I can take care of myself.” Seeing the concerned looks working onto the two men’s faces, she added, “but I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “I haven’t noticed any strangers in the community. No one and nothing that stands out,” Army spoke, his gaze unfocused at the ceiling. “But that doesn’t mean much.”

  “A killer usually blends in well with the environment. Camouflage. Not unlike a polar bear, right?” said Penny, reminded of saying something similar to Sam that morning.

  “Perhaps the police will find some other clue, knowing what they know now. We aren’t going to figure anything out tonight.” Noah sniffed. “Come on. Let’s go play.”

  “Wait a sec. Brought you all snack.”

  Inside the box sat six delectable looking cupcakes, decorated with a swirl of cream cheese frosting. The warm aroma of cinnamon and maple infused the men's home. Eagerly, they grabbed a cupcake.

  “I think my life is complete,” Noah remarked, finishing off his second helping. Crumbs clung to his beard.

  Army said, “These are unbelievable. Where did you get them?”

  “I made them and can bring more by later.”

  “In that case…” Noah ate his
third and Army grabbed for the remaining cupcake.

  “I'll save this one for later. You kids have fun. Leave the door open so I can listen.” Army grinned and plopped down on the well-worn recliner in front of the television.

  Penny followed Noah down the stairwell into the underground bunker. Basements were unheard of in the tundra; the heat given off would cause a melting of the ground around the foundation and a whole mess of problems. The bunker gave off a feel of intense protection for both the bunker as well as the surrounding earth. Heavy rugs were strewn over the floor and hung on the walls like odd tapestries to help with sound during their playing. The one time she kicked aside one edge of a rug, she exposed metal plating. She had not yet asked to explore outside the room where they played their music.

  She took her newest guitar, a very expensive, very late birthday gift from her Aunt Bianca, from its case and tuned it.

  Penny suspected the guitar was part of her aunt’s divorce settlement (a Vegas rock guitarist), but who was Penny to look a gift horse in the mouth? The Laguna guitar was painted, giving the impression of smooth water ripples, transitioning from sapphire blue to turquoise and then to teal. Embedded along the fretboard were opalescent birds, wings out in various stages of flight. The icing on the cake was its name: Dragon Breath, her childhood nickname. And now, lucky girl that she was, many more opportunities for Dragon Breath existed.

  For a short time as Penny and Noah exercised their fingers along the tight strings of their guitars, strumming out their emotions in the melodies and harmonies, Penny was freed from her fears and dark thoughts.

  Colossal Attack

  “Oh, come on,” Penny said. “I didn’t go to the Wisteria Festival, the Avocado Festival…” She listed multiple other celebrations that her friend Liam attempted to get her to attend when she had lived in the L.A. area. Now, roughly three-thousand miles away, he was insisting she attend the spring whaling festival, or Nalukataq. Where she stumbled over the Native pronunciation, but he avoided pronouncing it altogether.

  “Penny.” Liam sounded exasperated on the phone. “You’ll be missing a cultural event. The chance to experience Inupiaq Eskimo traditions.” Penny pictured his shaggy blond hair shaking in frustration over her non-desire to venture out for a cultural event. Science, though? Now that would pull her any day.

  He has a point. Lucy joined the razzing.

  “You guys don’t understand. Being around lots of people…crowds make me claustrophobic. Plus, I’m an outsider. I don’t fit in. I’m not from here. I’m like a tourist.”

  “Didn’t you say two native Barrownians invited you?” Liam asked, his tone jealous.

  They had, in fact. However, Noah was currently in Prudhoe and unable to make the late-June festival. She felt the need to correct Liam's use of Barrow instead of Utqiaġvik, but withheld. It would not make a difference, only irritate him.

  “My puppy is getting big, Lee. Blue is already pulling a snow machine track around. Won’t be long before he can start to train with a team,” Penny said. At four months of age, he was gangly and rowdy, and was presently curled comfortably on her lap in her lower bunk instead of being tethered with the rest of the dogs outside. Her hand stroked his soft fur, light enough so as not to awaken him, although his ears flickered when she spoke his name.

  “That’s great, Pen. I picked up a puppy myself. Golden Retriever. Got it from a friend,” Liam said cutting her off when she began telling him of training her puppy to pull. “I know. Me and pets, yeah right?” He hadn’t been able to keep a fish alive longer than a week for years. “But mom is excited about having a dog.”

  Penny rolled her eyes at her friend. Years earlier, when the Osborns moved to sunny southern California, the twins had met Liam, who was a year older and a close neighbor. He asserted himself as the Osborn’s third child. The three grew to be exceptionally close, but Liam and Lucy took it a step further and began dating during high school. When Lucy became ill during the twin’s junior year of high school, she broke up with Liam. He never quite got over it. Over time, and with Lucy’s continued self-induced isolation, Liam clung tighter to Penny, but she refused anything more than friendship.

  When she could, she snuck in tidbits about her life in the cold north. Darting bears from the air, trying her hand at blogging about the team’s activities, running on the treadmills at the small workout facility in town (it was soul-sucking but unavoidable), reading research material, the horrendous onslaught of mosquitoes now that temperatures stayed slightly above freezing, walking and sledding with the dogs, and the latest fantasy novel she was reading.

  “How much work do you actually do?” he asked.

  Penny laughed, the light sound filling her artificially darkened bedroom.

  “Not much. Seriously though,” she confessed. “I have plenty of time to do other things and still find myself getting bored. I started writing like Lucy to fill in the gaps, but I might still need to find some other job to take up time when the tagging season finishes.”

  “Still playing guitar?”

  “Yeah. Turns out my boss - well, my team – has a band of their own. They are pretty stoked mother and I can play.”

  He snorted. “You still call her ‘mother?’”

  “You still call her ‘Mrs. Osborn.”

  “Touché. So, this Army, he plays guitar?”

  “No, he plays keyboard. And sings. Nice voice.”

  “Any other guitarists?” Liam probed.

  “Noah, Army’s nephew. He also gives guitar lessons, and because he spends three weeks here and then three weeks at the oil field in Prudhoe Bay, I keep everybody going while he is gone.”

  “Oh. So, you don’t get to hang out much then?”

  Oh my gosh, he is jealous! Lucy sniggered from the chair across the bedroom.

  He isn’t, Penny disagreed, her eyebrows drawn together in a scowl.

  So, tell him you two hang out all the time.

  We do not! Penny retorted.

  Oh, okay.

  “Yeah Lee, we hang out. He is a bit older than us, but we have similar interests, I guess. He lives next door with his uncle, my boss. And we do work together. You’d like him.”

  There was a long pause on Liam’s end, and Lucy chimed in that Liam would in fact not like Noah. Penny ignored her twin and checked a notification on an incoming message on her phone from her mother.

  Mother: Hey girl, head to the beach. Bowhead hauled in!

  “Sorry, Liam, gotta run. My mother is calling me,” she said, a bit ashamed of her relief to end the call.

  After their goodbyes, Penny grabbed a warm jacket and headed out. Lucy declined going, opposed to the harvesting of the magnificent creatures no matter that the harvest was for sustenance of the Native population. She insisted that currently, most shipping companies delivered better tasting and smelling food within days. Penny declined to argue that particular point; the aroma was something she didn’t care for either but dealt with every time she fed the dogs. The ritual harvesting of whale and seal provided sustenance for those who had made the arctic climate their home for tens of thousands of years.

  Discussions during college classes in Anchorage focused on the status of the arctic ice or rather the extreme loss of it and the effects on the local populations. Many of the lectures touched on research that predicted ice-free summers at the North Pole within the next twenty to thirty years. Penny attended a summer field trip to Kaktovik to observe wildlife on Barter Island. It had been an exhilarating and eye-opening trip to experience firsthand the devastating effects of the warming arctic.

  It was during this excursion that she met Army, with his PhDs in everything. A resident of Utqiaġvik, he gave lectures on climatic transformation at the UAA. Penny took the opportunity to talk with him about arctic work during the trip. His research focused on climate changes, trends in melt and freeze of arctic ice, and the current population decline and adaptation of arctic species. He appeared especially animated about assisting polar bears in a
ttaining the endangered status.

  Bill and Rita met Penny at her vehicle, and together they walked to the beach. Rita was wearing a fluorescent pink, short-sleeved t-shirt that complimented her ever-changing blue eyes. Today, her eyes were the color of new ice. Bill wore his trademark black sweatshirt. Penny wondered at how they ever became a couple.

  “Opposites attract, don’t you know, Penny? Bill and I are like magnets,” Rita said without prompting when Penny first met her.

  Rita did not play a musical instrument, or at least hadn’t since high school, but she made an enthusiastic audience of one, claiming she could listen to Bill beat on the drums for hours.

  As they walked to the beach, Bill’s characteristic deep voice rose as he shared that the whale was the last for the spring season. Wings of nervousness fluttered in Penny’s belly. Although she often glimpsed pods of whales from overhead when she was flying, this was her first up close and personal with a fresh bowhead whale carcass.

  A large crowd gathered around the even larger whale carcass. Penny knew it to be 38°F, but many people worked in short-sleeved shirts. The hazy air warmed as they drew closer. Steam rose about the workers as they made their cuts on the beast. The equipment used to haul it ashore stood off to the side, behemoths in their own right. It was close to 9:45 p.m., but as usual in late June, the sun made it appear closer to early afternoon.

  The leviathan’s carcass lay on the beach where workers cut and pulled long rectangular slabs of white blubber away from it. Penny eyed the slabs critically, wondering at the cleanliness as it laid on the ground while people milled about.

  Bill and Rita distracted her by pointing out the Game and Fish technician, deep in discussion with Eelyn and Army. Rita broke from their little group to chat with the G&F official, while Eelyn excused herself to join Penny and Bill.

  Penny’s attention focused on the small children that ran about, screaming and laughing. One child with black pigtails squatted down beside the dark blueish-black skin of the carcass, digging her hands into a red puddle. She suddenly slapped both palms against the whale’s skin, leaving behind two perfect bloody handprints.