by Sarah Davis
“I remember seeing the news reports. I’m so sorry, but it’s not your fault. You didn’t pull the trigger, Penny.” He pulled down his sleeping bag and reached a hand across to rub her shoulder.
“The shooters switched vehicles and drove a stolen ambulance to the hospital my father worked at.” Still, after all these years, the grief swelled. She didn’t even try to hold back her tears.
“Two of the shooters distracted police at the entry, while the new kid was taken into the ER for an evaluation. And my father was the first to…” Penny cleared her throat and stared at the light of the flashlight to thwart the tears. “The kid was wearing a suicide vest. He detonated it and destroyed half the hospital. My father didn’t make it.”
She rolled back onto her back, her stretching silence broken by the light breeze that lifted the tarp above their heads, as tendrils of smoke reached up to kiss the stars. Blue shifted near her legs.
“He used to take my sister and me hunting for bear when we lived in Wisconsin. Not actual bear, we were little kids then. He would put teddy bears inside colored plastic bags and hide them in snowdrifts. Then he would help us track the bears to their snow caves, and we would dig them out. Lucy always said she ‘loved her bear so hard’” Penny broke off to shake her head and chuckle. “My father, he possessed such a love for the outdoors. My parents met in Alaska, and we took a family trip there once, before Lucy got sick. We decided to return one day to live, once my sister and I finished school. I applied for college in Anchorage…and well, we decided to continue our plans after father died.” She reached up, her black gloved hand swiping at the wispy clouds that drifted overhead, obstructing her view of the stars. She failed.
Noah said, “We lived in Washington state for many years.”
Penny nodded. This she remembered.
He went on. “It was alright. Very green and wet, but I craved the place of my birth.” She heard the smile in his face. “I spent many summers with Army. He was more than an uncle, more like a father. When my parents passed away, moving here seemed the only real option for me.”
A dog woofed in its sleep. The aurora seemed to respond, jetting radiant bursts of pink and green bands skyward. A second dog howled, sparking a chain reaction. The hairs on the back of Penny’s neck rose in response to the melancholy serenade.
Noah’s words came more softly, as if trying not to interrupt the music. “I joined the army after school. Spent six years. During the first round of active duty, I was wounded. Took a hit in my shoulder. I spent three months recovering in Australia. It is amazing down there. I would like to go there again.”
His admission to being wounded was not lost on her. That explained his habit of gripping and rolling his right arm. She thought it a nervous twitch or something, and perhaps it still was.
He spoke then of his brief adventures in Australia, when he wasn’t in the hospital for surgery or rehab. She wasn’t sure about the number of poisonous insects and snakes, much less the crocodiles and…
“You are aware we are camping in prime polar bear territory, right?” he teased after she voiced her fear of deadly creatures less than one inch in length.
Sobering thought, that.
“I will admit that Australia is on my bucket list. Red sand and kangaroos and misty green mountains. My favorite show of all time took place in the Great Dividing Range.”
“Which one is that?”
She told him. “It’s based on a poem by Banjo Patterson.”
Eventually he circled back to talking about being in the military. Stationed out of Fort Wainwright, his active duty took him into the Middle East and South Pacific. He saw a great many wonderous places; Penny felt by omission the many terrible sights he also witnessed. He would serve his country all over again if he was needed. But it took great effort to deal with the experiences, many of which he was not allowed to speak of. “Top secret” and the like.
She bittersweetly talked about gliding with her father. How she and her mother would go rock climbing some weekends with her sister. She talked about her and Lucy’s first tattoos when they were sixteen—how her mother took them to the tattoo parlor.
“Really, I think mother just wanted another. That’s when I got the dragon on my ankle.”
“When did you get the others?” he asked.
“I dreamt about my father the night before his funeral. These enormous, beautiful, white wings embraced him. I couldn’t get that image out of my head, so I had them inked before I left California. The little polar bear,” she absentmindedly touched her arm, “down in Anchorage, before I moved to Utqiaġvik.”
Noah asked to see them all again. Penny laughed. “No way in this cold.”
“What? It is warm enough that you can’t see your breath. Look.” He breathed out slowly, the white fog giving away the lie. She giggled.
“You show me yours, then, tough guy,” she said.
“Nope, not tonight.” The wind whipped around them deep into the night as Noah shared his own adventure stories about rock climbing during high school. He enjoyed the open air and the sweet agony his muscles experienced. He and a buddy once spent the night in a hanging tent.
“Vertical camping, we called it. We would hang about two-thousand feet up the cliff face. But that wasn’t the scariest part of that trip. The next morning, I reached up for a hand hold and grabbed onto a snake sunning itself along the ridge we climbed.” Apparently, he really didn’t like snakes. Just the memory gave him chills. “Good thing about this cold weather is the extreme lack of snakes.”
“Do you still see your friend that you went camping with?” she asked, thinking he sounded like a fun guy. The silence stretched out until she peered over at Noah. “Hey, you okay?”
“Nick committed suicide after he got out of the army. We were planning a trip to discuss him re-enlisting. He was having trouble readjusting at home. But we never did make that camping trip.”
“When life becomes the blackest, sometimes we only see the way out of this life. Where it may bring relief for the one in the darkness, it never makes it easier for those left behind. But like the tree that loses its leaves and stands barren and naked against the cold, eventually the warmth returns and with it renewed spirit.” she said. “I’m so sorry, Noah. And I’m sorry for all that you have gone through.”
The solemn words echoed in the quiet. The dogs’ howling had subsided, and the rising, waxing moon quelled the auroral display.
He reached over and squeezed her hand, the bulk of their gloves unable to hold back the tingles that crept up her arm with his action.
“I’m sorry, too. But I would do it again if that path led me to you.”
Mother
On Mischief Night, or the night before Halloween, Penny went out in the early afternoon, taking advantage of the mere six hours of daylight to run a small eight-dog team - not to create mischief of any kind but to get the most out of the shrinking daylight hours. During one leg of the venture, she turned into the wind, which forcefully whipped at her face causing her to halt the team to readjust her goggles and face mask. As the dogs pulled on their harnesses, Penny double-checked her ground spike holding the sled in place. The sudden increase in the frenzied chorus made her take notice, and her sweeping gaze caught on the polar bear digging in the snow along a grey rocky outcrop not far from where they had stopped. She was momentarily transfixed by the scene.
Thankfully, the wind was in the bear’s favor, and it neither heard nor cared about their proximity. Penny pulled the reluctant dogs away and traveled swiftly in the opposite direction.
The next day, Penny convinced Noah to go for a short run down the coast on the snow bikes, secretly planning to go by the same spot. Noah was more than happy to indulge.
Although anxious to share her finding, she withheld until they stopped on a ridge downwind of the spot. They argued in hushed tones about getting closer before Noah acquiesced and followed Penny up the ridge on foot, pushing the bikes along the way. He checked his pack to m
ake sure the bear spray was easily accessible. After parking the bikes, they crawled up to the top of the ridge. Both pulled out binoculars as Penny gestured in the general direction where she saw the bear yesterday.
Several minutes of quiet passed. The wind blew in their faces while they scanned the vast shore that reached out for miles. Under the overcast sky and offshore fog, the land was a tumbled mix of shades of white and grey. Through her binoculars, Penny spotted the dig marks and the entrance hole, no more than a darker area on the leeward side of the exposed rock outcropping.
“There,” she pointed.
He scanned the area for several minutes, the wind pulling any noise they made away. There was no activity to be observed. Penny scanned the entire area to make sure the big female was not sneaking up behind them for a snack.
They returned the short distance to the bikes and drove off, heading back into town. After cruising the streets, they finally pulled up to his aunt’s restaurant, The FrostBite.
Noah followed Penny inside, the warm air enveloping them in a suffocating embrace. The cute waitress took their orders of hot chocolate and sweet rolls, barely taking her eyes off Noah. When she finally retreated, he asked Penny to explain the trip and her secrecy. As she did, she asked him if it could have been a denning mother.
The waitress, Kitty—per her nametag—placed cups in front of them.
“One for you and one for your sister.”
Penny was confused. We don’t look alike, do we?
No, she is trolling her line, hoping for a bite, Lucy thought.
Oh.
“Fortunately she’s not my sister,” Noah said and winked at Penny.
The waitress retreated.
He leaned back and pulled his hands through his hair, waves crashing back down around his face. He stretched and then asked why they had ridden out to look at a polar bear. Hadn’t they tracked enough of them already for the year?
“I think it was a female, Noah. I checked, but she wasn’t a chipped or collared bear. Do you think we can keep checking on her? Maybe set up a camera?” The prospect of witnessing the female and cubs emerge in early spring excited her, although how to time it eluded her. Once the snow began to accumulate and blow around, setting up a camera would be a challenge. Perhaps they could secure a camera to a metal post…
No Penny, Lucy thought to her. Not a good idea to be around a polar bear momma and her babies.
He puffed out his cheek in slight exasperation. Noah echoed Lucy’s thought and continued, saying that because of the short days and stormy weather approaching, it would be unsafe to venture back. A severe storm was anticipated in the next several days, bringing with it the possibility of a record snowfall for this early in the season. He thought it best to make note of the location to avoid in the spring unless in an enclosed vehicle or in the air. Ever the voice of reason.
“Look. I mean it. Be safe.” Noah tapped her fingers. “Don’t do anything stupid like go looking for a polar bear on your own.”
Penny nodded. Of course, I’ll be safe. I’ll take you with me. “Any more word on the women’s killer?” she asked.
Noah frowned as he shook his head. “Nothing. Army said they are looking into missing women reports from surrounding communities and have contacted the FBI. No leads yet. What about your visions? Anything new?”
“No.”
“Meditation still not helping?”
Penny cringed. She had tried meditation since the night Army gave her pointers. Some. A bit. She sighed. “No, I’m not having great luck with it. Usually find myself waking up an hour or two later without any new visions.”
A vicious blizzard it turned out to be. The snow came down in great sheets, encasing the tundra in white. Army ran a rope line from the dog shed to each house to make sure chores could be safely done. Penny never imagined such a loss of sight and hearing that the blinding snow and howling winds brought. She coordinated with Noah to visit the dog shed together and messaged Eelyn prior to their departures. And upon arriving safely in their homes, Penny and Noah notified each other through messages.
On the second morning of the blizzard, Eelyn walked out of her bedroom to find Penny typing away on a report.
“What is this horrid music?” Eelyn asked, her face twisted in a grimace.
“You don’t like it?”
Eelyn cocked her head as if trying to determine from whence it came and to where she should run. “Are we preparing for a sacrifice to the ancient gods?”
“No. Not today at least.”
“Then I don’t think I’ll make it a preset music selection.” Eelyn shook her head as she poured a cup of coffee. She turned and leaned against the counter, blowing the steam from her cup.
“Are you happy we moved here, mother?” Penny asked. The ritual-like drumbeats and throaty warbling ended, and a haunting folk song took its place.
Eelyn’s eyes were focused on some distant memory for a moment before shifting and turning to her daughter. “Happy? Now that I’ve been hooked by archaic folk music, I’m ecstatic.”
“Gah,” Penny said and turned her music off. “Seriously.”
“Seriously. I think I might like this band. I mean, it matches the desolate, starving environment we live in, yeah right? Although it seems like it would be more fitting in a different cold land with active volcanoes and great sheets of slowly moving ice and Scandinavian longboats.” At the look on Penny’s face, Eelyn relented. She sat down at the table across from Penny and pulled her fuzzy robe tight. “I am glad we came. Two years isn’t that long, really. While winter will be tougher than back in Anchorage, I think we will manage.”
Penny nodded. “But are you glad you tagged along?”
“Yes. I’m grateful for the experience and to be with my family. Someday I’ll be an empty nester while you go off on some grand adventure.” Eelyn had reached across the table and laid her hands upon Penny’s.
“Some days I catch myself thinking of father. And it catches me up, how long it might have been since the last time I thought of him.”
“He would have enjoyed being here too, right?” Eelyn rubbed Penny’s hand before leaning back in her chair. “That you think of him less doesn’t mean you think lesser of him. He is always here,” she patted her chest, “and here,” she tapped her temple. “We have awesome memories to draw from.”
Wounds heal with time, but scars - visible or not - remind us of the journey, chimed her sister.
“How about you, dear? Do you like it here?”
“Very much.”
Her mother shot her a wry smile, her eyes twinkling. “It’s the scenery, isn’t it?”
Before Penny could reply, Eelyn continued. “The flat expanses rippling with bogs and streams during the summer. The snow and ice of the winter.” Oh, so she hadn’t meant Noah. “The brawny men. I mean, Noah is—”
“A little young for you, mother,” Penny interjected.
A snort was her reply. “But not for you, dear.”
The heat rose in Penny’s neck, a blush she was unable to prevent.
“Anyway, as much as I love it here, I need a break. At least, that is what your aunt figures. She booked me a flight down to Vegas. I will be staying with her for a week to help her move her things to Pasadena. She’s going to rent our old house.”
“Cool. I remember you mentioning that earlier. When are you leaving?”
“Well, depending on the storm, this Friday. Bianca bought a ticket this morning.”
The announcement took Penny aback.
“So soon?”
“You know your aunt…” Eelyn said, an eyebrow raised high.
Penny did know her aunt. Aunt Bianca was loyal to a fault and unquestionably credulous when it came to men. She was coming off her fourth marriage. Penny’s latest guitar, the Laguna, had been a gift from Aunt B and her recent ex-husband, a guitarist in a Vegas band. A very wealthy guitarist who insisted Aunt B not work and just follow him around like a puppy. When that became too difficult for
her to do, he moved on to a new puppy, or rather, woman. Aunt B acquired one heck of a lawyer and half of everything he owned was now hers with an additional monthly alimony. She quickly liquidated the material items, and along with alimony from her third husband, was retiring to Pasadena it seemed for however long it was until the next boyfriend.
“No worries. We will be fine without you for a few days. Besides, you need a break. Go get refreshed before you must help keep us sane for two months without the sun.”
“I am a bit nervous about leaving you, with the murdered girls and such.”
“I am very capable of taking care of myself. We have Blue and Edgar, who are both excellent guard animals.” Edgar puffed up with her mention of him. “Besides, Noah and Army are next door.”
“I could ask Sam to stop by, too,” Eelyn offered.
“Why? Army and Noah are next door. I’m sure Noah will be here visiting every day when you are gone.” Penny attempted a joke, but they both knew he would be over every day. “I would rather Sam not stop over. I don’t know him very well.”
“Don’t look at me like that, neither do I. He and Rose are still dating, I think.”
She got up and hugged her mother. “We will miss you. And don’t worry. I will be perfectly safe.”
Cub
Penny had a vision, late the night before Eelyn was to fly out. As her mind wandered amidst the depths of a deep sleep, her translucent self detached from her sleeping body and floated in the air. She lifted her hands in front of her face, able to see the land through her fingers. In the cold, she failed at warming her hands with her breath. Gleaming in the half-light of twilight, she soared miles over the grey terrain. As she neared the place where she spied the female bear, the area was illuminated by a blazing sun. She floated in the air above, a ghost above the white landscape.
The scene below stirred into motion as she turned her gaze downward. A polar bear pounced down heavily onto an incline in the snow. It pawed and dug at the snow for several long moments. Then, shoving its head into the hole, it began wrenching and walking backwards. It pulled out another bear by the neck. A female. The new bear appeared sluggish and did not react as Penny expected a defending mother bear should. The aggressive bear proceeded to attack the female, ripping at her. He pulled her further away from the den. Claws raked bright red channels across her body. He shook her neck in his maw and set his weight onto her shoulders. With several rough side-to-side pulls, he tore her head from her body.