Mike pressed his face against the window. “It’s gloomy outside, but it’s three-thirty in the afternoon.”
“It’s early March and we’re inside the Arctic Circle,” his mother said.
“So?”
“So they lose the sun in the winter and it still isn’t very intense yet.”
Mike darted a look at his father. “They lose the sun?”
Ben nodded. “Your mother’s right. They lose the sun.”
“Well, when do they find it?” Mike asked dreamily.
“Pffffffft!” Ben burst into laughter, then covered his mouth and quickly turned away to face the aisle.
Jeannie swatted her husband. “Ben! The boy’s asking a perfectly good question. Don’t pay any attention to him, Mike. Losing the sun is a figure of speech. What I meant was that we’re so far north that there’s a period of time in the winter when the sun stays below the horizon. I think it happens in December and January. Then it starts to get twilight and the sun comes back above the horizon. It gets light in the morning and afternoon this time of year, but not as strongly as it does once summer comes.”
Mike glanced out the window again.
“Can you see anything, honey?” Jeannie asked.
It was snowing. Big, fluffy flakes swirled in the air outside the plane, making visibility almost impossible. Mike pressed his face as close to the window as he could and squinted, focusing on the ground below, but the utter whiteness of the world outside made his eyes sting. As the plane continued to lose altitude, the land started to take shape — more frozen lakes, more dwarf trees, more rocks, and more snow, a lot more snow.
“This is so exciting!” his mother gushed, gripping his arm and looking over her son’s shoulder. “What can you see, Mike?”
“Well, Mom, I see this white stuff floating in the air. And I see this white stuff all over the ground.
Oh, wait a second. Yeah, I was right. I see white stuff all around a lake that has this frozen stuff covering the surface.”
“Oh, stop it!” she said, feigning a light slap on his arm. “I bet that white stuff is full of snowmobile trails just waiting for you and your dad to explore.”
Mike stared at his mother, a puzzled expression creasing the bridge of his nose. “But we don’t have a —” He stopped speaking when he noticed his mother’s smile broaden. Leaning forward, he glanced at his father, who nodded. “You mean we have a … a …”
Ben laughed. “We have two snowmobiles.”
“Holy crap!” Mike cried. “I thought you said you hated snowmobiling. Didn’t you say it’s a lazy man’s hobby and that only guys with big bellies who are too lazy to ski or skate and who love to drink litres of beer on the weekend like to skidoo?”
“This is different, Mike,” Ben said. “It’s not like a southern hobby here. We can snowmobile from our back door into the bush and take our pick of trails to hunt or just explore and watch caribou and other animals. And in the summer we can jump into our boat on the Mackenzie River and find some new channel to explore every time we go out.”
Mike couldn’t contain himself. “Oh, my God. We don’t have two —”
“No, we’ll only have one boat, but it’s a pretty nice second-hand speedboat that I got from one of the other RCMP officers in Inuvik.”
Mike grinned. Maybe, just maybe, this was going to be the adventure his father had promised.
CHAPTER 4
The thud of the plane making contact with the runway and the force of the brakes as the plane quickly decelerated forced Mike back into his seat, his head sinking into the cushion. A fine cloud of snow created by the jet engines blew up around the windows, highlighted by the brightness of the landing lights as the plane slowed down and prepared to taxi to the terminal. With the cabin lights dimmed, once the snow settled outside the plane Mike got a better view of his surroundings.
There was a slight, pinkish-orange band of light across the sky. The light around the band of colour was powder blue, which wasn’t quite right as a description, though. Mike had trouble putting his finger on what was so different about the hue. He had never seen anything like its soft, misty, textured look. “Out of this world” came to mind. And given the fact they had just landed in Inuvik, Mike figured that might not be far off.
If the terminal in Yellowknife was forty times smaller than the one in Edmonton, then this one was at least eighty times smaller. Mike watched as an airport worker swung two illuminated orange wands back and forth over his shoulders, directing the plane toward the building. He strained his neck, trying to see the front of the plane. The terminal was a single-storey, two-tone brown building, and he wasn’t sure what kind of a tunnel they would use to walk from the plane inside. The airport worker stopped swinging his wands and crossed them above his head. The plane lurched to a stop without a tunnel in sight.
Mike blinked as the cabin lights flashed on. The sound of metal clacked throughout the plane as people hurriedly undid their seat belts, jumped up, and anxiously pulled carry-on luggage from the overhead bins. Mike watched as his father stepped into the aisle and stretched to full height. Reaching into the overhead bin, he pulled down a duffle bag that Mike had barely noticed when they boarded the flight. Ben zipped open the bag and methodically pulled out three dark blue parkas with fur-trimmed hoods. He unfolded each one and fluffed them into full size and shape. After dropping one into Jeannie’s lap, he passed one over to Mike.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Mike said, snorting. “I don’t need this. It gets real cold in St. Albert in the winter, and I’ve never worn one of these.” Before his father could answer, a clank and hiss pulled Mike’s attention to the front of the plane.
One of the flight attendants had unlocked the front door and was now swinging it open. A blast of frigid air and fog blew through the opening and filled the front of the cabin. The attendant’s face instantly turned pink, and she threw her hood up to cover her head. A few seconds later the cold hit Mike where he sat by the window. Lowering his gaze, he silently pulled the parka over his jacket and zipped it up.
Mike followed his parents to the front of the plane and stepped out the door. A gale struck his face and momentarily sucked the breath from his body. He gulped and gasped before he was able to breathe properly again. As he walked down the stairs that extended from the side of the plane, the cold pierced his jeans.
When he exhaled, each breath hung in the air like a cloud of smoke before it was swirled away by the wind. The cold stung his ears, and he quickly pulled up the parka’s hood and held it against his cheek.
Walking close behind his parents, Mike quickly hopped up the steps of the terminal and pushed through the doors to the welcoming warmth inside. Flipping down his hood, he put the palms of his hands against his cheeks and felt the cold drawing away from his skin. In the terminal people stood in small groups, smiling and excitedly speaking to loved ones and friends. When Mike gazed at the room full of unfamiliar faces, a surge of homesickness swamped him.
“Sergeant Watson!” Mike glanced up and spotted the owner of the voice. A thin, red-haired man in an RCMP parka and dark blue uniform pants with the familiar yellow stripes down the sides approached through the crowd.
“He means you,” Jeannie whispered in Ben’s ear, lightly tugging at his parka.
“I know he means me,” Ben said, slightly stooping as he waved and held the man’s gaze.
Jeannie giggled. “I know. It just sounds so nice after all these years.”
The move to Inuvik had been contingent on a promotion for Ben from corporal to sergeant. Ben had done his time, and it felt good.
“Corporal Thomas Fitzgerald, sir,” the man said, extending a hand.
Fitzgerald was tall but slightly shorter than Ben and lighter in build. He appeared to be in his early thirties, which would make him a bit younger than Mike’s father. His hair was wiry and cropped so close to his scalp that it almost seemed painted on, like that of a GI Joe Mike had played with when he was younger.
&n
bsp; Ben shook the man’s hand firmly. “Call me Ben.”
The corporal grinned. “They call me Fitz.”
Ben turned to his family. “This is my wife, Jeannie, and my son, Mike.”
Fitz smiled warmly and shook Jeannie’s hand first, then Mike’s. “Nice grip, son.” He turned to Ben. “Big boy. He’s going to be a hot ticket for hockey here.”
“I play lacrosse,” Mike blurted.
Fitz looked blankly at Mike. “Well, Mike, I don’t know about that. I guess you might have to play hockey here.”
“How’s the snowmobiling been?” Ben cut in.
“Just incredible,” Fitz said. “Believe it or not, we usually don’t get a lot of snow here in the winter. It drops to about minus twenty and stays there pretty much all season long. Of course, we get plenty of snow to skidoo, but not buckets like most people from the south think. It pretty much stays too cold for a lot of snow. We get spells where it’s minus thirty and colder, but in the last week we’ve been getting what you see outside.” He waved at the terminal window. “The weather warms up, we get a storm with a dump of snow, and then it cools off again. With the daylight coming back so quickly now, it’s just fantastic. Lots of snow, about ten hours of daylight and getting brighter, and for the most part around minus fifteen to minus twenty. You’ll find quite a few people going out to camps and getting caribou right now with the warmer weather. Most people will stay in town today, but when things clear up tomorrow or the next day the town will be a bit deserted.”
“That sounds fantastic,” Jeannie said, placing her arm around Mike’s shoulder and squeezing.
It did sound great to Mike, and he momentarily forgot what Fitz might have meant with his comments about hockey.
“Here come the bags, guys.” Fitz motioned toward the carousel behind them. “What are we looking for?” They all headed over and pointed out the suitcases as they came through an opening in the side of the building. The Watsons had six altogether. It would be a week before the moving truck arrived in Inuvik, so they had taken as much with them as possible.
Once everything was located, it was back into the cold. They hurriedly tossed the luggage into the rear of the RCMP Explorer and clambered inside, shutting out the wind and blowing snow. Mike sat in back with his mother, while Ben took a seat up front with Fitz. Drawing back his hood, Mike shivered as the hot air in the idling vehicle closed around him. When he pushed his hands against his thighs, he swore he could feel the cold rising out of the skin.
Fitz nosed the Explorer out of its parking spot and headed away from the airport. “If we turned right, the road would take us to the Mackenzie River ferry crossing. You can take the ferry over to Tsiigehtchic, or to the main landing where the highway goes to Fort McPherson and then through the mountains to the Yukon. Beautiful drive, but it can beat the heck out of your vehicle.”
“How far is it into town?” Jeannie asked.
“About fourteen kilometres,” Fitz said, looking at her in the rearview mirror. “Over to the left is a pretty nice campground in the summer. There’s a tower that gives a great view of the delta. The weather looks pretty harsh out there right now, but it’s a beautiful place. I don’t know what it is, but people seem to either love it or hate it. You hear stories all the time about folks who plan to work up here for a couple of years and spend twenty. Then there’s the other side of things where people head here with a northern dream and leave after a couple of months because they hate it.”
Mike glanced at Fitz’s face in the mirror. Their eyes briefly met, and the corporal’s smile took on an unsettling menace, bathed in green from the glow of the dashboard. Mike quickly shifted his concentration back to the road. He wondered which kind of people they would be. Would they love Inuvik or hate it? He shivered again as another ripple of cold seemed to flow out of his body. Right now he had to admit his vote would be pretty strong on the hate side of things. Narrowing his eyes, he stared at the red taillights of other vehicles ahead of them. This time, however, he spotted some white lights.
“Welcome to Inuvik,” Fitz said, waving at some buildings on their right. “That’s the Finto Inn, and over there’s the Nova Inn where you folks will be staying.” They drove up a small hill and continued into town. “We’re on Mackenzie Road, which is the main street. It goes right through Inuvik.”
Ben pointed to the left. “Is that the hospital?”
Fitz nodded. “It sure is. To the right is all residential. Our newer homes are mostly to the right, and they continue up over what’s called Co-op Hill. There are quite a few older homes down toward the river. We’re almost downtown. Wouldn’t you know it? Our one traffic light and your first time here it’s going to be red.”
Mike watched as the light shifted from orange to red. “Did you say your one light?”
All three adults turned and looked at Mike’s puzzled face.
“I sure did,” Fitz said. “This is our one and only traffic light whether we need it or not. Apparently, well before my time, a group of exchange students came up here from southern Canada. They were so excited about their visit that they wanted to give the town something to remember them by. Something we didn’t have. Well, this is it — our one and only traffic light.”
“Holy crap!” Mike said.
“To the left is the post office,” Fitz said. “Past that are the RCMP station and your house. We’ll go there after. Over to the right are the schools. Mike, you’ll go to that one.” He pointed. “Samuel Hearne Secondary School. It has grades seven through twelve. Behind the other school you can see the Inuvik Family Centre. It has an arena, a curling rink, and a fitness centre. The conference centre there has a pool, squash courts, and a play zone for kids.”
Mike strained to see the schools and the complex behind them.
“Light’s green.” Fitz shifted the Explorer ahead. “To the right is one of the big tourist attractions in Inuvik. The Igloo Church is a pretty distinctive landmark, for sure. You know, Mike, they say they built it that way so the devil can never corner you.”
Mike smiled weakly at Fitz’s lame joke. He had to admit the building looked pretty cool. It was brilliantly lit, and sure enough, it was in the shape of an igloo. The building was round, and of course white. A set of wide stairs led to the front double doors, which boasted elaborate stained glass windows. A blue cross extended from the roof of the entranceway. The dome of the church was silver and shone brightly in the surrounding darkness. On top of the dome sat another circular structure with tall, narrow stained glass windows completely around the outside. On the very top was a tall blue cross. Mike sat back. Okay, he thought, so people don’t live in igloos here, but they go to church in them.
They drove on slowly, Fitz giving them time to glance in every direction as they proceeded. “It’s going to look a lot different tomorrow when the weather clears up, but this gives you the lay of the land.”
“The population is thirty-five hundred?” Jeannie asked the corporal.
Fitz nodded. “That’s pretty much bang on. I think the last count was thirty-five hundred and twenty or something.”
Mike paid attention with part of his brain, but the other part started to drift off. He slumped in his seat and dreamily listened to the adults continue to talk, his head propped against the back of the seat and window.
“On the right is our Northern Store,” Fitz said. “It carries everything from groceries and clothes to hardware. They do pretty well getting in fresh food. Of course, things get more expensive and a bit dicey when the ferry’s out in the fall and the ice road’s breaking up in spring.”
“Fitz, you said that like it’s the only store in town,” Jeannie said. “Where else do people shop?”
“Well, Jeannie, the Northern Store’s pretty much it for groceries and clothing of any variety. Quite a few people drive over to Whitehorse from time to time to get stuff you can’t pick up here, but the Northern Store has pretty much all the necessities.”
Mike’s mother sat back to ponder
this information.
“One main store,” she murmured. “My, my, my.”
Ben half turned and smiled at his wife. “Look on the bright side, Jeannie. We live less than a minute from the store. We can skip over, shop for what we need, and be home in a flash. Pretty great, eh?”
Jeannie shook her head. “You’re such a man!”
Fitz chuckled. “You’ll get used to it. I bet every husband and wife who moves here have had this conversation. It just makes trips to Yellowknife, Edmonton, and Whitehorse all the more special. Quite a few of the wives do a tonne of mail order, too. Get out those catalogues.”
Ben groaned. “I don’t think you’re helping, Fitz.”
Mike’s head fell back heavier into the corner of the window and seat, his mind fogging over with sleep. His face felt warmer and warmer. He was barely aware of the droning voices around him, and the movement of the vehicle lulled him deeper into slumber.
The next thing he knew he was blinking. Not sure of his surroundings, he opened his eyes wide. His mother had her hand on his shoulder and was pointing out the window on his side of the Explorer.
“Look, Mike, our new house,” she said.
He shifted his gaze out the window and followed the direction of her finger.
“It’s so cute,” she added.
It might have been cute, but it was small. It looked like an A-frame and had a very steeply pitched roof.
“They’re not big, but they’re cozy,” Fitz said. “Great location and close to work and to Mike’s school. Pretty much close to everything in town.”
“We were close to everything even when we were at the airport,” Mike said groggily.
“Well, it’s home, Mike,” Ben said. “When you were taking your nap, Fitz had some exciting news, too. The moving truck actually got here yesterday. Our stuff’s inside the house. We’ll stay at the hotel tonight, but we can move in tomorrow. Everything will seem a little better when you get into your own bedroom and unpack your own things.”
“My bedroom’s in St. Albert,” Mike muttered, turning back to the window.
Arctic Thunder Page 3