Hearts in Alaska

by David Horne

  It was afternoon by the time Sterling was finished chopping wood. The sweat had continued to pour and he chuckled at his own scent. Bathing wasn't the highest of priorities, living alone in the wilderness, but he'd definitely need a bath that night. Before he could call it a day, though, he had snares to check. Though taking lives made him squeamish, sometimes you just needed something other than fish to eat. He'd hoped for a rabbit or two to make up a batch of stew.

  He went inside to rest for a little while, and then changed his boots out for snowshoes. He grabbed his rifle and survival gear, just in case he got caught out overnight for some reason, and then invited Larry to join him. The little mink ignored him though, so he shrugged and shut the door behind him.

  The day was bright and the wind calm, making it easy to follow the trail to his snares. Winter was still holding on, though, and he knew it would only be a matter of time before storms and snow blew in. He glanced around at the giant, majestic trees that surrounded him. He'd been there for ten years now, but the beauty still awed him, and caused a tiny start of fear. He'd learned, very quickly, to respect the wilderness.

  He'd found a rabbit's nest a couple of weeks back and had set his snares in the animal's path, hoping to catch one on its way in or out. It wasn't a long walk from his cabin, but far enough to be disappointed when the snares came up empty. He cursed under his breath and started to reset them. The sun was starting to creep down over the horizon, though, so he knew he needed to hurry. When the daylight hours were shorter the days became filled with a sense of urgency to get everything done.

  With the snares reset, he started back for home, but as he did so, he noticed a sound in the distance. It reminded him a bit of falling branches or something stomping through the underbrush. He unslung his rifle with a frown. Most animals didn't make that much noise when moving through the forest. He crouched down and waited though, straining his ears for the slightest sound. What he heard, though, sent a shiver down his spine. He couldn't make out what was said, but it had definitely been a human voice. Rifle in hand, Sterling took off into the forest, clomping at as steady a pace as he could in his snow shoes. He didn't try to run, once again not wanting to work up too much of a sweat or end up falling into a ravine because he wasn't paying attention.

  A ravine is exactly what he found, though. He could make out tracks, and where someone had fallen and slid down into it. His neighbors were all miles away and none of them would have ventured that far that late in the day.

  "Just what I need," he grumbled to himself. Tourists. With that, he slung his rifle over his shoulder, and carefully made his way down to the bottom, using trees for leverage. Luckily, it leveled out, and spread into a long valley. He glanced around, and then spotted a trail of blood. This made the situation doubly worse. He knew it wouldn't be long before predators noticed it too. He followed the blood until he saw a windbreaker under a tree, and a shivering man who seemed to be unconscious.

  Sterling knelt down beside him and looked him over for injuries. He gasped when he saw the man's blood-stained pants. He used his teeth to take off his glove, not wanting to get it soaked in blood. Then he cautiously pulled the bloody cloth away from the wound with a grimace. He swore under his breath again at the sight of bone poking out through the skin, and quickly packed the wound with snow. He used it to clean off his bloody hands too and then put his glove back on. There was nothing for it; he was going to have to figure out a way to get this man back to his cabin.

  Though he was fit, the man also looked a good deal taller than him, probably a good two hundred pounds of dead weight. That was even more than the average dressed out deer. There was no way he could shoulder him or drag him by his ankles. Sterling glanced up at the ravine, realizing there was no way to take him that direction, period, not with a broken leg. He turned back to the man with a worried frown.

  "I know you can't hear me, but...wait here, okay?" Then he stood up and took his snowshoes off so he could move faster. If the snow wasn't too deep, he could make it to his cabin and back before dark. If he could find his cabin from there. It was a trail he didn't use that often and never in the dark.

  It was a bit longer and more winding than his normal trail, but twenty minutes later, he burst through the cabin door, scaring Larry back under the bench. He dropped his snow shoes and grabbed a heavy blanket from off the bench. Then he ran back outside to a shed he'd built beside the cabin. Inside was rope and a sledge. Not even stopping to catch his breath, he ran back down into the valley, to the spot he'd left the unconscious man. Sterling let out a deep sigh of relief to see that he was still there and still alive.

  "At least you haven't been eaten by a bear," he quipped and took a few minutes to try and catch his breath. The sky was quickly starting to darken though, and he knew he couldn't wait long. With some difficulty, he rolled the man onto the sledge, covered him with the blanket, and tied him on. He had no choice but to pull the man like a sled dog, slowing their progress considerably. When the sun was gone completely, Sterling took a light out of his pocket. It was on a strap so he quickly put it around his head and kept moving. He was nothing if not prepared. He followed his own footsteps back as well as he could, but as he pulled, the wind began to pick up and obscure them more and more.

  He leaned into the wind, fighting exhaustion and the cold, but suddenly felt the sledge pulling him back. He turned his head to see the injured man writhing and trying to get off. Sterling dropped the ropes and ran to the back of the sledge. He tried to hold them man down, but he was strong despite his condition.

  Sterling pulled his scarf down. "Your leg's broken," he yelled over the wind. "I found you in the ravine. I'm trying to help you!" he finally shouted and shoved him down. When the man gave him a little nod and settled back down, Sterling picked up the ropes again, and continued on. Luckily, they weren't too far from his cabin, and he stumbled up to the door as giant flakes of snow began to fall. He would have liked nothing more than to just drag the entire sledge into his cabin, but there simply wasn't room, so he untied the knots in the rope with shaking hands, until the man was finally loose. He tried to pull him up, but he'd lost consciousness again so Sterling had to drag him off the sledge, and into the not-so-warm cabin.

  Sterling's cabin was cold and dark. He quickly shut the door behind them and made his way to the tiny table. A kerosene lamp sat to one side, and he dug through his pockets, trying to find matches. His hands were so cold, though, that he could barely feel anything. He tore a glove off with his teeth, and finally managed to hunt down a match. It took a couple of tries to get it lit though, before he could finally get some light into the room. Larry was nowhere to be found, and he figured the mink was hiding somewhere, scared by all the commotion.

  Once the lamp was going, Sterling immediately turned his attention to the fire that was little more than embers at this point. He lit another match and put some kindling in the stove to get the fire going again. After a few minutes, he added a fresh log, and finally got back to the injured man lying in the middle of his floor. With his pocket knife, he cut a slash in the man's torn pants.

  "Sorry about this," he mumbled, even though the pants were already ruined. Once he could get a better look at the leg, he breathed a tentative sigh of relief. What he'd thought was a compound break showing through the skin was actually just a deep gash, probably caused by a broken tree branch. The bone was still fractured, but not snapped through, meaning the leg would be a lot easier to mend.

  "You're lucky," Sterling informed the unconscious man. He'd had extensive first aid training before setting out into the wilderness, but he'd never had to use it except for his own odd cut and sprain. He checked the man's foot for a pulse, just in case he was wrong, but it was strong and steady. With the gaping hole, he was able to see the correct alignment of the bone easily enough and pushed it back into place.

  The pain of the procedure caused the man to stir, and Sterling looked him over closely for the first time. Because of the mess of gray ha
ir under his cap, he'd originally thought the man was middle aged, but now that he could see him clearly, he figured the man was actually closer to his own age. He was tall and fit and had an expensive looking camera around his neck. Sterling gently removed it and placed it on the table before gathering supplies for a makeshift splint. Once it was set, he cleaned off his bench, and dragged the man off the floor, and onto the cushions. He covered him with a couple of blankets from his loft, and then collapsed into one of the chairs at his tiny table to watch him sleep.

  Chapter Three

  Carter had the vague feeling that he wasn't alone. And it certainly seemed warmer than it should have been. His throat was dry, and his lips and face burned like they were chapped. He remembered slipping down the ravine, but he felt like something else had happened after that. He just couldn't remember what it was. Slowly, he opened his eyes, but the world was blurry, and seemed all wrong. A dim, yellow glow filled the space around him. He wanted to sit up, knowing that he had to get himself to safety or he'd freeze to death. He couldn't move though, couldn't even lift his head.

  Suddenly, a shadow filled the space above him, and he felt something grasp the back of his head. Something like a human voice said something to him, and then he felt the warm liquid in his mouth. It was salty, with a flavor he didn't recognize, but he didn't care. He swallowed anyway, and his mind immediately demanded more. Another mouthful of liquid, and he swallowed again. After a few moments, though, his consciousness began to swim, and he went back to sleep.

  The next time Carter opened his eyes, the room was dark. At first, he panicked, thinking that his last memory must have been a dream, and he was still outside, under the tree. He tried to look around, but it was pitch black. Then he heard something; a growling sound that panicked him even more, but then he realized that it was snoring. Someone was snoring nearby, and he let out a shaky breath. Someone had rescued him, taken care of him and fed him. He hoped he wasn't dreaming or delusional, and, for a while, he tried to keep himself from going back to sleep. When he couldn't do it any longer, he fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.

  When Carter finally came to full consciousness, he had no idea how long it had been since his fall. He suspected, though, that days had gone by. For the first time, he was awake enough to notice the deep, throbbing pain in his leg. With some difficulty, he propped himself up on his elbows, and looked down at the wooden splint on the sides of his leg. He also noticed that his pant leg was gone, and he was wearing a sweater that wasn't his. He glanced around the cabin, wondering where his savior was, but there was no one to be seen. Given the size of the cabin though, Carter figured it had to be someone living alone.

  He started to sit up further, but suddenly, something small and furry jumped onto his chest. Carter cried out, and tried to bat the thing away, but its little claws were firmly entrenched in the sweater. He yelled again, and the front door of the cabin came flying open.

  "What is this thing?" Carter screamed. "Get it off of me!"

  Sterling ran over to his guest, and shooed Larry away. "Come here, you silly beast," he demanded, and tossed a fish he was carrying toward the door. Larry sniffed at Carter one last time, and then leapt after the fish.

  "That's just Larry," Sterling tried to explain to his guest, but he was so flustered that the man was awake that he didn't realize how silly it sounded. He simply stood and stared. He wasn't used to having anyone in his personal domain, or dealing with people much at all, anymore. After a moment, though, he realized there was probably more to say.

  "Um, how are you feeling?" he asked.

  "Like hell," Carter grumbled, wishing very much that he could rub his leg. "How did you find me?"

  "I was setting rabbit snares near the ravine. I heard you yelling."

  Carter nodded, slowly, looking over the short man, bundled up in so many layers he looked like he could barely move. "You live all the way out here, alone?" he asked. He could tell, immediately, that he'd hit a nerve as the man's face fell. "I'm sorry, I just—" He tried to apologize.

  "Yes, I do," Sterling cut him off. "Is there something wrong with that?"

  "No," Carter quickly admitted. "I think it's great. Your cabin is beautiful, very artistic."

  His host's face lightened up, and he glanced around with a wistful smile. "I tried," he mumbled. He turned back but hesitated to introduce himself. "Don't mind Larry," he said instead. "He's a mink. He's...mostly tame. So...what were you doing out here? Taking pictures?"

  "Yeah," Carter said with a blush, and then his eyes widened. "My camera!"

  "Oh, I have it here," Sterling said, grabbing it up from the table. "I don't know what kind of shape it's in," he added. He handed it to him, and then took off his cap.

  "Thank you," Carter breathed. "I'd hate to think this was all for nothing." He looked back up at the man, his long, wild hair framing his face. He seemed somehow familiar, but Carter couldn't figure out why. "Um, thanks for saving it...and me," he added with a chuckle. "I'm Carter, Carter Robinson," he said, and stuck out a hand.

  "Hi," Sterling said and quickly shook it. "You must be hungry," he blurted out, trying to change the subject. Then he quickly ducked into the kitchen and started rounding up something for them to eat. He warmed up some of the rabbit stew and brought two bowls out to the table.

  "How long was I out?" Carter asked.

  "Long enough for me to catch a couple of rabbits," Sterling answered with a snort. He could see that his guest didn't get the humor though, so he squinted, and scratched his head. "Oh, about three days."

  "Three days?" Carter repeated, but he'd suspected it had been a while. People would be worried about him. "Do you have a phone? I need to call—"

  Sterling laughed. "Goodness no! I gave all that up years ago."

  Carter eyed him curiously, and then scooted to the edge of the bench. His muscles and bones ached from lying on the thing for so long, and his leg was still doing plenty of complaining. Still, he tried to stand, but the weight on his leg was too much.

  Sterling rushed over, shaking his head. "This isn't a cast, you know, just a simple splint. You can't really walk on it yet." He'd caught Carter under the arm and pressed in close to his body. For the first time, he could see clearly just what their height difference was. He fit neatly under the other man's arm, and Carter put it around his shoulders. "Let me help you," Sterling said. They managed to make it to the table, grateful they didn't have any further to go.

  Carter looked over the bowl of steaming soup, and then took a cautious bite. The taste sent memories flooding back. "I had some of this before," he announced.

  "Yeah! Well, the broth. You remember that?"

  "A little."

  "You were pretty out of it," Sterling said as he blew on his own spoonful. "I'm surprised you remember any of it."

  "Never had rabbit before," Carter mused, and took another slurp.

  Sterling looked up in surprise, but then remembered that most people didn't live in the woods, off the grid. "What do you think?"

  "It's good," he admitted. "I don't think I can finish it all," he added, suddenly feeling very full, and a bit queasy.

  "That's all right. You haven't eaten much in the last three days." He took the bowls back to the kitchen, and then brought Carter a glass of water. "You should keep hydrated though," he pointed out. His guest didn't look all that interested so he said, "Just a few sips. Then you should rest."

  Carter took the glass and shook his head. "Rest? I've been asleep for three days," he said with a snort.

  "Doesn't matter. You've still been through a lot."

  Carter took a sip of water and nodded. "Come to think of it, I do feel a bit tired."

  Sterling helped him get to his feet again, and the two of them stumbled back to the bench. He noticed that Carter was sweaty and grimacing by the time they got back.

  "I'm sure I have something for the pain around here somewhere," he commented. "You just lie back and I'll hunt it up."

  "Thanks," Carter m
uttered. He moved the pillow to his end of the bench and scooted back. This way there was a wall to lean back against. He was tired, but he didn't want to go to sleep. He dragged his broken leg up onto the bench and put his head back. The throbbing was killing him, though, so he opened his eyes, and looked around some more, just to give himself something to do. From this angle, he could make out a little of the loft above. He heard Sterling digging around in the still room, but he didn't really pay attention.

  When the man came back out, he said, "Well, I seem to be out of pain killers. There's a weed that grows around the house that'll help. I'm gonna go out and collect it. It won't take long."

  "Okay," Carter answered, absently, as he squinted up into the loft. When the cabin door closed, he got back on his feet, and held onto the wall for support. He moved back as best he could, until he made it to the kitchen table. He stopped to catch his breath, holding on to the table for dear life as pain surged through his leg. He waited for the pain and nausea to pass, and then looked up into the loft. He could see most of it from there; a little dresser, table, and bed. What really interested him, though, were the walls. Carter's breath caught in his throat as the realization of what he was seeing hit him.

  A few minutes later, the door to Sterling's cabin opened and he walked in, shaking off a little snow that had fallen on him from a tree branch. In his hand was a small bundle of weeds.

  "You got lucky; I think this is the first of the season," he said as he pushed back the hood of his jacket and slipped off his cap. The satisfied smile that had been across his face slowly fell as he saw Carter, panting at the table. "What are you doing up and walking?" he complained and rushed over to help.

  Carter turned to him as if he hadn't realized he was there before. His eyes were widened in awe, and his mouth was in a goofy grin.

  Sterling assumed he must be delirious and tried to usher the man back to bed. He wouldn't budge, though.