Endure (End Times Alaska Book 1)

by Craig Martelle

  I started crying. For the dogs. For the Dog Musher. For us. Madison cried softly, her head buried in my chest.

  The day had started so promising with the visit of the Dog Musher. It ended horrifically, but oddly, we were safer because of it.

  If I hadn’t rolled the snow machine, I might have gotten there in time. If I hadn’t gone off track to see where the wolf pack had gone, I might have gotten there in time.

  And then they might have attacked me instead. All of them at once when they weren’t distracted and I wasn’t ready for them. Survivor’s guilt. The Dog Musher did not have to take his own life. He was hurt, but he would have survived. But he didn’t want to, not without his dogs.

  Karma. Fate. It would have to do. One thing for sure – there were only three wolves left and they were probably still running. Then I got mad.

  “I should have taken a pelt from one of them. Mess with us and we’ll wear your skin.” It had been a while since I’d served in the Corps, but Marines didn’t lose their will to fight, their commitment to total victory.

  Christmas Eve

  It was still Christmas Eve. We needed to get back to the business of being a family. I stripped out of my nasty clothes, shivering as I raced inside in my underwear. I put on sweats, our favorite attire in our fifty-degree house.

  First order of business? Give everyone a hug. Even the dogs. The twins hugged back, but the dogs had a tendency to get rather rambunctious. The dogs liked the first second of a hug, but then took it as the precursor for full contact play. They ran around and would have knocked things over if we had anything left that could be knocked over. We had learned since the explosion what it was like to live in a smaller space with four humans and two very happy dogs.

  “What’s for dinner?” We reveled in the mundane of preparing to eat. We put a stool in the kitchen for the twins to stand on so they could better see as we prepared our meals. What and how we prepared things didn’t matter as much as being able to do it together.

  We hadn’t done this before the event, the explosion, the attack. It didn’t matter what title we put on it. It was the before time. Now things like preparing dinner were the highlight of each day. We took too much for granted before in our day to day bustle. We were busy, but were we busy with the right things? Our perspective had improved.

  Much seemed wrong with the world, but for our small part, there was a great deal right. We were comfortable enough. The great room stayed around fifty degrees. We had food, albeit a conglomeration of things we had on hand and found while “shopping.” Comfort items were just that.

  It doesn’t matter what we made – some mix of canned vegetables, something rehydrated, and moose meat seasoned with something. All of it cooked on our stove, powered by the slow-moving propane in the candlelight. We waited until everyone was seated and served, and we expressed our thanks for each other and the food that we had.

  The mundane. The little things that make life worth living.

  I had seen death that day. I expected that it wouldn’t be the last.

  For Christmas Eve, we read stories from the Bible. We then fired up the generator and made it movie night. We had exactly four Christmas movies, but hadn’t gotten the best ones for small children. We bought these before we had the twins. But we thought they would appreciate Elf. They would probably never get to see National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. Not as long as we had a choice.

  We watched the movie and went to bed without making our Christmas commitments. The distractions of the day took their toll on Madison and me. For tonight, we celebrated being alive.

  Christmas II

  Christmas Eve hadn’t turned out as we wanted. I felt guilty that I hadn’t been able to save the Dog Musher. I felt horrible about what I had seen. The images kept flashing through my mind.

  I woke up earlier than usual after a fitful night. We didn’t have a Christmas tree or any decorations. Christmas had snuck up on us.

  I took the dogs out briefly. It was snowing again, lightly. The moon shone through the clouds, casting a pale light on our world. The trees sparkled with ice and new snow. It had warmed up. The dogs played a little more than I wanted, but they deserved to be happy. They were family members, too.

  I ended up chasing them into the garage, where I wiped the snow off their bodies so when they jumped back into bed they wouldn’t get any of the other sleepers wet.

  I started the snow machine and slowly headed out. I needed to pick up where I left off yesterday. Back to the gas station to see what might be a treat for the twins. Maybe even something for Madison.

  I took it easy on the trip. I wanted to revel in the morning, enjoy all that we had. Enjoy it without dwelling on material things. A dichotomy as I was in search of something material to give as a gift. What I really wanted was to see the happiness on their faces. All it would take was for me to be there when they woke up. It still wouldn’t hurt if there was something to hand them, as well, would it?

  With my trusty flashlight in hand, I went into the store as if it were a typical day. “Excuse me, ma’am. I need a little something for each of my children to give them on this fine Christmas morning. Would anything come to mind?” I asked the empty counter.

  The aisles were clear. They hadn’t been ransacked. Today was no different in my new norm of “shopping.” Maybe I needed this sense of normalcy. Although I was a closet prepper, it was in the comfort of my own home, with plenty of power and a trip to the store only as far away as my Jeep in the garage. The only store left to me now was this gas station, which appeared to have made most of its money from alcohol and drink sales. The refrigerators were still filled with now frozen concoctions of all types – sodas, energy drinks, sugary teas, and beer. Mostly beer.

  I wasn’t interested in that stuff, even if it was thawed. And free.

  I went into the candy aisle. I doubt there’s anything as good as a frozen Snickers, so that was always an option. There was candy of various types, but I didn’t want the twins to get a taste for things that were too sweet. I wasn’t sure what the future held, but sugar wasn’t going to be readily available. Honey maybe, so I looked at the Bit O’ Honey candy bars. Those were good, but when they were frozen, they could be real tooth breakers. I put two of them and three Snickers in my pocket. Candy wasn’t really what I was looking for, though. Something that’s bad for you shouldn’t be considered a treat.

  On a spinning display in the corner were some travel games. I was surprised they had these kinds of things, but then again, Chena Hot Springs was almost an hour up the road if one were driving.

  Travel Boggle. I put that in my pocket. A sliding tile math puzzle. A sliding tile word puzzle. The twins were two. These might be nice, but a little later in their lives. On the counter, there was a spinning display case with some cheap jewelry. I spun it and there they were. Two necklaces, each with one half of a heart. The heart would be whole when the two wearers were together. When they were apart, each would miss the other half. I took these. As the twins grew up, I hoped that they would look out for each other, take care of each other.

  I arrived back home to everyone still snug in bed. The dogs had taken my spot so there was no hope of crawling back under the covers for me. So I made a cup of coffee. I had taken all the instant coffee from the gas station on an earlier trip. One has to have priorities.

  I sat on a chair looking through the window to the yard and the woods. It was Christmas Day, a little over three weeks since we lost power.

  If you haven’t experienced it, you can’t understand the beauty of Fairbanks in the winter. The colors are soft pastels. The white was bright and clean. Everything sparkled. The air was crisp. Fairbanks was considered high desert. It was dry and the snow was light, fine like powdered sugar.

  The stars shine and the sky was full. The moon was so bright it cast shadows. Especially without any artificial lights, the sky was even clearer. I was still sitting there when everyone else began to stir. Madison was hugging the twins in clos
e. The dogs were stretching and yawning.

  “Merry Christmas!” I worked my way past the dogs and into the pile of humans. The twins were giggling and together they said, “Potty.” We hurried up and put them each on their own mini throne, where they gave us the best gifts. On their own, they had learned what it meant to be potty-trained and that they’d decided to make it happen. We could not have been happier!

  We made pancakes with the last of our shelf-stable almond milk. We took it easy with the maple syrup so we could continue to use that as a sweetener in oatmeal for the children.

  After breakfast, I gave the twins their present. We put the necklaces on them, but saw that they were too young to have something like that around their necks. We promised to make them bracelets that they could put the charms on. They liked them and kept putting the two pieces of the heart together. They spoke to each other in their own language which only they understood. We could only watch.

  I went to the garage and got one of the Snickers bars. I gave it to Madison on the sly. As adults, we had a different idea regarding treats. Madison took it and smiled at me. In no time at all, decadence had taken a back seat to necessity.

  I’d lost ten pounds since the event. I expect Madison had shed a comparable percentage of her body weight. We didn’t weigh ourselves that often. The scale worked, but the problem was in shedding enough clothing in our fifty-degree house to weigh ourselves properly.

  We took sponge baths when necessary, but that was it. We still had not figured out how we were going to do laundry. We boiled water for dishes and, thanks to the gas station, we had an almost unlimited supply of propane and gasoline. We could continue to use our stove and generator. I needed to find a bigger generator. Then we could power the whole house. My small generator had a 220v outlet, but my dryer plug didn’t fit it. I didn’t have the proper plug. A good prepper would have thought of those things along with buying the right-sized generator in the first place.

  The winter solstice was four days ago. That meant a little more light with each passing day.

  It was crystal clear again, which meant that temperatures would drop further.

  What To Do for New Year’s

  Every year for New Year, we had gone to Chena Hot Springs Resort to enjoy the springs. Even with everything else, why should this year be different? The resort provided its own geo-thermal power. It should be fully operational. Workers lived there as it would be too expensive and time-consuming to commute the hour-plus one way from Fairbanks. Many young people worked there to earn money for college. You couldn’t spend money there so it made for a great way to save.

  To make the trip, we needed another snow machine with a tow-behind sleigh. I knew there wasn’t another set-up in our neighborhood. I took a trip toward Two Rivers. As I got further from Fairbanks, I figured it was more likely that every household had a snow machine.

  I took it easy as I entered the first farm. I didn’t want anyone to consider me a looter, although maybe I was. If I took a snow machine, it would be for our pleasure, but a backup could be critical if one broke down. Also with a second machine, we’d be able to both go “shopping” and take the twins with us.

  There were no vehicles that I could see and there weren’t any tire tracks in three weeks’ worth of snow. I still took no chances and yelled heartily from my snow machine. I waited. No answer. I gave it one more yell. Still no answer.

  There were a number of buildings on the property. I figured the most likely to hold a snow machine was the garage. I looked in through the windows into the emptiness. No vehicles, although it looked like space was cleared for two. They had probably been caught in the city just like everyone else.

  I got down on one knee and said a quick prayer for them. I had not been religious, until a month ago. Since then two, maybe three times, the world had tried to kill me. I had to believe that I was blessed. I couldn’t let myself have survivor’s guilt. There was no time for it. My family counted on me. I had to be there for them and be there with the right attitude. I got up. It was time to get back to work.

  No need to defile their garage by breaking a lock when I knew it didn’t have what I was looking for. Next up was the shed. It had a golf cart door so it could hold snow machines, or a riding mower. It had a key lock so I couldn’t use my bolt cutters. Instead, I went with the sledgehammer. Using it like a ram, hitting the door right at the lock usually broke things open. This shed was no exception. The lock broke out, and I pushed the door in. Perfect. Thank God for people who were prepared to live in Fairbanks in the winter, and I thanked them profusely for sharing their wisdom with me.

  Two top-end snow machines, both ready to go. They had towed sleighs that looked like undersized sleds as well. I choked one of the machines and hit the starter. It struggled briefly, then roared to life. Booyah! The sound of freedom.

  I was trading up from a pull start to an electric start, and I liked it. I maneuvered the new snow machines and towed sleighs into the driveway. I put my old machine with the broken windshield and small sleigh into their shed and closed the door.

  I tied a tow strap between the first and second snow machines. I hooked up the sleighs, one on top of the other, behind the towed snow machine. I reminded myself to dutifully document the exchange.

  With the new snow machines and both towed sleighs set for travel, I was in a good mood. So I thought I’d look around before heading back. One never knew what could be found.

  I put a five-gallon can of gas and a couple quarts of oil into the sleigh. They were undoubtedly for the snow machines, so might as well keep everything together. There wasn’t anything else in the shed that I wanted to take. We didn’t need anything else yet, so I wasn’t going to break into the farmhouse. Maybe sometime I’d have to, but not today. No more “shopping” than required. I didn’t want to get greedy. We had what we needed for today and even for next month.

  Although we could use more pellets. I figured I’d be critical low by the end of February or maybe even into March. It would still be deadly cold then. After the New Year I’d begin that search in earnest. If I had to change out the pellet stove for a wood burner, I would do it. But this was me and I knew it would be a painful installation that probably wouldn’t work right at the beginning.

  How long could we go without heat while I was taking one stove out and putting another one in? Could Madison and I manhandle a five-hundred-pound stove out and put another one in? It had taken four of us and a dolly to get the pellet stove into the house in the first place. The piped chimney wouldn’t be too difficult, but without a Home Depot or Lowe’s, I’d have to find the materials in other people’s homes and dismantle them. That would be a sooty mess. That was enough thought on that topic. The right answer was to find someone who had a pellet stove. One extra ton of pellets, conveniently packaged in forty-pound bags, would take care of us through to the summer.

  And putting those thoughts out of my mind for now, I pulled into our driveway with the two snow machines and two sleighs. All of us could go to the Hot Springs!

  The Trip to Chena Hot Springs

  When I said all of us, I meant all of us. In the next few days, I had to train the dogs to ride in the sleigh. What a nightmare! They would ride for about three seconds and then jump out because they saw a mound of snow that needed to be sniffed and peed on.

  I had to use the twins to help me train the dogs to ride in the towed sleds. We started with Phyllis. The twins held her and we took a slow spin around the neighborhood. She stayed between them for the whole ride. We did the same thing with Husky, although it took her some repetition to get it. The first time, we hadn’t even reached the bottom of the driveway before she jumped out, dragging Charles behind her. Aeryn let go and laughed as her brother was pulled through the snow.

  We put blankets in the sleigh and I built a rack with sides out of spare wood we kept in our shed. It wasn’t pretty, but it did what we needed. The dogs would be behind a crate-like thing so they wouldn’t be inclined to jump
out. The blankets would give them a place to curl up once they relaxed. The trip to Chena Hot Springs could take two hours one way. The crate also partitioned the sleighs so we could bring a number of rudimentary supplies – tent, sleeping bags, food, water, gas, tools. All of that just in case. I didn’t want to have to use any of it, but if we got stuck out there, we needed to be able to survive. It was like taking an umbrella when you think it’s going to rain. Being prepared lessened the chance of needing what you were prepared for.

  Like the twins remaining potty-trained – no accidents. It made our lives so much easier.

  The day came. We left the pellet stove on. It would run until it ran out of pellets or the battery died. If all went well, then we’d be back before either of those things happened.

  Dogs on the sleighs. One child on the snow machine with each of us. They would probably get bored, but we’d deal with that when the time came. Maybe we’d stop along the way.

  I let Madison lead as she had not driven a snow machine before. We would stick to the road and maintain a steady pace of twenty-five mph or so until she was a little more comfortable. I had no doubt that she would pick up the pace on the straightaways. I would follow her far enough back to avoid the snow cloud her snow machine kicked up.

  We set out. It was funny watching her navigate the first corner onto the highway. She almost came to a complete stop as she muscled the nose around. She gave me an unhappy look. I went wide around her and showed her how to let the skis take the machine around the corner. I gave it a little gas to help the skis dig in and corner smoothly. I slowed and looked back. She accelerated and slowed, accelerated and slowed. She was getting used to the gas feed. Once on the road, she passed me and continued toward Chena Hot Springs. We were on our way.