And an hour later, we were still on our way. But the pace was picking up. I raced ahead to give her the let’s-take-a-break sign. We stopped in the middle of the road. First order of business was to let the twins relieve themselves. That was interesting. Snowsuits aren’t made for field relief. Their little bodies shivered as they tried to go. We held them close while they finally did their business and then bundled them back up into their now cold clothes. The dogs frolicked in the snow. It was a bit deep for Phyllis, but Husky made a wide patch that Phyllis could follow. They ran back along the tracks we had made. Both were wearing coats as we didn’t know how cold they’d get riding in the sleigh.
The coats were a good call. About five minutes into the ride, the novelty had worn off and they’d curled up as much as they could in the blanket, with their noses facing backwards, away from the wind. Next time, more blankets and maybe pillows to use as a wind-break up front and cushion in the back.
It was nice traveling with all of us together. We coaxed the dogs back into their traveling crates with Milk Bones, climbed aboard ourselves, and set out again.
The break helped. Madison was far more comfortable and almost immediately picked up the pace. We passed a few moose grazing on willow branches near the road. But we didn’t pass any people or signs of people. Maybe everyone had left. Or hunkered down so much that they left no trace. Real preppers lived out here. People who understood what it was like to live off the grid. We were teaching ourselves quickly, but it wasn’t natural for us. My first thought was to run a generator.
As we approached the Chena Hot Springs Resort, things looked normal. There were snow machine tracks in the immediate vicinity. There were dog sled tracks. The sled dogs were barking and yipping from the kennel near the road. There should have been about a hundred dogs there. It seemed like it from the noise they were making.
We pulled our sleds up to the main entrance where there was also the restaurant. We left the dogs in their cages, even though they were ready to get out. The door was unlocked so we went inside. As bizarre as it seemed, there was a young woman behind the counter.
The Hot Springs
“Can I help you?” she asked in a pleasant voice.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t expect anyone to be here,” I started.
“We’ve been out of touch for more than three weeks now. We have plenty of reservations on the books, but the state hasn’t plowed the road. The phones are out, so no one is able to call and cancel and we aren’t able to call them,” she said. “We were getting worried.”
I looked at Madison. Although the resort didn’t get a great deal of traffic, I would have thought they’d be more curious. But then again, they were here to work for weeks at a time. From the looks of the parking lot, no guests had stayed. Our arrival drew a crowd, almost all of them college-aged.
We told them what we saw in the city, including what happened to our friends. We told them about the convoy of vehicles that left. I told them about the wolf pack and the Dog Musher.
The group gave a great deal of attention to our twins. The children enjoyed their new friends. Madison brought our dogs inside too.
“Would you have any fresh greens?” Madison asked. The resort maintained its own greenhouses. It had been a while since we had a fresh salad.
“You bet!” one young man offered. We were ushered into the dining room. They brought chairs for the twins. We put the dogs on leashes that they had in the gift shop. We didn’t want them getting in the way or running into the kitchen.
Everything was fully functional. It was nice and warm in the lodge. It was light. It was normal.
But it wasn’t normal. We were the only customers they had. They had been going about their business since the disaster that had befallen Fairbanks. Their lifeline had been cut and they hadn’t even realized it.
A number of workers joined us to eat. Instead of eating in the employee lounge or somewhere else, the employees had taken to eating in the formal dining room, with the fireplace and the bar. We had nice big salads and the twins had mini hamburgers. There was fresh baked bread for everyone.
We weren’t starving, but there is so much to be said for a good meal at a restaurant. Call this a little slice of heaven, at least for today. The crew took good care of us. When the meal finished, we offered to help clean up. No need, they said. It was nice to hear what had happened. They had a great deal to talk about among themselves.
“Is the pool open?” I asked.
“Of course. There’s no one over there right now. Just help yourselves.” I let them write down my credit card number to cover the meal whenever the power was restored. I gave them a $100 tip. I expected that I was still making more with my retirement pay than I was paying out in auto-payments. I couldn’t be sure, but it’s the thought that counts. I still had my wallet with me whenever I left the house. I didn’t want to give that up. It was part of modern society. It was part of being normal.
We dutifully changed in the locker rooms, but left our clothes on the benches. I thought about locking up my rifle and pistol, but settled for taking those in the pool area with us. There were no other visitors.
We went swimming in the inside pool. The dogs ran around the pool and finally laid down on the rug by the door. We relaxed in the pool until our fingers were shriveled. Then we took nice showers to get the stinky mineral water off us. After nearly a month, a hot shower was incredible.
Staying at the Resort
We had taken our time and it was dark outside. I didn’t want to drive back in the dark. I didn’t think we had to. We dropped our towels in the bin and went outside for the short walk back to the main desk. Our greeter and the others were at the bar getting bombed. I guess the news of Fairbank’s demise was harder on them than it first seemed. None of this group was from Fairbanks; they came from various places in the Lower 48.
They were occupied filling in the information blanks with various conspiracy theories. I put on my Intelligence Officer hat and boiled things down to the only facts we had. A nuclear device exploded somewhere on the west side of Fort Wainwright. It was big enough to level the city and make the enclosed area of Fairbanks radioactive. The detonation also would have created an EMP to destroy electronics on the circuit, such as the cell towers. Any communications would have to go through the city and there was no longer a city. The resort counted on the city so the resort was cut off. That was all we knew. Speculation didn’t help anything.
I took the time to shake their hands. You can tell a great deal by looking into someone’s eyes. I saw grief and frustration. These were connected youth of today and they were cut off from the world. I applauded their efforts to keep everything running. They maintained a level of normal despite the lack of guests.
“What do you intend to do tomorrow and then next week?” I asked. They didn’t know. No one stepped up to lead them. They were a group of kids working their way through college. “Will you make it through the winter?” They looked surprised by the question.
“We have food and we have power. Do we have enough food for the dogs?” a young lady named Amber asked the group. They started offering bits and pieces of information from the areas they worked.
“I suggest you plan to spend the winter here. You probably won’t be getting any guests. I expect that help will come at some point. We just need to be alive and healthy when that happens.” Hope. I offered a lifeline for them. With hope, they would not only survive, but thrive.
“Since it’s gotten late, can we stay the night?”
The Mayor of Chena Hot Springs
Our after-dinner conversation became a team meeting. They looked to me to guide them. Maybe it was the Marine in me or, more likely, it was because I was older.
“You haven’t had a guest in three weeks.” It was a statement, but they nodded as if it were a question.
“I suggest that you all become the Community of Chena Hot Springs. What will it take to keep the geo-thermal plant running? What will it take to ensure y
ou have enough food to sustain the community? What will each of you do to help the group survive?” They looked at me. No one talked.
“Let me offer an organizational structure to start with, but then it can be modified as you, the community see fit. Amber. You are the mayor.” She shook her head. “Your job sucks the most. You need to know what everyone is doing and be everywhere at once. You will be the glue that holds the community together because you think logistics. Food. Water. Fuel. Power.
“Who understands the power plant here? Where do you get your fresh water from? Who manages the greenhouse? Who tends the kennel?” Because of where people were working, it was easy to align responsibilities with capabilities. Some people surprised us with their skills and backgrounds. Pleasantly surprised. We had an EMT in training. We had two farmers. We had one junior dog musher and one assistant to handle the dogs.
The key people, the previous management team, lived in Fairbanks. They’d left the evening of the first day after the detonation and never returned. We did not have a mechanic or a manager or a vet or a medic.
“My God, we don’t have an accountant!” I blurted out. They looked at me and then started laughing. I wanted them to know that they had everything they needed. They had enough expertise to make this community work.
“You said that you only had one month of dog food left.” The dog musher Abigail nodded. “Are there any hunters?”
“I got a deer once with my old man in North Dakota,” a scruffy-looking young man offered.
“Shoot it?” He nodded. “Dress it in the field?” He nodded again. “Anybody else with experience hunting?” One of the housekeepers raised her hand. Becca. She was the youngest of the bunch.
“Here you go …?”
“Darren.” He filled in his name for me.
“Here you go, Darren.” I cycled the action on my rifle, emptying the chamber, and then gave it to him. “You and Becca need to get a moose. That will help feed the dogs and help you keep a fresh supply of meat here for everyone else.”
“We have enough meat in our freezer for the few of us for another year if needs be. We are supplied to feed a hotel full of guests,” the cook, Jo, added.
“Thank you and that’s good. People are taken care of. Dogs will be taken care of. Everyone figure out the best way to conserve. How can you make the most of what you have here?”
“I’d like set times for meals. Everyone eats together and I only have to make one or two entrees for each meal. That would make things easier for me and then I could help out elsewhere. I’d like to learn more about the power plant …”
Our visit became a sharing of information, then a conversation, and finally a town planning session. Amber had shown Madison and the twins to the honeymoon suite. The dogs were enjoying the company of the humans. I expected Madison had taken another long shower and that the twins were sound asleep after a full day. Amber was back.
“Tomorrow morning, breakfast is at …”
“Eight a.m.?” Jo offered. I looked at her, then at Amber.
“Eight a.m.?” repeated Amber. No dissent. “Eight a.m. it is. Coffee starting at six thirty and I’ll make that myself.” She was off to a good start as the mayor.
I asked Darren to follow me out to our snow machine. I dug out the extra box of ammunition I had brought for the rifle. “Good luck.” I shook his hand as I handed it to him. This group needed to believe it could be self-sufficient.
The dogs were outside with me, but I hadn’t put on their coats or boots. Phyllis was running to stay warm. I had to keep yelling at her to keep her going in my direction. We finally made it to the building with our room, which was less than a hundred yards from the restaurant and main desk. Phyllis and Husky must have run a mile and marked every post on their way. I never thought that female dogs would mark like males, but they did. Phyllis even lifted a leg to do it.
I then joined my family in the honeymoon suite for a very relaxing evening in a warm bed with electric lights and running hot water. We easily accepted these creature comforts, but we no longer took them for granted.
Returning Home
Morning came far too soon. I slept like a rock. Madison created a cocoon for herself and was a bump under the covers. The twins were wedged in between us, emulating their mother in near hibernation. The dogs were at the bottom of the bed. At least it was a king so I had some room. There’s a lot to be said about waking up in a warm room and being able to use a flush toilet.
It was about five a.m., later than I usually awoke, but still earlier than the rest of humanity. I closed the bathroom door and took a long shower. It was so nice. Too bad I had to put dirty clothes back on. Then again, they didn’t seem so bad when my body was clean.
I was surprised that no one had gotten up, but the humans were still out cold. The dogs lifted their heads. I shushed them and waved them out the door with me. They came readily. Their dog food was still in the sled. I’d get it on the way to the restaurant.
I put on Phyllis’ coat and boots because it was cold out. Maybe minus ten. There were some external lights here. It was nice being outside in the morning and having light. We walked around the complex, staying in the lighted areas.
We walked into the pool building. The staff had stopped locking doors so everything was available at any time. The sulfur smell wasn’t overwhelming and I got used to it quickly. The dogs didn’t like it in there. Too steamy. No soft places to lie down. They worked me until I took them back outside. This was how it should feel when at a resort.
When we’d been outside long enough, we went to the restaurant. Everything was sitting out to make the coffee, so I started the first pot and set things out for whoever showed up first. After Husky snatched a muffin off the table, I moved everything to the top of the bar. Phyllis enjoyed part of the theft as the muffin broke apart when Husky tried to run under a table with it.
Amber showed up early. Others straggled in over the next half hour. Although they were not very talkative, probably due to the early hour, they had determined looks on their faces. I wanted them to believe and take hold of their circumstance. It wasn’t of their making, and it wasn’t of my making. It simply was.
Someone had set up a set of external speakers on the bar. I got my phone from the sled and hooked it up. I turned it on, touched my way to REM, and played, “It’s The End Of The World As We Know It.”
I danced by myself behind the bar. The younger group moved tables and danced in the dining area. I played it one more time. It became a singalong. Madison and the twins showed up halfway through the second playing. I took Aeryn by the hand and danced with her. Madison and Charles were much better dancers.
When the song ended, I let my REM playlist continue, but turned the volume down a little.
I turned to Madison. “What do you think? We go home as soon as it gets light?” She nodded. The resort was a slice of paradise in our bleak and cold world. But we hadn’t packed for a long stay. “I think if the community of Chena Hot Springs lets us, we’ll come here every week for an overnight.” She nodded. The twins didn’t want to leave. They wanted to go swimming again.
“Amber. Once it gets light, we’ll take our leave and go back home.” I reached out to shake her hand. “Thank you for stepping up. Things will be fine. You will make them that way.” She nodded.
“I’ll take care of your room. Just leave it as it is,” Becca offered.
“No,” I said emphatically. “You are no one’s housekeeper now. You’re the hunter. You need to help supply the dogs. They need you more than the sheets in that room. We’ll clean it up ourselves. Just show me where the clean sheets are.”
She ended up doing better than that. She moved the cleaning cart next to the door and left it there.
We cleaned the room quickly, even though we still had a few hours till daylight. We asked for tours of the various areas. We wanted to see the greenhouse. We needed ideas for when we built our own greenhouse. We had planned for years to build one, but I had not gott
en around to it. Now seemed to be a great time.
The new Community of Chena Hot Springs happily showed us everything there was to see. We even went out to the kennel to meet the dogs, but we had to put Husky and Phyllis on leashes. They were hard to control when we saw all the dogs. There was much barking and pulling. It devolved into complete chaos so we cut our visit short and walked back to the lodge, dragging two very excited dogs.
Home
We loaded up with a couple days’ supply of lettuce and vegetables, started our snow machines, and waved goodbye as we pulled out. I smiled behind my face shield. We had a place to come to experience the old world until our modern conveniences were restored at our home. And maybe we had started something good.
A functional resort had value, even more so when the employees took full ownership of the operation. If management returned, I would like to think they’d be proud of their employees and how they’d maintained the facility.
It was amazing what a good night’s rest can do. Madison was making great time. She handled the snow machine easily. We probably averaged fifty miles an hour on the straightaways and thirty-five or so on the corners. The snow was deep enough that the skis dug in nicely. We made it home in a little over an hour.
Maybe next week’s trip to the resort, we could take our laundry …
Fully refreshed, we dug into our chores. It was below freezing in the house, but the generator started on the first pull, and with a fresh bag added, the pellet stove blasted to life. We took care of our lettuce, putting it in the laundry room which was between our great room and the bedrooms. When the stove brought us back to fifty degrees, the laundry room would hover somewhere between freezing and less than fifty. We made it our walk-in refrigerator. It was nice to have fresh vegetables after only eating canned for three weeks straight.
Endure (End Times Alaska Book 1) Page 8