Yes. We were better off without him. I thought briefly that if I ever saw him again, I would shoot him, but that wasn’t right. I wouldn’t make it the easy answer to every dispute. And it really wasn’t our sled anyway. We had “borrowed” it, just like we were going to borrow one of the resort sleds to replace it. The real loss was the dog crate. The dogs would have to double up, but everything would work out.
Madison needed someone to tell her it was okay. I wouldn’t let the cancer that was John continue to eat us after he was gone. With people like that, we got what we wanted, but he wouldn’t let us get it in the way we wanted.
That’s how narcissists control other people, I thought to myself. Maybe I will shoot him if I see him again.
A New Day
We enjoyed a wonderful dinner. The mood was light and people seemed genuinely happy. I offered a toast to Darren for providing a moose to help feed the dogs. Abigail lifted her glass first, pleased with the toast. She hadn’t realized the stress she carried worrying about being able to feed the dogs, her dogs.
We sliced out steaks for a future meal for us, while grinding up a small amount of fresh meat into burger for an easier meal to cook. Everything else was in the refrigerator, waiting to be ground up as dog meat. Tomorrow, they’d process it the rest of the way. Jo knew how to do that, and Darren and Becca volunteered to help.
The new Darren. He told Becca that the next moose would be hers and that the new hunting rifle with the scope made everything easy. They’d take it out and shoot a couple rounds each to get familiar. He suggested they wear ear plugs.
I especially enjoyed the salad that night. Having butchered the moose, I thought I had no interest in meat, although when they brought out the hamburgers, I had to dig in. Hamburgers with fresh tomato slices on fresh buns. I’m not sure I ever had a meal that tasted so good.
We even gave hamburgers to Phyllis and Husky, but without the fixings.
The twins enjoyed their child-sized portions, as they usually enjoyed their meals. They didn’t seem to take this as anything special, except that they were surrounded by happy people.
I looked around the room at the variety of faces. Chris had been hired as a housekeeper. He didn’t say much. In my mind, that made him more intelligent. When he did speak, you had to listen carefully, because what he said was important.
Felicia was hired to work in the greenhouse. She always watched what was going on. She smiled often, but it seemed forced and didn’t smile when she thought no one was watching.
Emma was hired as a housekeeper. She was easy-going. Her joy at John’s departure was apparent. It was like someone flipped a switch. I wondered what John had done, and it made me dislike him that much more.
Amber joined us at our table. “I think we should set up work schedules, to share the burden a bit. What do you think?”
I liked it. There are jobs that no one likes doing. Giving someone responsibility for doing the dishes in perpetuity was not going to work, but rotating it through a schedule would remove any individual anguish. People would be kings in their own area. Jo might never have to do another dish as long as there were people to help, and then Jo would take a turn in the greenhouse, at the kennel, elsewhere.
“Bring it up to everybody. This may be the missing piece that will bring everyone together. Everyone is a king and everyone is a pauper.”
After dinner, Amber raised it as a proposal and said that she would set up a rotating work schedule. She sat down at the bar and started scribbling on a notepad. Jo stood up and apologized to everyone for not cooking for most of the past week. Lucas apologized to everyone for not taking the gardening seriously. He would remedy that first thing in the morning. The others followed suit. It felt like an AA meeting. Who was I to interrupt the reckoning?
I couldn’t have been more pleased with the change in attitudes. Maybe instead of an AA meeting, it was an AJ meeting, life After John.
I was glad he was gone and hoped that we would never see him again. I didn’t care if he was successful or not. As long as we kept a watch on the skies over Fairbanks, we could signal if a helicopter flew by. If John told people in a small city in Canada, there probably wouldn’t be anything they could do. We were better off just waiting and watching. John was gone and that was all that mattered.
For the Community of Chena Hot Springs, it was a new day. And we had clean laundry. I was looking forward to a hot shower and warm bed. Until Jo showed up with ice cream and apple pie, then I was looking forward to dessert. After that, dishes, then we’d think about going to the room. It was nice to see the group’s excitement about what their future held.
A Full Vacation Day
We took care of the dishes, got a hot shower, and settled in to watch a Disney movie they had in the recreation room. Everyone was satisfied and the twins were sound asleep halfway through the movie. We kept the movie playing while we retired to the bathroom for a hot shower together. We hadn’t been intimate since the explosion. The twins were always with us, as well as the dogs, and it was cold in the house. We were always clothed in multiple layers.
It was nice getting naked with my wife.
The next day, I awoke early and took the dogs out. After playing for a bit, I brought them inside, and they were happy to get back into the big bed in my spot that was still warm. I went to the lodge to make coffee and listen to some music.
Glasses had been left out from the night before. I washed them and put them away behind the bar while I was waiting for the coffee. There was some fresh bread in the kitchen. I helped myself to some of that with jelly and a nice big cup of coffee. I made a fire in the fireplace, but only for effect. The dining room was well-heated. It made for a cozy morning.
There were numerous books lying around. I looked them over. One was a James Patterson mystery. I picked it up and started reading.
Time disappeared until people started drifting in for their morning coffee. Cereal had gone out of vogue with the fresh milk. There were cases of dehydrated milk, but that wasn’t the same. Although I had to admit that I liked eating frosted mini wheats right out of the box. Toast made with fresh bread and plenty of jelly made a better meal than I deserved. There were no eggs, but there was bacon. Since Jo offered, I had to accept. Bacon goes with anything. It’s the ultimate food accessory.
I helped clean up, although there seemed to be no limit of volunteers this morning. I thanked all of them personally with a handshake and gave Jo a bear hug with many superlatives. She was the only one who wasn’t allowed to clean up. I expected lunch would be great and dinner spectacular.
I hurried back to the room to find Madison and the twins just getting out of bed. We quickly cleaned up and headed back to the restaurant for a more private breakfast. Everyone else was already out and about with their duties. Jo was guiding Darren and Becca in how to process the moose. That was going to be a sloppy mess, but there was only room for two people to work at one time. They would take care of it. Darren waved me away. Becca looked at him with a smile. Jo was pleased to guide the work, using a meat mallet as a gavel. I told them we’d return after a while to see if they needed help. I expected they wouldn’t. Colleen had gone with Lucas to the greenhouse to help straighten things up.
I was happy watching my family eat.
“What was that? Which one of you gave bacon to the dog?” Two innocent smiles. I moved my chair closer to them. The dogs were drooling. It was disgusting. Worse than that, I was salivating, too. Ahh, nothing like bacon.
We then went swimming. The pool was a steamy ninety-six degrees and we had it all to ourselves. The world was back on track. After a long swim, we put the dogs in the room as we all dressed warmly. We would help out at the kennel before going back home.
There were almost ninety dogs here and they made quite a racket when we arrived. We went into the dog musher’s office where more coffee was brewing. We asked what they needed. They had already fed the dogs, but it was time for waste clean-up. They had shovels and buckets. Mad
ison took one, and I took one. We started at opposite ends and worked our way toward the middle. Ninety dogs can be very productive. I had to stop and empty the bucket into a dumpster three times before getting halfway. I think this meant that the dogs were eating well. They needed to run.
The mushers were both women and not too experienced, in their words. They loved the dogs though, and that made the difference. If they ran teams of twelve dogs, they could give all the dogs a run over the course of eight trips. That would almost be a full-time job. If they had half the number of dogs, it would be more manageable, but no one would approve killing dogs just because there might be too many. We didn’t know when help would come, so we would make do.
It took us an hour and a half to finish the job of cleaning up. The good news was that it only had to be done like that every couple days. We were glad to save someone else from doing it. Although it was nice to go back into a warm building and drink hot chocolate.
The dog mushers had put the twins on a sled and taken it out. They were covered up with a blanket and happy as could be. Their faces were all red when they returned, but everyone was happy. Both of them wanted to become dog mushers. It was a laudable goal. We would see as they got older.
We went back to the lodge to clean up our room and get ready to go back home. Colleen had put a sleigh behind her snow machine. She found it in the snow machine garage. The sleigh was old, but looked to be in good condition. She told us to take her sled as she would stay for the week as long as we promised to check in on her horses every day. We committed to that easily. Colleen could provide the adult presence to help the college kids, although without John, I think they were already well on their way to being better than ever.
Another Week at Home, and Then Another…
The time seemed to fly by. We would spend a week at home, teaching the twins, making sure that the house was sound, “shopping,” and other things necessary to survive. We’d race to the Hot Springs every weekend. Colleen would alternate one week there and one week at home.
And another week would go by and another. By March, we’d had some good warm spells. We were also up to almost twelve hours of light a day. We’d made it through the harshest part of winter.
And thanks to Colleen’s missing neighbor, we had plenty of pellets, so we even turned up the heat in the house.
In the evening, the auroras kept us company. If the twins were sleeping, sometimes we’d wake them up. There’s nothing like watching the northern lights dance overhead.
We spent a great deal of time outside with the warmer temperatures and increasing amount of daylight. We were always on the watch for any kind of aircraft. But there were no contrails. No sounds.
No airplanes and no other humans besides us.
I was surprised that none of the people in the caravan to Anchorage returned. If they had any problems, I was sure someone would have turned back. As a good Intelligence Officer, I maintained a certain level of paranoia, but I couldn’t contemplate any scenario where this made sense. There were so few of us left north of the city. What about all the oil workers on the North Slope? What about all the people who lived further out?
In the winter, they had access by snow machine and dog sled. In the summer, there were dirt roads they could travel. They came to town once every six months to resupply or sell furs or do what they needed to do to survive in the remote areas. A significant part of Alaska’s population lived subsistence lifestyles. Some might say it was living off the grid. Others would say that they never felt more alive.
Maybe it wasn’t time yet for the subsistence people to restock.
There was one small island of civilization that we clung to. The Community of Chena Hot Springs had become a lifeline for us. Our days there were intoxicating. We enjoyed our trips and had made it often enough that we could get there in one hour. The snow machines were simple forms of transportation, not for joy riding. That’s why we didn’t own one before. I could not conceive of riding around in the snow and cold simply for the pleasure of the ride. I enjoyed the snow machine, but for me, it was a means of transportation.
And when the snow melted, we’d fire up the quad for the same reason. It was a means to an end.
The things we had taken for granted were clean laundry, flush toilets, running water – the little things. No longer. Everything we did to live took some kind of effort. We siphoned, we hauled, we melted, we recharged, and then we hauled some more.
The twins shared the work with us and we shared life with them. They were troopers. There were no terrible twos for the twins. They rose to the occasion and helped us to help them. Their classes were going strong. Their attention span was improving. They were well into a lifelong journey of learning. Would we have enough to teach them? Where would we be as they grew up? As they approached their third birthday that spring, they were stronger than ever and the whole world was before them.
We needed to think about their future in this new world. When would we have to decide about change?
Summer Alone
We asked ourselves what would we do if help didn’t come. There were only two choices: stay or go. Each decision would be significant.
If we decided to go, where would we go and how would we get there? What would be waiting for us along the way or even at the destination?
If we stayed, what would that mean? What would we have to do?
In my entire life, change was constant and I never liked it, until it was no longer a change. We moved eleven times in twenty years. Who likes moving? I thought we did as we looked toward the next great adventure. Maybe we just did it because we had to and we surrendered ourselves to our fate. We only owned three houses in our lives. One was purchased because rent was so high in Tampa, Florida. We purchased another in Pittsburgh to serve as our retirement home, but then Madison got the job in Fairbanks. So we sold our retirement home and bought our current home, which was by far the best place we’ve ever lived. We didn’t want to give it up.
I didn’t want someone who was “shopping’”to go through our home. Whenever I went into other people’s homes, I never took anything personal. I took food, fuel, water, and things like that. I took some ammunition and some weapons. I took snow machines, sleighs, and a quad. I took things that insurance would replace. I closed doors behind me. If people returned, their homes would be intact, their personal items safe.
And I still maintained my list, although it had gone from very detailed, to general. I think I had the addresses right, mostly. If people didn’t return, then there’d be no reason beyond my commitment to myself. That was enough. I would continue to keep track, even if it was vague. The list was getting fairly long. I perused it from start to finish. Had we really eaten that much?
If we stayed, what would we need for food, fuel? There weren’t enough pellets for another winter if it came to that.
All of that aside, what did we really want?
I wanted a happy family. Despite the destruction around us, we had grown closer. We appreciated the little things. We appreciated each other. We could not have been more fully engaged in the growth and education of our children. From that perspective, it did not get any better. If we were to travel in search of civilization, would we have what we had now?
Once you ask the right question, the answer is easy. We would stay here, another year if needs be, and then we’d think about it the following year. After we came to that decision, the rest was planning.
We needed to garden and then can the food. We needed to find a water source. We needed to change out our pellet stove for a wood burner. We needed to bag a moose, then freeze it. We wanted a second generator, one powerful enough to run the whole house. There would always be needs and wants.
Our world was bigger than just our family. We had made it so. Colleen lived around the corner. We had started the Community and it was flourishing. We had gone no further than Bennett Road for the rest of the winter. I did not want to explore too far and wide in the area where the Golds
tream brothers had spread fear. Maybe we’d rethink that come summer.
In the interim, we’d have to talk with the Community. I didn’t think Colleen wanted to go anywhere as she had her horses to take care of. They were the last reminders of her family and she wouldn’t let them go. We would let the others know what we decided and then see what they wanted to do.
Saturday came and we made our quick trip to Chena Hot Springs. With the warmer weather, the dogs enjoyed the travel more. There was still a great deal of snow and it was below freezing, but it wasn’t mind-numbingly cold. We had a full day’s worth of light every day, so our travel times weren’t restricted. We had a big window to travel within.
Amber met us, as usual in the main lodge. She had covered the walls with butcher block paper where she kept track of work schedules, supplies, to-do items, repairs, and more. She had embraced her role as the mayor of the Community. Colleen had worked wonders with the group. She worked with everyone individually to help them appreciate what they had, improve on what they were doing. As a counselor, she was a natural.
When the group was together at lunch, I waited until they were done with their meal, then I spoke. “We have an announcement to make. Assuming help doesn’t come, we’ve decided to stay at our home. I know we’ve talked about heading out to look for help, or just leave Alaska completely, but this is our home, and this is where we’re going to stay. For now anyway.”
They didn’t look surprised. Darren and Becca sat closely together, holding hands. Jo was leaning closely into Emma. Emma was originally a housekeeper, but was now splitting her time between the kitchen and the kennel. The Community was becoming a real community, committing to each other, to a greater good.
Endure (End Times Alaska Book 1) Page 13