The Dark Land

by D M Shepard

  It was true, what she said earlier when she shouted back at him, he and Karen had taught her everything she knew about both the summer and winter here in the Wrangell’s. The little bird learned how to fish, hunt for mushrooms, pick berries and herbs, track animals, ski, snowshoe: everything about survival in the backcountry. She evolved from a fragile owlet into a sleek bird of prey. Those striking eyes pierced his soul whenever they darted his way. No matter how she grew, it didn’t stop him from worrying about her. Especially after Karen disappeared.

  He checked the door one last time. Both dogs rested next to the hearth, giving no indications of anything amiss outside. He threw in two hefty logs, and turned down the damper on the stove, ensuring it would burn slowly over the course of the night. After cleaning himself up, he climbed into his own sleeping bag, and lay down beside her.

  His heartbeat immediately increased tempo, fingers tingling as he curled his hands into fists at his side.

  Oh man. This was a mistake, I should have rolled out my bag on the floor, or slept in the other room, he thought, as his body responded enthusiastically to the feminine essence of her hair and skin.

  God she’s beautiful. How did such a scrawny girl turn into a swan?

  She muttered in her sleep, thrashing her arm as if to protect her head. He reached over automatically, like he used to do when they were kids, and rubbed her shoulder. She stilled, snuggling into his touch.

  His body tensed, blood rushing to his groin. Her simple action ignited a fire in his veins. Dammit, you’re not going to do that with her. Thank God she’s in her own bag. I couldn’t handle that firm body against me all night with nothing but clothes in the way.

  He groaned as she rolled over and nestled closer, curves aligning to him, even with the down sleeping bags in the way. With a long sigh, he wrapped an arm around her. His chest constricted, heart melting as she pressed her face against him, eyelashes tickling his neck. He closed his eyes and fell fast asleep to the sound of the crackling fire and her soft sighs.

  SLED RIDES AND DARK MEMORIES

  “What’s the plan for today?” Ulrik asked as they finished up the leftover chili and bread for breakfast, and repacked their gear.

  “I wanted to ski out to the old service cabin by Dan Creek. I planned on following the Nizina until I get there.”

  “What are you looking for?” Ulrik asked, eyes boring into her.

  “Same thing Penny was,” she replied, arranging the toboggan to accommodate the logs. “The troopers found remnants of Bryan’s jacket in the Nizina just before it dumps into the Chitna, but there’s no way he walked that far. It had to have washed down from somewhere. You know him, he never went anywhere without his four-wheeler. He stayed the night here, and he parked it at the dry campground near the service cabin. At least, that’s where the kids told the Troopers they found it when they were caught joyriding on it. This is the best time of year to ski across the Nizina and the bogs.”

  “Fine,” he said, not trying to talk her out of it. “I’m coming with you.” He re-packed his gear, face like stone.

  “Ulrik—I,” she stammered. Her heart raced, while she wanted him along, she hated to think that he felt the need to baby her.

  “Don’t argue with me,” he snapped.

  “I’m not,” she muttered. “I was going to say thank you. I don’t want to do this by myself. I’m glad to have company, especially yours.”

  “Don’t mention it,” he said, cheeks flushing scarlet. “I don’t want to see what happened to Miss Penny happen to you.”

  “Let’s get moving,” she said, focusing on repacking her gear as her heart sunk, trying not to let his abrupt attitude upset her. “Dan Creek’s a couple of hours by sled, but I want to reach to the service cabin and settle in by noon. That would give us a few hours of daylight to start searching places he might have been hunting.”

  “First,” Ulrik suggested, “let’s track that thing that broke in here last night. I injured it. I want to see if I killed it. Last thing we want it a wounded, angry mutated wolverine hanging around.”

  *****

  Rose examined the trail of black blood in the hard-packed snow. They tracked it as far as the edge of the clearing, then it seemed to climb straight up a massive spruce and disappear. Cones, leaves and other debris the only sign of where it had vanished.

  She adjusted her dark goggles against the sun beating down on the alabaster landscape. Thor and Loki paced back and forth; black noses buried in the tracks but otherwise remained calm.

  “What do you think Ulrik?” she asked, poking at the trail in the snow with a pole.

  “Too long and narrow to be a bear or wolverine, but still...” he rubbed his beard as he crouched by the spatter of blood, “could be deformed. We should leave. I shot it, but it was healthy enough to climb a tree. I wish I could be sure that I killed it.” He looked up, dark eyes searching the canopy as he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand.

  “Yes, I want to get started. We have a long way to go.”

  “Get settled in the sled while I lock up,” Ulrik said motioning to the fully loaded sled. “At least it looks like we’ll have good weather today.”

  “Yeah, clear and cold,” she replied as she stared skyward. Ice crystals hung suspended in the subzero air, sparkling like millions of diamonds. The azure sky arched overhead, achingly brilliant and cloudless. The frame creaked as she climbed into the cargo bed and covered herself with the thick blanket. Ulrik returned before she had time to settle into the seat. The dogs rushed to the front, eager to be on their way. He scratched their ears while connecting the harnesses to the gang line. The malamutes yipped, wagging their tails and nipping each other playfully as they anticipated the run. The conveyance inched forward on the snow as the animals tensed, ready.

  Ulrik checked the blanket wrapped around Rose, much like he used to when she was a little girl. Her body grew hot as he tucked it tightly around her. He adjusted her face mask and goggles, fingers lingering long against her face.

  “Warm enough?” he asked, jet eyes inches away from hers.

  “Uh, yeah,” she stammered, mouth dry as she stared back. Her pulse quickened at the warmth of his touch.

  “Alright. Let me know if you need to stop.” He jerked away, fists clenched. He tugged his balaclava and goggles over his face as he stomped through the snow. The basket shook as he hopped on the footboards. Thor and Loki lurched in the harnesses at Ulrik’s command to mush.

  She swallowed hard, wondering why he seemed so angry. The sled surged forward, cutting a smooth arc through the glittering alabaster snow in the morning light. Tongues lolling out of their mouths, their blue eyes reflected the cloudless sky that arched overhead as they smashed through the opalescent drifts. The sled glided along behind, coasting over the bumps as the slack line tightened. As the dogs pulled the sled out of the heavier piled mounds in the yard and onto the trail, they found their stride and picked up speed. She wrapped her arms around herself under the wool blanket, focusing on the passing scenery as the dogs mushed through the forest.

  Ulrik didn’t have to do this. Does he really think I’m that incompetent out here?

  She sighed, then resigned herself to the task. She didn’t ask for his company, he volunteered himself. If he wants to be a jerk about it, that’s his choice.

  They dropped down the valley, following the trail somewhat back toward the Iverson’s. The dogs plowed through the thick drifts of snow on the banks of the Kennecott river with glee, kicking up a diamond spray in the morning light. Rose made sure to look to the north toward Kennecott when they reached the tributary. She could see the old mine’s deep red buildings in the distance, the 14-story concentration mill the most visible against the dazzling white snow. The Root Glacier cascaded down like a blinding sapphire waterfall, suspended between Donaho and Bonanza Peaks in the winter sun. Once on the frozen watercourse, the malamutes ran like the wind, unhampered by deep drifts of powder. Kennecott River made a winding race track south w
here it connected to the larger Nizina. They turned east and headed up river to Dan Creek.

  She smiled as they approached the remnants of the old Nizina River Bridge. Only three spans of the bridge, built in the 1920s, remained. The red-orange metal trusses gleamed in the brilliant morning light, standing tall in the wind. The rest having been washed away by the raging river’s flooding long ago. Glimpses of the rusty, old, pile driver could be seen, buried in the snow and brush along the river. A testament to the difficulty of maintaining access to the wild and beautiful interior.

  Tears of joy came to Rose’s eyes as they raced through the river valley. She leaned back, enjoying the expedition. Her mind went back to her very first sled ride—a thrilling trip she never forgot. The crystal-clear day, the fluffy canines pulling at their harnesses, eager to be off, the way the ice crystals hung in the air. Everything about it had been enchanting. She could still feel Karen’s gorgeous hand-made parka with its intricate patterns of green and blue dyed leather, beads, and quills tickle her face as the beautiful teenage girl strapped her into Ulrik’s sled. Her ebony hair had mingled with the wolf and wolverine fur of the hood as she bundled Rose up like a prized baby doll and made sure she was secure. Ulrik came around and double-checked that the bindings were tight.

  “Now you two be careful with her,” Nina scolded from the porch. “Check her fingers from time to time and make sure they’re not cold.”

  Karen’s onyx eyes sparkled as she winked at Rose and smirked at Ulrik. She adjusted her dark goggles and gripped her ski poles.

  “She’ll sweat to death before she freezes with all the clothes you and Mom put on the Little Besiini,” he muttered under his breath.

  “What was that?” Nina asked, glowering.

  “Nothing Mom,” Ulrik replied. “I was just saying we’ll check her before we cross the river.”

  “Okay! Well, be careful!” she advised, dark eyes filled with concern as she wrapped her arms over her midsection.

  Ulrik ordered the dogs to start before Nina could make another demand. The dogs strained at their yokes, eager to move faster than the slow trot Ulrik constrained them to. Karen coasted alongside on her skis.

  “Mush!” Ulrik commanded as soon as they were safely out of sight. With a delighted yip and howl, the animals picked up speed effortlessly. Rose remembered giggling with joy, despite the icy air clawing at her lungs and tears stinging her eyes. They trickled out of the corners and froze to the tiny strip of skin that was exposed to the winter weather.

  Even with the onerous task ahead, her heart hammered with that same thrill. As they plowed through the snow, sprays of powder shimmered in the sunlight in the dogs’ wake. She leaned back and enjoyed the ride, knowing she was in the best of hands.

  Her mind wandered as the scenery blurred by. She hadn’t been back to Penny’s as much as she wanted after college, maybe the odd trip in the summers. Working full-time in Prudhoe Bay and having a condo in Anchorage took up much of her time. She still loved coming out to the McCarthy area. No other place on the planet felt quite like home. As they slid across the bogs and frozen rivers, she reveled in the beautiful scenery and Ulrik’s stoic company.

  She clenched her jaw, the scar on the side of her head throbbed, reminding her of how she’d come to live with Miss Penny and meet Ulrik, the Iversons, and the rest of the wonderful people she had come to know. She sighed and shifted in the seat, not wanting to pull her arm out and touch it for fear that Ulrik might think something was wrong. The scar twitched again as she thought of her parents and that last awful night.

  Her head ached whenever she thought back on the confusing nightmare that comprised her early childhood. She blocked it out when she could. Those long days of being cold and hungry. Never saying anything, because it might earn her a beating. She never knew if her mother and father were going to be sober and just ignore her, or if they were going to scream and hit her—or each other. She knew a lot of it revolved around when they got their money and their friends came over. When that happened, she made sure to find a place to hide, no matter where they were staying. It was best to stay silent and out of sight.

  She clutched at the fabric of her jacket as she hugged herself tighter. She didn’t know what made the man open the closet door that night, but she remembered how her bowels lurched at the light peeking through.

  “Oh, who’s this pretty little thing?” A skinny man said, opening the door. She jerked awake and blinked her eyes. Instinctively she curled tighter into a defensive ball, trying to shrink into the musty pile of dirty clothes. He smoothed his greasy brown hair and licked his lips as he looked her over.

  “Oh, that’s just Rose,” her dad said, taking a long swig out of a bottle. He picked up a sienna glass pipe from amongst the clutter of bottles, trash and fast food bags on the hotel room table. She could make out a red glow in the haze of smoke in the room as he took a hit.

  “Hey sweetie,” he said, adjusting his belt as he stared down at her. “Want to come sit on my lap for a while?”

  She clutched at the headless doll that was her only toy, body shaking in terror. Her bladder quivered; underpants soaking with warm urine. The man leered at her, several teeth missing from his mouth that was riddled with crusting sores.

  “No—no thank you,” she whispered, trying to melt further back into the closet. She pulled an old, soiled shirt over her, as if it would shield her from his gaze.

  “Rose,” her father barked, rising from his chair, “Get your ass out of there before I make you.”

  Scrambling on her quaking legs, the man gripped her upper arm with his calloused, stained fingers. His nails reminded her of claws: yellow, jagged, thick, rough and uneven. He squeezed her skin until she whimpered.

  “Come on over here, sunshine. You’re old enough to sit with me, with those pretty, tiny tits,” he said, running his free hand over her buds of breasts beneath her t-shirt. She screamed and tried to jerk away. When he gripped harder, she sunk her teeth into his hand, desperate to make him let go.

  “Bitch,” he snarled. He belted her across the face and slammed her head against the wall.

  “God, I’m trying to sleep,” her mother yelled from where she sprawled half naked across the stained sheets of the bed. “Shut the fuck up and go back in your closet you little bitch.” Her mother rolled back over after taking a swig from a brown bottle on the nightstand.

  Rose sobbed, choking on snot and blood. Her neck ached, head whipping back and forth as the man slapped her a few more times. Stunned, she hung, limp as he dragged her by the arm into the small hotel bathroom.

  “Quit whining you little bitch and do what you’re told,” her father shouted. He added more to the pipe and re-lit it. Acrid smoke filled the air as he leaned back and puffed on it. Then the bathroom door swung closed.

  She coughed, choking on the coppery tang of blood filling her mouth. She rubbed her eyes, desperate now to hold in her sobs. Her heart fluttered in her chest with sharp, stabbing pains, as the man sat down on the toilet and began to undo his belt. He slapped her again then gripped her by the throat. She clawed at his hand, gurgling and gasping for air. He tossed her to the beige laminate flooring with a laugh. Her groan of pain was knocked from her as he kicked her in the stomach with his boot. She coughed up a pool of pink drool as she lifted her head.

  “Now girl, I’m going to show you how to please a man.” He continued undoing his pants. She screamed in horror at the pale snake-like thing that protruded from his dirty underwear. He punched her in the face, stomach and chest, forcing her to her knees.

  “Quit your screaming, you little cunt,” he shouted, gripping her hair and slamming her head against the side of the tub. The loud thunking sound reverberated with her screams.

  “You’re going to put this in your mouth,” he insisted. She shook her head and screamed again. She would rather die than let that strange thing come anywhere near her. Fighting against his iron grip with all her might, she bit and clawed him. The torment of his fist
s and feet pummeling her small body blended into one solid symphony of agony as her world grew dark. The last thing she heard as she slid into a red haze were the words, “Police! Freeze! Hands up!”

  *****

  The next week or so in the hospital was a vague swirl of faces, IV’s and hospital machinery that ticked, beeped and buzzed. When she finally came out of the heavy sedation, she blinked her eyes to see a woman sitting at her bedside. The smile on her wide, round face brought tears to her eyes. No one ever smiled at her like that. Her oversized petal-pink sweater and faded jeans looked like they grew on her. Her chocolate-brown curls shot with silver piled in an untidy bun on top of her head suited her. She pushed her gold wire framed glasses up the bridge of her nose and stroked Rose’s hand with her own well-weathered leathery digits. Joy bubbled up in her heart at the kindness in the woman’s touch. Something she had never felt before in her life.

  “Hi there,” the woman said, as Rose blinked and turned her head. Rose tried to answer, but her jaw wouldn’t move. Intense waves of misery made her clutch the left side of her face.

  “It’s okay, sweetie, don’t try to talk. I don’t know if the doctors have told you, but your jaw is broken. My name’s Penny Dolinsky. You can call me Miss Penny.” Her big, nut-brown eyes gleamed behind her glasses as she looked Rose over. Moisture swam at the corners, but she wiped it away with a gnarled hand. “The doctors say that you’ll be ready to leave the hospital soon. I take care of kids that don’t want to live with their parents anymore. Would you like to come home with me for a while and recover?”