by Ponzo, Gary
Emily had not said much during the trip. Justin and Anna had tried, time after time, to reach the Coast Guard, the Canadian Forces, or anyone else over the radio. The vast distance and the relentless storm ensured that only constant static was all they received.
The helicopter approached their destination, Arctic Bay. Carrie focused her entire attention on landing the Seahawk safely. It was going to be a tricky maneuver. She would have to complete a smooth descent from their current altitude of three thousand feet to almost ground level. She could not afford to make any mistakes when assessing the strength of sudden wind gusts and performing the actual landing.
“We’re coming up to the Bay,” Carrie announced, glancing at the controls. The night was pitch-black, and she doubted her crew could see anything on the ground. “I’m going to drop gradually, then hover in search of a decent landing.”
“Are we going to descend over water or land?” Justin asked.
“Over land. The Seahawk’s control system has a great topographical map, detailed and updated, which takes into account typical snowfalls and other winter conditions. Approaching the Bay from over the water would be extremely dangerous, almost a suicide.”
“I thought our entire trip was an attempted suicide.” Emily snorted.
Carrie let her sarcasm slide. “I’m getting some good readings from the airspeed and the angle sensors. Hopefully, the visibility will improve once we’re closer to the ground.”
She veered the Seahawk, and her crew felt the fuselage take a sharp nosedive. The fall continued for about thirty seconds. Carrie steadied the Seahawk, hovering at the same altitude for a few moments. She repeated the same diving maneuver, this time followed by spiral downward movements.
“What are our chances of actually landing in one piece?” asked Emily.
“Greater than hovering forever without trying,” Carrie replied. “We have sufficient fuel for two, three attempts, maybe. But I’m worried about damaging the rotor blades, so I hope to make it the first time.”
She continued to drop the helicopter into the frightening descent, following the direction of the wind gusts and taking advantage of any breaks, no matter how small, in the blowing snow. Her eyes kept leaping between the control panel and the windshield, since clear isolated patches began to appear in the fog. She could see some details of the mountainous landscape.
“There, do you see the King, at ten o’clock?” Justin asked Anna.
They were falling through a quasi-transparent veil of mist. Carrie tried to take in as much as she could of the rugged terrain. She recognized the flat shape of the King George V Mountain top. A little further, she noticed the vast opening of Adams Sound. A large iceberg was wedged between the ice floes. As she titled the Seahawk to the left, dropping a few dozen feet, she was able to see the first houses of Arctic Bay, clustered along the coastline of the inlet.
“I see the school,” Justin said.
“Yes, I do too,” Carrie replied. “It’s great some places still have their lights on.”
The Seahawk continued to draw nearer to the town.
“I’ll try to take the chopper there.” Carrie pointed to her left, toward a small clearing far away from the mountain. “It’s a good distance from the closest houses. Just in case someone may be listening for strange noises.” She remembered the last time they landed in Grise Fiord.
“I wouldn’t worry about the noise,” Emily said. “Just get us down there safely.”
“Yes,” Carrie replied, “but then we’ll have to chase Alisha if she hears us coming.”
They dropped another hundred feet. Suddenly a dense layer of fog concealed the ground.
“What happened?” Emily said, her voice filled with panic. “I can’t see anything.”
“We’ve got to crash-land,” Carrie replied. “Just when I though we got a break, as if it weren’t enough to fly blind . . .”
She slowed their fall by decreasing their speed and spinning the Seahawk around in a small circle. The altimeter showed there was still one hundred and fifty feet between the helicopter and the frozen land. A fierce crosswind could still push the helicopter away from the intended landing area. Carrie tried hovering in one spot, while coming down slowly. The ice blanket covering the permafrost glistened under the Seahawk’s powerful light beams, revealing for a few seconds the shape of the clearing. Carrie estimated the height of the snow banks and the ice mounds, the angle of the hill slope, and the distance the heavy Seahawk might slide when sinking into the snow.
“Get ready,” she shouted. “We’re touching down in ten.”
Emily clung to her armrests.
Justin and Anna locked hands.
Carrie held the throttle, manipulating the controls with utmost care, as if they were made of crystal. She knew any wrong move could cost their lives. After slowing their descent even further, she battled the last wind gusts blasting white powder at the windshield. A moment later, she realized the helicopter was the source of the snowstorm swirling around them. Air currents caused by the helicopter’s rotors were lifting snow and ice chunks from the foothill. As they touched down, the helicopter shook, bouncing twice off the ground before sliding to the left.
“Crap,” Carrie shouted, tapping the control panel.
Her efforts paid off. The Seahawk reluctantly obeyed her commands. It gyrated on its axis, slower and slower, while Carrie kept it stable on the ground, avoiding a deadly rollover. A sharp crash came from the tail rotor. The blades cut through hard-packed ice. The blades survived the impact, but the Seahawk slid another couple of feet. Finally it rested next to a snow bank as high as its windshield.
“Welcome to Arctic Bay,” Carrie announced, then turned off the Seahawk’s main controls.
“Thanks, God,” Anna finished aloud her silent prayer.
“Let’s find Kiawak,” Justin said. He took a deep breath and slid open the cabin’s door.
Arctic Bay, Canada
April 14, 00:32 a.m.
A young man in his early twenties, dark-skinned, but sporting a blond goatee, opened the door at Justin’s first knock.
“Yeah, what’s with the chopper?” he asked, dragging his words like heavy boots through thick snow. The young man was fully awake and held a PlayStation controller in his hand. His eyes flashed a sincere excitement about their sudden appearance. “You guys Army or something?”
“Eh, no, no. We’re . . . we’re friends of Kiawak,” Justin replied.
“What Kiawak?”
“Kiawak Kusugak. The guy who owns the bar in Nanisivik. Parting Waters.”
“Oh, Julian’s bro. The Ranger.”
“Yes, that one. You’ve seen him today, I mean yesterday, or the day before?”
The young man passed his left hand over his long black hair tied in a ponytail. “No, I don’t know, man,” he said with a slow shrug.
“Where does Kiawak stay when he comes to town? Who are his buddies?”
“Oh, buddies. Well, Mike, the Mountie. Abe, the honey trucker and Paul, the guy at the Safelife Co-op.”
“Great, can you show us to these guys’ places?”
“Now?” the young man asked, shaking his head. The ponytail whipped the air behind his head from side to side.
“Right away. It’s urgent.”
The young man glanced beyond Justin, at Anna. She was waiting at the end of the driveway. Then his eyes rested on the helicopter. “Is this some kind of a secret mission?” He returned his gaze to Justin. “You guys are cops? National security? Like in Global Ops?”
“Something like that,” Justin replied. He had no idea what Global Ops was, a movie or a game, maybe, but they needed the young man’s help.
“All right, let’s do this,” the young man said. He turned around and disappeared inside his house, leaving the door ajar.
Anna stepped closer to Justin. “Is he coming out?” she whispered, trying to control her shivering.
“I hope so,” Justin replied, fighting the cold wind by moving his a
rms up and down.
They waited at the doorsteps. Carrie and Emily had stayed behind with the Seahawk, in case Alisha had noticed their arrival and launched an attack or made a runaway attempt. At the same time, Carrie could keep an eye on the aircraft and on Emily.
“Let’s go, buddy. This way.” The young man showed up at the door. He was wrapped in a heavy-duty trucker’s jacket. He led them to his garage at the back of the house. “Ned, that’s my name.”
“I’m Justin, and this is Anna,” Justin said. He rode shotgun in Ned’s souped-up Land Rover. Anna hopped in the backseat, after pushing away a pile of hockey sticks, skates, and helmets.
“Sometimes I coach our teens,” Ned said in justification of the mess in the backseat. “But what’s the rush with your friend?” He started the Land Rover, and they took the road snaking downhill toward the ice-covered Adams Sound.
“Kiawak may be in danger,” Justin said. “We think he’s been kidnapped.”
“Kiawak? Kidnapped?” Ned snickered. “Who would dare to touch a Ranger?”
“Some really bad people,” Anna replied. “Any ideas where he may be? I’m sure Alisha wouldn’t drag a tied Kiawak into a hotel.”
“Kiawak tied by a woman?” The scorn was clear in Ned’s voice. “What kind of weed have you guys been smoking?”
“No, seriously,” Justin said. “Alisha’s really dangerous, even for Kiawak.”
“Well, usually Kiawak crashes at Mike’s, but if I had a hostage, that’s the last place I’d go. I don’t think the trucker’s back from Iqaluit, so, first we’ll check out Paul’s house, the guy from the co-op.”
Ned sped up. The Land Rover hopped over natural speed bumps formed by frozen ice blocks on the road. The haze was dwindling, and the Land Rover’s bright headlights offered a clear view of the road ahead. They swung around a couple of curves as they drew closer to the bay shores.
“Paul lives at the other end of town,” Ned said, “but we’ll get there in a couple of minutes.”
They drove by two log houses, and Ned tilted his head to the left, observing them closely. “That’s where Abe lives, the house in the dark. He’s still gone, I guess. But Tania, she’s still up? What, she’s still grading papers?”
“Tania?” Justin asked. “Who is she?”
“Kiawak’s ex.”
“What?” Justin shouted. “Stop, stop the car, right now, here. Why didn’t you mention this earlier?”
“Because they kind of broke up.” Ned pressed slightly on the brake, steering toward the edge of the road. “About a month or so ago. There’s no way he’s there without everyone in town knowing about it.”
“Alisha can use Tania to squeeze information out of Kiawak,” Anna replied.
Ned stopped and Justin jumped out. Justin switched off the safety on his M-9 pistol and tiptoed toward the snow-covered wooden stairs leading to the back door of the house. Overcast clouds hung over the town, but the snow reflected a considerable amount of the grayish light, giving him sufficient guidance for a stealthy approach. He noticed small footprints on the snow along the wall of the house. A single set of footprints. Let me guess who they belong to.
Justin tried to make as little noise as possible as he slithered up the slippery staircase. Gun drawn, he advanced with small, silent steps. Once he reached the landing by the door, he stopped for a moment and listened for noises coming from inside the house. After hearing nothing but the howling of the sharp wind, he proceeded to turn the doorknob. It yielded, and he pushed the door open.
As soon as he had taken the first step inside the house, a flashlight blinded him. A sharp object hit him squarely on his forehead. Justin saw bright stars, then his eyes rolled back in their sockets. He felt a warm liquid dripping from the wound down to his lips. It tasted like copper. Blood.
“Don’t move,” Justin shouted. He leaned against the wall, raising his gun and squinting in search of the invisible attacker.
Floorboards cracked under heavy footsteps, but he could not see anyone. A second later, he noticed a small shadowy silhouette running toward him. Before he could make out the person’s face, a swift kick to the stomach knocked the air out of him. The shadow overtook him. Two strong arms lifted him and shoved him through the door.
He looked up just as Alisha’s left fist closed in on his right temple. His body smashed through the staircase rail. He became airborne for a second or two before dropping into the three-foot-deep snow covering Tania’s backyard.
The fresh snow softened his fall, and the icy feeling on his head and neck pumped up his survival instinct. Feeling dizzy and noticing his vision was blurry, Justin threw a handful of snow on his face. He repeated the motion again, until the fuzzy curtain covering his eyes began to fall away. As he climbed back to his feet, Alisha was shoving someone who looked like a small-statured woman toward a nearby pickup truck.
“Anna! Ned! Where are you guys?” Justin shouted at the top of his lungs. “Don’t let her go.”
He searched in the snow for his pistol and found it by his feet.
“Anna! Anna!” he kept shouting, while struggling to step out of the slushy, slippery snow.
Lights came on in one of the houses across the street. The truck turned the corner and vanished around a downhill curve.
Justin swore and jogged to Ned’s Land Rover.
“Oh my gosh,” Anna cried upon seeing Justin’s bruised and bloody face. “What happened to you?”
“Turn around and go left,” Justin instructed Ned. “Alisha took me by surprise. She’s gotten hold of Tania.”
Ned nodded without any of his usual wisecracks. The Land Rover roared and slid, but his experienced hands kept the car on the road. He made a quick U-turn, ramping up one of the smaller snow banks, and gave chase.
“There are paper towels in the glove box,” Ned said. “Alisha hits like a man.”
“And she’ll die like a man,” Justin vowed, cocking his pistol. He crumpled a couple of paper towels and dabbed at his forehead. The blood had started to coagulate, and his finger rubbed against the rising bump.
Ned kept snaking from one street to the other, always going east, but there was no trace of Alisha’s truck. Lights began to shine inside a few houses, as the rumbling car stirred up the sleeping town. As Ned eased around the corner next to the Health Center, almost slamming into an ice heap, a truck appeared ahead of them.
“There she is.” Justin tightened his grip around his gun. “Get closer.”
“I’ll try.” Ned pressed on the gas pedal. The Land Rover skidded over a stretch of black ice for a couple of feet. Ned controlled the car, aiming toward the snow banks to the right, to increase the tire traction.
“Where’s she going?” Anna asked. “We’re out of town.”
“Victor Bay,” Ned replied. “It’s about two miles south.”
“Maybe that’s where she hid our Eurocopter,” Justin added. “Speed up!”
“It’s not safe to go any faster,” Ned replied.
“Why not? She’ll get away.”
“She may, but we’re not gonna die trying to catch up to her.”
“Just gas it up, Ned.”
“Listen, I know this road. I drive it every day. It’s paper-thin.”
“What do you mean?”
“The ice cover. Look, right there on the shore. The erosion has been eating away at the ground. In the summer, we drive around these huge holes, six, seven feet deep. The snow and the ice fill them all up in the winter, and the road’s safe for small trucks going at low speeds.”
“So we’re driving over the bay waters now?” Anna asked.
“Yes, we’re on pure ice.”
A loud crack exploded under the Land Rover’s tires, confirming Ned’s words. He slowed down even further. The taillights of the truck grew larger and glistened brighter. Alisha had finally found a use for her brake pedal.
“She’s slowing down,” Justin said.
“Yeah, but she’s still too fast. Way too fast,” Ned rep
lied.
The distance between the Land Rover and the truck was about eighty feet now. The fog was quite thin, allowing the blurry contours to be somewhat visible to the attentive eye.
Justin blinked in disbelief as he thought he saw the square shape of the truck box fishtail very unusually. “What . . . what is she doing?” he asked.
Before anyone could reply, he got his answer. The truck twisted and turned, skidding and sliding on black ice. It seemed Alisha was able to regain control because the truck drove in a straight line for a couple of seconds. Then it resumed its winding. A moment later, it slammed into a couple of ice blocks and bounced over a pressure ridge. It came down hard, plunging through the thin sheet of ice.
“Oh, crap, crap, crap,” Justin shouted, watching the truck nosedive into the frigid waters. Unless they were very careful, they could meet the same fate.
“Are they . . . are they dead?” Anna asked.
“No . . . I hope not,” Justin replied quickly, “but they will be if we don’t pull them out.”
Ned stopped at a safe distance. The Land Rover’s headlights lit up the scene of the accident. The truck had already vanished underwater. Small ice crystals were floating over the open pit. They could still hear loud cracks. It’s probably the truck sinking deeper.
“How deep’s the water here?” he asked, stepping out of the Land Rover. He removed his leather jacket.
“It’s not supposed to be deeper than seven, eight feet, but if it gobbled up the truck like that . . .”
“You’re not thinking—” Anna shouted.
“It may already be too late, but I’ve got to do this.” Justin trod slowly toward the pit.
“No, you don’t.” Anna followed him, reaching for his arms. “Don’t go. Don’t do this.”
Justin sat down on the edge of the pit. The ice sheet cracked and bent under his weight.
“Stay back,” he shouted at Anna. “The ice is cracking.”
She nodded and moved back.