“I’m a naturalist, an amateur really… out for a jaunt to add to my life’s catalog of bird sightings. Many wonderful birds inhabit this country one can’t see anywhere else in the world. I’ve been following the flyway for about a month and haven’t seen another soul much to my surprise. I was supposed to rendezvous with a river guide at a cabin near Stephan Lake and float down the Talkeetna River.
“I might have mistaken the date, somehow, and might have been late. I waited four days but no one arrived. Yesterday, I started walking south when a family of brown bears frightened me and I got lost. An hour ago, I saw your smoke and followed it here… didn’t want to spend another night alone with those beggars… frightening, especially those glowing eyes at night. Bloody good trip otherwise.”
The Captain asked again, “William, you say you haven’t heard a radio or talked to another person for weeks?”
“Quite right! More nearly a month.”
“Well, then, I suppose it falls on me to fill you in. Some disturbing things have happened since you’ve been out of touch, to say the least. Our tale will be hard to believe. The presence of this aircraft in such an unlikely place will be the only confirmation we can offer. Fair enough?”
“I must say…it’s quite a standout. My first question… some mishap, perhaps?”
“More than that. But first, you’re entirely welcome to spend the night with us. You may decide to make it longer once you’ve heard our story, and you’ll be welcome to do that as well. Please, more hot tea for me; I’ll need it.” Judy refilled his cup, while the Captain paused to carefully choose his words.
“William, I hope you’ll suspend any doubt that comes to mind until I’ve finished. I’ll explain by starting with the present situation and then revert to the beginning. I’ve noticed you pondering the Otter, so I’ll answer your curiosity.
“We had a small mishap landing, but the truth is… we flew here intentionally with all these people to escape the worst pandemic of illness in recorded history. The most astonishing fact is that it apparently began little more than a month ago… at least in the West.”
The Captain repeated the substance of the radio broadcast on the flight from Nome and concluded, “I’ve listened to another broadcast just today which described the death of our Vice President, most of Congress, and rampant chaos around the country. Worse, I’ve heard an estimate that perhaps six hundred million people around the world have perished. Apparently no end is in sight.
“I’m also sad to tell you that England has escaped none of it. No country has as far as I know. If you doubt my sanity or think that you’ve stumbled upon some strange cult of crazy people, I wouldn’t be a bit surprised. If you like, I’ll take you into the cockpit so you can listen to the radio for yourself. In fact, you may want to do it tonight. I believe tomorrow may bring the last of public radio broadcasts altogether.”
William had been listening intently and cleared his throat before asking quietly, “My word! I must say… that is astonishing. Please pardon me, but I must ask an obvious question that may not have occurred to you as so necessary to understand all of this. If it’s so infectious, and so many people have succumbed, how did the lot of you escape the disease yourselves? Are you all immune?”
“You’re right. It didn’t occur to me to explain such an obvious question. We all found ourselves stranded in Nome yet unexposed to the disease. We were informed that the disease had arrived at the local hospital the day before from infected aircraft pilots. We escaped town in this airplane just before all commercial flights in the country were grounded. If we’d waited any longer, I’m sure we’d all be dead.
“So when you arrived here, we immediately assumed that you’d brought the disease to us after all. Keep in mind how quickly the symptoms appear and how rapidly the disease kills. By now, I’m sure we all realize that that didn’t happen with you. If you’d encountered anyone infected as late as this morning, by now you’d be too sick to walk into camp. You’re entirely welcome among us, or free to leave later, however you decide. The only condition I place on your joining the group is that you accept our leadership for the time being.”
William paused to digest what he’d heard. “Captain, I’m not ungrateful for your invitation, but I hope you see that I need to reconcile all this in my mind. I must think of the consequences… of my own family… of my obligations. I thank you for tonight, but may I sleep on it?”
“Of course, we’ve all gone through soul searching ourselves.”
When William raised the hot cup to take a sip, it visibly shook with his emotional reaction to the news. “I say! Six hundred million poor souls have passed? That’s worse than the Bubonic Plague… and you say that no one has found a remedy?”
“I’m sorry to say the broadcasts have made that emphatically clear. There’s another thing I should emphasize. I mentioned that all commercial flights have been grounded. What I didn’t say was that I earnestly doubt that many will fly again for quite some time… for months, at least. England is a very long way off, sir, as is Seattle where my own family resides… God willing.”
“Captain, then there’s one more request, if I may. Might I see that radio without you’re assuming that I doubt your word? I know of several short wave frequencies I’d like to try.”
The Captain nodded.
Setting down his tea, William rose to his feet. “Thank you, kindly!”
William and the Captain remained in the cockpit a great while. They emerged looking grave and seated themselves in a corner between Andrew and Mac near the warmth of the campfire. Mac was enjoying the contemplative atmosphere.
Abruptly, Ted asked, “Would you mind giving all of us the news?”
“Ted, I’m not up to talking about it tonight,” replied the Captain, obviously irritated. “It’s worse yet. As if misery didn’t have enough company, now warfare has erupted in some of the notorious hot spots of the world.”
“The Middle East?”
“There and elsewhere.”
“Captain, then give me five minutes on the radio. I need to resolve a matter for my own peace of mind.”
“Ted, please leave it be. When the batteries are drained, it’ll be the last of them.”
“It won’t be the last of them at all, sad to say,” countered Andrew.
“What’s that supposed to mean,” asked the Captain?
“No supposition at all… they’ll continue to poison the earth for decades to come after they’re of no further use to you.”
The Captain fixed Andrew with a hard stare. “With all due respect, I’m still looking for your point about batteries after such depressing news.”
“It was just a thought that welled up in my mind considering the last of the broadcasts. I hope it will mean the last of our ruinous enterprise and that our successors can live in better harmony than we have. It’s too bad that I can’t make that final broadcast. There ought to be a few lessons recorded for our children while contemplating the passing of a rapacious society.”
“The passing of rapacious society? Such a cheerful thought. And just what lessons would you have us reminded of?”
“Just for starters, that the planet couldn’t sustain the burden of the billions of humanity. This plague is the inevitable biological correction to our liability. It would be an enduring lesson that our descendants should never aspire beyond an enlightened pre-Columbian existence. Save us from the dominion men and the likes of Manifest Destiny, and from consumer technology and all its waste.”
“Manifest Destiny? Seems like I remember hearing that pre-Columbian man conquered the whole American continent in a brief flash of time long before us. So what’s the point, I ask again?”
“The point is that they touched the earth so gently that we don’t even know how they did it. They knew how to live in harmony with nature. Can you imagine how
long it will take to heal the planet of our scars?”
“Scars are they? Just how far back to some primal existence do you want to take us to release you from your guilt? Seems to me that we ought to preserve the best accomplishments of society so that our culture can endure.”
“So, I’m to be marginalized by your judgment. You and I surely wouldn’t agree on what really mattered as the enduring accomplishments of society.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want to return to the primeval days of chasing lightning bolts to achieve my Quest for Fire. Technology and culture have their place.”
“Captain, therein lies the difference in our raison d’être.”
“And I think life’s coming events will shortly test those differences.”
It seemed that the Captain welcomed, even encouraged the sharp exchange. Mac wondered if he truly wanted to keep the group together for their mutual benefit. Andrew seemed demented by events, so why press him? The Captain didn’t graciously accept any challenge to his authority.
Of course, everyone around the fire overheard the conversation. Mac observed the nuns whispering together and then with their neighbors. He detected hostile glances directed toward the captain. Shortly the nuns and the nurses retired to the cabin. What more could be brewing from that quarter, he wondered. Mac resolved to talk to Judy in the morning to try to learn more.
Mac sought comfort by the campfire, hopefully with tranquil people. Instead, the day closed again with another verbal conflict.
Adding William made the tent crowded. Sleep eluded Mac. The report of the worldwide reach of the plague gave him little hope for Heather in DC… one of the worst places imaginable. Guilt churned his unsettled mind. But his fishing vacation may have saved his own life despite her warning to abandon the trip.
In the morning with a brisk northwest breeze from the slopes of Denali, the miners kindled a fire and put on a pot to boil. Jack fed the flames while butchering steaks for breakfast. Waiting for coffee with William, Mac noticed the diminished pile of firewood and said, “I suppose hustling firewood again will be the first chore of the day.”
“Firewood’s not the only thing short. We got one day left on this moose,” replied Jack. “Lotta mouths to feed. We shouldn’t wait for Tlingit and go get food ourselves.”
William added, “I’ve been eating fish to supplement my trail food. I’m a wicked man with the rod if I do say so myself. I’ll bring in trout if a pal will join me. I’m still iffy about those bears.”
“I’ll go with you,” volunteered Mac, “but I’m going to try using a gill net.”
“I’m a dauntless fly caster, myself. The pure way is still the best.”
“But a net will bring in the multitude we need,” said Mac. “Do you have any filament with you, William?”
“A full spool right here in my rucksack. Use all you need.”
Mac intended making a small nylon gill net. Any healthy stream nearby should be suitable and maybe productive. Letting scalding coffee cool, he began making a continuous string of filament loops as he had learned from Abel’s grandson.
Andrew watched Mac complete several rows and asked, “Is that a gill net you’re making?”
“Yes.” Mac held the net up proudly, “Should work fine, don’t you think? I’m just guessing the proper loop size until I see the fish. I’m going to make another with smaller loops just in case.”
“Should ‘a known coming from the likes of your group.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“That’s a barbaric way to catch fish.”
“Does this offend you somehow?”
“If you have to ask that question, I’m wasting my breath.”
“We’ve got a lot of mouths to feed in this camp. I learned this technique from the native Yupiks. This is how they provide for their own subsistence.”
“You’re not a native and if everyone did that, there wouldn’t be any fish left.”
Mac’s patience was wearing then. “Well if we don’t eat, there won’t be any of us left. Is that what you want?”
“I refuse to partake of any fish caught in that manner.”
“I’m sure you won’t hesitate to take William’s share then.” Mac thought the man deserved to go hungry until he got his head on straight.
Andrew wasn’t finished. “The world is about to separate people like you from the rest of us if you don’t learn to comport your behavior.” With a flash of anger in his eyes, Andrew stalked away.
‘Comport your behavior.’ Mac remembered where he last heard that notion… ‘acceptance of our difficult decisions.’ That nun again…and the words sounded just like her. He swallowed his rising bile. In fact, the more he thought, the more suspicious he became of the intended meaning. Had the man just let slip a new plan brewing? That nun was up to something. He must talk to Judy.
The women, however, were sleeping late. Jane joined Greg outside, but the others remained in the Otter. They emerged nearly all at once after Jack rapped on the metal door announcing breakfast.
Mac seated himself beside Judy. He asked to talk to her privately, but she hesitated, glancing toward the other women, and said, “I, aah… I shouldn’t just yet, until later. Okay? I’ll find a proper moment.”
“Judy…today? I think it’s important.”
“So do I. Somehow, by tonight, I’ll find you where we can talk.”
Mac looked up to find the nuns leading a quiet prayer involving all of the women except Judy, but including Ted. Ted had never hinted at religious faith nor participated in any observance in the short time Mac had known him. Mac watched Sister Helena as she went on whispering until she startled and gasped. William, too, was staring over his shoulder with his mouth agape.
Mac turned to see the spectacle of a stunning man staring at the group in silence. The burly man was Tlingit, dramatically transformed into a native warrior of yore, his fierce appearance culminating in a beaked thunderbird headdress. Beautifully crafted, artistic symbols from his ancestry covered both fabric and skin. Long glistening jet black hair flowed from his headdress cascading over his shoulders. His red vest extended below his waist patterned with deep blue totemic symbols created patterns of a raven and eagle. Black horizontal bands contrasted with the red vest and emphasized his barrel-chested physique. Arm length tattoos extended the symbols to his knuckles. Under his vest he wore a shirt of woven leather thongs dyed red with deep maroon edges.
His sleeves trimmed with raven feather fringe fluttered in motion with his slightest body movement. Tanned deerskin trousers tapered to below the knees. He wore modern walking boots covered with beaded sheathes extending the bold raven patterns to the toe.
Painted patterns accentuated the striking features of his face. Both eyelids were painted to the brow with iridescent blue-black paint which changed color with direction rather like the feathers of a hummingbird. Three kinesthetic lines of varying width were drawn across the bridge of his nose, sweeping around his face, emphasizing the deep contours. They joined a black streak from the corner of his eye and terminated in a fine blood red point. Each line differed in color, blood red, blue black and an iridescent yellow-green which subtly changed hue with its orientation to the light. His overall appearance conveyed a devilish, nether world presence.
His weapons completed his fearsome warrior persona. An elaborate beaded strap worn diagonally across his shoulder supported a quiver of bright red metal tipped arrows and a modern unstrung longbow. He carried a knife with a bone handle carved with game images in an embroidered sheath.
Mac recognized the Cossack copper headed hatchet, the ancient artifact given to him by Abel. Tlingit now carried the hatchet in a plain deerskin holster. Tlingit caught Mac’s eyes inspecting the hatchet and spoke his first words. “You said you owed me a debt for saving your ass, so I collected.”
Mac kept silent, but not Ted. “Those are my boots you’re wearing.”
“No surprise coming from you,” sneered Tlingit. “First words outta your mouth. Tlingit’s a thief, right Teddy? You mean these boots you forgot. Now they’re mine!”
After a watchful pause, the Captain swept his hand to the circle of people and said, “We’ve missed you, Tlingit. Please, join us; we all need your help and especially your hunting skills and knowledge of the country.”
Tlingit also swept camp with a contemptuous expression on his face. “I can see you do need me… good food all around and all you’ve found to eat are berries! Ha! Andrew craves respect for living with nature, but sneers at the best way to catch fish. He’ll be eatin’ ‘em raw before winter is done with him. Winter sport has changed for all you white boys.” With eyes again sweeping camp, he finished by shaking his head. “Twenty of you and this is all you can do for yourselves? Winter will be blowing over this ridge by morning and you’ll all be crying for your comforts.”
“Then please stay and help us cope with living out here,” said the Captain.
“Ever since we landed here, you’ve fought like spoiled children. I’ve listened to you each night and I’m ashamed. Cap wants his due, but he isn’t a proper God fearing man. So, Helena wants to gather the flock around herself. She’s the first one to figure out how your world has changed. Craig blew her first scheme, so now she’s working on the ladies, filling them with guilt. She’ll try anything to be your new shaman. Stay? I’d have to listen to her wicked prayers while she diddles with you like a she-devil.”
“That’s enough!” said Sister Terry. “How dare you call her a devil, she’s a saint! She’s dedicated her whole life to the sick and the dispossessed!” Sister Terry looked down wringing her hands.
Flight To Pandemonium Page 14