Flight To Pandemonium

by Murray, Edward

  Sledding to a stop near the old winter residence, Christie tapped Lazlo on the shoulder and pointed toward the lake. A grizzly bear with two small cubs scampered away, no doubt frightened by their noisy arrival. Puppy barked a storm of outrage from inside their temporary home.

  Christie held up her hand. “Let’s follow these tracks so we know what happened.”

  Even from a distance Lazlo could see claw marks in the painted metal siding of the winter trailer. Several rents ran deeply into the wooden door and a portion of the sash was missing. Had they arrived even a few minutes later, Puppy would have been dead, and unarmed, they would have faced a fearless sow defending her cubs.

  “Oh my God, it isn’t safe to leave Puppy alone anymore!” exclaimed Christie. “The bears weren’t the least bit afraid of her.”

  “Do you have a gun?”

  “Here at the Station? Lord no! They were strictly forbidden. Firearms were a political issue with the staff and never to be used for any reason, especially against bears. Being mauled was a risk one accepted in working here. They even hung a poster of Charlton Heston as a dart board in the dining room.”

  “Would anyone have kept one anyway, just in case?”

  “If so, I’ve never heard of one.”

  “I’ll bet someone here talked the talk, but kept one just the same. I can’t imagine that caretaker wintering all alone without one. From now on, I’ll keep the spear handy. One spear against three grizzly bears… just dandy!”

  Ignoring his lament, Christie said, “Let’s get puppy leashed and see where else the bears visited. Sometimes, they try to break into the kitchen.”

  In fact, bear tracks came straight from the kitchen. Without people to chase them off, the bears smashed the door and devastated the premises, particularly the refrigerators. Flour, sugar, and cereal covered the porch.

  Christie, Lazlo, and Puppy followed the tracks around camp to a shipping container which remained secure, then on to the winter lab, also undisturbed.

  “Christie, did the University ever build any sort of refuge from the bears? I’m afraid they’ll be back tomorrow now that they’ve found such easy pickings. That’s what Sally would have done.”

  “I’ve heard that the winter caretaker once fled into a steel shipping container when a bear broke in at night.”

  “That’s all?” Lazlo asked with surprise.

  “As far as I’ve heard. They’ve always been successful in chasing the few bears away with flares. Packing one with our camping gear was the rule.”

  “Just ordinary phosphorus flares? If a grizzly broke into our tiny trailer at night, we wouldn’t even have time to light one. Surely there’s something better than that!”

  “Laz, an old idea just hit me. The labs use really potent smelling reagents. Let’s look in the shipping container for a recent delivery. We could overwhelm their senses with something really obnoxious and perhaps drive them away.”

  A recent delivery provided precisely what Christie was looking for: concentrated sulfuric acid. Diluted with snow four to one, the reagent still produced an acrid smell of sulfur, watering the eyes at arm’s length. They poured sulfuric slurry around the entrance and below each window. Sulfur fumes wafted mildly inside.

  After lingering over dinner, Christie surprised Lazlo by suggesting a walk along the shore of the lake. Lazlo was learning she was not easily intimidated. Her willingness to take a long walk outside in spite of the bears was evidence of her quick recovery.

  Orange tinged clouds reflected the red glow of sunset casting brilliant reflections upon the lake ice. Christie guided them along a trail down near the shoreline to a bench on a wooden deck surrounding a shack overlooking the lake. Christie poured charcoal into a standing Weber grill and lit the coals. Twenty minutes later doffing coats, they sat silently enjoying splendid radiant heat while gazing at the twilight hoping for a display of northern lights.

  The cozy spot resembled a fireplace hearth on a wintry night. Christie rose from her chair, tied Puppy to the deck railing, handed her a treat, and disappeared into the shack. When the door opened, Puppy turned to look and Lazlo followed her gaze.

  Christie stood naked, oiled from head to toe, gleaming in the subdued light. Lazlo rose and eagerly followed her inside. To Lazlo’s delight, the shack was a steaming sauna. She slowly and sensuously undressed him and applied aromatic patchouli oil to his willing body. Before her luxurious massage was finished, their pent up desire overtook them.

  Their lovemaking released earnest expressions of tenderness and reassurance. Sated, they freely discussed their nearly instant attraction and the promise of new lives together. For an hour in the luxuriant warmth of the sauna, they pondered their difficult future and their determination to survive, no matter the circumstance. They held one another close and soulfully pledged a lifelong bond of love.

  Puppy’s explosive deep-throated bay sent them scrambling to dress. Puppy barked urgent warnings straining against her leash as they emerged.

  From the porch railing they watched a caribou race along the beach below them, stretching long and breathing hard. Close behind stormed a winded pack of four wolves passing the shack, leaping over the boat dock and ignoring Puppy’s best howling threats.

  The winded caribou struggled to jump a nearby shoreline bank. Swinging high and wide on better chosen ground, the lead wolf put on a final burst of speed and gained a tenuous grip on the hapless animal toppling it. Joined by the others, the kill was over in moments.

  Lazlo listened in fascination as the wolves eviscerated and ravenously devoured their kill, snarling and intimidating one another in the process. The couple remained close to the warmth of the stove when Puppy howled another warning.

  They watched the dark form of a grizzly bear appear in the twilight, approaching slowly, sniffing the air following scent of the blooded deer. The sight was alarming to the vulnerable couple, but the bear ignored them focused on her prize. When the bear drew near, the wolves surrounded the sow, snarling discouragement. The bear rose, huffed a warning, and then settled to feed, ignoring snarling bluffs. One wolf warily advanced from behind and nipped the bear.

  The bear flashed around clawing the wolf’s head, unbalancing the challenger. The bear pounced, seized the wolf in its fangs, and shook the animal violently from side to side. When the bear let go, the wolf didn’t move.

  The bear resumed feeding while the diminished pack silently loped away. Her cubs emerged from the twilight to feed, the same family of bears who tore up camp. While the bears were occupied gorging, the couple left taking Puppy, snorting in protest.

  Late in the morning, Lazlo and Christie were awakened by Puppy’s whining. They leashed her and went for their morning walk near the lake. For the third time, the day was dawning bright with a breeze following a cold night. Encouraged Christie said, “Laz, the weather is perfect to stabilize those avalanche chutes. A few more days of this nighttime cold and we should go look again.”

  On the way back, Puppy launched her troubled baying. The sow and her cubs had returned to the Station overnight and were scampering into the hills. Lazlo peered through the windows. The bears had overturned a refrigerator, scattered food widely, and fed on the floor. Another refrigerator stood beside the shattered one. Despite the mess, the room looked otherwise untroubled, housing only tables and chairs.

  “Christie, I’m going in there and grab what’s in that last fridge before the bears get that too. The room looks okay to me.”

  Christie was doubtful. “I don’t see trouble either but is this really worth the risk?

  “If we’re caught here or even if we get beyond Atigun Pass, we’ll need a lot of food to survive winter. You hold Puppy while I grab what I can. I’ll be careful and butt out if I see trouble.”

  “I suppose, but wear these in case.” Christie handed Lazlo vinyl gloves from he
r pocket.

  The refrigerator held mostly beer and wine. But behind the beer, he found gourmet party cheese, smoked salmon, and a bag labeled ‘caribou jerky.’ He grabbed all he could carry.

  Bears and weather renewed their discussion about leaving. Familiar with North Slope patterns, the couple thought another day or two of cold nights without snow would be the best they could hope for. They agreed to get prepared. Facing prowling grizzly bears had changed Christie’s mind.

  Lazlo deployed the sled tent checking its smooth operation, and tucking in sleeping bags, pushed the top closed. He assembled personal gear: tools, tarps, rope, kindling, firewood, water jug, snow shovel, axe, and ice probe. He found one more five gallon can of gasoline used for snow blowers and topped off his tank. He estimated that taking full jerry cans might bring them as far as Coldfoot but far short of Fairbanks.

  From the winter residence and the shipping container, Christie gathered fresh food, canned stew, canned fish, two jugs of water, cookware, all-weather matches, a can opener, and durable clothing. She stuffed their backpacks with packages of powdered eggs, jerky, salmon, and all the gourmet cheese. When they gazed at each other’s mound, they could only laugh. Combined, it was far more than the sled could carry.

  They spent the afternoon sorting, reassembling and debating the necessity of each item. They removed a jug of water, most of the firewood (but not the kindling), two tarps, a kettle, and most of the cookware, saving a deep pot, utensils and cooking oil. They replaced the cans of hearty stew, flour, concentrated preserves, salmon, cheese, jerky, backpack food, snow shovel and axe. Accumulating weight again discouraged adding more.

  Presently, Puppy howled, signaling the arrival of the bear family. Yelling and banging pots and pans, they made a calamitous noise. The experienced brown bear sent her children scampering while she stood tall surveying the couple. But instead of retreating as expected, she advanced, stood huffing, and then advanced closer. Christie lit a flare and Lazlo hurled it in her direction. She charged the smoking flair, took a whiff, and scampered to retrieve her cubs.

  As Lazlo watched them disappear, he asked, “How many flares do we have left?”

  “Three,” said Christie, “and I’ve never seen so much grizzly bear action all the while I’ve worked here. Before now, a bear family was a rare sight.”

  “That’s probably because they didn’t find easy groceries. Now we’re on their dinner circuit. Perfectly natural, I suppose.”

  “Oh my, Laz, I just realized that our aromatic cheese and jerky are going to be attractive at night. How will we keep bears away with only three flares?”

  Lazlo couldn’t rid his mind of the sow’s effortless slash condemning the wolf. Should they find themselves as vulnerable as the wolf had been, they could both be mauled. Puppy became so agitated that she attracted the bears. He decided to make a spear for Christie in the morning when nothing better came to mind.

  That evening, Christie returned to the matter of defense. “Laz, if we have to confront a bear with just spears, one of us is sure to get hurt. What about that vehicle out front. Do you think the military might have left a gun in there?”

  “If they left the man, they surely left his weapon.”

  “Maybe there’s a way to grab it and stay reasonably safe. If we wore surgical gloves rinsed in chlorine bleach, and went first thing in the morning while it’s still below freezing, we could look at conditions inside… then rinse off anything we find.”

  “And if the cold doesn’t protect us?”

  “You already know the answer to that.”

  “So… bear mauling or bat flu. I guess a rifle could solve both problems.”

  “That’s a macabre way of looking at life, Laz.”

  “I know, sick humor, but let’s do it.”

  In the morning, Lazlo opened the rear passenger door of the humvee. Behind the front seat within easy reach, Lazlo fished out the rifle with his spear. A heavy metal ammunition case rested by the door. Lazlo grabbed that as well. They were away in but a minute, their footfalls still crackling in overnight frost.

  Christie sprayed the weapon with a diluted solution of bleach and wiped it, hoping for the best. No other possession would have motivated such a risk in Lazlo’s mind. The rifle was a fully automatic military M16A3… a wicked weapon with a full case of ammunition. He had never fired such a weapon and knew little about it, but having much better defense was reassuring.

  That morning, Christie watched the grizzly family returning straight toward them. Lazlo stepped outside with the rifle. The sow didn’t send her cubs away and approached steadily. She paused only to huff and stamp warning after warning. Lazlo fumbled with the selector switch on the weapon and finally shot a booming warning which echoed off other buildings. The reverberation was enough to finally discourage the sow. Lazlo considered shooting one of the cubs for fresh food, but held off fearing the aggressive sow and inexperience with the rifle.

  Such determined bears persuaded the couple to leave without waiting for another day of stabilizing cold weather. Three grizzly bears trumped fifty-two avalanche chutes.

  27

  Rainbow Lake, October 7th. Mac and the Captain harnessed themselves together to drag home the plastic boat filled with Dolly Varden and whitefish. Their success was in stark contrast to the hunting party returning with only a goose.

  The meal of delectable fresh fish was consumed in uncharacteristic silence. Pappy seemed out of sorts, and broke the silence. “I think we’ve been living way too casual. Like the other day… we thought those bears cubs were so cute, we just stood watching like tourists.”

  “I would’a brought it up long time ago, but I agreed to back off…” said Jack. “For the sake of gettin’ along, I’m keeping my trap shut.”

  “Point is… we’ve gotta change the way we live,” Pappy said. “We’ve gotta stay alert. Like we know we depend on hunting to eat.”

  “Well, I don’t have a natural instinct for hunting,” Mac said. “I’m just the kid from the suburbs…and I stumble around in the field like a drunk in a sobriety test. I brought in my share today. You want me to do something different, you should tell me exactly what’s on your mind.”

  “I’ll help anyway I can,” said Judy. “But I’ve never been hunting in my life.”

  “Naw… the five of us just need to sharpen our edge,” said Tony. “We should make more spears so that we each have at least one apiece. That big moose would’ve been good for more’n a month. We’d a got it, but for sittin’ on our hands. We should try new ground each day and rotate around.”

  Mac accompanied the hunting team while Tony remained in the cabin making weapons. He crafted two more slender assegai style spears and assembled two backpack frames which could easily be slipped off when they spotted game.

  The hunters returned empty handed having seen nothing moving.

  “Game must have moved lower to feed without pawing through so much snow,” said Tony.

  “How ‘bout an overnight hunting trip down lower?” suggested Jack.

  “Let’s check out that river valley we could see from the ledge. Gotta be better.”

  “Yea, but scoping it out doesn’t need all five of us… and we won’t have much cover in the valley,” replied Jack. “Tony, we need a bow. Why don’t you make one tomorrow while Mac goes fishing? We’ll go hunting.”

  Jack, Pappy, and the Captain left at dawn, determined to reach the meadows below the confluence of Iron Creek with the Talkeetna River. While Mac caught a few fish using creek nets, Tony experimented with making a bow. Nothing seemed suitably resilient. He settled on a double-ended wooden kayak paddle, shaped it, and left it soaking in hot water, trying to restore flexibility to the fibers.

  Working together near dinner, Tony and Mac strung the bow and periodically steamed it with the teakettle to achieve the necessary cu
rvature. As the bow took shape, they increased the string tension progressively until they tried again – too soon. The bow snapped to pieces.

  The hunting party returned a day later than expected, Jack and Pappy carrying bulging packs pulling the sled together. The Captain struggled up the steps stooped over, looking haggard, and collapsed on the bench. He hadn’t been carrying anything, but panted painfully. Judy asked, “What happened?”

  The Captain flinched with every breath, unable to talk. Jack explained for him, “Cap surprised a big bull moose that picked ‘im up in his rack and pitched ‘im over his back before we got close enough to throw a spear. Got the bugger, but Cap paid the price.”

  Unable to carry the entire butchered animal, Jack and Pappy saved only the back straps and two haunches, enough for two weeks allowing much of it for jerky.

  Remembering the bear cub humiliation, Tony stacked a mound of firewood on top of a solid lid with new slide pins. The cache of meat would freeze overnight and still be accessible through the inside door.

  Meanwhile, Judy diagnosed the Captain’s injuries as cracked ribs. She tightly wrapped his upper body with a bed sheet and tied him to the back of a chair, rendering him immobile. While dependent on others for assistance his discomfort was greatly relieved. Judy predicted he would heal sooner wrapped tightly than shuffling awkwardly bent over.

  That evening, Jack summed up their three-day experience. “That was a bitch even for me and I ain’t no piker. Game’s definitely moved to the meadows. Wadn’t a track to be seen all the way back. Gotta admit, I’m beat.” Pappy just nodded.

  Although Jack was to be the focus of the evening’s discussion, Mac suggested that Judy go next and let Jack rest. The men wanted to hear about her work in Kotzebue, an Arctic city two hundred miles north of Nome where Judy and the nuns had begun their flight.