Judy said, “You know what I’m looking for… all of us are.”
“The place would be perfect,” Pappy replied. Judy happily nodded.
“Ha!” said Jack. “You’re just guessing.”
“Off the highway and a long way from other people,” said the Captain.
“Maybe that’s not such a bad idea…‘till things settle down. We could stay through the winter at least,” Mac said. “People we’ve met so far seem… touched.”
“Okay by me,” said Tony, “but we can’t go that far tonight. We’ll have to camp here ‘til morning. I’ll find us a spot.”
Without wasting a moment, Jack began setting up camp. During their weeks of travel, the band had developed a cooperative work routine. Jack waited for no one. In a blitz of activity, he pulled out the tent, set up the camp stove and manhandled the wooden cook locker into the ‘kitchen’. Even Tony stood back wondering at Jack’s compulsive frenzy and his day long dreadful temper.
The quick evening camp allowed Judy and Onita to heat a large canned roast enhanced with fresh cranberries. The cold ride had given everyone a ravenous appetite. Presently, the miners’ had a conversation uncharacteristic for either of them, catching everyone’s attention.
“Hey, most of ‘em wanted to turn off here,” said Tony.
“So you said,” replied Jack.
“… and you’ve been actin’ like a bratty youngster ever since!”
“Cool it, pard!”
“You hear yourself? What’s eating at you, anyway?”
Jack breathed deeply to contain his anger, then said, “Best part of a week, we’ve been acting like fools.”
Staring intensely, Tony interrupted, “A fool’s errand,’ sez you! ‘I’m nobody’s fool,’ sez me. ‘Could a fooled me!’ sez you. Remember who came up with that little comedy? It was you… the day all this began! So… hear yourself talkin’ yet? Far as I remember, you cast your lot with the rest of us at every turn. But now you’re not making any sense at all… just churlish!”
“Okay, I’ll make better sense, but I want to talk to ‘em all. It’s buggin’ me to the core.”
Chores completed, everyone gathered in the tent protected from the wind and warmed by a large pot of hot water and cups of tea. Stern faces turned to Jack.
“Sniveling ain’t my style, so here’s my bitch. A week ago, we had a good plan to go south. It busted, so now… we’ve got none at all. We just wander…like a stray dog samplin’ road kill. First, we look at this… then that… but everything scares us away. Towns we don’t like… corpses long dead… crazy gang bangers… so we run and run. We’ve been at it since Nome. Passed every lodging house and farm since way back in Talkeetna ‘cause we’re afraid of this or that. We’re driving deeper and deeper into the boonies…away from people but straight into winter. We haven’t encountered a single survivor since leaving Palmer. What does that say?
“So hear me! We’re not prepared! When we drive up that road, we’ll soon be snowed in. We’ll be fifty miles from nowhere. Right now, all we have is a few hand tools, a bunch of worn camping gear and damned little else. Counting everything, we have less than a month’s supply of food… and our clothes are in tatters, what few we have. Winter hasn’t even begun and we’re starting winter lean. The best part of the huntin’ and fishin’ season has passed. All that’s left is slim pickings… berries and maybe an unwary caribou or two if we’re lucky.
“We talked ‘bout growing food in the spring, but all we have is a few packets of seed, no farm tools to work the land, and the ground doesn’t warm up enough to plant until April or May. That’s six months from now and then we can begin a garden! You gettin’ my drift? Before we winter anywhere, we need to be prepared for a year or it’ll be a damned hungry one! And this here ain’t the yellow brick road wishin’ it wadn’t so.”
Six months before planting got Mac’s attention. It hadn’t occurred to him. Jack bellowed, “So… before we try any more choices, we need to get our act together! And I’m putting that as nice for tender ears as I ever get!”
“Finally… someone’s making sense!” said the Captain.
The reality of Jack’s speech settled in. In fact, they had been wandering without thinking, thought Mac. “Well, I guess I have to agree,” he said. “We need to get a grip on reality.”
Pappy wasn’t accepting criticism of his plan. “So what’s wrong with checking out Lake Louise? It should answer all our needs.”
“We’re not ready. What if we get snowed in without provisions?” replied Jack emphatically.
“Last time I was here, it was perfectly equipped for winter.”
“With enough food? How long ago was that?” asked Jack angrily. “And what happened during the plague? Pappy… you haven’t any idea... just tin man wishes.”
“So what’s next then, more wandering?” asked Pappy. “I’m not gettin’ it.”
“There’s only one town of any size left besides Valdez…”
Pappy interrupted, “If there’s a foot of snow here, there’ll be twenty on Thompson Pass by now. We won’t make it to Valdez!”
Holding up his bandaged hand, the Captain said, “Dammit, he’s making sense; let him finish.”
“Everyone in this valley got their supplies in Glennallen,” said Jack. “So we’ve gotta go there first… and plague bodies be damned.”
“What if mortal remains turn out to be a problem?” asked Pappy.
“Then we croak… but… we will anyway this winter… from starvin’… slowly, one by one.”
Judy was persuaded. “Let’s go to Glennallen first, and do what we must.”
Heads nodded assent.
“So what’ll we need in Glennallen to live for an entire year?” asked Mac.
“We’ve gotta face reality this time and not just grab and run,” replied Jack. “Think no power, no help, and no high-livin’. We’ve gotta boot strap everything we need from here on out. Every other choice offered nothing.”
A list of necessities poured forth… food, cookware, clothing, toiletries, hardware, farm tools, fertilizer, fuel, and every hand implement imaginable. Anticipation of living without power prompted new thinking. Ordinary tasks such as laundering and making clothes would be performed by hand and the few Glennallen businesses weren’t likely to provide survival necessities. Searching homes must confront whatever conditions they might find because reaching Valdez was unlikely until summer.
Mac remembered Judy. “Let’s keep our eyes open for baby gear.”
Smiling, Judy announced, “Boys, there are going to be two babies born soon. Onita is pregnant as well!”
“That’s wonderful!” said the Captain.
Onita smiled and said, “I hope you’ll be his Godfather!”
This optimistic close for the evening motivated positive thinking. Resentment over the change of plans vanished and every face visibly brightened, except Jack’s.
Morning clearing skies and a bright sun among a few scudding clouds bolstered their enthusiasm. They left early.
No manmade track interrupted the far-reaching snowfields as they traveled toward Glennallen. Where the morning sun cast long shadows, Mac was surprised by the variety of animal tracks crossing the road.
Tony halted on an overlook while Jack and Mac scoped a trail of caribou tracks. Rather than migrating, a modest herd appeared to be wintering in the valley. The rolling plain and watered meadows seemed to provide better habitat for game than Talkeetna. Perhaps the Lake Louise environs would be good for their little band, thought Mac.
Their travel wasn’t entirely through pristine country. Occasionally they encountered wreckage from the calamity without sign of people. On such a still, cloudless morning, rising wood smoke should be visible for miles.
They pushed on for Glennallen arriving bef
ore noon, halting at Moose Creek Bridge. Town appeared to Pappy as expected on a wintry noon with a few cars scattered among offices and businesses… if one ignored the covering of ice.
Darwin woofed once for attention and Judy shouted with surprise, pointing, “Look there, down the street!”
Mac followed Judy’s arm and down a wisp of rising smoke to the wooden porch of a weathered log building facing the highway. Shortly, a white-bearded muffled man sitting in a rocking chair put down a book and stared at the cat. Mac and Judy waved a surprised greeting.
40
Yukon River Bridge, October 22nd. Without speaking, the native woman stepped toward Lazlo, stumbled and collapsed backward on the frozen ground, apparently unable to break her fall.
Lazlo hesitated. Was the woman sick with the plague, he wondered? No doubt she needed help, but would helping her condemn them all? Failing to help her seemed heartless, and he knew that Christie would jump to help. “Ernie, keep watch for others while I carry her up to Christie.”
Lifting her, Lazlo was surprised by her feather-weight burden. The woman appeared young but frail and very thin. He could see no evidence of the bat flu about her face or clothing. Christie followed Lazlo carrying the limp figure up the porch steps.
He placed her on a cot and stood back. Christie switched on a battery lantern and removed the woman’s fur hood. She was indeed young, but looked wretched, obviously suffering from exposure. “Laz, please heat some water while I examine her.”
Ernie and Lazlo fired up the porch propane stove. Christie hurried out and said, “Please add some wood to the stove inside. She has a newborn infant wrapped inside her parka! The baby is comatose and cold to the touch, but still alive.”
The two men sat at the table in front of the canvas partition sharing a whispered conversation while Christie tended the pair on the other side. She emerged, bringing the kettle for more warm water, looking grim. The infant remained ominously silent as the hours passed.
Christie emerged holding the naked child in a blanket. “Laz, I need your help. Please sit back and hold the baby against your bare chest and then cover up. I’ve given her fluids, but I can’t keep her warm and care for the mother at the same time. Call me the moment she moves, even slightly.”
The tiny thing felt shockingly cold against his skin. Lazlo leaned back unmoving for fear of harming the fragile infant no bigger than the span of his hand. Shallow breathing was her only sign of life.
Much later, warmed against Lazlo’s body, her skin felt as warm as his own but far from the tiny furnace of memory from the experience of holding his own infant children. When Christie relieved him hours later, he felt stiff and tense, and welcomed a break.
“The young woman is sleeping, so I’ll spell you for a bit. Has the baby stirred?”
“No. She’s still dead to the world.”
He regretted the expression, but Christie didn’t seem pained. “Try to get some sleep,” she suggested. “Tomorrow will be a long day.”
Lazlo awakened at daylight to the sound of a baby crying. As he arose, Ernie entered the cabin and handed Christie a kettle of warm water.
She added the warm water to canned milk, adding a measure of some medication and fed the baby with a soft rolled bandage dipped into the milky mix. The baby suckled vigorously, but cried and squirmed between dips. By the time Lazlo returned from his trip to the privy, the infant was quiet and everyone relaxed a bit. Christie massaged her back, handed the infant to Lazlo and said, “More of the same please.”
“How’s the mother?” he asked.
“Sleeping, but very weak and badly dehydrated. I think she gave birth without assistance. She hasn’t spoken beyond a whisper so far. Thank God you brought those fluids over here when you did.”
“Have you gotten any sleep yourself?”
“A few catnaps. I’m going to sleep on your cot while Ernie prepares breakfast and some special food for our patient.”
The infant nestled against Lazlo’s chest and was soon asleep. Lazlo found the paternal task satisfying… even stirring thoughts of a new direction in life. Parenting his children had been gratifying in much the same way.
The cabin took on new significance. Perhaps remaining a while longer was the timely thing to do. Events seemed to be propelling them first one way then another… the wheel of fate. Lazlo longed for the return of stability. He reflected that his early childhood in Hungary and Austria had been full of erratic events. Perhaps that’s when his reactive behavior had been shaped. So many of his poignant childhood memories had involved fleeing to safety from some startling event and then of being transplanted from one temporary home to another without knowing why.
Christie spent the day feeding first one patient, then the other. The infant seemed on the road to recovery, vigorously crying when she was hungry. She readily accepted Christie’s fortified milk.
The native woman was another matter. She was so weak that Christie spoon fed each mouthful, pressing all she would take. The woman had expended the last of her reserves arriving at the porch. Christie guessed she hadn’t eaten since giving birth. She was not lactating, probably due to her dehydration. The day passed with all three healthy adults devoted to care of their new companions.
The following morning while cat-napping and holding the diapered infant, Lazlo heard the two women softly sobbing together beyond the partition. At first disturbed, he realized that instead of sadness, the two were exchanging cries of joy intermingled with animated conversation in a language he didn’t understand.
When Christie joined the men at the table for lunch, she was smiling broadly.
“So tell us what brings on that beautiful smile,” said Lazlo.
“She’s my cousin! Can you believe it! I haven’t seen her since she was a girl!”
“Sounds like she’s better,” said Ernie.
“Much better, but she needs recuperation. She’s asleep again.”
“What happened to her?” asked Lazlo. “She looked so desperate.”
“She and her husband were salmon fishing on the Chandalar River. He left for the day in their river boat but never returned. She hasn’t seen him for nearly a month. She stayed behind in camp due to her advanced pregnancy. After he didn’t return for days, she walked upriver looking for him, but he wasn’t in any of their usual camp spots. She was caught in the storm, lost in a marsh, and then delivered her baby. She walked west following the trail until she came near our road. She’s a remarkable survivor.”
“What’s her heritage?” asked Lazlo. “I heard you two speaking some native tongue.”
“Inupiaq… as was my mother,” she replied. “My father was a French trapper, if you were wondering.”
“What’s her name?”
“Piquk is her Inupiaq name. I never heard her given Christian name.”
“Sounds like you grew up speaking the same language, Christie.”
“I did almost exclusively until I was about ten when my Bureau school teachers tried to drum it out of me.”
“Well… perhaps that’s changed along with everything else.”
“Don’t bet on it, Laz… but we’ll see.”
“That why you’re not excited about Fairbanks?” asked Ernie.
“Anglos made Fairbanks a hard town for any native, especially one half white. I was naluagmiuyaaq to my people… ‘A person mixed with bleached skin,’ and that’s the nice translation. My mother was a chronic alcoholic, so I got harsh treatment from both sides. My adoptive family rescued me from all the hurt.”
“Well… I don’t like the place for lots of reasons,” replied Ernie. “So, I’m glad we’ll be looking elsewhere.”
“I guess that brings us back to the other night,” said Lazlo. “I’m thinking maybe you were right, Christie. We should stay here for awhile.”
�
�We’re not in shape to go anywhere,” said Christie, “especially now.”
“I was down at the river this morning dipping water; the river is lower and more sluggish … a thick slurry of ice,” said Ernie.
“Sounds like we’re due for freeze up… first cold snap,” replied Christie. “We’ll need to keep a hole free of ice as best we can for dipping water.”
“And another thing… the ravens have picked their way into our meat cache.”
“We need to make separate packages,” said Christie, “otherwise it will become just a rock hard lump.”
“Lots of other tasks, too, if we’re going to stay here for the winter.”
“Now that Piquk is better, we can handle the baby, Laz.”
“Then we’ll get on with guy things outside,” replied Lazlo.
“I’m going to reorganize this cabin for the five of us. There’ll come a time when we can’t cook outside on the porch. This barrel stove won’t work for cooking meals. See if you can find a small propane camp stove. One burner is all we’ll need inside. That big stove would give off too much carbon monoxide inside this cabin… but leave the big one on the porch to heat water.”
“I’ve got to do something with that frozen privy… tough on the backside.”
“And Laz… we need something suitable to make diapers. The medical supplies are too precious for that purpose. And bring over more cans of milk for the baby even if they’re frozen.”
“Has our world suddenly changed again or what?” asked Lazlo.
41
Glennallen, Copper Valley, October 27th. The man waved back reluctantly. He wasn’t an apparition at all despite reading a book outside in the cold air. Tony veered the cat across the street as the man stood. He was short with a snow white beard, wearing a rumpled gabardine coat. Tony stopped the cat nearby, shut off the engine and climbed on the bridge.
Flight To Pandemonium Page 39