“So… you asked about Fairbanks,” said Ernie. “Cindy flew us over the whole city and that flight revealed a terrible toll of misery after the plague ran its course. I couldn’t understand such chaos… a second plague of anarchy without mercy or restraint. How had so many unhinged people survived to kill off so many innocent, helpless people, I wonder. Maybe someone opened up the prison gates, but even that explanation doesn’t make sense.”
Ernie related their flight over the city, the enslaved survivors, their own panic, the arrival of the desperate motorcycle gang, and the firefight and death that followed.
“We made mistakes, no doubt about it. But when bad guys are shooting real bullets your way, you don’t have time to think clearly. We were just trying to save ourselves, but now I want to forget all that happened…”
“Got that right!” interrupted Jack. “They came to kill and take; same thing happened to us. Don’t fret another minute. What’s done is done! We leave a coupla things best forgotten ourselves.”
“That’s how I see it and a lesson I’ll never forget,” said Ernie… “Mac, you never mentioned how you found yourself in Nome of all places.”
The cognac had loosened Mac’s tongue and he began his story slowly with life in Seattle but didn’t get much beyond Abel’s fishing excursion when the dinner bell called and the story was postponed for another day.
The dining table was reminiscent of Thanksgiving Day. Someone had gathered spring wildflowers adding elegance and color. China, crystal, and silver graced a white linen table set for fifteen, a marvelous statement of its own. For their guests, the display was breathtaking, so dramatically in contrast to seven months of subsistence living. Admiring the sumptuous table, everyone hesitated until Judy directed each guest to be seated alternating among their hosts.
The chefs served marvelous vegetable and fruit dishes even though everything was canned. The Captain served a carved caribou roast with a boat of thick gravy and hot biscuits – a memorable introduction for new companions, now likely to be together for life.
The Captain stood and announced, “We’ve adopted a new custom to begin dinner with a minute of silent reflection so that we may give thanks according to our own faith and tradition.”
Breaking the silence, Christie stood, “I must tell you that I had despaired of ever living graciously again. This dinner and every one of you gives me hope for a better life. When I think back on our camp of desperation, I can only marvel at what I see. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart.”
61
Valdez Harbor, April 20th. After a frustrating effort to prepare the boat for scuttling, its officers and technicians agreed that safeguarding its weapons according to naval prescription was beyond their capability. The corrosive effect of marine moisture eight months beyond slated replacement had taken its toll. Further attempts to reliably disable the plutonium warhead triggers were considered more perilous than doing nothing. Disconnected, they would go down with the boat far off the continental shelf.
Consequently, the Chief’s naval career, and purposeful life was coming to an end. The seas had parted inviting him to move on.
The Skipper’s plan to sail south made perfect sense. Among the large vessels available at Valdez, he had selected the best… the Alaskan Marine Ferry M/V Kennicott. The nine deck ship had been moored and forsaken by her crew at the ferry terminal following a plague voyage and weathered the winter unharmed in the protected harbor. She was a modern and powerful vessel with a cavernous hold for carrying provisions and vehicles, and was equipped with maneuvering thrusters and the latest navigation instruments. The Skipper presumed they could explore Pacific coast harbors until the surviving crew found a suitable landing and a healthy new life.
If necessary, the Kennecott would tow the Alaska to deep water. Transferring mounds of crew duffels and submarine gear to shore and then to the ferry revealed the boat’s ultimate fate to any observer. While the boat’s unstable weapons lay vulnerable, they hurried the boat’s decommissioning.
All week, the Chief had been suffering with a growing sense of despondency. As the Skipper’s preparations for departure neared completion, a nagging anxiety blossomed within him. For months he had been attracted to a female crew member. But with his ingrained sense of duty and adherence to military conduct, her subordinate role restrained him from approaching her. But he had convinced himself she was eyeing him with more than casual interest. Now she was among those who requested remaining behind in Valdez. She was the only Eurasian woman aboard the boat and universally regarded as strikingly beautiful.
The moment was now or never. The traditional subtleties of being introduced to a young Asian woman had been replaced by the provocative boldness of the times.
Finally putting doubt aside, he worked up the courage to approach her and said, “That was a lovely musical performance you put on last night aboard the Kennecott and the perfect time to ask you to share a glass of wine afterwards. But I missed my chance.”
Smiling at his approach, Mary Ann said, “Are you asking me for a date? A romantic dinner in town would be perfect, but I doubt there is such a place anymore,” she said smiling broadly. “Perhaps wine on the top lookout deck of the Kennecott at sunset?”
He hadn’t been wrong about her interest in him. Mary Ann put the question of their future together pragmatically, “We’ve long known each other, but not well enough for a relationship. Time for the music is short. Why don’t we just move on with life wherever it takes us? I’m not getting on that ferry with a hundred horny sailors. If we’re serious about having a future together, we both stay here.”
“Where is here exactly? After those oil fires, this town isn’t inspiring.”
“No, definitely not Valdez. There are two scruffy characters in town who talk about a gorgeous lodge not far over the pass from here. Why don’t I introduce us?”
“If you’ll be happy there, that would be the best!” he replied.
That afternoon, the Chief sought the Skipper in private after their first ward room meeting aboard Kennicott. “Sir, with all respect, I’d like to be relieved and released from further duty. You won’t need me any longer. I know very little about running a ship like this. I’ve been a bubblehead all my life.”
“Oh? Who’s the lady, Chief?”
“Mary Ann.”
“Lucky man. Going with the others?”
“That’s the plan, sir.”
“Can’t say as I blame you. God only knows where this ship will be six months from now. Quite frankly, it concerns me. With my Exec and the general lack of crew discipline, I will need you. But… our patrol is over, isn’t it? More than a hundred young sailors about to be discharged and no women. Just imagine the hoard of contraband that’s coming aboard or what’s already in those trucks on the lower deck.
Our lot will be viewed as an unwelcome threat by any survivors we encounter and they’d more’n likely be right. Someone has already suggested that we try looking to Hawaii for nubile young women. They’ve read too many titillating novels. It’s a fateful new world out there.
“Well, I suppose I can’t throw you in chains to keep you here. Alright, Chief you’re relieved, but you both will say goodbye before we depart, won’t you?”
“Will you marry us then, sir?”
“You don’t waste any time, do you? Well… good luck ‘till then, Chief.”
“As you say, a fateful new world awaits us… time to get command of a life.”
62
Old Man Lake, April 21st. The addition of so many helping hands made for dramatic progress. Within a week, they had doubled the size of the rooftop greenhouse, now covering both pickle ball courts. Onita was delighted with the newcomers’ hoard of rooted potatoes. Peg called the variety Yukon Gold and a suitable selection for northern latitudes as long as the root stock was harvested before freeze-
up. She carefully pruned and split them so that each partial tuber contained only two rooted buds apiece. Then she planted the lot in masonry rooftop planters each embedded with a looped garden hose circulating warm lodge discharge water. While the greenhouse kept the soil well within planting temperature, hearty outdoor plants were exposed to early morning temperatures hovering just above freezing.
Onita insisted that every empty can be saved. She used them in the greenhouse sprouting root vegetables six at time in three inch cans to be transplanted intact within spaced rows on the island garden. Tomatoes, green peppers and zucchini were now thriving in a carpet of leafy topped planter boxes. Each day, she and Peg added to the network of support wires anticipating heavy vines. She was disappointed only with the shortage of glass. Opaque tarps were a poor substitute for glass, unfurled only after sunset to trap heat.
Meanwhile, with the diesel barge restored for service to the island, Tony turned his energy to repairing the bullet damaged tanker preparing for a trip to Nabesna Road. Finally with only ten days supply of diesel left, Jack and Tony announced that they would be off immediately. They explained if they didn’t find enough fuel at Nabesna for a full load, they would go to Pump Station Eleven and try to top off there. They would also try to spot the caribou herd along the way and shouldn’t be expected back for at least two nights.
Everyone except Christie and the nursing mothers returned to the tiny island to finish cultivating the fields for planting. The gasoline rototiller proved to be an exceptional boon. Trading off, they kept the machine running steadily until the entire island soil was a fine fluffy and moist loam. The weather remained perfect for hand corrugating fields and shaping planting bowls… warm, calm afternoons, delightful on bare skin.
By dinner of the third evening, Jack and Tony had not returned. While the delay was noted, all agreed that the pair were exceptionally independent and dismissed the matter. However, by the fourth evening without their return, Ernie agreed to organize a search in the morning. Ernie and Larry should take a deuce to look for them in case the cat needed a tow. Peg insisted that she join her brother and Christie handed her a restocked medical kit.
Silence overwhelmed dinner when none had returned. Near dusk, all heard the throaty roar of two vehicles driving to the front steps. Everyone came to meet them. Mac noted anxiously that Ernie was driving the cat, not Tony. Solemnly, Ernie climbed down and stood silently looking at his companions. He shook his head sadly.
Ernie sighed deeply and said, “Both killed by grizzly bears.” Mac was stunned. Their most reliable and cautious comrades… killed by bears!
Judy asked in a whisper, “Did you bring them back?” Ernie nodded and gestured toward the deuce. Judy started toward the deuce, but Peg waived her off and whispered, “Judy… don’t! They’ve been ravaged. Nothing you can do. Just remember them as they were. Larry and I will take care of them.”
Much later, gathered in the lounge, the comrades nursed cognac by candlelight. Judy asked sadly, “Ernie, please tell us what happened.”
“Sure you really want to know?”
“We’ve been through so much together. We should know about our companions.”
“Alright then… all I know comes from the tracks. I think they had just finished filling the tanker and were putting away the gear. Sometime earlier, they shot a caribou and hung it on the boom out of reach, but blood on the wind must have attracted a grizzly sow and two cubs.
“I don’t know what happened exactly, but Tony’s rifle had fired only one round and jammed. Jack expended his entire clip. One of the cubs was dead, but it looked like the others were only wounded… bloody tracks were all about. And they didn’t leave. I think that’s when Jack died.”
“Jack wouldn’t have abandoned Tony, no matter what,” said Pappy.
“Yes, I think that’s what happened. We found his bloody knife in his hand.”
With his arm around Judy, Mac wept with her. Of all people, how could Jack and Tony be gone? They were the most trouble wary people among them. Gazing through the veranda window lost in thought, Mac pondered the soft night lighting on the wharf. Good Lord, he thought… who is going to look after all this… and us? Faithful defenders and fixers of all things, the little band was going to miss them desperately.
Ernie, Mac, Larry, and Ahtna rose early in the morning to prepare a gravesite. They chose the top of the hill beyond the heliport. When it was finished and arranged with flowers, the Captain dressed in his white uniform and called everyone together on the hilltop.
“Most of you have come to know our beloved friends as devoted providers of all necessities. So many things come to mind… finding game, crafting nearly anything we needed, challenging us to be realistic, and even fine tuning the workings of this lodge. During the last moment of their lives, they were providing us with fuel and game. Their work was never done… it was their professed purpose in life.
“But we will also remember them as our most steadfast defenders. I’m sure we’ve all reflected on that. Think of how many times we would have perished without their intervention and protection… even when some of us thought what they did wasn’t really necessary. The Good Shepherd saved them to protect us through the worst of our hardships… so there can be no doubt of their legacy.
“I’ve found a fitting memorial that could have been written for both of them. It’s a poem called I’m Free… by Linda Jackson:
Don’t grieve for me, for now I’m free.
I’m following the path God has laid you see
I took His hand when I heard Him call.
I turned my back and left it all.
I could not stay another day,
To laugh, to love, to work, or play
Tasks left undone must stay that way.
I found that peace at the close of the day…
With those words, Mac was overcome with grief and could recall only fragments thereafter. He couldn’t do justice to Tony and Jack in his journal. But the poem had its intended outcome… Mac’s own mind was set free as well.
That evening over candlelight dinner and cognac, Mac read aloud poignant journal stories of Jack and Tony, setting them all free.
The next day, Mac and Ernie took on Tony and Jack’s critical work of transferring diesel fuel from the tanker to the lodge tanks. Mac considered himself fortunate that he had watched Tony perform the task. In bumbling fashion with so many valve settings to remember, they finally managed to get the fuel flowing to the upper lodge tank.
When the gardeners returned to cultivate the island, they found huge moose tracks around the perimeter of the island where several of the animals feasted on succulent new willow growth. The extent of their ravaging was discouraging. As Ahtna had predicted, the moat hadn’t kept the long legged animals at bay.
“Imagine what one of ‘em could do to a leafy garden in just one night,” Mac said.
“Once we transplant sprouts, we’ll need to build a shelter and rotate guarding this island every night.” replied Lazlo. “And bring Darwin to warn us.”
“Protecting this garden is going to take more than an overnight guard to keep them off,” said Ahtna. “They’ll feed all day where they feel safe… like this island refuge.”
“Well then… might benefit us with some fresh meat,” said Lazlo.
Onita informed everyone the time had come to transplant cabbage, carrots and other root vegetables. The moose returned daily seeking the willows. Shouting from shore discouraged them, but late one evening, an animal reached the island undetected. Darwin chased it off, but while doing so trampled a new path of destruction from end to end.
Immediately they constructed a hut mounted on the barge and moored it just offshore hoping to intercept the most likely route of any moose. During Ahtna’s first stint of guard duty, he shot the regular morning intruder as it entered the water. He an
d Mac towed the animal to deeper water and began butchering the moose on the barge. Within minutes, the scent attracted black bears, now more numerous than their bigger cousins. Two bears plunged in and swam toward the barge. Mac backed the barge away until the panting bears returned to shore.
They gathered the moose offal, weighted the hide with rocks, and submerged the bloody mess in the lake. Washing off blood, Mac said, “At least we don’t have the damn wolves harrying us every moment.” Ahtna replied, “But a grizzly bear is a fine swimmer and won’t give up so easily.”
The resident wolf pack hadn’t been seen for weeks. Competing territory around the lake had been settled after a fierce scrap between two packs in the middle of the night. Ahtna predicted the alpha pack would return after hunting spring caribou fawns.
A week later at dinner, Pappy made a surprise announcement. “I’ve checked with the chopper and so I know tomorrow will be the fifteenth of June…”
“How does the helicopter tell you that?” interrupted Christie with surprise.
“Global Positioning Satellite receiver. They’re not all still working, but I need only one satellite to tell me the correct time and date.”
“I’ll be… I’d lost all track of time,” said Larry.
“Anyway… I agreed to fly over Thompson Pass on the fifteenth and send on what I see to that Navy group. Hopefully, they might be able to get across soon and meet us in town.”
Flight To Pandemonium Page 63