by Jack Dey
Carrying the woman’s body in his arms, Bjarni eased her through the hut door, kicked the bearskin blanket from his path and with great effort, stooped to lower the unconscious woman to his bed, with a groan. He dodged around the two concerned dogs following his every move and positioned a small, blackened pot onto the stove to boil water. Placing a large slice of whale blubber into the open stove front, the embers sizzled, quickly caught and the flames burst into a busy yellow dance. Bjarni then closed the iron grate, sealing the fire safely inside the furnace, directing the warmth to complete the work of boiling the water and radiating comfort inside the hut.
Bjarni placed the pot of boiling water on the floor near the unconscious woman, then dabbed a clean cloth into the pot and gently traced the wounds on her face. As he cleaned the gouged flesh, the depth of the injury became evident; she would have a permanent reminder of her ordeal. He lifted her head and tenderly checked for further indications of trauma; a large bump at the back of her neck spoke of the depth of her troubles.
“My, what happened here?”
Bjarni peered across to the Siberian husky, still cautiously watching his every move. Akiak growled low and nuzzled closer to Bjarni, reminding him he was her master and the intruder was just that–an intruder.
Bjarni ruffled her fur and gently stroked her ears. “This big Siberian has really upset you, girl, hasn’t he?”
The old man finished cleaning the woman’s wounds and now he had to tend to the remaining dogs in her team. He checked her breathing and pulse, satisfied she wasn’t in any further danger, then made his way outside. The big Siberian watched the old man leave through the open hut door and sidled up closer to the woman’s sleeping form, settling on the floor within easy reach of her. Akiak threw the Siberian a threatening glare and then shadowed Bjarni.
Bjarni knew the Siberian wouldn’t leave the woman’s side and he figured he would also have Akiak as a companion inside the hut too, keeping a close eye on her territory. Under the circumstances, Bjarni surmised Akiak would be a suitable deterrent should things turn for the worse and the big Siberian subsequently attacked. His solitary life had made a sharp turn up an unusual street and now he was surrounded by company on all sides. His kindness may have been presumptuous and ill placed in the light of history, once the woman regained consciousness and Bjarni understood her reasons for seeking him out. The tiny figure of the woman didn’t seem to be threatening at the moment, but stranger things have happened. He would have to wait and see what her intentions were; bounty hunters took on many forms.
Carrying a fresh supply of dried salmon, he dropped the fish in front of the newly untethered dogs. They quickly devoured the food, famished by their travels amongst the great open spaces of the tundra. There didn’t seem to be any animosity between the woman’s dogs and Bjarni’s dogs while they played together in a boisterous game among the kennels, getting to know each other. Akiak wasn’t amused by the new additions to her world and turned her head to peer back at the hut, seemingly annoyed at the childishness being displayed all around her.
Bjarni approached the woman’s sled and started to search through the meagre supplies contained upon it. The absence of a firearm baffled the old man; only a fool or a despot would enter the tundra without any form of protection.
A thought played with his mind. Perhaps the injuries deeply scarring her appearance were a direct result of a lack of fire power. Or just maybe she’d lost her defenses in the fight with a large creature that had inflicted the wounds on her face.
He wasn’t finding answers to his deepening questions, searching through her belongings. In fact, the questions were becoming more disturbing as he searched. She had little food and apparently no means of trapping it and little protection, excepting for the big Siberian that now guarded her unconscious form. Bjarni was becoming more suspicious of this strange woman’s journey and why she had ventured so deep into the Scoresby Land wilderness seemingly so underprepared.
A loud, pleading bark coming from the direction of the hut made Bjarni look up in concern. He dropped the objects of his search back onto the sled and turned to follow the direction of the alarm as quickly as his old body would allow, wondering what was perplexing the big Siberian husky.
*~*~*~*
Chapter 12
Katu relaxed in a chair on the covered wooden deck attached to his outpost store overlooking the red and white patchwork carpet of the expansive tundra, stretching treeless to the distant and barren mountainous horizon. In the long winter, the small covered area offered visitors and clients a shelter from the snow to dust off the cold before entering the shop without their wet, soggy boots. This time of year he had many customers: some from the deep wilderness bringing furs to trade for essentials and many from the little settlement of Ittoqqortoormiit, just ten kilometres to the east, looking for hard to get treats.
Katu’s dealings with a large exporter in Denmark made sure he had a full stock of unusual catalogue items, items not usually available to the run-of-the-mill store in the village. The wilderness trappers required some strange hardware to keep their lonely existence safe from the long winter. Katu’s experience and knowledge of the landscape and the quirky hunters made him a one-stop convenience, identifying and stocking fancies and needs that weren’t easily available deep within the isolation of Eastern Greenland.
Supplies came into Ittoqqortoormiit by container ship generally, but when the fjord froze over and aircraft couldn’t land, the people went without or risked a visit to Katu. When this happened and supplies in the little village diminished, Katu’s store could be relied upon to carry even the strangest of requests and many villagers considered the ten kilometres–sometimes in hazardous conditions and deep snow–a worthwhile trek to fulfil their requirements.
The small, icy hamlet of Ittoqqortoormiit depended mainly on hunting for its existence: narwhal, muskox, seals, walruses, Arctic fox and polar bear were still in plentiful supply. The thick soft-white pelts of Arctic fox were high demand items in the fashion stores around the world.
Katu peered out, unblinking, from his relaxed position on the deck, the profound silence of the tundra cathartic in its whisperings and his mind lost in many thoughts. The evening twilight had a deep chill in the air as the sun tipped over the horizon, signalling the long Arctic night wasn’t far away. He reached down to the deck floor and grasped for the cup of strong tea steaming by the side of his chair, the wispy clouds of condensation giving testimony to the intensifying cold. He took a cautious sip, pondering the coming day’s activity.
He had ordered a container load of stores from Denmark and it was due to arrive in Ittoqqortoormiit in the morning aboard the Arina Arctica, one of the Royal Arctic Lines containerised supply ships. This would be his busiest time and the least cherished part of his year, a necessary chore that would take him in and out of Ittoqqortoormiit many times, ferrying needed stocks back and forth into his isolated outpost. An early storm had deposited an icy blanket of snow across much of the landscape, forcing him to abandon the idea of quad-bike and wheeled-trailer to transport his goods and adopt his winter alternative. He loved the thrill and freedom of his motorised snowmobile in winter, but towing a heavy wooden sled over the patchy ice and hard ground of late summer jarred his bones and his supplies, tying the ten kilometre trip to a snail’s pace until finally, the shelves were stocked again.
The quiet and softness of the tundra evening caressed Katu’s mind and his nostalgic thoughts drifted carelessly back several decades into a hidden place he seldom dared to venture. Nigaq’s clear green eyes danced before his mind’s eye and mesmerised him just like they did when... her beautiful face turned over and over in his thoughts, and his heart reached out to the image in a futile attempt to make contact. He whispered to himself, “Nigaq,” the beautiful sound almost too sacred to speak. She was his rainbow–the meaning of her name–bringing bright and warm colour to his humdrum, grey world. A renegade teardrop slid unexpectedly and without permission from th
e corner of his eye and plopped onto the wooden deck. Katu wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, recognising the signs and tried to direct his thoughts to another safer place before the crisis that usually followed thoughts of Nigaq crippled him again.
Katu turned his musings to Bjarni instead, quickly shutting off all thoughts of Nigaq and wondered whether the old man was still alive. Then he recalled the hapless, lighthearted comment, a gesture aimed at Bjarni to bring laughter but had brought a deep, unspoken rebuke instead.
“I see Akiak still has the concern of a well admired woman.”
Katu remembered with regret.
And then Bjarni’s pained reply. “She is a fine sled dog, Katu, and a finer companion than any woman.”
Katu dwelt on Bjarni’s reply and then wondered about the old man, too consumed with the fear of his past to live in society and choosing the unstable friendship of the wilderness over humanity.
To a lesser degree, Katu had followed Bjarni’s lifestyle, alone with the haunting memories of a beautiful woman that refused to leave his thoughts untangled and in peace.
*~*~*~*
The snowmobile bucked and weaved under his body and the heavy sled bounced over every dip and corrugation, pulling relentlessly against the tether holding it chained to the snow vehicle and making Katu’s journey even more distressing.
Cresting an icy-granite rise in his path, the stark, eye-gouging colours painted on the small wooden buildings of the tiny hamlet of Ittoqqortoormiit and lightly dusted with snow finally came into view, bringing a sigh of relief to Katu. Some structures were painted all deep red, some green, some blue and some yellow, standing like brightly painted dolls houses in cold contrast against the barren tundra landscape. He hadn’t seen this sight for almost a year now and from his position overlooking the fjord, he could see the deep red paintwork of the Arina Arctica peacefully at anchor in the tranquil waters of the Sund.
The landing barge was already busy at work, ferrying the containers and cargo from the ship to the rocky shore while the glassy waters of the Sund stirred, disturbed by the presence of the propeller wake from the work vessel.
The sky was a troubled grey umbrella hanging over the village like a prophet of old, warning of dire times in the not too distant future. Katu shuddered and a sense of urgency drove him forward. Bristling with desire to end his chore, he opened the throttle a little too wide, causing the sled to bounce uncontrollably behind the snowmobile, teetering precariously from skid to skid, threatening to end Katu’s journey in disaster. Realising his folly, Katu backed off the throttle again, allowing the downhill grade to settle the sled and restore obedience to the commands of the snowmobile before entering the periphery of the village at a more sedate pace.
The familiar faces of the village folk stared at the one-man convoy making his way into town along the defined track. As he passed the buildings on his way to the container storage area on the waterfront, recognition played across the features of the people and they waved vigorously at Katu, hailing a hearty welcome as he motored by. Returning their animated greetings, Katu approached the church situated directly in his path.
As he steered around the larger building, a pair of unseen eyes followed his movements and bored into his soul, the deep lines and weathered features almost as ugly as the unspoken thoughts they harboured.
Katu felt an uneasy chill grasp his spine, so intense he searched around the buildings expecting to see the formidable source of his discomfort, as if it was something tangible and hiding somewhere close by.
A child’s voice interrupted his search with a grin full of teeth and a wildly waving hand. “Katu...!”
He smiled and waved back to the handsome child. Katu’s stature in the village was like the arrival of a rock star and he quickly forgot the chilling experience. As he pulled up to the container area, the word quickly spread and a large group of villagers gathered around him. Many more streamed from the surrounding houses, greeting the welcome but unusual sight. After many consuming Greenlandic hugs the villagers dispersed, returning to their routine and leaving Katu to his work.
A familiar face waited for the crowd to diminish and approached him. Katu recognised his hulking friend, Nikkulaat, and rushed forward to greet him, the sound of vigorous slapping of backs as the two men hugged.
“Nikkulaat...! It is good to see you.”
“Yes, Katu, it has been too long, but I am afraid I must be the bearer of words of warning,” Nikkulaat’s expression turned his face a pale grey.
“What can be so distressing to you, Nikkulaat?” Katu felt nervous.
“A week ago, a strange woman not known to the village has been asking questions of villagers about Bjarni Kleist and another man, Dan Gurst.”
Nikkulaat waited for the gravity of his statement to sink in.
Katu’s eyes were round in disbelief and he gasped as if he had been punched in the stomach. It was obvious Nikkulaat knew something of Bjarni’s past, and his friendship with Katu, too.
“Who was she and what were the people telling her?” Katu’s shocked response was expected.
Nikkulaat shrugged. “People who can remember Bjarni generally won’t talk about him, but some of the elders have an axe to grind and would give aid to any bounty hunter searching for him, no matter who they were. No one seems to know of this other man though. The woman appeared to be in a hurry and left the village the same day by dog sled, and I was told she was heading directly north for Liverpool Land.”
Katu’s expression was one of shocked silence. He remembered Bjarni’s poker faced reaction to the name Dan Gurst had been one of silent recognition, trying not to give away the fear it brought. But Katu had seen the momentary flash of concern just before Bjarni had steered the conversation onto a less threatening topic.
After Nikkulaat delivered his disturbing revelation, he invited Katu to spend some time at his home further up the village mountainside, once his business was complete.
Watching Nikkulaat disappear, Katu sighed. This had been a strange morning and he was beginning to long for the solitude of the outpost. He searched the row of containers, still unsettled with his encounter with Nikkulaat.
He stopped in front of a red coloured container and then checked the insignia of his supplier on the side to confirm it belonged to him. Satisfied its ownership had been established, the final test would be the special key he now held in his hand. Fitting the key into the lock, he unlocked the door. His supplier had demanded it be locked with a special lock before it was taken aboard the ship in Denmark and then had sent the key separately to Katu. Just as he began to engage in the tedious work of unloading the supplies from the container to his sled, he was interrupted by a stranger’s voice.
“Katu?” the man beckoned almost apologetically.
Katu looked up and peered at the unfamiliar face, eyeing cautiously the thinly built white man before answering him. “How do you know my name?”
“It is hard not to. You are very popular with the villagers,” the stranger offered.
His statement made sense. “What can I do for you, Mr...?”
The stranger smirked. It was obvious Katu didn’t trust him. “My name is Carl Bruun and I would like to spend some time getting to know the wilderness of Eastern Greenland. I need a place to stay and I believe you could use some free labour in exchange for room and board.”
Katu’s unmoving gaze started to unnerve the stranger. “The wilderness is not a place to play and wander around if you are not used to its violent moods. Non-Inuit people need a permit to enter the national park anyway and how did you know I needed an assistant?” Katu chided.
The stranger held up a national park entry permit and then pointed to the ship, as if the gesture would put Katu’s mind at ease.
Katu finally relented. It was well known aboard the Royal Arctic Line’s vessels of his need for an assistant and the thought of an extra pair of strong hands was too good to refuse.
“Do you have a rifle,
Mr Bruun?” Katu’s question caught him off guard.
The stranger shook his head vigorously.
“I do and I know how to use it!” Katu’s steely warning hung like black clouds in clear blue sky.
*~*~*~*
Chapter 13
A myriad of colours danced around the room in a kaleidoscope of confusion. Blues and greys melted into waves of black and then burst into reds and greens. Someone was talking in echoes and it sounded funny. A gurgling laughter bubbled up and ricocheted off the floor then splattered on the ceiling, wobbling like a giant, bursting water balloon. Someone else had entered the chamber and their voice was echoing, too. The face elongated as it moved, like peering into a distorted amusement park mirror: one moment it was fat and all teeth and then it was skinny like a snake, the long nose and bulbous eyes staring, while the hideousness of it stopped the echoing laughter.
“Hey, freckle, what are you doing here?!”
A steady, annoyed voice entered the scene but couldn’t be seen. The voice didn’t seem to come from any of the strange images cascading in front of him.
“Who are you?” he found himself asking, his own voice echoing around the chamber. The bulbous eyes of the snake came close again, intrigued at his speech and peered directly into his face, only millimetres away. The snout-like mouth was moving but nothing was coming out.
“Just as I thought! Another prying tourist trying to have a gawk! Believe it... you’re crazy, freckle!” The spiteful voice was indignant, flat and didn’t echo in his chamber.