by Alan Nayes
“NASA is talking H. G. Wells.”
She could picture Bonds grinning when he said, “NASA is talking ‘give me a better explanation.’”
“So these beings came from another dimension and trapped Goliath with the purpose of taking him back to their own dimension.”
“It fits all the facts we have available.”
Shelby really didn’t think anything fit the facts. And though the NASA scientists’ hypotheses were interesting, she considered all the cosmology issues as nothing more than scientized science fiction. She was tempted to ask why these advanced beings didn’t take the primate back with them, but let it go. Bonds asked about any updates on Goliath and she answered honestly, “None.”
“What do you think happened to him?”
Shelby said the same thing she’d told LeBlanc back at the beginning of September. “He drowned.”
Much cooler weather blanketed Southern California in late November, and though nothing like what was freezing the Arctic North, the dip in degrees precipitated another one of Shelby’s curiosity quests. Drowning. She knew Goliath could swim because to reach Chitina the giant primate would have had to cross the Copper River, where it can be up to a quarter mile wide with a current of seven miles per hour. There was no other way he could have entered the small Alaskan town on the west shore without swimming. So the giant could swim, and well. But could he have swum from Bear Island to the mainland or to another island? One of many questions without answers.
The issue of why Goliath had trekked north on Bear Island continued to gnaw at her sense of “what happened to Goliath?” mystery. When the huge primate initially escaped the confines of the UCO on the Bagley Icefield, he’d headed north and west. Once in Chitina, he’d headed north. On Bear Island, Goliath had fled north to the bluffs, the most difficult terrain on the island. North. A common denominator.
And just as all the prior curiosity quests ended unresolved, so did this one, leaving her with that unsatiated sensation in her gut she was growing accustomed to.
She’d just gotten off the phone with John on a Friday evening in early December. He was thinking about flying down for Christmas. Escape the brutal holiday cold and snow of a winter Fairbanks. She thought that would be great idea.
When her phone rang a second time, she figured it was John again, and answered before realizing the number was unfamiliar.
“Is this Dr. Hollister?” a woman asked.
“Yes,” Shelby replied, thinking the caller was a smoker or fighting a respiratory infection by the raspiness of her voice.
“It’s really you, the lady on television with the ape!”
If she’d said Beauty and the Beast, Shelby would have disconnected on the spot, but she detected an innocent sincerity that kept her from hanging up. Definitely didn’t sound like one of those annoying sales cold calls. “Who is this?”
“Dr. Hollister, my name is Amy Koyah and I’m calling from Eagle Village, Alaska.”
Shelby found a chair and sat. “How can I help you, Amy?” she asked, forcing her tone to remain neutral.
The woman wasted no time, blurting out, “I saw him, Dr. Hollister. I saw your giant ape!”
CHAPTER 39
Shelby’s first thought was her second, third, and fourth as well—that the woman had fallen off her rocker. But the more she listened to the story, the more she realized a trip far north was in her immediate future.
“My husband and I own a small ranch outside of Eagle Village…” and when the caller was through, Shelby absolutely believed her. The texted photos of the tracks in the snow only solidified her faith the woman was not trying to parlay some fabricated prank into monetary gain. For one thing, she’d not told anyone except her husband until tonight. “I’m on your side, Dr. Hollister. Goliath killed because he was hunted. You and I would do the same. When I went out to insulate the irrigation pump he was standing over a bin of fresh scraps we’d put out to feed our two hogs. He looked directly at me and I said his name. He’d already emptied the food bin and when he saw me he quietly backed into the night. He was pure white and blended perfectly with the snow. Never made a sound, except for this clanking from some chain dangling from his right wrist.”
This occurred late the previous evening. So was Goliath traveling mostly at night? Shelby wondered.
Shelby listened, suddenly understanding with absolute clarity now why Goliath was always heading north. When Amy asked what she should do, Shelby replied, “Nothing. How far from Fairbanks are you?”
“About two hundred miles. Do you think he’ll stay around Eagle Village?”
“No,” she said, thinking ahead.
“Where will he go?”
“Goliath is going home.” And I’m going to find him!
Shelby texted as soon as the plane touched down. She grabbed her luggage and met John outside the Fairbanks airport terminal. She motioned him to remain in the vehicle while she tossed her bags in the back seat, then leaped in front, pressing her bare hands between her knees. She leaned across and received his kiss, before declaring, “God, it’s fuckin’ cold out there!”
John laughed and pulled into traffic. “A warm sixteen degrees. But if you’re looking for cold, Eagle Village will hit a high of two tomorrow.”
Shelby held her hands directly in front of the heater vent. “We’re not going to Eagle Village.”
“But I thought—”
“Goliath won’t be there anymore.”
John opened the center console and passed Shelby a pair of insulated wool-lined gloves. He drove in silence a moment before saying, “Shelby, I hope you’re not thinking what I’m thinking you’re thinking.”
Shelby stared at the gray overcast. Snow was in the forecast—she’d checked—but for now no precipitation, only cold and a stiff breeze. She refused to even contemplate what the wind chill would be. “He’s moving north, I know it. He’s always moved north.”
“Eagle Village is one thing. That’s still civilization. Little Okpilak in December. Shelby, that’s a deathtrap waiting.”
Shelby turned. “Can you get me there?”
John exhaled. “There’s an old joke sherpas on Everest tell. Whenever a client asks, ‘Can you get me to the top,’ they always respond, ‘Sure, I can get you to the summit, now getting down alive, that’s another issue.’”
“So you’re saying it can’t be done?”
John’s eyes remained on the road. “It can be done. Climbing Vinson in Antarctica or Denali was no walk in the park. With Mendle’s assistance—”
“No military, no air force, John. They’ll only exterminate him. Please. No one knows about this except the Eagle Village woman. And she’s not talking.”
“You want to do this alone?” he exclaimed.
“Not alone. You and me.”
“Why?”
“I told you. Everyone either wants him dead or caged. And I know why he’s going north. I know what he wants.” Shelby placed her palm on his shoulder. “Besides, I have all the faith you can get me there. And back.”
She watched John shake his head in exasperation. “Shit.”
“Is that a ‘shit, yes,’ or a ‘shit, no’?”
After a long pause, he responded guardedly, “I’ll check charter flights into Arctic Village when we get home. I know a guide service that choppers hunters to the most remote areas of the Alaskan outback year around pending availability. We could chopper in to Okpilak and then hike the Little Okpilak offshoot. I’ve never been on that glacier offshoot in winter.”
“That’ll make two of us.” Shelby grinned. “Sounds exciting.”
She caught John’s sidelong glance. “You know, girl, you got a crazy streak bigger than this state!”
Shelby watched from the bed as John worked at his computer wearing only his boxers. “This is a first,” she said, rising and folding an afghan around her nude body. “Making love when it’s minus eleven outside.”
He studied
the schedule of charter flights. “Just be glad we’re inside.” He moved aside, allowing her to slide onto his lap. “You never told me how you think Goliath survived without being seen.”
Shelby reached for the mouse. “Can I?”
“The control’s in your hands, babe.”
Shelby googled the same sites she’d studied back in Los Angeles after receiving the Eagle Village call. “The biggest question was the half mile or more Strait of Georgia crossing. I knew he could swim much better than the great apes of today because he made it across the wide Copper River. But once he made the mainland”—she moved the cursor over the Google map of the Canadian eastern seaboard—“Goliath had entire swaths of wild land with little population density—conservation protected areas, provincial parks, then reaching southern Alaska, there’s the Tongass National Forest, then Glacier Bay National Park or depending on the route he took, back into the Bagley Icefield.”
“In other words, he could avoid civilization the entire way.”
“Truly incredible. We’re talking almost two thousand miles from Bear Island to Eagle Village, Alaska, and another three or four hundred into the northern Arctic Wildlife Refuge.” Shelby guessed John was doing a mental calculation and said, “That’s averaging over twenty miles a day.”
“How did he know where to go?”
“It must be innate for his species. They crossed the Siberian Land Bridge hundreds of thousands years ago. They know how to travel long distances. He knows where he’s going.”
“You’re not afraid he’s going to kill again? Kill you?”
Shelby had thought hard on this. “If he’d wanted to kill again, he had plenty of chances. The Eagle Village woman, a prime example. No, Goliath is not a carnivore, a predator—he killed to protect himself. And only males.”
She could feel John snake his hand under the afghan. “So you’ll protect me then?” he said coyly.
Shelby led him back to the warm bed. “Cross my heart.”
They flew to Arctic Village six days later, giving Shelby plenty of time to update her cold weather gear and undergo some survival training with John. The morning they arrived at the Fairbanks airport, the civil twilight sky was a brilliant deep blue and looked brittle enough to crack with a hammer in the subfreezing weather. The snow shimmered like frosted glass.
Three rules that were inviolable, John had told her as they loaded the gear into the charter plane’s fuselage. One—the moment the weather showed any indication of deteriorating, they pack and get the hell out. Two—John was packing his 30.06 semiautomatic rifle. If at any point he thought Goliath posed an imminent danger to either of them, he’d shoot the giant. Three—they would camp on the Little Okpilak offshoot only two days. If Goliath didn’t show, they would chopper out.
Shelby agreed to all three—she liked number two the least—but realized all three were necessary for their own welfare.
John helped her into the single engine Cessna 206. “So you really believe he will be there?”
Shelby took her seat. “That’s the last home he remembered. If he’s capable, he’ll show.”
“Then what? What are you going to do if you find him?”
Shelby glanced at the duffel bag holding the heavily padded items, the same items that had precipitated so many questions from the LAX baggage screeners. “Honestly, I don’t know. Each time I think about actually seeing Goliath again, the plan just seems to stop there. I do know I don’t want him killed, which is what would happen if others arrived with guns. He would have been killed on Bear Island if they’d found him.” She gazed out at the runway a moment. “Maybe I’m just looking for some type of closure, which is a hell of a gamble because if I’m wrong about him returning to Okpilak Valley, this trip will be for nothing.” She sighed. “Are you okay with that?”
John smiled. “I am as long as you are.” He motioned her to buckle up. “We’ll be on Little Okpilak by this evening. You’ll have plenty of time to think about it then.”
She reached across and grasped John’s hand. “Thanks for doing this.”
He gently squeezed. “Believe it or not, I’m looking forward to a little adventure.”
The pilot received the go ahead from air traffic control and the Cessna began to roll.
The albino giant could feel the indolent infection spreading from the bullet wound in his left shoulder. Daily, he would rub snow on it and the moist cold helped with the swelling. And the chaffing from the shackle on his right wrist had worn almost to the bone. For months he’d ignored the pain and occasional bleeding whenever he retraumatized the wounds. He’d dropped a considerable amount of body fat since beginning the long trek away from the island, the norm for his species in the colder climes. His strength remained, however, though instinct told him very soon it would begin to ebb. Still the huge primate moved further north, feeling more and more like he was entering the land he recalled as home—ice, snow, mountains, stands of green forests, clean air. Innate directional sense told him he was nearing the valley. It wouldn’t be long now. He was free, though his time was running out.
When he found the ones responsible, he would kill them for what they had done to his family.
And to him.
CHAPTER 40
They made Arctic Village after a three-hour uneventful flight. However, the second leg further north to the glaciers met a road bump. The Caribou Air Taxi’s only two helicopters had been called into service for an avalanche search and rescue and wouldn’t be available for two days. John was offered a Piper Cherokee equipped with ice landing gear instead. Or they could wait.
Shelby said, “We’ll take it.” She could see John constantly studying the twilight sky, but she didn’t want to risk the weather turning against them and stranding them in Arctic Village.
“Is this safe?” she asked as they transferred their gear.
John looked at her. “You’re asking now?” adding with a smile, “I actually prefer a fixed wing for going over the Brooks Mountains. But the helicopter offers more options for getting us out. We’ll fly off Little Okpilak by chopper.”
Both she and John noticed the bush pilot watching them quizzically so when the man commented shortly after takeoff, “Kind of unusual destination this near Christmas, though I guess you might get a shot at a polar bear this time of year,” Shelby exchanged looks with John and replied, “It’s our honeymoon,” in a weak attempt to lighten the anxiety and anticipation building in her since awakening that morning. Will Goliath show? And if he does…
The scruffy man grunted humorlessly and kept quiet much of the remainder of the flight.
The view of the Brooks Mountain range highlighted in blue perpetual polar twilight was as spectacular as Shelby had ever seen, easily rivaling the wilderness terrain of the Bagley Icefield, and more desolate appearing this time in the dead of winter than when she’d made a similar flight months ago from Eielson Air Force Base to recover Goliath’s mate’s skeleton.
Timing their arrival perfectly, the pilot made a low first pass during the only hour of Arctic daylight, explaining, “I’ll have to drop you off on the main glacier. That’ll leave you with about a mile hike to your GPS coordinates. Keep your GPS and radio on at all times, and the chopper will be back to get you in two days. Radio, if you need an earlier pickup and we’ll contact you if the weather forces a change in itinerary.” He winked at Shelby, wishing, “Enjoy your honeymoon. Hope it’s a warm one!”
John helped Shelby with her pack and sleeping roll, slipped his on, and slung his rifle over one shoulder, and they were off, both wearing snow shoes and using hiking poles. Shelby adjusted her ski mask so only her eyes were visible. The snow was a foot deep in some places on the glacier and John moved slow and cautiously, on the constant lookout for hidden fissures and crevasses. The daylight was gone by the time they reached the Little Okpilak offshoot. The minus nine degrees was not near as uncomfortable as Shelby would have anticipated and John commented, “Let’s hope the
wind does not pick up.”
And it wouldn’t for another twenty-four hours.
The world looked totally different to Shelby in the polar twilight—like they’d landed on an alien ice planet. The glacial ice actually appeared bluer than during the summer. The high escarpments rising on either side gave her the impression they were traversing a steep walled valley on Neptune.
John located the area on Little Okpilak that matched his GPS coordinates where the UCO was removed and quickly set up camp—a single geodesic dome tent of urethane-coated heavy-duty nylon that could be heated with a small portable propane stove. Shelby helped assemble the gear inside. Finished with securing the stakes in case the wind conditions changed, John ducked inside and secured the flap. “It will drop to minus eighteen tonight but we’ll be a warm fifty-eight inside here.”
Shelby smiled, moving her duffel bag against one wall. She’d already arranged the sleeping bags. “I like the tent’s bright yellow color.”
John had some hot tea brewing and passed her a steaming cup. “We could be buried up to the dome top and still be visible to a pass over.”
“That’s a pleasant thought.”
John moved next to her. “You know we could miss him by a day, week, or he might never show. He might be lying out there somewhere between Eagle Village and here, dead and frozen.”
Shelby understood all that. “This was his world, the environment he lived in, the cold, the glaciers, though the valley might have been less icy and more green due to Alaska’s arid conditions back then. I have this strong gut feeling this is where he wanted to get back to.” She leaned into John. “I hope I’m not wrong.” She abruptly tensed. “I just had an unpleasant thought. What if that huge crevasse opens back up?”