RUNAWAY TWINS and RUNAWAY TWINS IN ALASKA: BOXED SET

by Palamountain, Pete

  Martha stood. "Might as well get going. We'll dart them if we can. Maybe when they wake up, they'll settle down and head back home."

  Janie wrinkled her brow. "Little Bertha and Umbriago must be terrified. Earthquake and now no mom…poor babies."

  "And four other cubs," said Rachel.

  On the way up the bluff, Rex held up his hand. "Hold on. Look at Mount Yuktapah."

  They raised their heads and stared in wonder at the dormant volcano. Plumes, of smoke from three different locations were rising from the crater.

  "I thought it was extinct," said Rachel.

  "No," said Martha, "not extinct, not even dormant. Mount Yuktapah is actually an active volcano. It erupted in a minor way eighty years ago."

  "Can it reach us?" asked Janie.

  Rex shrugged. "Not likely. But one never knows. When we get airborne we'll add the smoke sighting to our earlier reports."

  5

  Hunters

  The helicopter was a remanufactured Bell 407 that had been purchased from Transport Canada and had been redesigned to accommodate a tranquilized adult boar or sow in place of two of the rear passenger seats. There were still two crew and three passenger seats, and the unit was perfect for the two rangers and three teenage interns.

  They were talking about the smoke from the volcano as they lifted off from the plateau and began to trace the paths of the three frightened grizzly sows.

  "What happened eighty years ago?" Justin asked.

  "Not much," said Rex. "Lava flow, some ash fall—at least that's what the evidence shows."

  "Evidence?" asked Rachel.

  "No one lived around here in those days to give a first-hand report, but the ash residue wasn't significant."

  "Then we're okay?" said Janie.

  "Volcanos are notoriously unpredictable," said Martha.

  As the helicopter continued toward the east, Justin leaned forward in his seat to get a good view of the hills, forests, and valleys below. He was trying his best to mask his anxiety because he hadn't told anyone of his encounter with Bruno, Big Bertha, and her cubs. He wasn't concerned with locating Big Bertha—she was wearing her radio collar and it was transmitting perfectly. The receiver in the helicopter's center console showed she was still running…about four miles from their position. But Bruno was another matter. He hadn't been fitted with a collar, and no one had any idea where he was located.

  What worried Justin was that Bertha might be running straight toward the aggressive boar. Hopefully Bruno had been scared into a long-distance retreat by his encounter with Justin, the air horn, and the bear repellant; but it was impossible to be certain, and Justin watched the passing landscape with trepidation. What if his actions combined to cause harm to Big Bertha? He would never forgive himself if she ran directly into Bruno's clutches.

  He turned to see Rachel staring at him. "You okay, Justin?"

  He coughed. "Busy morning, first chance to think. Wondering about Umbriago and Little Bertha."

  Martha overheard and said, "Reason to worry. Cubs of the other running sows, too. When we catch up with them, we'll use the capture gun---fill them full of Imobilon. When they come to their senses…maybe they'll head for home."

  "What if they don't?" said Janie.

  Rex cut in, "Then we'll load up the sows and carry them home one at a time. Five of us should be able to manage."

  Janie frowned. "Will they stay at home?"

  "Probably," Rex said. "When they see their cubs and their old stomping grounds, it might be enough."

  "Unless we have another earthquake," said Rachel.

  Rex didn't answer, for he was now occupied with a radio call, providing headquarters with information about the smoke rising from Mount Yuktapah. When he signed off he turned to the others, "No one seems overly concerned. There are quite a few volcanos higher on their watch list."

  "And the subsidence of Glacier Lake?" asked Martha.

  "Apparently it rose by an equal amount eighty years ago. No concerns there either."

  "Like a pot slowly boiling," said Janie.

  There was silence in the helicopter cabin.

  At the preserve's eastern boundary they passed over the camp of a brown-bear hunting outfitter. It was not a well-kept camp, and Justin scowled as he looked down. "Who are they? Looks like a bunch of bums, trash all over the place."

  "Bilboa and Barnes, out of Fairbanks," said Rex. "Not our best guides. Been hanging around down there for over a week—near the bend in the Yuktapah where bears come to look for graylings."

  "They can't shoot sows with cubs, can they?" asked Janie. She stretched to take in the outfitter's camp.

  "They don't know about the cubs back in the preserve," said Rex, "but our ladies have collars. Collars are off limits in this region, too."

  Martha shook her head. "Regulations won't stop outfitters like Bilboa and Barnes. Not with the bonus arrangements they have."

  The three teenagers all turned to hear what Martha meant.

  "Hunters pay a huge bonus if they get a bear, and unscrupulous guides will break any rule to get that money."

  "They're really after the boars," said Rex. "The big ones. Bagging a sow doesn't turn them on."

  "Bertha's as big as any boar," said Justin. "And they can just cut off her collars, both of them."

  "Sadly so," said Rex.

  "I wish they'd concentrate on Bruno," said Justin, "and leave the sows alone."

  "Maybe they will," said Martha.

  "I wish they'd just go home," said Janie, "and leave all of our bears alone."

  "Not that simple," said Rachel. "Outside the preserve they've got until May twenty-fifth to finish out the spring season. The park service isn't cruel. They have their reasons."

  Rex smiled at both girls. "Right. Bears need to be thinned to maintain a balance of nature. Eighty-five percent of moose calves are killed by brown bears up here. If we didn't have bear hunters, we wouldn't have any moose."

  Janie stuck to her principles. "I like bears better than moose."

  "Me, too," said Rex, banking the helicopter to the southeast, "but I don't make the rules."

  Justin watched the disappearing camp as long as he was able, and then sat staring at his hands. He hoped Bertha had crossed the Yuktapah, upstream or downstream, far from the ramshackle camp. Collars or not, sow or not, cubs or not, he didn't trust the hunters one bit, not when it came to a trophy the size of his special friend.

  6

  Fishermen

  Rex wobbled the Bell 407 to acknowledge the waves of four men who were pitching camp on a small arm of land sticking out into the Yuktapah River.

  "Not a smart site," said Martha. "Flash flood will wipe them out. Shall we put down and warn them?"

  Rex said, "No, we've got sows to find. We'll stop on our way back."

  "Hunters again?" asked Janie, frowning.

  "Fishermen," said Martha. "Poles stacked like a teepee. No bear-hunting outfitter would have so many fishing poles."

  "Good," said Janie. "Moose calves or no moose calves, I don't like men shooting our bears." She gazed through her window and thought about the violence that was required to maintain the balance of nature. Necessary or not, she decided she didn't like it one bit. Animals killing animals was one thing, but why did humans have to parcticipate? The thought depressed her, even though she knew she wasn't being logical. She ate meat—all kinds—and she loved hamburgers. She couldn't quite put it all into perspective. She sighed and pressed her forehead against the window glass.

  As always, Rachel sensed her sister's mood and the reason for it. She pulled her away from the window and embraced her with both arms. "Don't let it get you down, Janie. Keep your spirits up. The world will never be the way you want it to be. Face it head on. It won't change."

  Janie nodded.

  "Rich guys down there," said Justin. "Well, at least they won't bother our sows."

  "I imagine a bunch like that, fishermen or not, have their share of rifles stowed away," said
Rex.

  Rachel turned to Justin. "How do you know they're rich?"

  "Their gear. Four sleeping tents—tags hanging off. Community tent. Canoes and cooking stuff's new, and those fishing poles are right out of the sporting goods store. You can see them shine from here."

  Janie broke free from Rachel and reacted to Rex's comment regarding stowed weapons. "Rifles, oh no!"

  "They can't shoot bears, brown or black, without a professional guide and the proper licenses," said Rex. "That's not an outfitter's setup, but we'll make sure they understand the regulations when we stop back."

  "They're just fishermen," said Martha.

  "Yes," said Rex, "but with greenhorns you never know. They might grab their rifles and shoot at anything that moves."

  Rachel spotted them first. "There they are, all three of our ladies. They stayed together and they're still running…but not very fast."

  "Worn out," said Martha.

  Rex swooped down on the sows' position, and the noise of the engine and the rotors shocked the bears to such an extent that, exhausted or not, they reenergized their run.

  "Look at them go," cried Janie. "We're making things worse."

  Martha reached for the capture rifle and opened her window. "Three big bottoms, three big targets," she shouted above the wind.

  "Hope no one says that about us someday," said Rachel, causing the three females in the helicopter cabin to snicker. Rex and Justin were vaguely aware that a joke had been shared, but the nuances were beyond them.

  It took only three passes for Martha to shoot Immobilon-loaded darts into the three sows, and only a few additional minutes for the bears to slow and fall to the ground.

  "Now what?" asked Janie. It was clear from her tone and her expression that the use of the tranquilizer gun was not to her liking.

  Rachel took her sister's hand. "We didn't hurt them, Janie. We're trying to save them…and their cubs."

  "I know, I know. But guns, any kind of guns, upset me."

  Rex said, "Now we wait—see what the sows do. Hopefully, the inactivity will settle them down and they'll forget about the earthquake, head back to the preserve and find their cubs."

  "Umbriago and Little Bertha must be wondering where their mom is," said Justin.

  Rex went on, "In the meantime, we'll head back to the fishermen and the hunters and have a talk with both parties."

  They put down on a grassy knoll about two hundred yards from the arm of land where the fishermen had laid out their camp. The four men rose from their folding chairs as the rangers and the teenagers approached.

  "They might have at least met us halfway," Rachel whispered to Janie.

  The day was warming and both girls had tossed their jackets in the back of the helicopter cabin. They were wearing jeans, boots, wide leather belts, secured with bronze buckles engraved with the logo of the National Park Service, and non-matching long-sleeved flannel shirts. They had stopped wearing matching outfits after escaping from Montana's polygamous Sheba Hill cult where they were forced to dress alike—a double portion to please God, the Prophet J.J. Flack explained. But they knew, even as small girls, that the double portion was meant to please men, not God, and now that they were free, they vowed never to dress exactly alike again. Their long blonde hair was blowing in the breeze and their cheeks were pink from activity.

  "Don't like the looks of these men," said Janie softly. "Remind me of the two guys our friend from Nome saved us from."

  Rachel murmured in agreement.

  Rex and Martha were in uniform, and Justin was dressed like the twins in boots, jeans, and a flannel shirt, except he was still wearing his jacket.

  Rex spoke first, "Morning, gentlemen."

  The twins exchanged skeptical glances regarding the four men's gentlemanly status.

  Justin stood to one side, examining the two large green canoes that were beached a few yards away.

  The men stood facing the visitors. An unshaven fat man took the lead and stepped forward. He was decked out in a khaki and green outfit that appeared to have been removed intact from a dummy at the Sportman's Warehouse in Fairbanks; and despite his new clothes or perhaps because of them, he seemed uncomfortable. He continually tugged at his collar and shrugged his shoulders, as if to force a better fit. "Rangers getting pretty young these days," he said.

  Martha motioned toward the three teenagers. "Interns," she said, "new program."

  "We would advise you to relocate your campsite," said Rex. "The Yuktapah is unpredictable in this region. You might find yourselves swimming in the middle of the night."

  The fat man said, "Really? Good thing you dropped in. We didn't know. We'll find a spot higher up right away."

  While their leader continued to express his gratitude for the warning, the other three men turned their attention to the teenagers, first to Justin, as if they were evaluating his capabilities, and then to the twins, slowly, salaciously, unmindful of how their attention might be interpreted. One of the men, tall, angular, long-faced, advanced toward Janie and seemed ready to reach out and touch her. She flinched and backed up several paces. He checked his forward progress, but kept his eyes on her.

  Janie felt creepy, like a sled dog about to be brought to auction. She coughed. Couldn't she and Rachel ever escape such men—even here in the wilderness? Degenerate men with degenerate thoughts.

  The fat leader appeared to be occupied with Rex and Martha, but even he was casting quick glances toward the twins.

  Martha asked, "What're your plans this far up river?"

  "Fishing, of course," said the fat man, motioning toward the teepee of expensive poles.

  "For what?" asked Rex.

  "Graylings, but we'll be happy to catch whatever we can…if the earthquake didn't scare the fish into hidey holes. Quake was something, wasn't it? River seemed to back up and flow in the opposite direction for a time. Straightened out, though. Quakes common up here?...Mountain smoking, too. What's up with that?"

  "New to us," said Martha. "We're working on answers."

  "Where're you boys from?" Rex asked.

  "…I'm Joe. Me from Idaho, Mike from Montana, Jack and Ernie from Washington."

  "How'd you get together? Where do you know each other from?"

  The fat man hesitated. "Family. We're cousins. This trip is part of our cousin reunion in Missoula."

  Jack and Ernie, wiry men of medium height and indeterminate age, were holding beer cans.

  Martha asked, "Do you men have guns?"

  Montana Mike, the tall, long-faced man, motioned toward the community tent. "Yeah, for protection, rifles and pistols."

  "You can't hunt up here without a guide," Martha said. "And you can't drink and shoot firearms."

  Mike nodded and fat Joe from Idaho nodded as well. Jack and Ernie tossed their beer cans into a small barrel.

  "We're not here to hunt," said Joe, "…Protection. Bears around here. Don't want to be helpless."

  Justin cut in, "You can't shoot sows with cubs or any bears with collars. This is a special bear-management region, inside and outside the preserve."

  "Not our intention, son," said Mike. "Fish…we're here for fish."

  "No law against drinking and fishing is there?" said Ernie.

  Rex loosened his tight expression. "No, and if there were, no one would pay any attention. Just exercise care at all times."

  "Yes, sir," said Idaho Joe.

  Martha said, "Remember what you said. You're in bear country. Any fish you kill—wash in the river. If you don't, the grizzlies will be all over you."

  In the helicopter, Rachel looked down on the camp and at the four men who had now resumed their ease in their canvas chairs. "They don't look like cousins."

  "They're not," said Janie. "They're lying for some reason."

  Martha smiled at the girls and Justin. "Some people lie for no good reason—just by force of habit."

  Justin looked back at the camp. "Or for reasons we don't know. Everything new—like they stopped o
ff at the Sportsman's Warehouse and bought what they needed. A lot of money for a fishing trip."

  "Maybe you're right about their being rich," said Rex.

  Martha shook her head. "Didn't look rich to me. Bad teeth."

  7

  Trophy Fever

  They had now reached the Bilboa and Barnes outfitter's camp at the bend in the Yuktapah River. Rex landed the helicopter on a long sandbar, and the rangers and interns waded across the shallows to greet the two guides and three hunters who had come to the water's edge to greet them. The contrast between the location of the fishermen's camp and the camp of the outfitters was apparent at once. The hunters' tents were well-worn, and their canoes though scarred and dented, were perched safely on the high bank. There was trash on the ground, but the site was dry and pitched in the best possible location—a rise above the river's hook that was unlikely to flood, even under the worst conditions.

  Janie's prejudice against guns and violence of all kinds caused her to stand aloof, looking for signs that these were the same kind of men she had seen upriver; but though she strained to make a connection, she could not do so. The gray-bearded guides, Barnes and Bilboa, were shifty-looking, it was true; and she wouldn't trust them to hold her purse, but they seemed to be good, honest crooks who would die before they'd harm underaged girls. And the three hunters appeared to be poured from similar molds—smiling country boys, awkward, macho, but basically straightforward. Of course, these were first impressions based on no hard information; but Janie had learned to trust her own judgment and to trust it quickly.

  There were no dead bears, brown or black, being processed anywhere in camp, and no bearskins drying nearby. It was apparent that this was not yet a successful hunt.

  Rex and Martha talked to the hunters about alcohol, guns, sows with cubs, the special protection in the area for sows with GPS collars, and washing fish kill in the river. Then the rangers shared all they knew regarding the earthquake and the smoke that had spurted from Mount Yuktapah.