by Jesse Colt
“Hey!” Nester demanded. “Did we wreck anything? Can we still take off again?”
Geezer ignored Nesters hard questions. He pulled his pack of cigarettes from his jacket and scratched a match against the icy consol.
Jim peered through an ice-encrusted window and listened to Geezer’s vague reply. The sleet was swirling about the downed craft. Occasionally he could see the banks of snow and black ice as the gusts relented. His senses regained their balance, and he was aware of the gale howling across the ice. They were down! He was thankful that they had survived, but he took little consolation in their initial success for they were still somewhere on an isolated lake, perhaps a thousand kilometers from the nearest major community.
The occupants in the cockpit stirred again.
Geezer cleared his throat and turned to Nester. “Looks like one of them freak storms has blown in. We could be here for a few hours or even days.” He cursed and fumbled for his tobacco again. “You never know `bout this weather. For sure they seen us come down. They ought to be sending someone out soon,” he grumbled. “There’s an RCMP constable here most of the time and old Father Baptise, the know it all priest. Don’t let that yippy old bugger get you alone! He’ll try and change your whole life for you.”
He made no comment on their desperate landing. Jim wondered how often the old pilot brought his plane down in what seemed little more than a controlled crash.
He watched Geezer fumble for his suitcase. The mittened hands began jamming a few belongings into the battered valise. “I got a friend here that will put me up and the old priest can find you guys a place to toss your bed rolls.”
“Damn!” Nester cursed. “We only got a couple of days to get to Yellowknife. How long do you think this weather will last. Maybe I should hike over and make sure they know we are out here.”
“Aw, they knows we are here. I’m certain of that. They knew we were coming, probably been watching for days. I can’t tell you `bout the weather but I’ll guarantee they know we are out here. The sound of the plane will have roused the whole village. No, we just got to sit tight a spell. Someone will be out soon. Someone will come guide us in,” he mumbled.
…
Jim stretched his aching legs and tried to relax his cold muscles. His chilled body protested the movement and he realized just how tense he had become during their shaky flight. He squinted across the frozen lake again. He needed desperately to go to the bathroom. The snow was swirling past the cracked portals obscuring his vision. Outside the desolate landscape was lit by the dim light from distant stars. His eyes gradually became accustomed to the faint glow, but all he could see were endless mounds of snow, stirring under the breath of the harsh wind. The rough landing had left him disorientated and confused. He was no longer certain in which direction the shoreline lay or how far away they had come down.
“They don’t have a hotel here, do they?” Nester knew the answer to his own question. “Or a bar,” he added. “Jim, you bring your booze?”
Jim had brought several bottles, but he wasn’t prepared to share this information. Maybe this would encourage Nester to moderate his drinking a little. “I brought a couple of bottles,” Jim mumbled.
He glanced at his watch. It was 1:15 p.m. Time meant so little up here in this land of endless night. He wondered how long they might be stranded or if the worn aircraft would ever be flight-worthy again.
“Look!” it was Nester’s voice piping through the dim cabin, barely discernible over the shriek of the wind and the abrasive hiss of the snow grating across the frozen metal fuselage.
“I see a light moving across the ice.”
Jim peered across the windswept landscape, but there was nothing. “Are you sure?” he wanted to believe there was someone out there, but he was reluctant to accept the judgment of Nester’s bleary eyes.
“Hey! I seen it plain as hell!” Nester protested. There was a touch of irritation in his strained voice.
For a full minute they peered into the swirling snow until Jim’s eyes burned from the strain. Then it appeared, a dull glow, barely visible through the twisting white blanket, swinging like the lanyard on some mystical ship. The faint light drifted across the ice to where the wind raged against their stranded craft.
“Yup, you seen something all right!” Geezer began a quick check of his luggage. He seemed eager to abandon his marooned craft. “Someone’s come to get us. We’ll be warm soon,” he chortled.
Two snow covered figures appeared, pale white ghosts, crusted with sleet, only slightly darker than the snow reflecting against the faint gleam of their flickering lantern. Nester forced open his door and a set of broad shoulders pushed thought the narrow opening.
“Hello. Is everyone all right?” the voice boomed. When he verified that the passengers were okay, he continued. “Well, lets get you off this lake and into the village. You could probably stand a cup of hot coffee. What have you got for luggage? Just toss it onto the toboggan and anything that won’t freeze, we can take out later.”
Jim scrambled down with the others. The lanky stranger had not bothered to introduce himself or the stocky villager accompanying him. That would come later when they were out of the howling winds. Their rescuer was well over six feet tall, clean shaven and lean. The pale lantern revealed the ruddy face and rugged bone structure. Jim guessed from the respect accorded him by his companion that he was the RCMP constable, back from patrol. The man was clad in the same caribou parka as the villager and the uniform, if worn, was not discernible under the heavy winter gear. Jim tossed his luggage on the sled with the others and followed the constable across the rough ice and swirling snow. In a few minutes they were in the lea of the wind, sheltered from the storm that streamed off the frozen lake. Jim pulled his hood back enough to look around.
The shrouded village seemed to emerge reluctantly from the snow and dark shadows of the stunted forest. It grew in dimension as he squinted into the pale light. The faded log homes blended easily into the surrounding woods and boundless snowdrifts. Even the grey smoke from the chimneys added to the illusion. The thin wisps acting as a willing camouflage that clung to the treetops, screening the homes from view. Finally, his eyes located a complete village concealed in the sparse forest clinging to the shoreline.
Most of the homes seemed tiny, one- or two-bedroom log cabins. One large structure stood above the others with a great gaunt cross rising into the dark sky. The faded white paint on the building added to the church’s snowy camouflage.
The constable trudged forward leading them towards the chapel where a dim light glowed inside, a faint beacon falling across the darkened snow.
Nester seized his luggage off the toboggan and looked ruefully around the rustic village, before following the constable inside. “Where does that fucking know it all priest hang out. I hope he can find us rooms in a hole like this. Otherwise I might just as well sleep in the damned plane. What’s the old bugger called, Geezer? Father or uncle Baptized.”
Nester tossed his expensive leather luggage on the frozen planks in disgust and jerked down his hood. The constable set the sputtering lantern on a table and turned up the wick, sending a flickering light across the dim chapel. He pulled his snow-encrusted parka off and began removing his heavy boots. Jim examined him in the glow of the light. He was a big man with a rugged face and a shock of red hair. He looked as if he might be close to fifty. Jim wondered how old a constable might be before he was retired. This man was obviously approaching his pension.
The constable tossed his clothing into a small closet before he turned and extended his hand. “Well, I guess its quiet enough now for introductions. I’m Father Stait. I took over from Father Baptiste last spring. Our constable is gone for the holidays, but I’m certain we can look after you.”
He shook Jim’s hand with a powerful grip, then turned to Nester. He stepped closer, almost bumping against him, towering over the
smaller man, glaring down at the quivering beard and startled eyes.
Nester introduced himself, his voice tight with surprise.
The priest thrust his hand towards Nester. “You may call me Father Bob if you wish, Nester, but please don’t call me uncle or insinuate that we are related in any way!” He turned abruptly to Geezer and extended his hand. Jim detected an angry edge in the priest’s voice, but it was muted by the faint smile on his lips.
Father Bob moved across the chapel, lighting another lamp. A gigantic Christmas tree emerged from the shadows, the image swelling as the light slowly flared up, detailing each decoration on the magnificent pine. The church was sparsely furnished, barely large enough to cram in two hundred battered chairs and small pews. The drab building was decorated with Christmas bows and ribbons. It was obvious the villagers were doing what they could to prepare for Christmas.
“Jim, we have a couple of small rooms attached to the back for guests such as yourself. We’ll put you up in one of them. Geezer has some acquaintances that will be delighted to welcome him.”
He turned to Nester and examined his fierce expression in the pale light. Nester returned his icy stare.
“Yeah, Nester, I think the best place for you would be with old Red Bear. He never uses his spare room except when Brutus visits him. Brutus is an old sled dog, a monster. Hates strangers, especially white men. Keep an eye out for him, okay. Yes sir, Nester, you can bunk in with Red Bear. He was once a chief and a medicine man but has pretty much retired. He’s always home now. I’ll take you over as soon as we have a coffee. You speak any Dene, Nester?” He raised his eyebrows and Jim could tell he was enjoying Nester’s discomfort.
Nester knew that the towering priest was testing him. He bristled at the man’s game, but he just shrugged.
“Long as he’s got some place to put my stuff. I don’t sleep much anyway,” he growled.
“Well the old men say this storm will last another two or three days, so you may get a little weary before it’s over,” the priest added.
Jim looked at Nester. Two or three days were unacceptable. Their flight left Calgary in three days for the Caribbean. Jim intended to be on it.
“Did you hear that forecast on a local station?” Jim asked hopefully. “The weatherman back at the base didn’t mention any storm.”
“Well this seems to be a local pattern. Mostly wind tonight,” the priest added. “The older residents are a lot better at forecasting the weather than the department. Our short wave quit about the same time we lost our main generator. So, my bet is that we will get two or three more days of storm. Were you hoping to be home for Christmas?” he inquired.
Jim explained their plight as the priest coaxed an old wood burning stove to life and pushed a chipped porcelain coffee pot onto the smoking plates.
“Where is the radio?” Jim asked. “Maybe I can get it working.” He was anxious to establish communication with the outside world. Maybe they could re-book their flights.
The priest’s face seemed to brighten in the pale light. “Well, if you have the skills to repair the radio; that would be a small miracle. There is a real demand for the wireless at Christmas. Everyone wants to send a message and all we can get is static.” He rose to his feet and opened the door to an adjacent room. He rolled out a large short-wave radio, connected it to the battery then clipped on an antenna.
“This battery should last for quite a while. Until we get the generator running, it’s all we have.” He flipped a few knobs, and the ancient radio emitted a burst of static.
Jim sat down and spun the dials before he flicked it off. “The main power supply is gone. Probably just a blown capacitor. Have you got any spare parts?”
The priest rose quickly to his feet and returned with a small case. He handed the box to Jim. Jim pulled a screwdriver from the tools, removed the cover from the radio and peered inside. “Hey. There it is. A capacitor is blown!”
He pointed to the faulty component and rifled through the box locating a pair of side-cutters and removing the offending element. He handed it to the priest who eyed the blown component ruefully.
“That’s it?” he asked. “And no spares either. Right?”
Jim shrugged. “No, but I can rig one by the time the coffee is boiling. Light me one of those candles. Geezer. Give me the tin foil off your cigarette pack. I’ll make up a temporary capacitor. We can stick it together. You don’t have any AC for this soldering iron, do you?”
In twenty minutes, the radio was pieced back together. Jim turned it on and expertly manipulated the dials. He pulled a screwdriver from the kit and tuned the system. Jim replaced the cover and tapped it gently. A distant voice crackled over the radio.
“There, Father, just like new. Don’t bang the case and it should hold together. You got a good one here. These old babes have been around for a long time, but they don’t make them any better. I’ll send you a proper capacitor when I get back to base.”
Father Bob’s face was smiling. “I can’t tell you how much this will mean to the villagers. They love to exchange greetings this time of the year and get caught up on the news. Then, of course, there are the hockey pools,” he confided. “We even try to broadcast some of the Christmas concerts from the other villages. This is a real Christmas miracle, Jim, thank you. Thank you very much.”
His face showed his gratitude, and he extended his massive hand and shook Jim’s solemnly.
Jim was moved by the gesture, but he tried to shrug it off. He looked at Nester’s somber face. Nester was frowning and Jim detected a touch of envy. Nester could fix almost anything, and he loved the attention this ability brought him.
“I don’t suppose you know anything about generators, do you?” the priest asked hopefully. “The department was here about three weeks ago and tried to fix ours, but they left for the holidays and no one knows when they may be back. The village can get by without it, but we really appreciate having power at Christmas. They use the electricity to turn the Christmas lights on and watch some of the Nativity programmes on their TV sets.” He raised his eyebrows in anticipation.
Nester focused his fierce eyes on the priest. “Hey,” he snapped. “I can repair any dammed generator. Who tried to fix it?” he demanded.
The priest returned the shorter man’s stare. A look of disbelief crossed his face. “Nester, if you can fix that cranky old generator, then you can call me uncle or anything else for that matter. Would you mind taking a look at it?” There was a condescending note creeping into his voice.
Nester leaned back and sipped his coffee, squinting at the priest. He was in control again. His eyes sparkled triumphantly.
“Yeah, may as well. This rank coffee! Hell, it will probably keep me awake for days. There are some of your spare parts in the plane. Have your guys bring them down!” he ordered. He stood up and carefully zipped up his parka, watching the priest’s reaction. “Well, let’s go take a look at it. You got tools there, haven’t you?”
Jim looked out the tiny window that graced the kitchen wall. The endless night had reclaimed the frozen wilderness.
The priest called to some of the men gathered around the splendid tree with their children. There was a murmur of anticipation and two of the young men hurried into the night. Their departure started a flurry of activity to secure the spare parts from the aircraft and escort Nester to the generator room. The priest seemed eager to get Nester out to the generator, scarcely able to conceal his delight at the two skilled technicians who had been delivered from the stormy Christmas sky.
“Jim, your room is down the corridor.” He directed him to the back of the church through a small utility chamber and down a short hall. “This room can be pretty cold. If we get the generator working, we will have some forced air moving from the stove. In the meantime, just keep the firebox stoked in the alcove. Some of the heat will gradually work its way down. It also heats the bath
room. The best tub in the village is right next door to you. Please help yourself. It doesn’t get used much.” He laughed and tugged on his parka.
“Well, I better get my new buddy down to the generator shack or he will be calling me names worse than uncle.” The priest ducked out into the night and disappeared into the gloom.
…
Jim tossed his luggage into a corner of his cramped room. He tugged open the small chest of drawers and unlocked the zipper on his suitcase. He peered into the jumbled case then closed the cover. Hardly worth wasting his time. They would only be here for a few hours. He abandoned the suitcase and wandered out into the church. Two older men were lounging before the short-wave radio and adjusting the dials. They were surrounded by several bright-eyed children listening to voices in a language that was foreign to Jim’s ears. Jim watched one man pass the mike to a small child. She accepted the device reluctantly, then spoke softly into the machine. Jim marveled at how quickly the news of the repair had swept through the village. More bundled figures were streaming in the door to wait their turn at the crackling set. Every face was smiling, and the spirit of Christmas seemed to be descending upon the quiet village.
He paused to button up his heavy jacket. Someone turned up the volume and a familiar Christmas carol in a strange tongue piped into the quiet chapel. The noisy reminder of Christmas turned his thoughts to Tania’s missing letter again. He hurried out into the night, eager to escape the memories that were crowding in upon him.
CHAPTER FOUR
Jim wandered through the snow-covered village, turning his face away from the gusts and trying to sweep the cobwebs from his numbed mind. He searched for a singular bright spot in the long day. He knew he should be happy to be alive after the rough landing on the ice, but his thoughts were gloomy and downcast. When the chill of the night had clawed through his warm parka, he headed back to his small compartment at the end of the church. The faint light from the stars outlined the snowy chapel and guided him to the snowy door. Jim paused and examined the village and the dark frozen lake at the edge of the tree line.