Blue Ice Dying In The Rain

by Jim Craig

  I walked the rest of the way to the airstrip ignoring all the sounds around me. To hell with a bunch of carnivores. Greta was right. If it was my time, so be it. It was raining steadily. Not a downpour but more than misting. My head was still spinning from the feel of her in my arms.

  Rain drops hung from the bill of my cap and regularly dropped onto my mouth and nose. I jerked my head once in a while to shake them loose and probably looked like a Tourette’s case bopping and twitching my way down the road. More rain was sliding down the back of my neck, so I pulled the fleece collar tighter and snugged it back up under my nose.

  My boots made a wet slapping sound on the muddy road and I moved as fast as I could without running. I wanted to get out of the rain before hypothermia set in. I eventually settled into a rhythm of breathing and walking and swinging my arms that set my mind free. I kept going back to thoughts of Greta. The feel of her, the smell of her, I ached just thinking about it all.

  It felt excellent to have a plan. All I could picture was the two of us taking off from the Chenega airport, soaring up and over the lush green islands and the waterways of Prince William Sound and then into the snow capped peaks nearby on the way to Seward. Then there was my camper or any number of hotel rooms. And their beds.

  I wiped rain off my face and took a deep breath. The muddy road was moving fast beneath me. Wet darkness hung all around. I could see the road right in front of me but not much else. I kept leaning forward and pushing my legs until I noticed an opening up ahead. The edges of the airport came into view through the dark and the fog. One small light on a high antenna pole illuminated the area with a dim yellow glow.

  The trees opened above me, and I could make out a blue metal building with a yellow backhoe parked nearby. Next to it was a smaller white box like the container off the back of a truck. Thick conduit connected it to the blue building. A radio shack, I remembered from previous visits. The dirt tarmac was deserted as usual. No line of small planes parked wing tip to wing tip like other airfields. There was also a bigger red building made of corrugated metal with tall white doors. It looked like a barn where they probably parked a truck or two. Next to that stood a heap of scrap metal with a tangle of red and white traffic cones piled along the side. Heavy rust stains streaked down the white barn doors and the propane tank next to it.

  A light shone from a window in the blue building. As I headed for it I spotted Willie’s SuperCub tied down in a far corner near the grass. I knew it had to be killing him to be stuck out here so far from Seward, a long way from the Yukon Bar with its smoky interior, wood stove, cracking pool balls and cold beer. Especially the cold beer. I'd bet Willie hadn't missed a happy hour in twenty years.

  I paused for a minute and looked around. Nothing moved except the rain drops dripping into grooves in the dirt under the roof edges of the blue building. Even the birds were hunkered down and quiet.

  I looked out to where the runway extended in both directions left and right. I couldn’t really see it in the dark, but I could feel its wide expanse across the wet parking lot. That was my escape. It was solid and wide and long. A much better strip than the one I'd left on Taroka. But I needed some visibility. The rain and the fog looked like it would never leave and serious doubts flooded through me drenching the plan.

  I peered through the lighted window and saw the small lounge with its two couches and an old coffee table covered with magazines. Two figures were inside but rain on the window made it impossible to see clearly. It didn't matter, I knew who it was.

  I took another moment to collect myself. Suddenly I wondered how I looked. The window didn't make much of a mirror, but I wiped at my face remembering Greta's kiss. I pulled off my hat and tried to comb my hair with my fingers as well as I could.

  Was I ready for this? I shook my head and put my wet hat back on. What the hell.

  I knocked on the metal door and heard a grunt.

  “What?” It was Willie.

  I pushed my way inside and instantly smelled food. A thick meaty aroma hit my nostrils and made me smile. But the light assaulted my eyes and it took a moment to get used to the warm air and the dry tiled floor.

  I shoved the door closed against the wet and lonely night and turned around to see Willie and Brandy sitting on the couches watching me. Willie had his legs stretched out with his stocking feet on the coffee table. A hole in one sock exposed a rough and calloused big toe, the nail ragged and orange. His wet sneakers lay on the floor like gutted salmon on a dock. He looked like he’d been sleeping. His thin white hair was standing straight out over his ears.

  Brandy stood up and tossed me a towel. “Dry off, Johnny. You look like a drowned rat.”

  I pulled off my wet coat and hung it on a hook on the back of the door. Then I took my hat off and rubbed my head with the towel. My eyes were drawn to a feast spread out over a metal desk along the wall. There was a green thermos and blue tin cups. Apples and oranges and a open box of crackers lay next to the cups. There was even a round package of hard cheese in crinkly red plastic wrap. Already partially open, several hunks had been cut out and the waxy red covering lay in crumbled pieces. And beside that were a couple of chocolate bars and bottled water.

  My eyes must have been bugging out. “Help yourself,” she said smiling at me.

  I didn’t need a second invitation. I sat down beside her and reached for the food. The stew was still steaming, and I shoveled it in with rapid gulps. It was spicy with a slightly gamey taste.

  “Great stuff. What is this?” I finally managed to ask,

  “Bear meat,” Willie spoke up from the other couch.

  I stopped for a second and looked at him. “Well, ain’t that irony for ya?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “For the last hour I’ve been worrying about them eating me. Now I’m eating them. Ha! Take that,” I laughed and stabbed a fat chunk with my fork.

  Willie watched me eat. “Wish I had a beer. Actually I wish I had several beers. This damn island doesn’t have a bar or a liquor store.”

  I offered him a bottled water from the desk. His lips drew back in distaste.

  “About time you got here. You just missed your little friend, Greta. What a piece of work, man.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Didn't you see her on the road out there? She only left a while ago.”

  I took another mouthful of stew. “Yeah, I saw her. It was nice of her to bring some food out here.”

  “Yeah, whatever. A gift with strings, ya ask me. She tried to get me to fly her out of here.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Oh yeah. She’d go anytime I’d take her. I told her no way. At least not until morning. And even then, I’ve already got a full load,” he said nodding toward Brandy.

  “She wanted to leave by herself?” I was trying to make sense of the new information.

  “I guess,” he shrugged. “I only got the one seat. I ain’t sure she’s firing on all cylinders. What’s a broad like her doing out here anyway?”

  “That’s a really good question.” My voice trailed off thinking about the new information. "She asked me the same thing."

  "She wants you to take her in the Cessna? With the others?"

  "No, just herself. I guess they're splitting up or something." I didn't want to share my plan. I wanted to keep it close to the chest. Besides I knew Willie wouldn't approve and I didn't want to give him a chance to lecture me. It didn't matter. He was already putting two and two together.

  "You need to steer clear of that one, I'm telling ya."

  "No, it's okay. It would just be a charter flight from here back to Seward. I think she's got money. I mean, look at her."

  "Yeah, we noticed how you've been looking at her." Willie shook his head at me.

  Brandy sniffed and buried her face in a magazine. I looked at her but she ignored both of us.

  "Ah, forget that. She's just a little flirty is all. Doesn't mean anything. I think she just likes to
confuse people."

  Willie gave me a disgusted look. “Well, let me help you with that conundrum.”

  “Canumb- what?” I wasn’t used to Willie using words with more than two syllables.

  “Never mind. A woman like that’s a monkey trap.”

  “Huh?”

  He smirked at my confused look. “Something I saw in Vietnam. They tie down a bottle with a narrow neck and put a piece of candy inside. A monkey sneaks in and reaches in for the candy. When he makes a fist he can’t get his hand back out of the bottle. Greedy little fucker won’t let go even when someone walks in and bags him.”

  I laughed but then the smile left my face when I realized what he was saying.

  He chortled, “Dumb ass monkey can’t resist.”

  I heard Brandy snicker and I felt my face glowing hot. I looked out the window at nothing for a minute. Then I took a bite of an apple and chewed. After swallowing I took a deep breath.

  “Well, thanks for that story. You know what I like about you, Willie?”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Absolutely nothing at all.”

  He laughed and threw a cracker at me. “I could tell you another about castrating cattle.”

  “Hey, I’m not doing anything with her. I'm a charter pilot, remember? That's how I make my money."

  Willie sat up then. “I’m telling you, dumbass, you need to stay away from both of them. Two troopers are missing and they were the last ones to see them alive. You don't think they're under suspicion?”

  “I know, I know,” I said. “I told you that a while ago. I don’t care if I fly either one of them anywhere. I just want to get back to Seward.”

  "They're a strange looking trio," Willie said. "What's up with that?"

  "His family's had the lodge for years. They're from New York. He met Greta in California, last year I think, and brought her up here to run the lodge with him."

  “Gold digger,” Brandy sneered. “She’s sure got your number.”

  Her voice surprised me. She’d been quiet for a while. I looked over to see her shaking her head while she stared at an orange she was trying to peel. I looked back at Willie. He was pretending to struggle with an imaginary bottle stuck on his fist.

  “Oh, brother, you guys. Gimme a break, would ya? What would a gold digger want with me?"

  I picked up a knife from the table, checked the blade with my thumb and then glared at Brandy with a mock evil leer. She watched me approach with big eyes. I saw her reaction and played it for a minute, but I wasn’t mad. What did I care about Greta and Charlie? Brandy was probably right about her. And I was used to Willie calling me a dumb ass. If I was going to let that bother me, I would have slit his throat a long time ago.

  “Here, gimme that,” I said. Taking the fruit from her hand, I slid the blade around the thick rind in three careful rotations. Then pulling off the sections of orange peel I handed her the naked interior.

 

  “You’re pretty good with that,” she said quietly watching me wipe the knife on my pants. She pulled the orange apart and handed chunks to both Willie and me.

  “Honey, I have talents you have no idea about,” I grinned at her with all the phony bravado I could muster.

  She rolled her eyes, sat back on the couch and picked up another magazine. Willie ate noisily, then got up and headed for the bathroom in the back of the building.

  I chewed on a section of orange enjoying the tart juice on my tongue. Glancing at Brandy out of the corner of my eye, I watched her reading. Then she reached up and tucked a lock of brunette hair behind one ear. That simple gesture took me back and made me remember the starlit night we’d spent together about a year ago in Cordova. The images had tortured me ever since.

  I watched Brandy until I felt my mouth watering. Then I heard the toilet flush and the moment passed. Willie walked back in and sat down with a heavy thump.

  We ate in silence for a few minutes. Everything tasted so good, I was tempted to keep stuffing things in my mouth until it was all gone. Finally I sat back and wiped my sticky hands on the wet towel. It was getting late and after a long day the three of us were tired and ready to sack out. I could hear rain pattering on the roof.

  I tried to think about everything that had happened over the last two days, but I couldn’t shake the sensation that something was moving our way. That this meal, this whole night, was a prelude or maybe an interlude. Some kind of lude.

  What was tomorrow going to bring? When the Coast Guard showed up. When the Alaska State trooper reinforcements showed up. I needed to think how I was going to avoid Charlie and get back to Taroka.

  After a while I remembered something and broke the silence. “Hey Willie, did you get hold of the troopers' office?”

  "Yeah, I told them about the boat. The troopers still hadn't called in, but something else was going on south of Cordova. They got a call about something over that way, and they're sending a couple of units that way to check it out."

  "Maybe the guys went that way?" I wondered out loud.

  “Ain’t my problem,” Willie grunted. “Now that I found you, I just want to get away from this freaking island and get back to Seward."

  "Can you fly me over to Taroka first?" I asked. "I really don't want another boat ride if I can help it."

  Willie winced and scowled. "Jesus Christ, you're a pain in the ass, you know that?"

  "Yeah, yeah, I know." I shrugged my shoulders and gave him a helpless look. "Come on, I'll buy you a beer when we get back."

  "You'll buy me several beers, goddamn it," he growled.

  "Alright, alright, no problem," I grinned and slapped my hands together. The plan was coming together.

  “You're not flying anywhere if this fog doesn't lift,” Brandy snapped. “And I'm not flying underneath it over the water like that ever again.” She gave Willie a look of disapproval.

  “Aw, hell, it wasn’t any problem,” Willie said, his jaw jutting toward her. His eyes were flashing sparks like I’d seen too many times. When I knew it was pointless to argue.

  But Brandy wasn’t through. “I’m serious. You’re not getting me back in that death trap if we don’t have blue sky tomorrow.”

  Willie snorted. “If you can’t handle a little fog, you shouldn’t be flying in Alaska.”

  “Well, you can kill yourself if you want, but I’m not going with you,” Brandy fired back.

  I cringed at her words and gave Willie a sideways glance. They were glaring at each other. It was the first time I’d noticed the family resemblance. I tried to hide the smile pulling at the corners of my mouth.

 

  “Fog can’t last forever,” I offered, trying to ease the tension. “It’ll probably clear up by morning.”

  No one responded. Brandy sat back on the couch and bit into an apple with a loud crunch. Willie stood up abruptly and jammed on his shoes dancing awkwardly and stumbling with the effort. Cursing and mumbling to himself, he pulled on his coat and hat, stomped out the door and slammed it behind him.

  I looked at Brandy but she was drinking water and still pretending to look at a magazine.

  “Oh well,” I said.

  She looked up finally. “Oh well, nothing. How is he still alive flying like that? He scared the crap out of me today.”

  I thought about that before answering. “Your dad is as comfortable flying a plane as most people are taking a walk. He’s like a freaking eagle that way.”

  “But does he know his own limits? He's getting older, you know,” she persisted.

  “Who, Willie? He’s not getting older. No way. He’ll never get any older. He’ll always just be there. You know … until he’s not.”

  She gave me a skeptical look. She cocked her head to one side, tucked her hair behind her ears again and looked at me, her smoky green eyes taking me in.

  "You talking about him or yourself?"

  I gulped and swore inside. Damn it, there I go again. I hated being so transparent. I cleared my throat.
<
br />   “So, how long are you here for?” I asked, trying to keep my voice normal.

  She looked away then and let the hair fall back off her ears. “My mom died last month.”

  I felt like an idiot. Her story came back to me. A mother with Alzheimer's, a recent divorce and trying to have a flying career all at the same time. Willie had left them years before and returned to Alaska where he belonged.

  “I’m sorry, Brandy.”

  “It’s okay. Not much of a surprise, you know, and the end to a lot of suffering.”

  "Is that why you're up here then?"

  She nodded. "I needed a little Dad time. He's all the family I've got left now."

  I was sympathetic but selfish thoughts pushed their way in instead. "You could have let me know you were coming."