Run (End Times Alaska Book 2)

by Craig Martelle

  The twins both mushed like champions. Abigail and Madison passed me, giving the thumbs up on their way by. I gave Husky plenty of love, and then she was off, chasing the dog teams. I followed them well back, which gave them light to finish their run. Their first real training run was complete.

  For the first time, I became curious as to what they had found.

  TIMING

  Once they got back to the house, it took them a while to get settled. Abigail insisted that the twins take care of the dog teams themselves. If we got separated, they needed to know what to do since the dogs were their only means of transportation.

  They fed the dogs and used blankets scavenged from other houses to bed them down. They provided water and watched as the dogs curled up, keeping their paws and noses inside their fluffy tails.

  We welcomed the dog mushers back into the house with cheers and much clapping. The twins ran the gauntlet like NBA players heading back into the locker room after a big win.

  And we ate moose and green beans like it was the best meal we’d ever had.

  They had gone farther than they had intended because the road was open and the going smooth. They made it almost all the way into North Pole when they turned around. There was a little more uphill on the way back, otherwise they would have made it home sooner. All in all, it was a good training run. They learned that the road was open and North Pole was still there.

  After cleaning up, we had a big meeting because we needed to make some decisions.

  Chris stood as we sat around, some on chairs, some on the floor. Then he started in his soft, but authoritative way. “We decided to leave because we couldn’t stay at the Hot Springs. We couldn’t save Felicia. We couldn’t save our home. But we saved the children. We saved the horses. We saved most of the dogs.” Chris paused to take a drink of water. No one else spoke.

  “If we don’t have one another, we don’t have anything.” He paused to look around. “I believe we need to leave for Canada. If we stay, we die. If we go, we could die on the way, but we will at least have tried. I vote for the chance at life. I for one want to live.” He looked purposefully at Colleen.

  It didn’t sound like Chris was asking people to vote. We couldn’t stay. That was all there was to it.

  “Chris is right. We need to leave,” I chimed in. “We need to leave within the week. I think we have enough food to take with us so that we can survive a week to ten days. If we average fifty miles a day, we could get to Canada before we run out of food. If we go slower, then we’ll need to find food on the way.”

  “Colleen and I talked. If we leave within the week, she shouldn’t deliver while we are on the trail. One week helps Tony gain a little strength so he can manage, although it will be hard. If we wait until Colleen delivers, then Tony will be better off, but we’ll have no food to make the trip. We have a couple rifles, so we could get a moose, but we have nothing else. We aren’t carnivores, we’re omnivores. The horses won’t have anything to eat soon either. I know it all looks bad. Emma? Jo? The greatest risk is yours. What do you want to do?” Chris closed his speech. There would only be two votes. Whatever Emma and Jo decided, we would support. It’s what we did as the Community.

  Emma hugged Tony tightly and sobbed softly. Jo wrapped her arms around the two of them. Aeryn kneeled down in front of them, putting her little hands on their shoulders until they looked at her. “We can make it,” was all she said. She had no idea what Canada was or where it was. She only knew what she knew. She trusted us all. She loved the dogs. She had endless faith that we were destined to live.

  They pulled her into their family hug. Bill let loose with a window-rattling howl. He had never gotten over sharing his super power with the rest of us. Becca pulled him in, looking to see what was wrong. He had touched the wood burner and had a small burn on his hand. She and Darren soothed him, while Diane ran over to give him a hug.

  The Community of huggers. We figured that Canada would welcome us with open arms.

  “We’ll be ready when we need to go. Just tell us the day,” Emma stated softly.

  And that was that. We needed to gather our wits, whatever supplies we needed, balance our loads, and get to getting.

  But first, a good night’s sleep. We needed fresh minds to take on the wilds of Alaska. And possibly the Russians. And then whatever else the world held in store for us.

  THE ROAD TO SOMEWHERE

  It took us five days to complete our rest and preparations. Then we left our entire world behind for the whole world that was in front of us.

  I’m sure that plenty of people have been on a road to nowhere. Maybe that was the road to Chena Hot Springs. It ended at the resort, and the bombing ended the resort. That made it a road to nowhere. That’s why we turned south on Nordale Road. We were now on a road to somewhere; at the very least, it was a place that I called hope.

  It would have to carry us hundreds of miles. Without it, who knew what would become of our little caravan.

  It consisted of five dog sleds and their teams, one snow machine, and three horses. It looked just like the group that had traveled fifty miles less than a week prior, but that was an unplanned trip made in fear. We claimed that this was different and that we were ready.

  The snow machine was in the lead, and broke the trail. It pulled a heavy sled that helped compact the snow, making it easier for the dogs to run. The first team was the best dog team. They helped make the trail for the others. The next two were our twins with their small sleds and six-dog teams. Following them were the last two dog teams, not traveling as heavily as the first team. Bringing up the rear were two people with three horses. The horses carried a fair amount of weight, and the snow did not provide the best footing. We estimated that they could travel thirty to forty miles per day.

  Even though that could make our trip last two weeks, we refused to split up. It was all or nothing.

  The first day went smoothly as we traveled on established roads. We made it to Salcha, where we were able to find a barn. We arranged concrete blocks inside and built a small fire. We were careful to keep it contained. It was enough to warm things up above freezing, but not too much beyond that. The horses sheltered in a lean-to outside, while all the dogs slept inside with their mushers and families. Everyone benefited from the shared warmth.

  Emma’s baby was restless all night. He had slept during most of the trip. Being under a bundle of blankets and inside Emma’s coat was probably like being in the womb. Emma stayed up, walking around and rocking him, doing her best not to step on any tails. She kept the fire going as well. Shaking out and drying diapers near the fire wasn’t optimal, but she made do without complaint. Jo took a turn walking around with the baby, too.

  Colleen couldn’t get comfortable, and Chris did all he could to help her. No one slept well. It was cold, maybe minus ten or twenty degrees Fahrenheit. We were tired but not exhausted. We had traveled thirty miles. The horses had kept up. None of the dogs had any problems. Phyllis and Husky were bored and would run alongside the sled dogs at times. They knew when they needed to ride, so we let them do as they wanted.

  Tomorrow night we’d probably sleep better. At some point, we might have to take a break for a day and let everyone rest up. Lucas and Becca could go hunting and hopefully come back with a fresh kill. We would plan that for Delta Junction, less than seventy miles away. In the morning, we’d push early and go as far as we possibly could. On our third day, I planned that we’d hole up in the hangar that Lucas and I had found at the Delta Junction Airport.

  DAY TWO OF

  THE GREAT ESCAPE

  When the time came, people simply got up. It wasn’t like waking from a refreshing sleep. Emma and Tony had finally fallen asleep, and we felt bad waking her to get her into the dog sled. We ate what we could. The dogs had a little smoked moose, but we could see that they were still hungry. Iditarod and Yukon Quest dog mushers slept on the ground with their dogs and mushed up to two hundred miles in a day.

  We had cov
ered thirty, and it was already wearing us down.

  I had it easiest on the snow machine. It was still running well. I’d give it a snort or two of avgas when we got to Salcha. That should help add some kick to my remaining supply of gasoline. My ride was smooth. We were on a roadway with at least a foot of snow. By riding the roads, we were able to avoid drifts and other places where the dogs and sleds could have trouble.

  We figured that we would be safe on the highway until well past Delta Junction. With the detonations at Fort Wainwright in Fairbanks and Fort Greeley in Delta Junction, no one had probably traveled these roads in many years. It was dark during most of our travel, so the dog sleds and horses were safe. I had the headlights on the snow machine, but I didn’t use them as often as I probably should have. I traveled slowly at times, but I’d also race ahead and return to pound down the snow of deeper areas. I didn’t want to get too far in front of the dog sleds. I feared the snow. If snow came, it could quickly hide my trail that the others were following.

  It remained cold out. As such, I figured I could stay a mile or two in front of the lead team. If it did start snowing, then it would warm up.

  We made good time in the morning of the second day; the dogs were still fairly fresh. With only four hours of daylight, one could easily think it was much later, or earlier, than it really was. So three of us wore watches.

  We called a stop at about nine thirty a.m. in what used to be a rest area. There were outhouses, which were welcomed. Since we’d been close for a long time, we had gotten past our inhibitions. If you had to go, you had to go. The men showed no shame, while the women were more civilized, and, in the end, people respected one another’s dignity.

  We gave the dogs a little more meat than we intended, but they were doing the hard work. We trimmed our own rations back as we were along for the ride.

  I pulled Darren aside. “We need to kill something,” I said.

  “I know. I’m seeing tracks on the road, but I can’t see any moose without more light.” He licked his lips. “Even a caribou would go down pretty well right now.” We watched as Colleen and Chris kicked some snow away from a grassy patch where the horses could find something to eat.

  “When it gets light, I’ll look for fresh tracks. I don’t think we can wait until Delta Junction to feed the dogs what they need. I’ll talk to Chris.”

  I joined Chris and Colleen to help clear some grass for the horses. It was frozen and snowy, but they would make do. They’d survived more winters in Fairbanks than just the last three.

  Chris agreed that we needed to get some fresh meat for the dogs. It wouldn’t hurt if we could get them something green, or even dry dog food.

  “I guess I could race ahead to the next community and do some ‘shopping.’” I had lost my cell phone in the bombing, but I still had my wallet and my “shopping” tools, my trusty sledge hammer, pry bar, bolt cutters, and even the Geiger counter. I thought of myself as the post-prepper, prepper reborn. It was a mouthful, but while riding the snow machine, I’d had a lot of time to myself to think.

  Little Diane was getting into it. She was mobile, but we didn’t have good snow boots in her size. She wore three pairs of socks to shore things up, but she still struggled through the snow. Becca was cleaning Bill up from something that he’d gotten into when he let out one of his bellows. She had to be deaf by now. I was amazed that she didn’t jump like the rest of us. Darren put a calming hand on Bill’s little shoulder and spoke to him soothingly. I think he might have been teething. A little snow on his gums helped.

  We wrapped up after a longer break than I had intended.

  The twins took care of their dog teams like adults. They even politicked to get some more meat for their teams, using those big eyes of theirs. Madison and I gave them our ration of moose meat. It wasn’t much. My sled didn’t need food to run. I could lose some more weight as I was far from skinny. I was still heavier than the day that I’d graduated boot camp. Madison was lighter than when we’d met. I didn’t think she had anything left to lose. But if we were successful this day, then we’d eat well tonight.

  I talked with Abigail to move Darren into the lead position of the dog sleds, putting him behind me. If we saw a moose, he could take his team to flush it toward me. I had my 45-70 rifle and my .45 pistol. I needed a shot within a hundred yards with the rifle to make it count. If I used the pistol, I needed to be right on top of the moose, and then it wouldn’t be pretty. If I tried to use the snow machine to run down a moose, we could travel too far away from the roadway. I could wreck the sled. I thought of all kinds of bad things that could happen. Flushing a moose would be best.

  It was too bad that we’d lost the 300 Win mag in the bombing. We had to count on my trusty shoulder cannon, but it had limitations.

  We saddled up our caravan with the plan to stop whenever a moose was sighted. The horses brought up the rear. If we got a moose away from the road, we might need the horses to drag it to a place where we could butcher it. The horses shied at the smell of blood, but we had little choice. We might need them. Colleen and Chris hoped it didn’t come to that. She was in no condition to fight a horse, and she was our best rider, of course.

  We didn’t need any of it. I saw no fresh moose tracks, even though I covered maybe a hundred miles by ranging far and wide away from our direction of travel. Our caravan continued down the main road as we discussed, and I met up with them at different times. I didn’t need to say anything. I simply shook my head. They could all see my lack of success.

  DOG FOOD

  We found a home with an RV-sized garage not far off the road. There was also a big fenced-in area that looked like a former kennel. I broke into the house and the garage without the least concern. I had long ago lost my list of what I had taken. It didn’t matter anymore. This was survival, and I would do what I had to for my extended family. I’d do it without remorse.

  We found bags of dog food. Eighty pounds would go a long way. Although we had about fifty dogs with us, they were mostly lean Alaskan huskies, marathon runners all. They weighed between thirty and forty pounds each. Phyllis and Husky were bigger, but they were the exception.

  We still needed something to eat. In my mind, I kept planning for two more weeks. Always two more weeks. That would give us a reserve because professionals talk logistics. Without food, our journey would end very quickly.

  Chris and I went outside to take care of our personal business. I looked around to make sure no one was near. “Chris. How would Colleen be if we have to kill one of the horses to feed the dogs?”

  Chris hung his head low. I wasn’t the first to think about that option. “She would hate you forever.”

  “Yeah. That’s what I thought. We’ll know it’s time when the dogs can no longer pull the sleds. Even then, I’m not sure I could do it. Colleen doesn’t need to know we talked about this.”

  “She already knows. Not you, I mean, but that dogs have eaten horsemeat for millennia. It would be more natural than we admit.” Chris finished his business and turned toward me. “Take that rifle of yours and go get a moose. You’re the one who showed us more options lead to better decisions.” He held his hand out to me. I took it, and we shook. “Give us more options,” he encouraged.

  It was another clear evening, which meant it was cold. I couldn’t sleep. I was worried. I felt it was my responsibility to feed us, so I got up. I refilled the snow machine and took off down the road. I had the lights on and did a lazy “s” pattern to show the road and what was on either side.

  JOHN

  While trying to run ahead in our limited daylight and hoping to see a moose, I almost drove through a sharp corner. I slid the snow machine sideways, stopping in time to avoid a gully beyond. There was a barrier beside the road, but it had been broken through some time ago. The edges were rusted.

  The snow covered what looked like a snow machine pulling a sleigh. I climbed down to see what was in the sleigh and was rewarded by finding jerky and candy and other things
necessary for survival on the open road.

  Hey! That was our blanket.

  I dug through the snow to find the snow machine that Madison used to drive.

  I looked for a pile that might be a person.

  I found a mound of snow on the other side of the gully. I dug into it and found a body, mostly decomposed, but the helmet was familiar.

  So this was all the farther that John had made it. With the snow machine, this was a little over one hundred miles from the resort. John probably died the night he left as he raced ahead in the darkness, counting on the snow machine’s headlights to show the way.

  What an arrogant ass.

  The way the sleigh was packed tightly, much of the supplies had survived the past three years. I started to dig out the sleigh, hoping to drag that back to the top of the embankment. Once I got to the gas cans, I put those aside. I didn’t need that fuel. It was probably bad.

  After that, the sleigh was much easier to move. I worked it free of the snow and ice. I tied one end of a rope to my sled and the other to the sleigh in the ditch.

  It pulled up the embankment and onto the roadway. After moving the food supplies to my sleigh, I pulled John’s sleigh into the middle of the road where the others wouldn’t miss it. The sleeping bag would come in handy, as would the tent.

  I drove on, looking for the ever-elusive next meal.

  CHASING CARIBOU

  After about twenty miles farther south, I saw what looked to be a herd trail that crossed the road. It had to be caribou. Moose didn’t travel like this. I stopped and searched through the torn-up snow. Plenty of droppings – caribou. They were faster than moose and smaller targets. I turned off the road and followed their trail. I tried to judge how many were in the herd, but that was beyond my capability. The snow was tracked heavily in a swath fifty feet wide.