The Northland Chronicles: A Stranger North

by Henry J. Olsen

  “So?” Nathan said.

  “So, let’s say they have four or five men. I doubt they’ll have a sentry posted, but if they do it’s to our advantage — we can deal with him before we reach the main group. And if they do have more than a handful of men stationed here, with ample manpower to secure the island and the north outpost … well, we’re going to be in trouble regardless.”

  Nathan gulped and nodded. “Got it.”

  John continued, returning his attention to the map. “Moving along — at the island’s tip, we’ll split up. You’ll continue north in the canoe.” He dragged his finger straight north. “Meanwhile,” he said, returning his finger to the mainland adjacent to the island. “I’ll bushwhack over ground and flank the outpost.” He traced a land route, starting from the shore to the right of the island, all the way up to the north end.

  “They could be in either one of these northern bays,” he continued. “If I arrive before you, it’s not a problem — I can hide in the woods. That’s a luxury you won’t have. You can’t hesitate once they spot you.”

  “So, what do we do?” Nathan asked.

  “You’ll give me a thirty-minute head start. That should give me enough time to reach either bay,” John said.

  Nathan nodded. “Okay, then what?” he asked.

  John walked over to the canoe to pick up Nathan’s blue pack. “See this bag?” he said.

  “Yeah, I’m not blind,” Nathan said.

  “It’s full of money.” John gave the bag a stern pat.

  “It is?”

  “No, but if you want the kidnappers to believe it, you’d better convince yourself it is,” John replied.

  “But won’t they find it suspicious that we could round up $5,000 on such short notice?” Nathan pointed out.

  John’s lips curled into a wry grin. “Who said anything about $5,000?”

  Chapter 14

  Nathan sat quietly in the stern of the canoe, rhythmically slicing the water with his lacquered spruce paddle. Its bent shaft offered an improved angle and increased leverage over ordinary straight shaft paddles. The canoe cut through the water gracefully, leaving only a gently curling wake. Trees surrounded the lake on every side, the reflections of their jagged green peaks clinging to the shallow waters along the shoreline.

  A wispy, high-pitched bird call cut through the air. Nathan looked up — above John’s head, a bald eagle soared high in the sky. It swooped downward, vigorously flapping its thick, dark brown wings. As it neared the surface of the water, it spread its wings wide and kicked its feet forward. The eagle swung its talons downward into the lake and snatched a fish, splashing the water with the tips of its wings as it carried its catch upward, eventually disappearing into the trees.

  “Makes me wish I could fly,” Nathan said.

  “Switch,” John called out, ignoring the comment. He shifted his paddle from the boat’s left side to the right; Nathan did the opposite.

  The island approached on their left. Once they passed it, their canoe would be visible to anyone standing in the northwestern bay. They guided the canoe along its shore, gliding to a rest at the easternmost edge of the south side.

  “Let’s make this quick,” John said.

  With swift strokes, they paddled from the island to the shore, careful to minimize any chance of being seen from the north. John lifted his paddle from the water and rocks grated at the bottom of the canoe as they ran aground to let him out. Nathan watched as John hopped out onto the rocky shore. The bearded man gently placed his paddle back in the canoe and checked that his revolver was in its holster.

  “See you on the other side, kid,” he said, winking at Nathan before darting off into the woods. Nathan looked on as John’s blue flannel shirt became harder and harder to pick out, until finally the bearded man disappeared behind the cover of the tree trunks.

  And now to wait. Nathan looked up toward the sky and let the gentle rippling of the waves soothe his ears. Realizing there was no reason to wait in the canoe, he crawled to the front and stepped out, eventually finding a comfortable resting spot in the grass along the shore.

  How had it all come to this — paddling across a lake to rescue his sister from kidnappers, in the middle of nowhere, armed with only a shotgun? A scant ten years ago, the police would’ve handled any hostage situation. Post-Desolation, the problem was his alone.

  Nathan closed his eyes and let his mind wander, allowing it to return to that time, nearly nine years ago.

  The drought … fighting all over the country … martial law in Minneapolis … nuclear strikes …

  At the time, he hadn’t understood what was happening, and even now his understanding of those chaotic days was largely abstract, pieced together from vague youthful memories and the stories he’d heard from Pierre and his father.

  His memories of the events that followed, however, were far more vivid.

  Viral outbreak … every last one friends getting sick … his family locking themselves inside … his mother vomiting uncontrollably as she withered away … the palpable aura of decay that hung over Minneapolis in the aftermath …

  That was the Desolation, and Nathan, as well as his sister and father, were incredibly lucky to have survived its effects, thanks to a rare genetic immunity.

  He remembered the months that followed and how fortunate he had been to have had his father watching over him and Emiko as they drifted around Minneapolis, gathering every last bit of food they could find. And he thought back to the following spring, when his family had moved north and settled in the area which he now knew as Frontier View.

  Nathan’s life before the Desolation hardly seemed real any more. Minneapolis was merely a distant memory; Frontier View was his home now. His father had helped him and Emiko get started in this newly desolate world, but Ryota couldn’t help now. It was Nathan’s time to step up.

  Turning his thoughts back to the present, Nathan opened his eyes as he sat up to stretch. As he gazed out across the shimmering blue water, he noticed that his canoe was no longer resting on the shore.

  It was drifting in the middle of the lake, with all of his supplies inside of it.

  Chapter 15

  John passed through the dense foliage, careful to keep the glistening blue lake within view so as not to lose his way. He was nearing the northern end of the eastern bay and had yet to see the outpost. Must be on the western bay, he thought. No matter — the head start Nathan gave him could accommodate an extra half-mile of bushwhacking.

  Soon he’d be at the trail — the red line on the map that Nathan had called a “portage.” Though he didn’t have a map of his own, John had memorized all of the lake’s major features during the planning session. It occurred to him that the outpost could be along the portage, rather than right on the lake — a possibility they hadn’t considered in their strategy. On one hand, an outpost off the lake’s shore would be better hidden. Then again, traffic in this area was sparse and the kidnappers probably would’ve included that detail on the ransom note. Either way, he had faith that Nathan could figure it out.

  A dull, resonant hammering sound echoed in the distance — a woodpecker, knocking at a tree. John smiled as he listened. Frontier View was a nice little village, but this, the wilderness, was his true home now. Moreover, he looked forward to the task at hand. A person in need, a half-baked plan, and a partner — he was in his element and he intended to savor it.

  Ahead, a rough trail came into view — the portage. Rocks littered the narrow, muddy path as it met the lake, before weaving north through the trees. Bushes and weeds crowded the edges of the portage trail — signs of disuse. Despite the overgrowth, the crude trail still made travel between lakes more convenient. Now, if only the forest rangers had cut a path around Sawbill Lake as well. That would have streamlined the mission.

  Still no sign of the outpost, John noted, letting out a groan. His jaunt through the woods was taking longer than he’d expected.

  A throaty snarl sounded from ahead in r
eply.

  John looked up. From the other side of the trail, a black bear glared back at him — a mother bear standing defensively in front of her two cubs. Shiny black fur stretched across her muscular body, glistening in the sunlight. John gulped. Black bears weren’t predators and generally avoided humans, but a mother protecting her cubs? Trouble.

  The mother bear stood up on two feet and unleashed a guttural roar, staring at John with her beady black eyes. John froze, unflinchingly returning the bears gaze. He felt the grip of the Colt in his holster … no, he couldn’t shoot the bear. The sound of gunfire would alert the kidnappers of his presence.

  The bear fell back down on all fours and slowly approached John, moving surefootedly with swaying hips. She let out a vicious growl, making it clear that she didn’t want John anywhere near her two cubs.

  Adrenaline rushed through John’s body. Fighting was an option. Though the odds wouldn’t be in his favor, he could try to use his bionic arm to fend off the beast.

  But that would take time. John didn’t have time — Nathan was probably already waiting. Maybe next time, mama bear, he thought. Then he broke into a mad dash, cutting to the left of the burly bear and making a break for the woods on the other side of the trail. The mother bear swiveled and turned to cut off his escape. Her paws thumped against the forest floor as her slow walk became a thundering stride, with all four feet leaving the ground simultaneously as she bounded toward John.

  The bear drew close and lunged at John’s right side, batting one of her massive paws at his head. John dipped to his left, ducking just underneath the powerful swipe. Just like turning the corner on a linebacker in high school football, he thought. And also just like in football, he wasn’t gonna look back. Bobbing and weaving around the trees in his path, he sprinted toward the western bay where Nathan was surely waiting.

  Chapter 16

  Facing the stern of the canoe and reaching an arm across to the opposite gunwale, Nathan thrust himself into the boat with a series of strong scissor kicks, followed by a quick rotation of his upper body. The canoe rocked violently back and forth as he fell into its aluminum body. As he hacked up a lungful of lake water, he chided himself for forgetting to tie down the canoe. It was a serious oversight, causing him to waste time and energy. Water streamed from his white t-shirt, dripping along the bottom of the canoe as he crawled toward the stern. He took a seat — it was paddlin’ time.

  His paddle cut the surface of the water, creating a vortex as he propelled the canoe forward. He repeated the process again and again, switching sides often in order to keep the bow pointed northward. The trees drifted past him on either side — the calm backdrop felt at odds with the danger that lurked ahead. He paddled faster, eager to reach the north end of the lake. The sooner he arrived, the less time he’d have to second-guess himself.

  What he was doing was crazy. He felt like he was walking into a den of wolves with a life-size inflatable moose in his hands, hoping to offer it as a show of peace. Wouldn’t the kidnappers see through his bluff right away and shoot him on the spot? What if John came late? What if something happened to Emiko? What if … no, he had to stop thinking like that. Given the circumstances, he and John had done everything they could to prepare. Now it was time to stick to the plan, come what may.

  Dead ahead, he saw it — the outpost, partially hidden in the trees along the north end of the western bay. It appeared to be a single-story timber building of a fashion similar to the cabins in Frontier View. However, it was far wider — about two and a half times the width of Nathan’s two room cabin. From his head-on perspective, he could only guess at how far back into the woods the outpost extended.

  However, the cabin was merely a backdrop. In front of it there were three figures, their features not distinguishable from this distance. One of them was sitting in a chair — probably Emiko. The other two figures stood on either side of her, staring out across the lake. Nathan felt a chill run down his spine, knowing Emiko’s captors could shoot him or sink his canoe at will. He slowed his pace, taking the opportunity to catch his breath. Since John was circling in from the east, it would take him a little longer to arrive here, at the western bay. Nathan hoped John would arrive on time, because he had little confidence in his ability to bluff for time as he waited for the bearded man’s arrival.

  The canoe glided across the surface of the water, like a tiny asteroid drifting through outer space, on a crash course with the moon. As he approached, the situation became more clear. Emiko was bound and gagged in a chair, about five yards from the rocky shore. A short, heavyset man stood to her left, supporting himself with a wooden crutch. To her right was a gaunt, pale-skinned man wearing a red trucker’s cap. Both men carried long-barreled guns and wore thin green vests over dark shirts paired with blue jeans. Behind them stood the outpost, larger than even the Frontier View Co-op.

  Emiko weakly struggled at her bonds. She appeared unharmed, but Nathan wouldn’t be able to tell without talking to her. Anger rose within him — if they’d done anything to her …

  He took a deep breath to calm himself and focused on his paddling. Finally, he reached the shoreline. The aluminum hull of his canoe scraped against the pebbles littered along the shore, breaking the eerie silence.

  The thin man aimed his gun directly at Nathan. It appeared to be a high-powered hunting rifle rather than a shotgun.

  “Hey, Barry, didn’t Brushnell say our man’d have a thick, scruffy beard?” the thin man asked.

  Brushnell? Could it be? Nathan wondered.

  “Shut it, Dwayne,” the larger man — Barry — snapped. Because of the crutch supporting his right side, he couldn’t properly hold his gun. His right arm hung over the crutch and he held the gun’s trigger at waist level in his right hand, while supporting the long barrel with his left palm.

  “Got our money, kid?” he said.

  “Well, about that,” Nathan said. “See, we have a small problem — I don’t have $5,000.” Moose in heat, this is insane, he thought.

  Barry glared at him. “What’re you trying to say?”

  “You can’t honestly expect a kid like me to find 5,000 bucks on such short notice. But I did my best. I can pay you 1,500 now,” Nathan offered, pointing the backpack in the front of the canoe. “And I’ll get you the rest by next week. With interest, of course.”

  “Oh yeah? How much interest you talking?” Dwayne said, eyeing Nathan down the barrel of his rifle.

  Barry growled “Christ, Dwayne, why don’t you let me —”

  “An extra three grand,” Nathan cut in. “$8,000 in total.” As the words rolled off his tongue, he could practically see flakes of gold sparkling in Dwayne’s eyes.

  Barry, however, still appeared doubtful. “I’ll tell you what,” he said. “You show us the money you have and then we’ll decide what to do.”

  Nathan frowned. “Don’t trust me?” he said.

  “Don’t need to,” Barry said with a devious grin. “Dwayne, go have a look at the bag.”

  The thin man nodded and then slowly crept toward Nathan’s canoe, careful to keep his gun trained on Nathan.

  Moose scat! What had gone wrong? Nathan had said everything exactly the way John had told him to. Next he was supposed to demand that they return his sister first — only then would he give them the money. That plan clearly wouldn’t work now, but he still had to buy time until John arrived.

  “So,” he asked Dwayne, trying to sound nonchalant, “what are you going to do with all that money?”

  Dwayne paused and smacked his lips.

  “Ain’t thought ‘bout it much,” he said, turning to his partner. “Barry, what we doin’ with the money?”

  “How about you make sure we actually have it first?” said Barry, glowering at Dwayne.

  “Good thinkin’,” Dwayne replied. He started toward the canoe again and set his eyes on the bulky green pack. “In here?” He asked, pointing with his gun.

  Nathan nodded silently.

  “Hey, Bar
ry,” Dwayne said. “How can I open it with this gun in my hands?”

  After thinking a moment, Barry let out a frustrated sigh. “Alright, have the kid open the pack for you.”

  “You heard him,” Dwayne said, motioning Nathan toward the pack.

  Well, Nathan thought, at least this buys me a few more moments. Cautiously, he crawled toward the bow of the canoe, stepping over his Remington 870 on the way. His instincts screamed at him to reach for the gun, to fight back, but he knew that the kidnappers would riddle him with bullets before he could even take aim. Stepping over the yoke, he continued forward and reached out to touch the backpack.

  “Make it quick,” Barry commanded. “No monkey business.”

  Nathan nodded, letting out a nervous sigh. He took one last look at Emiko. She stared back at him with apprehension in her eyes. She undoubtedly realized he didn’t have $1,500. Soon the kidnappers would know too.

  As he reached for the zipper, Nathan caught a glimpse of something moving on the roof of the outpost. It fell out of sight behind the slanted roof, then slowly reappeared.

  John!

  The bearded man turned his head back and forth, surveying the scene, then nodded and gave a thumbs-up signal.

  Suppressing the urge to smile, Nathan looked back down at the pack. He began to unzip it, confident that with John covering the roof they were in control of the situation. The zipper purred as Nathan pulled it open.

  Dwayne took his sights off Nathan’s head and stuck the muzzle into the backpack, poking around to see what was inside.

  “There ain’t a single dollar in here!” he cried out, looking back to Barry for direction.

  “Did you really think a kid could get us that kind of money? Now hurry up and shoot him. He’s nothing to us,” Barry snorted.

  “Didn’t soldier boy say not to shoot ‘em?” Dwayne questioned.