A Cold War

by Alan Russell

  It took Hamilton a moment to figure out what he was being told. Martin was going to sit in Danni Houston’s chair and ask her questions while she did his hair.

  “Long way to come for a haircut.”

  “Maybe I’ll be able to see better afterward.”

  “It’s supposed to be a free country.”

  “I’ll see you Thursday. Put me down on that desk calendar of yours.”

  “Done,” said Hamilton, and hung up.

  The cop ran his hand through his hair and realized he could use a haircut himself.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Nina turned the page and found herself staring at a familiar-looking eagle at the top of the page. Just above Elese’s drawing of an eagle were the capitalized words: YOUR PASSPORT. In one of the eagle’s talons was an olive branch, and in the other were arrows.

  She flipped through a few more pages and saw that Elese had drawn maps of the surrounding area, complete with field notes.

  The day before, Nina had been ready to commit suicide. That had seemed like her only way out. But now she was looking at her passport to the outside world.

  Maps usually daunted her—she’d never had a good directional sense. Her father always liked to tease her and say she was directionally challenged. If the sun wasn’t rising in the east or setting in the west, Nina usually had no idea of the direction.

  But Elese’s personality showed itself even in her mapmaking. It wasn’t only that she was a talented artist, which she was. With a few strokes of her pen, she gave faces to mountains and substance to rivers. But what Nina appreciated most were the glimpses of her secret sister’s humanity. Like a cartographer of old, Elese had indicated the great unknown with the words Here there be dragons. And while the purpose of her mileage key was to estimate distances, Nina also had the sense that she wanted her to know that the outside world was within her reach. In the midst of figures, Elese even offered a snapshot into her own heart.

  Hunting Shack

  13 miles (+/- ~ 2 miles)

  Winter Cabin

  25 miles (+/- ~ 3 miles)

  Manley Hot Springs

  50 miles (+/- ~ 10 miles)

  Tanana

  80 miles (+/- ~ 10 miles)

  Summer Bunker

  110 miles (+/- ~ 12 miles)

  Fairbanks

  200 miles (+/- ~ 25 miles)

  San Francisco

  3,000 miles (+/- ~ 300 miles)

  Heaven

  (See San Francisco)

  Beneath the mileage chart, Elese had drawn a side mirror with the caution: Objects in mirror are closer than they appear (or not!). Underneath her drawing she had explained:

  I have never been to Manley Hot Springs or Tanana, and had to guesstimate their route and distance on the map. Baer rarely referenced either. He doesn’t like to give out any information that might be useful to your escape, or survival, and he will avoid answering questions that might empower you. It will be up to you to listen and fill in the blanks.

  It is to his advantage if you are completely dependent on him. If you are reliant on his knowledge and skills, you are not a threat. I often think to the lesson my snow blindness taught me. I didn’t immediately make the connection between my getting headaches and having eyestrain and not wearing anything to shade my eyes. It only became clear to me on a day I went snow-blind. The glare burned my retinas. I had to do my own self-diagnosis while stumbling around. It was my mistake for not noticing that Baer always wears hats and sunglasses even on overcast winter days.

  The monster is watchful of everything you do. You must be even more watchful of him. Learn from him even if he would prefer you did not.

  I would never have known about his hunting shack had we not been caught in a terrible storm while working the far reaches of his trapline. I am not sure if even Baer could have made it back to this cabin under those whiteout conditions, and certainly the shack was much closer to where we were. Baer called it his “any port in a storm,” which is what it is. The structure is more of a lean-to than anything and was barely large enough to accommodate us and the dogs, but it served its purpose.

  Even though the monster seems uniquely suited to this inhospitable place, he is still cautious. The hunting shack was his insurance policy, as was the older-looking revolver he brought out late at night to clean. He either thought I was asleep or wouldn’t notice he had a firearm I had never seen before. Baer is not rash. He is methodical and likes to hold his cards close to his chest. He plays for the advantage and the upper hand. That’s why he stashed away a spare gun.

  It is also why Baer is vague about directions. He wants you to believe that escape is impossible and that civilization’s nearest outpost is unreachable. He won’t tell you directions; that’s why I’ve drawn these maps. And he doesn’t reveal many of nature’s secrets, but I will. Don’t thank me, though. My favorite teacher of all time was my seventh-grade science teacher, Miss Bryant. I used to hang on her every word, and she taught me these things:

  1. Moss usually grows on the north side of trees.

  2. Water generally moves north to south.

  3. Clouds and weather conditions typically move from west to east.

  4. The stars can provide you with directions. All you need to do is identify the North Star in the sky. It’s part of the Little Dipper’s handle. Both the Big Dipper and Cassiopeia point to the North Star. Once you locate the North Star, all you have to do is draw a line to the earth. That’s true north.

  Miss Bryant did not steer me wrong. She won’t disappoint you, either.

  Your best chance for escape is to get to the Tanana River and follow it east. That will get you to Manley. Once there, you are free!

  Although I have not been to Manley, my travels to the winter cabin and “summer retreat” (Baer’s words, not mine) familiarized me with much of your route. The Tanana River will be completely iced over in winter. I have only been there after the spring breakup, but I imagine the easiest and straightest way to Manley would be to walk along the ice.

  Sometimes even in this remote wilderness, the outside world rears its head. Bush planes are infrequent, but on occasion they fly overhead. You can’t expect a pilot to see what he’s not looking for, especially in a terrain where it is so hard to stand out. Creating a successful distress signal might be a means for you to escape the monster.

  Before we married, my then-boyfriend Greg took me camping and taught me the “rule of three.” One of anything is easy to overlook; three of anything stands out. A pilot will take notice of three man-made structures, be it fires, flags, or piles of rocks, whereas he is likely to overlook a solitary signal. The more you can make objects stand out, the better your chance for rescue. Rocks are more likely to be noticed if they’re formed into a pattern like a triangle. And when you fashion your distress signals, pick the best possible places to position them. You don’t want your markers to be lost in shadows or a forest. If you’re trying to catch the eye of a bush pilot, you’ll need to try and imagine his perspective. Anything with color is good. You need to make something that stands out from the environment.

  And X marks the spot isn’t something only found on treasure maps. Greg told me an X signal means that you require medical assistance or help. If you can, make an X using a pile of stones. And make those stones even more visible by using flags or markers.

  Of course, if you can kill the monster, your escape becomes easier. You can succeed where I failed. He might seem more animal than human, with the nose of a bloodhound, the eyes of a hawk, and the ears of an elephant, but he still bleeds. He is used to long hunts. If you flee from him while he is still alive, you must find some advantage over him that gives you a chance to successfully escape.

  Nina finished reading. Elese had devoted six pages to the Passport section of her book. Nina looked at the entries on the maps. It would be essential to memorize all the landmarks. According to Elese, there were spots in which she would be able to see Denali, allowing her to use the huge mountai
n as a reference point.

  There was so much she needed to learn, thought Nina. All the maps and information felt overwhelming. Escaping from hell seemed all but impossible.

  But at that moment Nina noticed something on one of the maps that looked a little off. She brought her eyes closer to see. What was it? Was that a bespectacled figure looking out from behind a tree? It was.

  The man peering out of the wilderness looked familiar. And then Nina realized what she was seeing. The cap, glasses, and striped shirt gave him away. Elese had drawn a picture of Waldo.

  Nina started laughing. She had found Waldo.

  She was in a cell in hell, but still she was laughing even when she had thought she would never laugh again.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  At the sound of barking dogs, Nina broke into a sweat. Baer had been gone for four days. There was a part of her that had been afraid he wouldn’t return—the food he’d left, even the jerky, was long gone, her canteen didn’t have much water in it, and her chamber pot was full and needed emptying—but she’d been more afraid at the prospect of his return than of her starving.

  Outside she could hear him tending to the dogs. She wiped the perspiration off her face. She didn’t want Baer to know how much he scared her. His return made her remember what had happened to Elese. She had written of her plight toward the end of her book. The opening pages had been all about the business of surviving and escaping, but the last few pages had been more personal.

  By now you’re wondering why it’s taken me so long to attempt my escape. It wasn’t only that I needed to learn the lay of the land. Until recently I had the responsibility of my baby.

  When I first realized I was pregnant, I didn’t think I would be able to love the baby growing in me, but I was wrong. At the time I thought the only good thing about being pregnant was that the monster stopped raping me. He was afraid he might do harm to his precious child growing inside of me. I expected to hate my baby, but the moment I saw him, I fell totally, completely in love. Baer named him Daniel, but when he wasn’t around, I spoke aloud my baby’s secret name. He was Denali, which means Mighty One. But mighty as he was and as loved as he was, my baby was called to heaven. When he was six months old, Denali became sick. His skin broke out. I’m not sure if it was a virus that caused his rash, or whether he might have had measles or mumps. When my baby began to burn up, I applied cold compresses and tried to make him drink, but he became worse. I begged Baer to take us to where we could get medical help. On my knees I implored him, but the monster refused.

  I was holding Denali when he died. Hours after he was dead, I still held him close. I didn’t trust the monster to give my baby a proper burial, and he had to wrench him out of my arms. Baer said he cremated my baby and offered his ashes to the wind, but I don’t know if he did. One day I would like Denali remembered with a service. If I do not survive to see to that, I would be most grateful if you saw to it.

  He will try to entrap you as he did me, Sister. In his grand delusion the monster sees himself as a patriarch, whose descendants will replenish the planet after its apocalypse. He knows that if you conceive, escape will be that much more difficult. A few times he has spoken of his own mother abandoning her “responsibilities,” and he’s darkly alluded that she paid the price for that.

  After Denali died, I fell into a black hole. I was ready to die. But my captivity has taught me perseverance if nothing else. Had Denali been alive, I might not have chanced escape. My first responsibility was to him. But now it’s up to me to gain my freedom one way or the other.

  I wish I cared more about whether I live or die. When my boy was alive, I feared for his life more than I did my own, but now it is time for me to leave this place.

  The cabin door suddenly flew open. The monster looked at her. “Still alive?” he asked.

  From inside her pen, Nina watched Baer bringing inside all that he’d been able to successfully salvage. Among his finds was the large dog-food vault, which had survived the fall. There were also some bags of beans and rice that had landed more or less intact. Several plastic jars of peanut butter also came out unbroken, a sight that made Nina salivate.

  “We might actually have enough food so we’re not reenacting the Donner Party this winter,” Baer said, “although I wish we had more meat hanging in the wanigan.”

  Nina didn’t respond.

  His gaze took in her pen and the pan, which now only had remnants of bone. “I guess you’re not a vegetarian anymore. That firm resolve of yours held out for all of what? Did you even make it one day?”

  Rule Number One, Nina thought. Survive.

  “It’s good you’re not one of those people who die for their principles. Those people don’t last here. To survive a winter here, your heart needs to freeze into stone. It’s a cold you’ll carry to the end of your days.”

  That thought got him reciting a familiar verse:

  “And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar;

  And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said: ‘Please close that door.

  It’s fine in here, but I greatly fear you’ll let in the cold and storm—

  Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it’s the first time I’ve been warm.’”

  If her heart froze into stone, Nina thought, it might make matters easier. While Baer recited his poem, she thought about Rule Number Eight: When you get a chance, kill the monster.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  While Baer was away, Nina hadn’t spent all her time studying Elese’s notes. She’d taken the largest bone from the slab of meat he’d left her and had been sharpening it. After rubbing it against the wiring and rebar, it had been honed to a point. It wasn’t until she was crafting her weapon that Nina realized Baer had given her the means to kill herself all along.

  I never really did want to kill myself.

  But killing a monster was another matter entirely.

  Nina pretended not to notice Baer’s approach to her holding pen. Palmed in her hand was the sharpened piece of bone. She visualized striking him in the eye or the neck, and then striking again and again. I can’t hesitate, she told herself. I have to be as brutal as he is.

  As he unlocked her cage, Nina tensed, ready to swing her weapon, but instead of coming after her, Baer simply turned around and walked back to the kitchen. Nina took several deep, steadying breaths. She’d been sure he was going to attack her.

  Baer was in the process of making some kind of flour mixture. Between pounding the dough on the counter, he spoke to her: “Empty your honey pot. Any bones go into the food wastebasket.”

  He pounded more, not bothering to look at her. “I haul everything that doesn’t burn to a spot well away from here, especially any food or bones. Those are magnets for animals.”

  Nina hid her sharpened bone among the furs and then crawled out of her pen. For the first time in days, she was able to stand up. At first her back was tight and resisted straightening out. She did a few quick stretches. If I don’t want to lose strength and flexibility, she thought, I’ll need to do isometric exercises when I’m confined. Baer already had a physical advantage over her; it was up to her to not be some cooped-up chicken awaiting slaughter.

  At the portable toilet she hesitated a moment, unsure of the routine.

  “Dump it in there for now,” Baer said, “and rub out your honey pot with sawdust. When you prove yourself, you’ll be allowed the privilege of going outside and using the outhouse.”

  “Where do I wash my hands?”

  “There’s a bucket in the kitchen, and I’m boiling some more water now. To make sure the drinking water is safe, it has to boil at least three minutes.”

  As much as Nina didn’t want to engage with Baer, she knew Elese was right about her needing to learn all she could.

  “Safe from what?” she asked.

  “Beaver fever, among other things. You get beaver fever from a parasite that contaminates the water. If you get the fever, it cou
ld lay you up for two weeks. Out here that could be a death sentence. So you boil the water or snow.”

  Nina finished with her chamber pot and then stood there hesitantly. As much as she didn’t want to return to her prison, she felt safer inside her pen than standing in the open anywhere near the monster.

  He looked up from his dough and eyed Nina’s pan and the bone remains inside it. Nina averted her eyes, afraid he might somehow be able to divine what she was hiding in her pen.

  “All food remains go in that container,” he said, signaling with his head to a plastic storage bin in the corner. “And your honey pot goes back in your quarters.”

  He said the last word as if he were British royalty, and his lip curled up in amusement. Then he added with his mock accent: “Is that where you will want room service delivered, madam?”

  “I can carry my own food,” Nina said.

  Especially if it meant keeping some distance between them.

  She carefully dumped the contents of the pan into the bin, eyeing Baer the entire time.

  Without turning to look at her, he said, “I have to use up the shortening I salvaged before it goes bad. Biscuits and flatbread will start coming out in about twenty minutes.”

  Nina could feel her stomach tighten as her hunger asserted itself.

  “And then I’ll use the hot oven to cook up some sea biscuits.”

  “What are sea biscuits?”

  “Hardtack,” said Baer.

  “Hardtack like Columbus and his crew ate?” she said.

  “Sea biscuits, or edible rocks, as sailors used to call them, were around long before Columbus.”

  “And that’s what you eat?”

  “That’s what we’ll eat when food stocks get low. Last April that’s about all there was to eat. The dogs survived on it. But even they had trouble chewing up old hardtack, and we’re talking about the same dogs that have no trouble snapping caribou bones.”