First, dragging meat around for leagues left them exposed to Big Whites and other things that might also want the prize. One trip was considered enough, for the prize would last a good time if the family was careful with it. Mother said that ‘greed was downfall to every man that wore it,’ and that stuck with Henry for a long time.
The second reason for just taking one load was that dead pups were food for lots of other creatures the family might feed on; snow leopards, white wolves, birds of prey or muskrats; some small and not much nourishing, some fat and fierce. By leaving the premature pups behind, the family was helping others eat, and that was important.
But this month wasn’t the early month, which meant they’d have to kill a pup. Henry didn’t enjoy killing pups. He liked the look of the seals and thought their eyes were sad. They looked human somehow.
The way to get a seal was to find one of its breathing holes. The seals would make them in the ice at intervals, so they could come up for air. Some would be iced over, but with enough air in them underneath that the seals did not need to break through. Others would be fresh and broken, exposed to the air and the hunter’s pick.
The siblings trekked all morning, taking turns to drag the sled, although it weighed nothing with just their weapons upon it.
“That man. Ginger Lanner. Would you have gone with him to the Favela?” Henry asked, surprising himself when the words came out. None had mentioned the visitor for some time, especially by name, although Martin had nightmares most nights since their encounter with the outsider and was even more timid than usual in the daylight.
“No. Maybe, at first. I wanted to go someplace. Just for a while.” Mary paused for breath. “I couldn’t leave you all, Hen. It’d be too much not to see Iris’ grin every day, or Father’s scowl. I’d even miss yourn ugly face. I belong with you and mine. If that man comes back, I’ll free his soul for him and put him under the ice. Ain’t seen anyone with cruel eyes like that afore. It makes me shiver more than the cold itself.”
“Do you think the Favela is an evil place? I mean, none of us have seen it, have we?”
“Mother and Father said it is, so it must be,” she replied.
“But they were saved by the fable, Penhaligon!” Henry spoke of the man who had helped his parents escape their plight many years before the family had even existed. Back then, they had just been John and Agneta. Two young people in love, in a place where it was dangerous to dream of such things. Penhaligon had concealed them and protected them, then helped them escape with the critical items and wares they needed in order to survive the cold.
“What if…what if we’re the bad ‘uns? What if…”
“I’ve known you my whole lifelong. Only thing bad about you, Henry-brother, is your smell. Fathom it.”
They proceeded in silence until Mary abruptly stopped and blocked Henry’s path with her arm. A few feet ahead of them was a ring in the ice, about a meter across, which they would’ve walked straight into had they not been paying attention. The top layer of ice had been shattered and shards of it floated on the water. Henry bent a knee beside it and watched his reflection move in the pieces that drifted. One of the pieces was shaped like a lightning bolt and it reminded him of the mirror in their old igloo. He realized that the ice pieces were moving because the surface of it had only recently been broken.
Henry leaped to his feet and confirmed that Mary had found a hole that a seal would use. They scanned the horizon and Mary signaled again when she saw a speck a few hundred yards to the west of them. It appeared for a moment, then submerged.
They took the weapons from the sled, leaving it where it lay, and began to run toward the place where the seal had been. They could tell it was long gone but sped across the recent snow with urgency, as they knew that the seal would always leave scratches at the side of the hole with its front flippers, which was a hint at the direction to the next haven where it could come up for air. Father had told them that seals had a sixth sense and that they felt things about the Earth — which humans could never understand – but the scratch marks always worked for the hunters.
The children had little energy without food in their bellies, but their hunger gave them a new strength. Henry had been the last to pull the sled, but felt renewed power in his legs as he ran with his heart pumping beneath all the layers he was wearing. Mary overtook him, whooping as she passed. Her hood slid down and her hair flew wildly in the breeze. Henry ran faster so he could get ahead of his sister once more and they raced like they had done so many times when they were small children, but not much since. Their hunger drove them forth. Adrenaline surged through them and the thought of eating their catch was uncontainable.
The seal popped up from the hole in front of them; they were closer than they had been when they’d last seen it, but still too far from the next hole to catch it in time. The seal went under. Henry got there a short sprint later and noted the claw marks aiming north.
This time, the duo ran harder than they’d ever run before. It was as if the days they’d spent cooped up in the igloo during the blizzard had made their bodies and minds ravenous for exercise, as well as food. Their breaths were thick and fast and the picks felt heavy in their arms, but they did not stop. Mary pulled ahead of her brother once more and when she got to the next hole, she signaled that the seal had not appeared.
Henry realized their prey was somewhere below the ice and they’d beaten it to the breathing hole.
Henry arrived at his sister’s side and all was silent apart from the sound of the two of them trying to catch their breath from the sprint.
“Be still,” Mary said in a whisper. Henry raised his pick high above his head.
The claw marks at the side of the ice showed that the seal’s next refuge was further north still, but they knew that they would not let it reach the next one, for they needed oil to keep the bairn warm, long enough so they could name him.
Henry wondered if the seal had heard them thundering above it. Had it slowed, or turned course in panic? As Henry got lost in that thought with the pick held above him, the seal leaped from the water suddenly and Henry brought the pick down upon the creature’s head before it could give either of them the stare which Henry had a weakness for; the sad look behind bulging childlike eyes.
The pick made a noise like ice breaking as it met the top of the seal’s head, followed by a slosh as yolk matter within the skull debased.
The seal itself made no sound. Henry’s pick had driven so deep into its skull that the creature couldn’t have known what had been done to it. Henry suddenly found himself in trouble as the dead weight of the seal became heavy on the pick and began to pull him down into the depths of the sub-zero waters. Henry imagined a soul leaving the creature, but saw only blood pour from the place where his pick was lodged. He feared that the seal would simply slide off the pick, back into the water, but the angle had the creature hooked and their only choices were to either let go of the pick and lose both tool and creature, or hold on.
Mary held on to her brother and they fought with all their strength to stay firm upon their feet so as not to be dragged through the ice. They dug their heels into the slush by the edge of the pool. Pain ran through Henry’s arms and legs as his muscles burned, stretched taut under the strain of the creature as they lifted it. Mary wrapped her arms around her brother’s waist and pulled, using her entire weight to anchor them. Together, they let out a cry which rang across the icescape as one sound. Henry’s arms shook and his legs began to wobble as he scraped and dug his heels.
With a sudden rush, the dead seal came free from the water. They dragged it onto the ice, where they let it fall before collapsing beside it, exhausted from the ordeal.
After a time, breathing hard and sweating from the exertion, Mary spoke.
“That weren’t no tiddler pup. That’s a big ol’ fat ‘un,” she said, laughing.
“I nearly shitted my trousers hauling that blubber in,” Henry admitted.
“You t
hink they go to the light when they die? Seals and pups?”
“Like us? We will never fathom it. Maybe they swim to the light and they too go to a whole new place.”
When they were able to stand, Henry fetched the sled and together they dragged home their prize. Once more, they had oil for the blubber lamp and food for the family to survive on.
“The chook will live. We did well,” Henry professed.
“We did, Hen,” agreed Mary, proud of what they’d accomplished. Henry was looking forward to breaking the news to the rest of the family.
Four
A Relic
It had been weeks since they’d moved further onto Lantic. The family had settled into a routine and grown accustomed to what had been unfamiliar territory in the vicinity around them. The oil from the seal had kept the igloo warm and there was fish aplenty. The name Ginger Lanner had been erased from their conversations and the boy-bairn was starting to thrive. Hope had returned. Even Father appeared calm and didn’t spend half as much time scanning the horizon as he had done.
Henry, Mary and Father hunted in ever-widening circles to discover what lay around the homestead. Henry and Mary reluctantly took turns to stay at home protecting the family, but one night, Father was unwell with a sweating fever and the siblings insisted that he rest when the day broke. Henry and Mary hunted together for the first time since their adventure with the seal and set out early to prove to Father that they were proficient hunters, despite their youth.
The early morning had not been fruitful, but they stumbled upon fresh tracks in the snow and followed them north-east. They thought the tracks were from a muskrat at first, but they differed in size, which indicated they were following more than one animal.
“Might be wolves, Hen. We should head back,” Mary worried.
“You ain’t seen a wolf afore and neither have I,” Henry replied without looking at his sister.
“I know that,” Mary spat defiantly.
Henry crouched and studied the prints in the snow. He felt a chill as he stopped moving. It was far colder than they’d ever experienced as they ventured further on Lantic still. Father had said it was because the wind had nowhere to go. Landside, it wasn’t so flat and there were bumps on the terrain (and even mountains) that took all the force that any wind could give.
“Don’t think there are any wolves anymore. They’re just stories, like Santa’s reindeers, or sea monkeys.”
“Well, if it ain’t wolves, what is it?” Mary asked.
“Looks like three different sets of tracks. They weave in and out of each other. See how the little ones criss-cross the bigger ‘uns? It’s a bairn of some kind, following its parents.” Henry shrugged. “That’s my bet, anyway.” Mary didn’t respond. She ignored the animal tracks and gazed ahead of them, tilting her head to the side and squinting as if it would draw whatever she was looking at closer. She looked puzzled.
“What is it, Mare?” Henry asked, trying to visualize what his sister was seeing ahead of them. “Mare?”
“I’m not…It’s probably nothing…but…” Mary shook her head. Still squinting, she used her hand to shade her eyes from the sun. “Something up there…can you see?”
It took Henry a while to spot what had caught his sister’s eye. Ahead of them, the white panorama harmonized with a pallid sky. But it was imperfect; a raised plateau above the rest of the terrain, which must have been fifty feet in height, stretched for a few hundred yards, on an otherwise flat icescape.
“Ain’t no sky towers out here. What is it?” Before Henry could answer, Mary started to jog toward the object. Henry tried to catch up with his sister, but she’d already broken into a run.
“It’s a relic,” Henry said to himself as they neared it.
The object lay at an angle as if it had once been diving, or rolling into the ice. Smaller cubic shapes lay indiscriminately around it, where they’d spilled from its sloping deck. The siblings marveled at the sight before them. As they drew closer, they saw that it wasn’t entirely covered in snow due to its shape, and some of the hull glistened where ice crystals and stalactites had formed. It gave it a pearlescent look up-close and the scale of it made it look otherworldly and majestic.
The rusting steel of the structure was visible in places and the name of the container ship presented itself before them.
“MV Greyhound,” Mary pronounced slowly. “It must be one of the yot-boats that mother’s Great-Great-Great-Greats had!”
The funnel of the ship had once been torn from the boat. Now it lay beneath several feet of snow beside the vessel and had become a cylindrical run up to the angled deck of the ship, from the icescape. There was a raised area to the deck. It was a superstructure, thirty feet in height, that hinted of portholes beneath the rime. It reminded Henry of Ginger Lanner’s pockmarks.
“You could fit a million people inside it,” Henry said. Drawing his eyes from the hull of the vessel, Henry spotted that one of the containers nearby was open. “Look!”
Mary reached the container first. The outside of it was covered in lichens. Daylight trespassed into the darkness where rust had finally breached a gaping hole in the roof, revealing a bounty within that the ship had never delivered. Mary shuddered when she saw what was inside.
“What is it?” Henry asked.
Some of the old boxes at the side of the container were intact, but those in the middle had turned to mush, leaving their contents strewn on the floor. Mary picked one of the items up. It was a plastic doll; one of hundreds that formed a mountain of limbs with the same identical faces and the same identical stare. Again, Henry thought of the corpse he’d found with Father. He wondered if he’d ever forget that face and the moment that gave it prominence.
“Possessions,” Mary said. “I thought they were… they’re horrid, atomic bad,” she added, before tossing the doll back in the pile amongst its brethren. It was instantly lost within the duplicate ranks. “These are…” Mary tried to remember the word, then spoke it. “Dolls. What do you think’s in the others?”.
“Hopefully not more of those. Wouldn’t fetch one for Iris. She’d freak,” Henry replied.
“Martin would be worse.”
They moved away from the container, and above them, on the precipice of another unit, was a stocky, short-legged creature with small ears and a short muzzle. They stopped laughing and froze on the spot. The snow leopard hissed and snaked its long tail as it studied them. Mary reached for her slingshot.
“Don’t. It’s the bairn. You hit it and the other two will be on us. We can’t fend against three,” Henry muttered under his breath, careful not to alarm the creature, or move too suddenly.
“Where are the other two?” Mary said. She seemed too scared to turn her head in case the animal took exception to the movement, or if it attacked when her eyes were no longer upon it.
“They won’t be far. When they find us, we’re food. We need to get inside the yot-boat. I’m guessing the entrance will be up top.” Henry thought for a moment and took a breath that turned to fog when it met the air once more. The animal looked intrigued and cocked its head to the side, the same way Mary had when she’d first spotted the ship in the distance. “Back up. Don’t run from it until we get around the other side of where the... dolls are. The thing looks fast, even if it is the bairn.”
Even as he spoke, Henry saw a second snow leopard, twice the size of the one before them, atop the deck of the container ship near the bow. The bairn turned and mewed to its parent, who caught sight of Henry and Mary, then instantly changed its stance and bared its teeth. Even from a distance, Henry could see the creature’s ears stand on end as it heightened its senses ready for the hunt, just like they had with the seal. Henry thought briefly of the sad, childlike look of the seal, then of dragging and cutting it, refining it, then eating and boiling its oil for warmth. He looked at Mary, seeing the seal over and over in his mind. They were no longer the hunters. Henry and his sister were the prey and their bones would be picked
when all else of them was gone.
They edged backward, reached the other side of the container, then turned to run. They heard the clang as the bairn landed on the roof behind them, but they didn’t look back as they zigzagged through the maze of half-buried and long-forgotten containers sprinkled around the transport. The sun blinded them as they climbed the run to the deck of the ship, but Henry spotted the second leopard racing across the deck to head them off.
“Slingshot!” Henry yelled to his sister. She snapped the tip of a large icicle from the side of the ship as she reached the deck and loaded it into her catapult. Her shot was wide and wild. Henry hurriedly brushed snow from the superstructure in search of a doorway within. The second shot hit the nearing snow leopard on the loin. The creature twisted in pain and skidded toward them. A stain of red appeared on its smoky gray-colored coat where the shard of ice had opened the skin.
The animal steadied itself, then growled before resuming its chase of the young humans. Behind them, the bairn had reached the bottom of the run and it dashed toward them instinctively at the sight of its mother being injured in pursuit.
“Where’s the other one!?” Mary screamed. “You said there were three!” She fired a third shot that hit the mother on the front leg and the chip of ice splintered through fur and skin, into the bone. The animal wailed on the deck of the ship and its bairn mewled in distress and anger behind them. It had them cornered, but it wasn’t as confident as it would’ve been if fully grown. It appeared to hesitate as Mary turned toward it, as if it were waiting for something.
Ever Winter Page 4