Ice Island (13 page)

She had to trust her dogs.

Shading her eyes, she called them up. “Time to go.”

They rose, sniffed the air.

Alyeska began pacing restlessly.

Suddenly Denali was barking like crazy. “What’s up?”

Tatum froze. Wolf had stepped out from behind a mound, his fur standing in a stiff ridge on his back. He growled, teeth bared, a low throaty sound. His ruff was rimmed with ice.

She glanced desperately at her team. They slunk backward, showing that they knew who was boss. Wolf had been following them. Why?

Wolf inched closer, silent and glaring. He arched his shoulders. Needles of fear stabbed her. She stumbled back. Wrong move. Now he was in charge.

Tatum knew what she had to do. She yanked off Cole’s glove and waved it above her head. “Get back!”

But he didn’t stop coming at her.

“Go away!” She ran at him. “Shoo!”

Wolf stopped, ears pressed forward.

Tatum tightened her grip on the glove. Her fingers burned. “I’m lead dog now!” she screamed, then charged again and slapped his nose.

His eyes widened.

“Get lost!” she shouted, louder. “Scat!”

He turned slowly and ran away.

Tatum just stood there, stunned.

Once, when Tatum stopped to switch leaders, she glanced back. Wolf had appeared from nowhere a second time, looking fierce as ever. No way they could outrun him.

He’s stalking us
.

I should toss him a snack to show him we’re not the enemy
. But the next time she looked, he was gone.

She fired up the cooker. The dogs needed water with their meal. She watched them play tug-of-war with the gangline.
Wolf knows I have food
, she thought.
Maybe that’s all he wants
.

After eating, the dogs lay sprawled in their usual places in front of the sled. Alyeska looked ready to nod off; Denali, bored. Wrangell, as usual, was shredding a bootie. Thankfully, Tatum had extras.

She fed Bandit by hand and checked on the puppies. “One day you’ll be great sled dogs, born of a great sled dog,”
she told them. “It doesn’t matter if you’re boys or girls—you should all have strong names.”

“Ancestor,” she said. “Because your brow is wrinkled like an old man’s.” She named the biggest ball of fluff Whale. Then Coal, who was black as beach tar. She thought and thought about a name for the runt. “Skilak, like the lake, because soon you’ll be as big and round as the others.”

Tatum smeared beeswax on what was left of her bottom lip. She’d had chapped lips before. But this was different, so much worse. Her tongue kept touching the deep split.

She packed up, whispering to the puppies. Ancestor, Whale, and Coal were asleep. Skilak was nosing his way blindly to a teat. All four were well fed and healthy. She loved their sweet puppy smell.

Tatum studied the hummock in front of them. The sun danced on its steep face, casting an inky shadow over the team. She rubbed her sunburned eyes. They felt like someone had poured salt into them.

If I can climb the hummock
, she thought,
maybe I’ll be able to see something—a chimney or smoke
.

She soon discovered it was impossible to get a foothold in the ice. She stepped back and studied the situation. The slope was too steep. Too slick. She was about to give up when she remembered the ax. What if she chopped steps as she went? It was worth a try.

The first steps she cut were low in the hard-packed crust. The more steps she chopped, the steeper the slope got, and the slower she went. At least her plan was working. The only sound was the ax breaking up ice.

Suddenly the wind kicked in. Tatum teetered, cold seeping into her chest. Her lungs ached. Worst of all, she had a killer headache. Probably dehydration.

For courage, she pictured Libby Riddles crossing Norton Sound in a blinding blizzard.

She lifted her left boot and stamped it into the ice, planted her right boot next to it, desperately sucking in air. The ax grew heavier with every strike. She kept climbing, digging in, chanting. Chop, step, breath; chop, step, breath.

Tatum thought about famous mushers. No matter how much experience they had under their belts, they still slammed into trees, pitched sideways down gullies, broke through ice bridges. Frostbitten fingers, toes, noses, cheeks. But they never gave up.

Her icy breath bit into her sluggish progress.
You only fail if you quit
.

Finally, she pulled herself over the frozen lip and collapsed. The glare was as intense as the cold. She breathed into her cupped hands, giving her burning lungs a rest. Her breath glazed her gloves.

From up there the view was spectacular, wide and white.
I’ve reached the top of the world
, she thought.
Up here, the spirits of native people seem real
.

Tatum stared east over the field of giant hummocks. She wondered how long it would take to mush around them. Distances in nothingness were impossible to judge.

She chopped a chunk of ice and sucked on it, pressing it against her sore lip, but only long enough to stop the throbbing. She didn’t want her skin sticking to the ice. She was in
awe of the wind-sculpted shapes below. No wonder some mushers didn’t care where they finished in the race.

She chopped off another piece of ice and sat in the snow sucking until it disappeared. Gradually the pounding in her head quieted; her lip went numb. She shivered, sticking a wet glove in her armpit.

From the corner of her eye, she saw her three dogs resting in the snow. Their noses were tucked under paws, their eyes watchful. Bandit stuck her head out of the sled, looking around. Tatum had never seen a sight as beautiful as those dogs, their fur shimmering in the afternoon light.

They’re my dogs
, she thought.
At least for now
.

Her mind shifted to Wolf. He was everywhere and nowhere. She kept imagining his powerful shape and fierce eyes. No way could she outsmart a wolf. They had excellent vision, smell, hearing. “A wolf can smell a deer more than a mile away,” her dad had said.

Tatum pulled herself to her feet, searching for her stairway. Going down would be trickier than climbing up. More dangerous, slicker. She found the first step and eased herself over the lip. She used the toe of her boot to find the next step. Not easy. The ice was more brittle than before.

One step down.

Then another.

Tatum clutched the ax. She was afraid of falling through thin ice into a hidden crevasse. She slammed in the blade, just above her shoulder. It stuck. She gripped the handle for balance, feeling for the next step.

She held on, making a slow circle with her boot. Her legs shook. Nothing.
Where is it?
She squeezed her eyes
shut, trying to concentrate. A brain freeze could be the end of her.

She pressed her forehead against the ice. Her breathing was shallow. Fear came and went. She pictured the dogs. Bandit and the puppies needed her most of all. Giving up would be the worst kind of selfish.

She opened her eyes and forced herself to focus. Slowly, she braced herself and felt for the next step. It was deep enough for her whole boot. She struggled to work the ax from its slot; her legs shook, fighting for balance. She willed herself on, resetting the ax each time.

A third of the way down, her mind wandered.

She missed a step.

Slipped.

Suddenly, Tatum was in an unchecked slide.

This is what it’s like to die!

And everything dissolved into white.

Tatum opened her eyes.

A cloud swirled around her.

She lay flat on her back. Her head was spinning. She blinked as the snowy mist settled, and blinked again at the blinding sun. Sweat trickled down her forehead, freezing and crusting on her face.

Climbing the mound had let her know how truly vulnerable she was. She wiggled her toes, then her fingers. She rolled slowly onto her elbow and scooped up a bite of snow. She was limp, exhausted. And darn lucky to be alive.

She looked up, staring at the ax handle. The blade glistened above her head.
Damn!
No way to chop the frozen chunks of meat. And no way she’d go back for it. The ax would fall, just like she had, during the next thaw. She rolled all the way over and sat up, waiting for her head to clear. Her parka and snow pants had cushioned her fall.

Tatum crawled weakly to her feet and brushed herself off.

•  •  •

Her three dogs were jumping around in their harnesses. Alyeska barked loudest, demanding,
Where’ve you been?
Tatum pulled them into a group hug and let them lick her face. “I love you too!”

Then she headed toward the sled, and stopped. The sled hadn’t moved, but something dark and bulky lurked on the far side. She watched nervously as the shadow turned into a hulking giant.

“Wolf!” She yanked off her glove. “No!”

He was circling the sled, tense and suspicious. Tatum took one slow, careful step, then another, afraid of spooking him. Suddenly, his great wolf head was inside the canvas basket. Bandit made a low guttural sound.

Tatum screamed inwardly, taking another careful step.

Wolf lifted his head from the sled and snarled a warning. His eyes were dark slits.

“Attack me if you want to,” she said, lurching forward. She smacked him across the nose. “But stay away from Bandit and her puppies!”

He backed up, stunned by the blow.

His spine bristled, all needles.

“Scat!” She raised her arms to make herself look taller. That was what her dad had told her to do to scare off a bear. She prayed it would work with a wolf dog. “Get lost!”

Wolf sniffed the air, his ears forward in anger.

Tatum glanced wildly from Wolf to the sled and back. She trembled, unable to see Bandit or the pups.

Wolf must be starving.

Tatum choked on the icy air. She lunged at him again, wishing she had the ax. “Scat!” This time she growled like a deranged animal.

Wolf jumped back, his eyes still narrow. Her heart beat furiously. She growled again. Louder. Meaner. She shouted nonsense, just to make noise.

She waved the glove, brandishing it like a deadly weapon. Wolf backed up, avoiding her eyes. Her throat closed around itself, and she quickly checked the sled.

Bandit looked up, smiling her doggy smile. She acted like nothing was wrong.
One, two, three
—Tatum counted the fur balls—
four!
All safe and asleep.

Tatum looked up, amazed.

Wolf had dropped his tail.

“What is it?” She lowered the glove. “What do you want?”

With just a glance, he told her why he was there. She dared to let herself breathe. It went back to that first day at the grocery store.

It took her a while to figure it out. “You knew Bandit was going to have puppies.” She kept her voice low, her eyes soft. “Did you want to protect them from a two-legged
kass’aq
girl?”

That had to be it. Instinct from past generations, all the way back to his wolf roots. “Did you think I’d hurt her? Is that it?”

Wolf stood taller, all black against the snow.

Tatum pulled the bundled snack from her pocket. She dropped to one knee and unwrapped it. “Come on,” she coaxed, holding out a sliver of meat. “I know you’re hungry.”

Wolf took a step closer. His whiskers twitched.

“We need you with us.” She tossed him a bite. “We need a strong lead dog.”

Wolf didn’t waste time sniffing it. He gulped, licked his lips, cocked his head, begging for more.

Tatum gathered her courage and scooted forward, talking to him quietly. “You’re as smart as you are strong,” she said, tempting him with another bite.

Wolf snatched it from her fingers.

When she reached out to pet him, he turned and trotted off. “You’ll be back,” she called after him. “I have food!”

He yipped a wild note and disappeared.

Tatum felt the afternoon growing shorter. “Food is more important than light,” she told the dogs. “But we need water.”

Alyeska jumped on Wrangell, and Denali joined them, yelping and rolling in the snow. Tatum fired up the cooker and heated her knife in the hot water. She worked the blade back and forth through the frozen meat. It took forever before the solid roast was in two chunks. Everything took so much time!

“One for tonight’s dinner and one for breakfast.” Although, she told herself, they’d be in Anvil long before then. She watered the dogs and drank until she thought she’d burst, licking her split lip. “Once we head out we’ll run through the night.”

Clouds blew in—wispy in pale blues and greens. The
sinking sun looked like it was shining behind a pane of frosted glass. Another kind of light show. The slurry of ice crystals told her another storm was brewing. How long before it reached them? An hour? A day? Before moving to Alaska, she’d never given much thought to the weather. Out here, knowing how to read clouds could mean the difference between life and death.

She grabbed her headlamp with a sudden urgency to get going.

Tatum’s three-dog team ran in single file, with Alyeska in the lead. He jerked awkwardly over the uneven ground. The snow in the gullies between the frost heaves was choppy from constantly thawing and refreezing. Tatum knew ice sometimes grew faster than weeds, then melted and disappeared. It was slow going no matter how many times she glazed her runners.

We stopped too long
, she thought.
I shouldn’t have climbed the hummock
. What a waste of time! Dogs were so much smarter than people.
I’d be lost without them!

The dogs warmed up, their muscles rippled. Alyeska, Denali, Wrangell—all running like champions. Their gait began to hypnotize Tatum. She drifted in and out of drowsiness. She blinked hard, stepped off the sled, and jogged beside it to wake up, always keeping one hand on the handlebar.

The air was freezing her from the inside out. She wondered if she had icicles in her hair, like some mushers she’d
seen. She lurched back onto the runners. Her mind wandered with every bend. Could frozen hair be snapped off and shaped? An arctic barbershop.