Chapter 9
Rated T ( Teen)
By Medic ( MedicLifeline)
Disclaimer : Please see all disclaimers for previous chapters.
Thanks to my great beta, Storm O!
Rescued from the Snow...
I sit by a warm fire tonight in a quaint cabin. No shivering here, but how we arrived to this point was quite the story. I have been keeping careful watch on my teammates and could not have done this without the help of Constable Benton Fraser. Had it not been for him, I think we all would have perished, and the only thing Lift-Ticket would be bringing back would be our bodies.
As I soak in the warmth, I can almost hear the song, "Northwest Passage", in my mind. The wood stove keeps the cabin fairly cozy. The popping and crackling reminds me of the fireplace Dad still has at home. Mom used to lovehaving a warm fireplace for Steph and I to return to when we came inside from playing out in the cold all day. I don't think I was ever as cold back then as I was today.
My eyes take in the cabin's meager essentials: a wooden twin bed with a handmade patchwork quilt most likely made from old uniforms and worn shirts, a decent sized wood stove used for heating and cooking, and a small table and chairs. There are a few hanging oil lamps that let off a soft glow, soft enough to be tranquil but enough to see by. The table has a small gingham cloth on it. There is an old picture of the early Canadian Mounties, hanging on the wall in black and white from roughly around 1920. The frame, I notice, is made from branches of a tree. On the far wall, there is a small handmade bookshelf to go along with the rest of the cabin. The few books on the shelf are leather-bound but well worn, as if they had been read over and over in the loneliness of the cold and darkness that surrounded the reader. There are few things in here, but someone had gone to a great deal to make it at least feel lived in, feel like a home. Instead of the twenty-first century, I feel more like I am back in the eighteen hundreds. Time has no meaning right now.
Between the darkness and the snow blowing outside, I cannot make out the beauty of the trees layered with freshly fallen snow or the crystal clear stream that is close by. This is beautiful country, even under the circumstance from the previous day and this morning. The forests are gorgeous, and the mountains are so crisp and clean with the snow peaks. If the weather would be warmer, I would retire here, for it is incomparable to anywhere in the world. Since I am not one for the cold, that dream will never happen.
I look over to see how Snow Job is doing. He is sleeping along side of Cover Girl on the floor near the stove. Our host offered her the bed to sleep in, but she kindly refused. I knew her answer before Cover Girl spoke, for if the rest of the team had no bed, neither would she. She, like the others, fell asleep quickly, knowing they could rest without fear since we now had a lookout. The small pot of coffee our host made still sits on the burner. Dusty fell asleep face down on the table, and Flint drifted off to sleep in front of the door. Our host sits in a chair by the window, watching nature's fury outside. The snow keeps falling as it did earlier today. The Constable informed me this evening, "It will continue to snow for at least another twenty-four hours at the least. No flights out 'til the snow stops."
I am lucky none of the team is seriously hurt. The only guilt I have is Snow Job and Cover Girl had me sandwiched between them as we escaped. Had it not been for them, I very well would have been the one injured, even if slight. I have enough supplies 'til Lift-Ticket can come to retrieve us. Even then, it will be by seaplane, and then to the awaiting Tomahawk. I wonder if Ace will be coming also.
I watch as the Constable stares out the window, his clear blue eyes scanning for any sign of trouble, trying to see into the night and falling snow. His wolf sleeps beside the chair under the table by Dusty. For some reason, the canine took immediately to our desert trooper. Dusty just has a way with animals. I know Sandstorm will be missing him by now.
The Constable is a young man but not as young as I thought. He is in his thirties and has been with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (R.C.M.P.) for almost thirteen years. Funny, I feel so much older than him, but in reality, I am only older by a few years. He is dressed in jeans and a red and black checked flannel shirt with a thermal shirt underneath. A shotgun rests on his lap. He walks with a limp at times but does his best to not let it show. As the others slept, I had asked him what happened, and he explained he had been stabbed by an escaped inmate, and upon apprehending him, he was stabbed in the thigh. Some days it bothers him more than others.
As the storm howled and winds raged, I recall how lucky we were to come this far. We had awakened in the early hours of the morning before the sun came all the way up so we could take our small shelters down. We had occasional snow showers throughout the night and early morning. Flint was standing guard quite a distance away. Unfortunately for us, we were spotted by the enemy. It was not Flint's fault; they apparently had someone who knew what they were doing and had keen eyesight. It amazes me now for often we do not deal with Cobra Commander's best and brightest.
Before we knew what hit us, they were attacking. With yells of "COBRA!" from the base and a sudden mortar from the sky, Flint began yelling, "Incoming!" Our best bet was to run. There had been more COBRA troopers than we had bargained for and too many to fight. Once we realized what was happening and how many there were, we ran through the clearing and into another section of woods. They must have stopped chasing when they realized how cold it was getting. We, of course, had not noticed that the skies were getting cloudy and more ominous since we were just trying to get away with our lives. COBRA apparently decided to let us have our fate in the wilderness and the elements.
As Snow Job led us out of the woods, we all surveyed our surroundings, looking for wild animals and watching for any COBRA snipers. We had just cleared the woods when I heard a loud chain of explosions. I looked back to see a huge fireball as the COBRA base was taken out. When Snow Job and Flint cheered, I learned that my comrades had set some munitions around the perimeter of the enemy base. Our victory was short lived as we realized it had started to snow again, and we were miles from nowhere.
Snow Job told us that several miles from where we were was an old cabin that had belonged to a Canadian Mountie he knew. He explained that he had rescued this Mountie from injury at one time and took him back to the cabin to care for him. Since we were dropped so close to the Yukon border, we could make it to the cabin but it would be difficult. We would have to cross the Canadian border in order to get there since we could not go back the way we had just come.
It seems the owners of the Trans Alaska pipeline had found oil and were going to originally connect the new pipe with the original pipe. However, the old pipe is close to thirty years old and becoming obsolete so they were going to plan a new route. In the midst of planning, COBRA found out and wanted to throw a wrench into the plan.
As Snow Job examined the area, we stood there in the quiet of the woods. Faintly, I heard something that sounded like a drip falling onto the snow. Looking over, it had come from Flint's arm. The small drops of blood slowly stained the snow crimson. He had been grazed by one of COBRA's shots. I offered to take a look at him along with Snow Job and Cover Girl, who also had red patches of blood spreading on their coats.
"Flint, you're bleeding. I need to take a look at that. You, too, Snow Job and Cover Girl," I recalled telling them as the wind picked up through the trees and the snow started to fall faster.
Dusty whispered something to Cover Girl, but I was unable to understand or make out what he said. Whatever it was, it was private, and she shook her head. Snow Job declined my offer and urged us to keep moving since we were running out of time and only had a few hours of daylight left. Flint practically scoffed at my concern. No one wanted my help. I am just thankful none of the injuries were serious enough to be life threatening. It was not a "good " situation but not as bad as it could have been.
Snow Job pointed to the incoming weather. "If we would get caught in this," he warned, "we will surely die."
I could feel the chill slowly creeping through the layers of clothing. If we got too cold, our blood would coagulate, and we would slowly freeze to death with no shelter and no one to find us. Each knew that if we were to make it out, we would have to keep moving.
The light was fading and the temperature continued to drop as we began to move towards the Canadian border. I, in the back of my mind, was now getting concerned, knowing our bodies soon would not be able to keep fighting off the cold. The trees gave us some shelter, but the vast open snowfields left us exposed to nature and COBRA, if they were still pursuing us. In the snowfield, we had to watch each step for below could be a cavern, and one false step could send you to your death in a frozen, barren darkness hundreds of feet below. What kept us going was knowing that with each step we were closer to warmth and safety. My fingers were going numb by now, and our faces were red from the wind that whipped against us, even with them covered. After a few hours of fighting Mother Nature, we all stopped and rested. There was nothing and nobody for miles. Snow Job had explained that no matter how sparse, there were still people living here. Not just the Inuit (Eskimos), but people who have lived and roamed the land.
It is funny. People are constantly on the move so they are not crowding each other. Some, even if within a few miles of someone, consider it crowded and move on. They have to have the R.C.M.P. in case of any problems. They mostly have dog sleds and pack provisions for many months. I give them credit. The solitude for months on end would be hard to adjust to. The Constable was telling me of a baby he birthed out in the wilderness and then watched the mother get up and walk away, knowing neither may survive.
We had just started to get up again and walk to find the cabin when we heard something. There was no place to hide, except behind some trees, and I suddenly thought I was in a bad cliché in an old movie. "Quick, hide behind that tree!"
I do not know if I felt more relief upon seeing the dog sled and the driver or the thought we may not be far away from the safety of an actual cabin. Snow Job studied the approaching man intently, as if he was assessing the man's every move. He watched the Mountie inspect our tracks, limping from footprint to footprint and looking off in our direction. The wind whipped up again and blew his fur-lined hood down onto his shoulders. It wasn't until we heard him speak to his dogs that I could see the recognition cross Snow Job's face. I swear I heard a sigh of relief. The Artic trooper came out from hiding and greeted the man. We heard Snow Job and the Mountie say to each other, "Teyma", and then Snow Job motioned us all to follow.
As we all headed towards the shelter, Snow Job and the Mountie conversed, occasionally switching between English and another language that was unknown to me. Along the way, I overheard Flint ask Snow Job what he said to the Mountie in front of us. Snow Job replied that he spoke to our rescuer, using traditional Inuit words and phrases. Flint had replied that he had no idea the Artic trooper could speak some Inuit. I chuckled under my breath with the answer Snow Job gave. "You do not know a lot about some of us." Flint knowingly nodded and was quiet the rest of the way.
After arriving at the cabin, the others let me look at them and clean any injuries they had. We were greeted with warmth and safety. The Constable supplied us with a dinner of dried goods and moose. He explained to us that the only way in or out was by dog sleds and seaplanes. That is how supplies were brought to the cabin also. In this weather, nothing moved. When the gold rush happened, people were flocking to get to Nome, Alaska, and people were required to carry a years worth of supplies; otherwise, the Mounties would not let them through. I now can understand why and how doing this saved many lives.
After my teammates fell asleep, the Constable and I made small talk. He told me he was here on leave for a few weeks, since he was assigned to the Canadian Consulate in Chicago, and at times, worked closely with the Chicago Police Department and his American police detective and friend, Ray Vechio. He needed a vacation, and the other Mountie had urgent family business.
As we sat there, we spoke of our families. He was an only child. His mother was murdered when he was young, and his father, who was also a Mountie, preferred to work than stay home. He later learned it was not out of harshness but out of love since he could do nothing to prevent it. The murderer had been his father's closest friend. Raised by his grandparents, he would spend hours at the library where they worked.
I, in turn, spoke of my father, who preached, but I did not speak of my childhood. I spoke of my sister, whom I am close to. I explained I had lost my mother at a young age to cancer. As I told him, I pulled my well-worn Bible out of my medical bag. I am never without it, and I showed him a worn picture of us. I had asked if he was married. If he was, they had to be strong in love for each other to be this far away from anything and everyone. I could, at that time, imagine the stresses it would place on even the best marriage.
I saw a look of sadness come over him, and he shook his head. He told me the woman he loved was named Victoria. He produced an old picture of her he carried in a small book he kept in his back pocket. The corners were bent, and the picture slightly faded. She was beautiful with long dark tresses that fell in waves of spirals. He said he knew she was out there somewhere.
He had met her by chasing her into a canyon in the Yukon after she had robbed a bank in Alaska. She had caught a seaplane but was left on her own by the pilot until the Constable found her. In the process, he had not only tracked her but fell in love. They huddled against the weather for three days, both near death. She, in the end, was sent to prison. After her release, she robbed and murdered again only to escape the authorities. His partner had shot him when she escaped. When asked if he still loved her, he softly replied, " Of course. She is the only woman I have ever loved. Right or wrong."
I told him of Bree and produced a picture of her. We were both smiling. I realized I had not gotten rid of that one picture. The rest I threw out along with the cards and gifts. I gave away most of them or returned them. When he asked me the same question I had asked him, I answered, "No, I have loved one other, who had always held my heart. Her name was Abby."
Funny how two people, who never knew each, could talk so easily with the other. I had told him of the Army, and my past as he told me a bit more of his. As the minutes clicked away, my eyes began to grow heavy. As much as I hated to, I needed to excuse myself and get some sleep.
I toss my medical bag on the floor, and rest my head on it, placing my parka over me as a blanket. He had given the two other blankets to Snow Job and Cover Girl. Since it is only one person most of the time, supplies, like blankets, are not abundant. I think of my warm down blanket, back at the PITT, and wish I had it here now. Off in the night, I hear the dogs that pulled the sled howling in the shed. It is an eerie sound, and for a moment, my fears are that COBRA has found us. I look over to the Constable. Fear must have been in my eyes for a moment, and he reassures me that the dogs howl because they know there are other wolves out there. He would let nothing happen to our team.
My hand is growing heavy. It feels like it weighs a ton. I must sleep now as it is beckoning me into its darkness. I know the good Constable will not let anything happen to us if he has any say about it. The last thing I see is the Constable, looking over to the others and myself and turning the oil lamp down, dimming it.
His wolf gets up, softly pads over to him, and whimpers. I hear him quietly tell his four-footed friend, " Yes Dief, I still look for her in the darkness, and you have told me a thousand times to forget her. I cannot. You know, no matter what, she holds my heart. For right now though, we have these folks to worry about. They need our help."
I see him turn and face the window again, wondering if he is looking for those who are looking for us or if he is looking for her. Or perhaps both.
Author's Note
I decided to add the good Constable from the show "Due South" along with Ray Vechio, Victoria and Diefenbaker, the wolf along with a little of the Constable's backstory. I thought the addition was fitting for the G I Joe team. I often wondered what would happened if the two of them met up in the wilderness. I do not own any of the characters of "Due South", back history, and I do not have any right to use them but out of fun. I make no profit off this, please do not sue.
The song mentioned in this chapter by Lifeline, "Northwest Passage", ( Forgarty's Cove) is sung by Stan Rogers off the CD by the same name, " Northwest Passage."
To my readers, I apologize that it has taken so long to update. Thank you for your support, and your patience.
