Cold Spell
Chapter 7
Frank spent a miserable night, and by morning he was exhausted and his lips were chapped. He'd starting tooting on the whistle at five minute intervals in case his brother was within hearing distance. Each blast was about a minute in duration – enough time to give Joe a new bearing, if he needed one.
The wolves had unnerved him at first, but once they stopped howling, he didn't hear anything from them and hoped they moved on. He knew that by nature, the large predators were shy around humans but he wasn't sure if that included tundra wolves that probably had not seen very many people before – but he was hoping!
The teen was also counting on this time of year with having provided them with enough food sources not to give him much thought – that was what he was hoping, anyway.
Of course he had no way of knowing just how wrong he was….
His other thought, that maybe the wolves had moved on after Joe, was one that he quickly dismissed. Can't be thinking like that, he scolded himself as he stood outside the burrow and looked around.
The wind had died down overnight, and in a rapid twist of tundra weather, the temperature had risen, and with it came a thick fog bank that enveloped the barrens like a heavy gray blanket.
Frank took off his grey parka and laid it inside the lair entrance. His thick woolen sweater provided him with ample warmth now, maybe even too much if he did anything today more strenuous than picking berries or boiling water.
Sighing, he looked down at the fire pit and decided to get it started after he signaled again. He was feeling the beginning of a lightheaded hunger headache.
Taking out the whistle, he gave another minute-long toot, licking his lips afterwards and hoping the first aid kit – when it got here – had lip balm!
He didn't know whether to hope his brother could hear him or not.
The selfish part of him hung onto the idea that Joe was on his way back at this very moment, while the responsible part of him prayed he wasn't, and that the younger boy had stayed wherever he'd bunked down for the night, instead of risking getting loss in this pea soup!
"For the night," Frank said sarcastically, his voice loud and foreign-sounding in the early grey morning, "that would insinuate darkness…a change from the daytime even—" he stopped his rant before it got any further.
"Man this twenty-four day is hard on the nerves!" And it was; he'd sat awake all night in the semi-gloom of his 'house,' poking his head out long enough to signal, and then going back in. And although his watch counted off the mid-night hours, his mind found it hard to digest. How could it be the same at three in the morning as three in the afternoon?
Frank knew it was just the strain beginning to show. They'd only been here two nights and he was already beginning to feel a growing agitation at the lack of progress of anything!
At least Joe was doing something!
An hour later, after he successfully revived the fire, and ate as many berries and arctic willow as his stomach could handle, Frank was feeling a bit better, and his mind turned to one of the problems at hand – fishing!
That pond had fish in it, he was sure of it. He just needed some way to get the fish out of the pond and onto his food chain.
As he thought about the problem, his eyes wandered over the front end wreckage and he shuddered again. Frank really had no idea how in the world they had survived the crash – they should have been dead!
It was incredibly lucky that the only plane that had been available on such short notice was actually larger than the small Cessnas that the teen usually flew – more a mid-sized plane than anything. If it had been any smaller Frank knew they wouldn't have survived at all.
And that was another thing bugging him.
The teen really wished he knew what had happened. The only thing he was sure was that it wasn't pilot error or distraction - Joe wasn't even sitting beside him at the time!
Frank was a very conscientious pilot and paid the utmost detail to everything! Joe, not a huge fan of flying at the best of times, had been dozing on a passenger seat a little behind Frank just before the engine stalled.
Normally his brother sat beside him, but as Frank looked at what was left of the pilot and co-pilot seats right now, he was thankful that Joe had decided there was more room behind him for stretching out. The whole co-pilot section of the plane was smashed almost completely into the ground. Joe would have been killed instantly.
He vaguely wondered how hard it was going to be to get his brother back in a plane now, as he never liked it much before, and only flew because he had to.
As Frank mused about that for a couple more moments, he looked at where he himself had been sitting, amazed by his own survival.
"Can't think about it," he thought, "it didn't happen and we're both all right. Now, time to focus on fishing."
And then he grinned – he had an epiphany!
Humming to himself, he headed towards the front end of the plane and began tugging on the various wires he saw. Pretty soon he had a couple of pieces that he thought might do the trick.
Stripping back the plastic coating a couple of inches, he exposed the actual wire. Intertwining a couple of pieces of the exposed wire together, he made it stiff and then bent it up.
Holding up his handiwork, the dark hair boy grinned and proudly announced, "Voila! One fishing hook, sloppily tied!"
Taking another minute to stop and signal for his brother again, Frank grabbed a handful of berries for bait, and started his trek towards the pond. It was foggy but he knew exactly where he was going!
With him he also took extra wire – in case he needed to make another hook, and also, in an optimistic hope that he could use them to string his catch on!
The teen was almost drooling at the thought of fresh fish – trout, most likely!
Three hours later, he was not as impressed. If there were any fish in that pond at all, they didn't like berries! He understood that fishing took a great deal of patience but this was ridiculous!
Grumbling, he pulled his line back in and frowned. Now what?
The only thing exciting that had happened since sitting down here hours earlier, was that he'd had a chance to become acquainted with yet another aspect of tundra wildlife – insects!
As he absently kept up a constant swatting action with one hand and jiggling the fishing 'line' with the other, he realized that the wind did have one advantage – it kept these little blood suckers away!
And then he got another idea….
Twenty minutes later, sweating heavily and out of breath, Frank proudly changed the bait on his hook to one he was sure the trout would have a hard time saying no to – a small grasshopper!
"Oh little grasshopper," he cooed to the insect before dropping the line back into the water, "You were a worthy foe. Seldom have I met such a flighty adversary…or one so charmingly green!"
Chuckling at the memory of the 'hunt,' Frank was sure he'd made quite a spectacle of himself trying to catch this one insect, and he was only too happy his brother wasn't here to witness it…but if he caught a fish, it would be more then worth it!
And then he grinned; if Joe had been here, he'd have gotten him to be the bug catcher!
"Now to do some serious fishing," he quipped. "Enough practice for the Frank-ster."
Fifteen minutes later, he got a bite….
Barely daring to breathe, Frank slowly worked the fish towards the edge of the pond – he was terrified he'd lose it when he was so close….
He could already smell the fish sizzling over the fire…and his mouth watered.
Exhaling loudly, Frank finally got the wriggling fish out of the water, the whole time praying the 'hook' didn't bend. He let out a wild shout as the fish dropped safely onto the ground – a good lunch assured. "YAHOO! CITY BOY DOES GOOD! WHO'S THE MAN?"
And then he heard a loud snort behind him and turning slowly, he froze.
"Oh crap," he whispered, "I think I preferred the wolves…"
Lumbering towards him, grunting and snorting as it did, was a huge brown grizzly bear. And that bear had his eyes firmly fixed on the wriggling fish at Frank's feet!