HEART OF A CHAMPION
BY
BOB WRIGHT
AUTHOR'S NOTE: While I had initially considered waiting until next year for the centennial of the Nome Serum Run to write this, lately, this story has been building up in my mind, and I felt it good to get it out while it's ripening. As with A Journey to the Past, this story will blend the actual real life history with the original film's reality. For a full reading of the actual life events, I would strongly recommend Gay and Laney Salisbury's The Cruelest Miles for anyone interested.
Balto and all related characters and indicia are registered trademarks of Universal City Studios and Amblimation. And now, in honor of the men and dogs who almost a century ago gave it all to help others in need-at heart, the true spirit of America-sit back and enjoy the story.
The dogs were barking loudly and excitedly as they tore out of Nome. They sounded happy, ecstatic at their mission. From his position on the ship locked in the ice on the far edge of town, Balto felt the exact opposite as he watched them go. They would likely all be heroes when they returned. All of their names would probably be remembered in Alaska forever. It could have been his name too. It should have been his name too...
With a sad sigh, he turned and walked back towards the wheelhouse. Part of him wished he could be miles away from here. Perhaps there, he could find a place where he wouldn't be judged at first glance. Perhaps there, he would be given fair chances. If only...
He slumped to the floor and stared glumly ahead into space, blankly watching the sled team disappearing up the mail trail until they disappeared from sight and their barking faded into nothing. It was only then that he heard a familiar set of footprints waddling up from the other side of the wheelhouse. There came a few hesitant breaths, signaling Boris was trying to think of the best thing to say under the circumstances. "Well...you did the best you could, Balto. You really did," the snow goose finally said, sounding sympathetic, "If they didn't want to..."
"Steele," Balto muttered softly, "If he hadn't made me look bad, maybe they would have..."
"Balto, some things just aren't meant to be," Boris put a wing around him, "Maybe that was just the way it would turn out, that you wouldn't be on this team. And look at it this way: they'll be going hundreds of miles through blizzards, rough terrain, everything. It'll wear Steele down, and it would probably have worn you down. There'll be other ways, other times..."
"I wanted to be on this team more than anything, Boris. For Rosy, for all the other children in Nome," Balto shook his head softly, "To show them I'm worth something. To help all of them. I wanted to be on this team more than any other team. How can I prove myself now?"
"Well, you're still number one in my book," Boris leaned his neck against him, "Stick with me, boychick; you know I always have your back."
"I know, Boris," Balto managed a small smile before the sadness returned, "But thanks to Steele, no one else probably ever will now." He turned to the snow goose. "Sometimes, Boris, I wish I had wings like you, that I could fly away. I just want to fly away now."
"Now don't say that, Balto you know...where are you going now?" Boris asked worriedly as his friend rose up.
"I need a walk, Boris. And I'd like to be alone when I go," Balto told him with a sad shake of the head. Boris' expression sank. "Oh, OK," he conceded, "Just don't be too long."
"We'll see," was all Balto could say as he walked towards the stern with his head down. He had no idea how long he'd be out. He had no idea what to do about anything at the moment.
Even though it had been no more than a half hour ago that the sled team had left on its mission of mercy, the streets of Nome had rapidly emptied by the time he reached the town limits. This, though, was not surprising. Ever since that night when he had learned the grim truth about what was happening, very few people had been out and about without reason. And all was quieter than usual as he walked down the streets. There wasn't much to celebrate anymore these days as it was, certainly not with seemingly every other house now having a large QUARANTINE sign on the front door. Regardless of how badly too many of Nome's residents had treated him, Balto did not want to see them suffering as too many of them now were. Especially children.
He made his way through the streets until he had reached the hospital-the only place in town now where there was seemingly any life, ironically. Jenna was not outside at the moment-perhaps her family had taken her home or for a walk, he reasoned. She would almost certainly be back to check on Rosy when she had the chance, he knew. He leaned towards the window, his eyes searching for Rosy himself. Within seconds, he had located her on a bed by the far wall-and there was no denying the fact she looked notably worse than the last time he'd seen her. Indeed, she now let out a harsh coughing fit that brought the nearest nurse scrambling over to her bed, and prompted her father, seated next to her, to put an arm around her. Balto appreciated the man's support for her, even if he and Rosy's father didn't have the best of relationships. If only he could do more himself than just look in on her. If only he could do something at all, anything.
He shook his head softly and glanced around the ward. There were at least eight more children that hadn't been there before. The diphtheria was spreading rapidly, he knew. Unless the antitoxin did get back in time, it could conceivably infect every child in town. So, much as he hated to cheer for Steele to do anything, especially after Steele had ruined his chance to be on the team earlier...
His attention was diverted by the sound of sled dogs barking at the far end of the street. He turned with a confused frown: had the team run into trouble and turned back already? As the sled team came closer, though, he saw it was a different set of dogs pulling it, and he did not recognize the musher or the man and woman in the sled's carriage. Balto slipped around the side of the hospital and watched the musher brake it to a stop in front of the building. "Well, here you are, Mr. and Mrs. McDowell," he told the couple, looking unsure, "You both really want to go in there?"
"Well, it's my job, Mr. Evans. My editor's assigned me to this story. Vera, are YOU sure?" the man hesitantly took the woman's hand as she got out of the sled, "You know how dangerous diphtheria is, and..."
"Bob, children are dying. I can't just sit at home and do nothing," the woman told him firmly, "I have some medical experience; they need all the help they can get."
"OK, sweetheart, but I am worried about you..."
"I'll be fine, Bob. It's these kids we should worry about. Look after Laila for me," she handed the heavily bundled-up infant girl in her arms to her husband, then strode to the hospital's front door and knocked on it. "Can I help you?" a nurse stuck her head out the door cautiously.
"Yes, I'm sorry to disturb you, but my name is Vera McDowell, and I'd like to offer to help," the woman told her.
"You would?" the nurse frowned, "Do you have much experience...?"
"I have some. I haven't worked with diphtheria yet, but I think I can pick up the basics quickly."
"Well, I..."
"What is it, Emily?" it was Dr. Welch himself now appearing in the doorway, looking quite tired out and stressed, Balto thought-and under the circumstances, he did understand.
"We have a woman here asking if she can assist with..." the nurse started to explain.
"Wonderful, you're hired, miss," Dr. Welch commended Vera, "We'll take any help we can get at the moment. Your name?"
"Vera McDowell."
"Nice to meet you; Dr. Curtis Welch. Emily, take her and get her started with some of the younger patients. I have to go to another Board of Health meeting to give a status check; I'll be back in an hour," the doctor told her. He slipped on his coat and started trudging up the street. "Doctor, if I'm not interrupting," Vera's husband approached him, still clutching their daughter close, "I'm Robert McDowell, I'm with United Press..."
"Sorry, no interviews, Mr. McDowell. I'm a doctor, not a press agent," Dr. Welch snapped with deep gruffness.
"I understand, Doctor, but I've been sent to get a full picture of how bad things are here in Nome. There's a lot of people down in the Lower Forty-Eight who heard the rumors, and..."
"All right. Come with me, Mr. McDowell; the town's Board of Health can give you the whole story at their next emergency meeting," Dr. Welch said with resignation. He waved the younger man up the street with him. Balto watched them go, then glanced in through the hospital window. Emily the nurse was talking to Vera the newcomer and gesturing into the nearest ward of bedridden children, Rosy among them. Vera's face was visibly crushed with sadness at the sight of them, and told the nurse she'd do whatever it took to help make them better. Balto found himself nodding in satisfaction. Rosy and the others were going to be in good hands no matter how much this new woman knew about medicine. And, he realized deep down, if she was going to take the initiative and do something, that certainly meant there was nothing stopping him from doing the same. Just because he wasn't on the antitoxin team didn't mean he couldn't help the town somehow.
First, though, a little further information on the wider picture could help; having been repeatedly chased out of town since the pandemic had started, he only knew the basics, which were terrible enough as it was. He slowly set off up the street after the doctor and the reporter, shooting one last glance back at the hospital. Rosy would be fine, he assured himself. Jenna would be there to watch over her too, eventually. And God willing, the serum would make it back soon, even if it meant Steele would be the most famous dog in the country.
No one was around to watch him follow the men, who slowly made their way to the telegraph office, its lantern now burning bright outside. A knot of men stood waiting at the door. "Doctor, we've been expecting you," the best-dressed man greeted Dr. Welch.
"I've had three more cases brought in today, Mr. Mayor; the backlog just keeps getting worse," Dr. Welch said grimly, "This is McDowell, he's with the press," he introduced the newcomer.
"Robert McDowell, United Press, I've been sent to give the whole story...forgive me," he apologized to the men as his daughter cried in his arms, "My wife came with me to volunteer at the hospital; she heard the stories and vowed she was going to do something to help. I couldn't dissuade her otherwise. So, I guess I'm looking after Laila here for now."
"Well, we'll take all the help we can get right now," the mayor declared solemnly, "I'm Mayor George Maynard; allow me to introduce the rest of the town's emergency pandemic Board of Health committee: Judge J.C. Lomen and Mark Summers of the town's main gold mining company," he gestured at his associates, "Come on inside the telegraph office and you'll get your whole story, Mr. McDowell, grim though it is."
"Everyone here, Mr. Mayor?" the telegraph operator stuck his head out the door.
"We are now, Ed. This is Ed Wexler, our telegraph operator. He's our voice to the outside world. He'll get your story out, McDowell. Well, shall we?" the mayor gestured everyone inside the office. Balto waited until they had all gone in, then hustled around to the side of the building. A large snowbank had built up since the last few storms, which, once he'd scrambled up to the top, allowed him a view through the telegraph office window, and with the darkness now falling, the men inside couldn't see him outside. "...sent out the message that the team's on their way," the telegraph operator was telling the men, "If everything goes well, they should reach Nenana in about four days. I'm leaving the light on outside as long as there's hope," he gestured at the lantern glowing outside the front window.
"Kaasen's the best driver I have, and Steele's been champion in the races for years. If this team can't do it, no one can," Summers said confidently.
"Still, I'd like to play it safe," the mayor was still worried. "Once this is over, Ed, send out another cable to Representative Sutherland in Washington," he told the telegraph operator, "Tell him I want him to try and pull more strings for a plane..."
"Mr. Mayor, we've been over this before," Dr. Welch interrupted, shaking his head, "There's too many storms over the territory now; it's too dangerous."
"Doctor, I'm talking about saving lives here," the mayor protested, "We have a plane ready to go and that pilot Darling said he'd do anything..."
"George, you saw the reports; he hasn't flown in six years, and his plane's a wreck," Judge Lomen cut him off, "He'd never make it here to Nome."
"There's too much of a risk, Mr. Mayor. If he crashes, we lose any hope for this town," the doctor said firmly, "I wish there was an easier way, but with the pack ice cutting off the harbor, probably until spring, and the planes in bad shape and limited by the weather, the dog sleds are our only hope. If they don't get through..."
He sighed and slumped down in a chair. "It's bad, huh, Doctor?" McDowell asked cautiously, feeding his daughter a bottle of milk.
"This could be the end of this town if the sled team doesn't make it, McDowell," Dr. Welch laid it out for him, "And there's the chance it spreads all through Alaska and wipes out half the population. That's how bad it is."
"I see," McDowell whistled, laying his daughter down on the telegraph office's desk and digging out a notepad and pencil, "If I'm not intruding, Doctor, when did you first realize something was wrong here?"
"Well, it was about four weeks ago," Dr. Welch reminisced, "I got called to check on young Margaret Eide. She had a high fever and sore throat, but I thought it was simply tonsillitis at the time. I gave her the treatment for tonsillitis. She died a few days later. I thought it unusual, but didn't think it could be worse. Maybe I was in denial the whole time, that diphtheria's so terrible, I couldn't face it. A few days later, Billy Barnett's parents brought him in. I took one look at his throat it knew it was diphtheria, no question about it. I did what I could for him-gave him vitamins, swabbed the throat lesions to break them up-but he died too less than two days later. And I knew Nome was in big trouble then."
"And you have no antitoxin for diphtheria at the moment?" the reporter asked, jotting down notes.
"We've been out for at least a year," Dr. Welch shook his head, "A new shipment was supposed to come over the summer, but it never did. Again, the thought of diphtheria's so terrible, I guess everyone in Juneau was in denial it could happen too."
"We should have checked when we had the chance," Judge Lomen muttered gravely, "Should have covered all the bases. Now the harbor's frozen solid till spring, and these blizzards will keep the planes grounded..."
"I'm not giving up on the planes, Your Honor," the mayor remained firm, "Whatever can cut the time down..."
"You're chasing a pipe dream, George. The governor's thrown his support behind the dogs. Trust Kaasen and Steele; they haven't failed us yet," Summers urged him.
"Well, I guess they have earned at least the first try," the mayor conceded. "How many more cases today, Doctor?" he asked Welch.
"Ten more. We're up to twenty-nine confirmed cases now," Dr. Welch put his face in his hands, "My nurses and I are doing everything we can, but until the antitoxin gets here, we're fighting an uphill battle." He rose to his feet and started pacing in a circle, "I know all these kids by heart by now. Bessie Stanley, Marie Winters, Rosy Redington..." (Balto shuddered at the reminder of how personal the pandemic was for him now too). "Seeing them suffering like this, knowing many of them could be dead soon, it just breaks my heart."
"It breaks all our hearts, Doctor," Judge Lomen patted him on the shoulder sympathetically, "No kids should ever have to go through what they are. You're going to keep track of the team's journey back checkpoint by checkpoint, right, Ed?" he asked the telegraph operator.
"Of course, Your Honor. I told the Nenana train station and roadhouse owners to let me know exactly when the team arrives and departs. God willing, they'll be back within a week," the telegraph operator said.
"Assuming no issues, of course," the judge rose to his feet and stared out the front window towards the trail leading out of town, "The blizzards are particularly bad this time of year; one wrong turn in poor conditions, and they'll be well off the trail. Lakes that might not be frozen all the way through, avalanches, massive snowdrifts. And that's not counting if the wolves do anything..."
"Wolves?" McDowell looked up from his notepad.
"Nome's had a long, bad history with wolves since the first prospectors came onshore a quarter century ago," the telegraph operator explained to him, "I know, I was there from the start. They apparently didn't take well to humans coming north, I guess. That's probably why..."
He fell grimly silent. "What happened?" the reporter inquired.
"It was three years after gold was first discovered here in Nome," the mayor began, looking very pained, "It was a dark, snowy night. The town awoke to screams from the houses on the edge of town, and howls and other terrible sounds. The wolves...broke into several houses and tore up seven different families. Women and children too. Including my brother John," he fought back tears, "He tried to protect his family-they found him with a shotgun in hand. It just..."
It was then that Balto, who had been leaning too close to the window for a closer listen, thumped his head hard against it by accident. Every head in the office turned towards him. "You again!" the mayor bellowed, rage and hatred spreading on his face. In a flash, he seized his heavy briefcase from the floor and tore the window open. "Blasted wolf dog, get out of here!" he roared, hurling the briefcase at Balto, who just managed to duck it in time, "You're not stealing anything or hurting anyone in here if I can help it! Get pack to your pack, wolf!"
He flung a spare chair out the window as well. Balto needed no impetus to once again take off running yet again. "Mangy half-wolf; hangs around town all the time, just waiting to do something!" he heard the mayor snarling at the other men inside behind him, "He stole from Fred the butcher the other night, threatened Kaasen after the..."
The window slammed shut, cutting off the rest of his tirade. Balto continued running, the pain of the man's words searing him inside. At least he now knew exactly what Nome had against wolves, which had been a mystery to him before. At the moment, though, he knew what he could do to try and change those feelings-hopefully...
"You're going to do what!?" a disbelieving Boris asked him back on the ship fifteen minutes later.
"I'm going to look for any medicine I can find in neighboring towns," Balto told him firmly, "Even if there's no antitoxin, whatever I can get to them..."
"And do you know exactly what you'll be looking for, Fido?" the snow goose remained unconvinced.
"I think I know how medicine works, Boris..."
"Balto, you don't need to do this. I know the good dog you are; there's no need to prove it to anyone else," Boris protested, "If these people don't..."
"Boris," Balto leaned right in his face, "I saw a woman earlier this evening volunteering at the hospital. She didn't need to do it, but she did. She wasn't going to sit around and do nothing with lives at stake. And neither am I. Even if Steele gets all the credit in the end, I'm doing my part, no matter what it takes."
"Well...if you feel you have to," Boris conceded the point with a reluctant sigh, "But promise you'll be back sooner rather than later. I don't want to be alone with the bears for days on end..."
"Oh come on, Boris, you don't give Muk and Luk enough credit," Balto chided him. His gaze fell towards the hospital's location in town. "Just look after Jenna when you see her," he advised the snow goose, "Make sure she's all right."
"Will do. Just promise you'll be back soon?"
"Promise. Till later, Boris," Balto bid him goodbye before jumping off the boat's stern and quickly making his way across the ice. It would be about a day's journey to the nearest town that he knew of. And hopefully, they would have some spare medical equipment there...