“Chances are he’s already scented our dogs. That means he won’t rest until he’s checked out the possibilities firsthand.”
“Tied to their tethers like they are, they won’t stand a chance,” said Redmond.
“Not only that, after he finishes off the dogs, he’ll most likely come after us,” added the Inuit all too seriously.
A pained expression crossed Jack Redmond’s face.
“I’ve had my fair share of bear troubles this week, Sergeant-Major. Any ideas on how we can solve our problem? I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough of this damn wind. And besides, I was looking forward to snuggling up in my blanket and cutting some z’s.”
While waiting for some sort of response, Redmond noted that the Inuit’s glance had suddenly shifted. As Cliff Ano’s narrow gaze centered on that portion of the clearing directly behind his commanding officer, Redmond sensed the approach of trouble.
“Your prayers have just been answered. Lieutenant,” managed the Inuit in the barest of whispers. “Just stay cool and don’t make any sudden moves.”
Redmond’s pulse quickened as he whispered back.
“Is it the bear?”
The Inuit nodded that it was and smoothly flicked off the safety of his rifle. Then in one smooth movement he pushed Jack Redmond aside and let loose a deafening volley of gunfire. By the time Redmond regained his balance and pivot ted to put his own weapon into play. Cliff Ano had squeezed off the last 5.56mm bullet of his thirty-round clip.
It only took one look at the mammoth, bloodstained body lying motionlessly at the edge of the clearing less than ten yards away for Redmond to lower the sights of his rifle. The polar bear lay fully extended, as if the Inuit had caught it while it was in the midst of a charge. It was at least twelve feet tall, its sinewy muscles still twitching in the last throes of death.
“Sweet Jesus!” managed Redmond as he slowly approached the bear and viewed its deadly razor-sharp claws.
“I’m sorry I had to ruin the pelt,” offered the Inuit coolly. “An experienced hunter can take Tornarsuk out with a single shot to the head, thus insuring that the skin will be free from bullet holes.”
While yanking out his commando knife, the Inuit added, “Ever have a fresh polar bear steak. Lieutenant? Though it might taste a bit strong to you at first, you’ll soon enough get used to it. I guarantee you, our dogs are certainly going to be in for a feast this evening. Why tomorrow they’ll be strong enough to pull the sled all the way to Lancaster Sound and back without even stopping to catch their breaths!”
Ootah’s search for the fiery comet he’d seen falling from the sky on the day of his father’s death took him far up the coastline. With Akatingwah and their son riding on the sled that Ootah had originally built for Nakusiak, they began this pilgrimage.
Fortunately, they still had walrus meat left over from his last kill, so they could travel without the time-consuming chore of stopping to hunt.
Arnuk, his lead dog, seemed to sense the importance of this journey, and led the pack onward with untiring effort. Still not certain what, if anything, they’d find at the end of this trek, Ootah chose their course by dead reckoning. Perpetually etched in his mind’s eye was the fiery exploding wheel he had watched soar through the dawn sky, and the resonant, earsplitting boom that had shaken even the pack ice beneath him. Thus, he needed no white man’s compass to lead them onward.
The fractured ice made their progress slow, and whenever Ootah’s doubts clouded this mission’s purpose, he had only to touch the bone amulet that hung from his neck. Carved by the hands of Anoteelik, his grandfather, this sacred charm inspired Ootah to push on. For how could he ever forget the horrifying nightmare he had shared with Nakusiak?
During this dream, his mother had journeyed from the land of the dead to warn of the great evil that would soon be upon them. Surely this vision was a presentiment of things to come, for Nakusiak’s body was still warm in his grave when the very sign he had warned of filled the dawn sky with a fiery brilliance.
The tales of the grandfathers told of this very same event. And if the time of prophecy was indeed upon them, it was now up to Ootah to appease the great evil that had fallen from the sky and been subsequently released in the frozen land of the people. This responsibility was a great one, and Ootah did not take it lightly. For to fail meant utter calamity, as the land would be cleansed with fire and the people would be no more.
Try as he could, Ootah had valiantly tried to keep his thoughts pure ones. But he was only a man, and as such was subject to the weaknesses that each and every member of his species shared.
Consigning himself to do his best, Ootah relentlessly pushed his team further up the coastline. A vicious wind began blowing in from the north, and when a line of black clouds began gathering on the horizon, he knew that a storm would soon be upon them. A moment of indecision followed, in which Ootah was caught between halting and immediately building a snow house or continuing on to reach his mysterious goal. As the fates would have it, it was Arnuk’s incessant barking that convinced Ootah to push the sled onto the ridge of the next ice hummock.
With the storm continuing to develop on his left, he looked out onto a massive snow-covered plateau located at the very edge of the frozen sea.
Scattered throughout this plain were thousands of bits of fire-charred debris. And at that moment, Ootah knew that his pilgrimage was over.
Their first priority was to build a snow house.
Ootah, Akatingwah and their son joined in to help with the construction of this domed structure in which they would ride out the rapidly advancing storm. Ootah planned to begin his exploration of the debris field that surrounded them as soon as the igloo was completed. Yet no sooner was the last rectangular block in place than the blizzard was upon them.
Rushing outside, Ootah began to work on a windbreak for his dogs. The snow was falling thickly by this time, and as he hurried to complete building this protective barrier, it was Arnuk’s mad yelping that convinced him to temporarily abandon his efforts and see what was upsetting his lead huskie so.
Ootah loosened Arnuk’s tether and the dog went dashing out onto the plain. The snow was falling so heavily that Ootah lost sight of the huskie in a matter of seconds. Yet knowing full well that Arnuk would not run away like this on a mere whim, Ootah reluctantly trudged out into the gathering drifts to see where the dog had run.
The howling gusts penetrated even his double thick caribou fur parka, and Ootah was set to abandon his quest when Arnuk came bounding through the snow. After briefly nuzzling his master’s legs, Arnuk once again turned away from the campsite.
Yet this time the huskie proceeded at such a pace that Ootah could readily follow him.
After climbing up a jagged ice-filled ridge, the Inuit was in the process of questioning his dogs’ sanity when the alien flash of a blinking light suddenly caught his attention. Emanating from the opposite base of the ridge he had just scaled, this flickering light had an intense reddish glow to it, and easily cut through the falling snowflakes. Arnuk could be seen furiously pawing into the adjoining drift, and Ootah decided that this mysterious object certainly deserved a closer look.
Paying little attention to the bone-chilling winds, the Inuit slid down the ridge and approached the blindingly bright light that continued flashing in short staccato blasts. With Arnuk’s help, Ootah merely had to kneel down and lift the now-uncovered object out of the drift it had been buried in.
It was shaped like a small box, and considering its size was surprisingly heavy. Its four sides were painted jet black. The flashing red light was mounted firmly on its lid. A warm glow emanated from its interior, and could be felt even through Ootah’s thick fur mittens. Anxious to see what it contained, the Inuit decided to carry it back to the igloo to share this amazing discovery with Akatingwah.