Alive and Alone (16 page)

Grinning, David replied, “Let’s move then, I’d like to spend tonight in a cabin or a tent.  I’m tired of sleeping in the snow and waking up half frozen each morning.”

The two moved forward and the only sound was the crunching of the snow as David’s feet broke though the frozen top layer.  Banks had considered giving the snowshoes to the young man, but David admitted he’d never worn them before and they took some getting use to.  The wind was light, no snow falling, and they both expected to be safe within a few hours.

Mile after cold mile was covered, with short breaks taken at times to avoid overheating and to give David a rest.  Walking in deep snow is very difficult, only those in top physical shape can do it for very long.  Finally, after two hours, they stopped for a quick hot drink and then back on the trail.

Near noon, they saw a group of trees at the base of a mountain and David wanted to scream for joy!  

Banks spoke as he looked at David and grinned, “We’ll be at the trees in a few minutes and then we’ll have to find the source of the smoke.  I see a thin finger of smoke off to the left and we’ll head that direction once we enter the woods.  Keep a lookout for a hunting trail or dog trail leading in that direction.  The odds are there are some trails leading to the open tundra, so all we have to do is find one and follow it back to the cabin.”  

Less than an hour later, the two stood in the falling snow looking at a rough trapper’s cabin made of logs.  Chained dogs were at a shed, a cache with long spider like legs was behind the cabin, and smoke was coming from a crooked stovepipe on the roof.  The dogs began to bark loudly and suddenly door to the cabin opened.  An old man, holding a hunting rifle in his hands, walked out and looked around.

“Hello the cabin!  I am Sergeant Banks of the United States Air Force and there’s been an aircraft crash in the mountains.”

“Airplane crash?  I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout no crash.  Come on in and tell me what in tarnation is a-goin’ on.”

After being out in the cold for days, the heat in the small cabin overwhelmed Dave.  The sides of the old woodstove in the corner were glowing red-hot as they entered.  Placing his gun on a rack near the door, the old trapper turned and asked, “Now, would ya mind tell me what’s goin’ on?”

Banks explained what happened and then said, “The military will be out looking for me with the first break of good weather.”

“Son, that might not be fer weeks yet.  I’ve had the weather sock me in for long periods of time out here.  My name is Thomas Brisk, but my friends all call me Vittles.”  The trapper replied.

David saw the trapper was a short man, maybe just a little over five feet tall, had gray hair and beard, and very alert eyes.  He was dressed in wool clothing and wore snow boots, as well as a wolf skin hat with long earflaps on it.  The flaps were tied up and at times the trapper would squint, as if he once wore glasses and was now forced to be without them.

“Vittles?  How did you come to have a name like that?” David asked as he gave the man a smile.

“I eat a lot and just about anything I can get my hands on too.”  Vittles replied with a low chuckle and then continued, “And, speaking of eating, I’ve got a big pot of stew on the stove so ya both can eat a hot meal in a couple of hours.  Right now, I want the both of ya to change into some dry clothes, have a cup of my coffee, and then get some sleep.”  

“I don’t have any dry clothes.”  David said as he met the old trapper’s eyes.

“Heck fire, son, ya can wear some of mine.  I’m a short feller, so they’ll fit ya I think.  They might be large at the waist, but I’ve got some twine we can tyin’ ‘em up with.  We'll just tie two belt loops together with the twine.”

“I’ve only have long underwear in my backpack.” Banks said as he started unbuttoning his shirt.

Vittles gave a loud laugh and said, “This ain’t no fashion show, so wear ‘em.  In the mean time I rustle up some clean duds fer the boy here.”

As Vittles looked for clothing, David stood by the glowing stove enjoying the warmth.  He was hungry but so tired that his eyes ached.  A few minutes later the trapper returned and handed him a pair of red long johns and the young man quickly changed.  

As soon as David had changed, Vittles pointed to two bunks built into the sides of his cabin and said, “I used to have a partner, until he tried to play tag with a grizzly bear and lost the game.  There are two beds there, so get some sleep.”

Three hours later, Banks woke smelling the food cooking on the stove.  The ever present coffee pot was perking and Vittles was standing by the stove stirring his stew.  David was still sleeping.

“Yer awake now, huh?  This stew'll be done in about thirty more minutes, so get a cup off the sink over there and pour ya some coffee.  The sourdough bread will be done directly.”

“Thanks.  Do you have an emergency radio here by chance?”

“Nope, don’t like ‘em at all. As a matter of fact, I don’t like most electronic gadgets, but I do have a reg’lar radio that runs on batteries.”

“Do you listen to it often?”

Vittles gave a cackle and replied, “During supper I usually listen to the news, just so I have an idear what all them fools in the lower forty-eight are doin’.  Or what people in other parts of the world are doin’ to hurt and kill each other.  See, John, I came out heah to be left alone and to live a quiet life.”

“I can understand that. But, what if there is an emergency or you need help?”

“I’ve a dog team and if need be I can be at a Native village down the river in about two hours, if the river is frozen.  I don’t worry much about those kinds of things, not really.  I fig’er the good Lord has a plan for me, so what happens is his will.”

Banks thought for a moment and then asked, “Can we listen to the news tonight during supper?”

“Why shore, I ain’t got no gripes ‘bout doin’ that.  Now, wake that boy and let’s eat.”

During dinner, they listened to an easy listening station that played what Banks called elevator music.  It was mostly piano music or soft and easy instrumentals.  While it was relaxing, it was not a station Banks would have picked, he liked hard rock and roll or country and western music.  

When the news came on, David and Banks listened as the station reported, “The United States Air Force, Search and Rescue Squadron at Elmendorf Air Force Base, stated today that once the weather clears, rescue flights will continue for the missing son of the late Doctor James Wade. David Wade, the doctor’s son, has been missing since the crash of the Wade family’s private plane over a week ago.  The plane crashed in remote mountains southwest of Anchorage and rescue attempts are hampered by poor weather.  Stay tuned to WWX 92 FM for global news.”

David gave a loud scream of joy, but Banks was silent.  He picked up his coffee, took a small sip and then said, “It may be a while yet before they come.  Right now they can’t get airborne.”

Vittles turned the radio off, gave a crooked grin and said, “Yer both safe heah, so relax John.  When they come you’ll be healthy, so all ya have to do is wait.”

Banks grinned back at Vittles and said, “In the morning we have some signals to make.  I want a large X made out of snow blocks constructed, some fires ready to light, and from now on during the day we have to listen for aircraft in good weather.”

Vittles stood, walked to the sink and pulled out a large piece of raw meat.  Placing it in a huge pot and covering it with a clean dishcloth, he said, “Tomorrow we’ll have bear steaks fer dinner.  I got me a brown bear late this season, so it will be better fixin’s than stew.”

The rest of the evening Banks and David spent looking at magazines Vittles had in box of them under his bed.  Some of the publications were over forty years old and the trapper said the cabin used to belong to his dad.  After his father died, he'd moved here enjoying the solitude.

“How long you been here?”  David looked up from a magazine he was looking through.

“Well, near as I can guess almost twenty years.  I was thirty when I came out with Franklin, he’s the man the bear killed, and I’ve been alone the last five years.”

“How in the world do you survive out here?”

“About six times a year a bush pilot friend of mine drops off some supplies I can’t grow, like salt, pepper, flour and whatnot.  During the summer, I have me a big garden and I grow a lot of veggies fer the comin' winter.  I can most of ‘em in Mason jars and if ya look on the shelf in the kitchen you’ll see ‘em.”

“Don’t you ever get bored?”  Banks asked as he placed his magazine on the bed covers.

“Yep, I get bored during the middle of winter.  I usually take my dog team into Anchorage for the annual fur rendezvous and spend a week there selling pelts and my wood carvings.”

“Could we do that now?”  David asked in an excited voice.

“No, son, the river ain’t froze hard ‘nough yet.  See, if we tried it now we might crack through the ice and end up dead.”

“Any idea how much longer until the ice is thick enough to travel on?”  Banks asked, suddenly interested.

“It’s hard to say, really.  It depends a lot on how cold it gets and how long it stays cold.  If yer thinkin’ what I think ya are, it’ll be at least another month or so.  By then you’ll be long gone.”

“I hope so, but I can’t really say until we’re talking to the aircraft.  Sometimes in search and rescue things happen, so it’s best to prepare for all situations.”  

“I hear ya, but with all the modern contraptions they got these days, I ‘spect you’ll be gone soon,” Vittles said and then gave a big smile.

“Do you have anything else to do here besides magazines?” David asked.

“Shore, under the other bunk is boxes and boxes of books.  I have classics by Edgar Rice Burroughs, O. Henry, James Fenimore Cooper and a bunch more by other writers.  I’ll bet there must be fifty books or more under that bed.”

“So, you read a lot?”  David looked up at the old trapper with questioning eyes.

“Uh-huh and its good fer a feller to read a lot too, especially then the snow starts to fly.”

“Vittles, do you mind if I asked you a question about your past?”  David asked.

“No, son, ask away.”

“What did you do before you became a trapper?”

Vittles laughed, shook his head and said, “Well, in my other life I was a university professor and I taught literature in Florida.  I grew tired of the rat race and came here.”

“No!”

“Yep, I surely did.  I taught for a little over ten years and then one day I asked myself why.  See, I loved teaching, but I was in a rat race along with millions of other folks.  Oh, I still love books, its people I don’t care much for.  So, when a man murdered my wife during a bank robbery and I just gave up on society.  I thought if I came up here for a few months, I’d get over my grief.  Well, I did get over my hurt, but I lost any urge to move back.  I fell in love with the mountains and tundra of Alaska.”

“Looks like you found a new lover, old timer,” Banks stated and smiled warmly at the trapper.

Vittles laughed, shook his head and said, “Nothing can ever take the place of my Linda, but I understand what ya mean.  I’ve given my heart to the frozen north land and have a love for it that equals the love a man feels for any woman.  I can’t really explain it, but I guess most Alaskans know what I mean.  This is one state ya either love or ya hate.”

Banks chuckled and said, “I like it most of the time, but the last few nights were pretty cold out on the open tundra.  And, I’m sure David here had a rougher time of it than I did, because he didn’t have the right clothing.”

“It was cold, but I knew what to do and I did it.  I missed hot food the most though and maybe sleeping warm,” David spoke as he stared off into space, remembering the cold nights alone.

“It's time for us to get some sleep. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow, because we have a lot of work to do.”  Banks said as he stretched out on the bunk.  Then thinking, he asked, “Vittles, where will you sleep?”

“Heck, I’ll make me a pallet right by the stove and sleep as warm as toast.”

“Night Vittles, and thanks for the help.” David said from his bunk.

“Good night, David, and ya get some rest.”

CHAPTER 13

C
APTAINS
ZLOTKOWSKI
AND
BALDWIN
were in the air moving toward the crash site. While the snow continued to fall, it was very light.  The winds had stopped, but the sky had not completely cleared.  The sun was peeking through in a few scattered spots.  As they neared the site of Doctor Wade’s crashed plane, pararescueman William Price went over his gear.  While the young technical sergeant did not expect to be on the ground, if he was needed he’d not be able to check his equipment before he left the aircraft.  Satisfied his gear was in place and in good condition; he leaned back in the orange troop seat and listened to the aircraft communications.

“Zee, let’s do a couple of circles over the site to give Banks time to come up voice on the radio.”

“Not a problem, we can do that.  Pilot to crew, watch outside the aircraft for any signals Banks may have out.  There is always a chance his PRC-90 is broken or has a dead battery.”