FIRE AND ICE (28 page)

“You’re too distrustful,” she told him. She was already gasping for breath. The cold made her lungs feel as though they were freezing and would crack at any second.

“Out here in the wild, would you open the door without a little protection? Never mind, I know the answer. You’d open it.”

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

He was ahead of her, and she couldn’t see him smiling. “Never let what go?”

“I looked out the window and got shot. That’s what.”

Jack thought of Samuel and Anna. Did they ever argue the way he and Sophie did? If so, did they have as much fun?

The terrain was flat, but to Sophie it felt like she was climbing a mountain, a big one. She couldn’t help but notice that Jack wasn’t at all winded. The man was definitely in shape. She ought to know,
she thought, remembering the play of his muscles under her fingertips.

“Didn’t Joe say the homes were close together?” she panted.

“Yes, he did. Must be by Alaska measurements.”

They walked for what seemed a mile before reaching a house, but Jack assured her it wasn’t even a fourth of that. The structure was another prefab building, with one window on the side of the door and two snowmobiles parked beside the steps.

The Native American woman who opened the door looked stunned to see them.

“I don’t think they get a lot of salesmen here,” Sophie whispered to Jack.

She motioned them inside. Sophie sighed with relief when she felt the heat.

Jack asked several questions, but the woman was hesitant with her answers.

“You have a lovely home,” Sophie said.

She then told them where she was from and why she had ventured here. Within minutes, Sophie had the woman telling her her life story. Her name was Mary, and she had three strong children. Her husband was fishing with a neighbor. As Mary became more comfortable with them, she offered information about the village and about her neighbors.

“If one of us had met this man you speak of, all of us would have heard about it. By tonight everyone will know about the woman with the blue eyes and her handsome husband.” She shook her head and with authority said, “No Harrington here. Did this man get lost?”

“No, he had an unfortunate accident. A polar bear killed him.”

Mary nodded sagely. “Ah yes, Barry ate him. We never knew the man’s name. Now we do. William Harrington.”

“Have you ever met the scientists who study the wolves?” Sophie asked.

“No, they keep to themselves. They watch the wolves, and sometimes they watch us. I think maybe they study us, too.”

Mary insisted on feeding them. Knowing it would insult her to refuse the kind offer, Sophie spoke up before Jack declined. “We just ate before we came here, but I would love something hot to drink, please.”

While Mary brewed tea, she told them about the other villagers. Later, she pointed the way to the three neighbors she knew to be home.

They spent the next hour knocking on doors and asking questions.

As they left the last house, Sophie said, “We should have listened to Mary. She told us no one saw Harrington, and she was right. She’s a sweet woman, isn’t she?”

Jack nodded. “You put her at ease.”

“Do you think we could stay inside the empty cabin Joe told us about? I’m freezing. The cold seems worse since I got warm at Mary’s house.”

He put his arm around her shoulders. “Sure. I think we’re through here. Chipper should be back soon.” He pointed to a small wooden building sitting fifty yards off in the distance. “That should be it over there,” he said.

He pulled her close as they made their way to the cabin, and Sophie prayed that there was a heater inside ready to start.

“I guess I may never know why Harrington came here,” Sophie admitted.

They walked up the two steps to the door. Jack reached for the handle just as a loud crack split the air and splintered the wood, the chips flying past Sophie’s face. His reaction was instantaneous. He threw the door open and shoved Sophie inside, covering her with his body as she landed on the floor.

A
NOTHER CRACKLING BOOM. IT SOUNDED AS THOUGH INOOK
had been snapped in half by a demonic force. Jack kicked the cabin door shut and dragged Sophie out of the line of fire.

Stunned, she whispered, “Was that—?”

“High-powered rifle. Stay down!” Jack’s voice was hard, angry.

He didn’t have to tell her again. Her mind took a few seconds to grasp the horror of someone trying to kill them, but her body reacted instantly.

Jack ripped his glove off and, gun in hand, rolled next to the window. He leaned against the wall, listening to the silence, waiting for some sound that would tell him where the shot had been fired. Ten seconds passed. Ten more. Nothing. He slowly edged up to look out the corner of the window. Impossible to see much of anything. The wind was stirring up the snow on the ground, and more was falling.

Sophie crawled on her stomach to the far wall, then quietly turned and sat with her back against a cabinet. She looked around the cabin, searching for anything that would help them defend
themselves. It was sparsely furnished with a table and chair, a cabinet, and a cot. A thick drape meant to keep out some of the cold was pulled back on a hook beside the small window, which was their only source of light.

Another round of bullets slammed into the wall outside. Some of them spit through, hitting the table and chair.

“Get behind the chest!” Jack shouted.

Sophie hurried to do what he ordered and crouched down just as a bullet hit a can on a shelf above her. Pork ’n Beans. The can spun around, flew into the wall, and crashed to the floor.

The shooter was getting bolder, coming closer. Jack heard the sound of a motor humming in the distance. He looked out again and through the snow saw a light bouncing across the flat area where Chipper had landed the plane. It had to be a snowmobile. The beam of light was widening, and the sound of the motor getting louder.

“No matter what, you stay down,” Jack shouted to Sophie.

“Careful, Jack. Careful … please.”

Sophie watched him turn and reach for the door handle. He cracked it open an inch, no more. Stretching out his arm, he aimed the gun and waited for the snowmobile to stop. It was still too far away. He needed it to come within range.

“A little closer. Just a little closer,” he said, deadly calm.

He got his wish. The snowmobile moved toward the cabin. When it stopped, the shooter turned the motor off but left the spotlight on as he swung his leg over and stood next to it, raising his rifle again. As though realizing he could be seen in the light, he lowered his weapon and leaned across the shield to turn off the beam.

For an instant he was in the light. That was all the time Jack needed. Shoving the door open with one hand, he fired with the other. The first bullet wounded the man in his shoulder and spun him around. The second bullet went through his neck. He was dead before he hit the ground.

The wind blew the door toward Jack, and he held it back with his arm as he scanned the area, looking for another target. Motioning for Sophie to stay where she was, Jack disappeared into the snow

Sophie lay trembling for what seemed an eternity. She felt helpless. There was no signal on her cell phone, and the people in the tiny village didn’t have telephones, so there was no way to call for help. Every minute Jack was gone felt like an hour. What was happening? Was he all right? Why didn’t he come back?

The cabin was as cold as a meat locker, and her teeth chattered violently. She couldn’t wait any longer. She got up and ran to the door. Just as she reached for the handle, it opened. Jack was coming up the steps holding the shooter’s rifle in his left hand.

He wrapped his right arm around her and pulled her back inside, bolting the door. After lighting a candle that sat on the table, he looked around for something that would warm the room.

Sophie cautiously edged her way to the window and glanced outside. She saw the dead body sprawled on the snow. “Where did he come from?” she asked. Before he could answer, she thought about the village.“What about Mary and the others?” she worried.

“If they’re smart, they’ll lock their doors and stay inside.”

Sophie could barely make out the shapes of the houses in the distance. She couldn’t see any signs of movement. Again she looked at the dead man.

“What are we going to do?” she asked.

“For now, we’ll stay put,” he answered. “If no one else shows up, we’ll move the body. Someone might come after him.”

Jack had found a kerosene heater and was lighting it. Sophie rubbed her arms and stomped her feet while he got the heater working. The rifle he’d taken from the dead man lay on the table. It had a scope on top.

“Who was he, Jack?” she asked.

“I’ve never seen him before. Do you recognize him? Maybe you saw him in Deadhorse or Barrow.”

“I can’t see his face from here,” she answered. She dropped the curtain across the window.

Jack walked over to stand in front of her. Her face was pale, and she was trembling. He surrounded her with his arms and tilted her chin up. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

She grabbed hold of the collar of his jacket, drawing him to her. “I know. And I’m not going to let anything happen to you. You’ve got a gun. Can I have the rifle?”

“You think you can handle it?”

“If you show me how.” She glanced at the door. “Why is this happening? Why would anyone want to shoot at us?”

“I don’t know,” he answered, “but I’m going to find out.”

“Where did he come from?” she asked again. “Mary told us the men in the village wouldn’t be back until late.”

“His snowmobile came from the east,” he said. “The only thing in that direction is the scientists’ camp.”

“I remember,” Sophie said excitedly. “Chipper told us the people staying there have all the latest equipment. If they have a satellite phone, we could call the police in Barrow and get some help.”

“We’ll wait it out until Chipper gets here. We can’t take any chances.”

“How can you be so calm?”

“Practice,” he said.

Jack managed a quick smile, but inside he was in a rage. He wanted to shoot the bastard a couple more times. He crossed the room to stand next to the window, moving the curtain aside just enough to watch the area in front of the cabin. Minutes passed and no one else appeared.

Finally, he said, “I’m going to move the snowmobile and the body behind the cabin. You barricade the door behind me.”

“Oh no, you don’t,” Sophie cried. “I’m not waiting in here without you again.”

“Then stay behind me,” Jack cautioned. He went out first. It was deadly quiet now, the silence eerie.

Sophie followed Jack to the snowmobile. The halo of blood around the shooter’s head was black against the white snow. Bracing herself, she looked at his face.

She gasped. “I know him.”