The Moose Jaw (34 page)

“Meat?”

“Never mind,” he said.  “We’ll bring out whatever we can carry.  Get some rest.  I’ll be back in an hour.”

I have no idea how long it actually was but, eventually, he came back and woke me up and gave me another cup of water.

“How you doing?” he asked.  “Think you can walk a little, or am I going to have to carry you to the plane?”

“I’ll walk.  Just help me sit up and get my feet on the floor.”

He did.  When I was upright I was overcome with a wave of dizziness and nausea.  I put my head between my knees and closed my eyes.

“Give me a minute, will ya?”

He patted my back and went outside.  I heard him slamming the lid on the Coleman and banging and clanging pots and pans.  He came back in and deposited my outdoor kitchen on the table.

“We’ll clean up this mess tomorrow.  You think you’re ready to walk?”

I wasn’t sure, but the dizziness and nausea had passed.  There didn’t seem much point in putting it off.

“I guess.” I answered.

He took my field jacket off the peg, and brought it to the bed and draped it over my shoulders.  Then he got an arm around me and helped me to my feet.  A spear of pain shot through my right side.  He looked at me with genuine concern.  I tried to smile.

“Ribs,” I said.  “Maybe it’s best if I just sort of lean on your arm.” 

He removed the arm he had clamped around me.  The pain lessened but didn’t go away altogether.

“That’s better,” I said.  “Let’s go.”

It wasn’t as bad as I’d anticipated.  The fresh, cold air revived me somewhat and the activity got my blood pumping.  By the time we were halfway to the landing strip I was actually beginning to believe I’d survive.

When we finally got to his airplane Haywood didn’t waste any time.  He helped me through the door and strapped me into my seat.  I leaned my head back against the headrest and the next thing I recall was the roar of the engine and the gravitational forces pulling my back and butt against the seat as we lifted off the bar.  I slept the whole way back.

I woke up briefly when we landed at Fairbanks.  Then dozed off again while he taxied into the little service area where he kept his plane.  An ambulance met us and two paramedics helped me out of the plane and onto a litter.  Before I could protest they had me into the back of the ambulance, and we were off to the hospital.  Haywood promised to swing by as soon as he’d finished dealing with the meat and the plane.

Doctor Scanlon was duly impressed with Haywood’s field repairs.  He gave me a good going over but could find nothing that needed redoing.  He said the fishing line my friend had used for the stitches was a bit unorthodox, but it would do the trick; he hadn’t bothered to replace it with proper suture material.  He showed me the X-rays of my rib cage and pointed out that only one was cracked.  Three others were bruised and would give me some pain, but they were not fractured.  He handed me a small plastic bottle of pills and said they were for the pain and asked me when I had my last tetanus booster.  I told him two years ago and he nodded and scribbled something on his clipboard.  Then he prescribed a series of antibiotics, a few days of bed rest, and told me I could go home whenever Haywood came to collect me.

I thanked him and asked, “When did they bring me in?”

He was still making notes on his clipboard and didn’t look up. “Yesterday afternoon.”

“Well,” I told him, “I think Haywood went back out to the Moose Jaw today.  He probably won’t be back until late tonight or tomorrow morning.  Do you need the bed?”

He laughed.  “Not really.  You’re welcome to stay overnight.  Let’s say, for observation.  You can rest as well here as anywhere.  I’ll have them move you to another room if you don’t mind.  You don’t really need to be in ICU.”

“I.C.U.?  Intensive care?”

He nodded.  Just a precaution.  Standard procedure with a bear attack.  You came off surprisingly well, considering.  The physical and psychological damage is usually much more severe.   The bear didn’t cause much trauma and your friend did the best field surgery I’ve ever seen.  If the nightmares don’t get you, you’ll be fine.”

“I don’t think I’ll have any nightmares,” I answered.  “It happened so fast I didn’t get much material to base one on.”

He laughed again.  “So I understand.  It’s quite a story.”  He paused for a moment.  “Speaking of which – the story is out.  A reporter from our local T.V. channel wants an interview when you’re up to it.  I put her off for a while, but she’ll be back.  You’ll need to be ready to talk about the experience.  I’d recommend it, in fact.  Talking about it can be therapeutic.”

“O.K.,” I said.  “Not just yet though.  Let me get a few hours more sleep.”

Doctor Scanlon agreed, made a few more notes on the clipboard, hung it on the end of my bed and left.

I nodded off for a bit, then the nurse came in with an orderly.  They helped me out of the bed and into a wheelchair, then pushed me down the hall to an elevator.  We went up or down a couple floors, the doors opened and they rolled me down another hall, around a corner and into a new room.  It was a semi-private room but the other bed was vacant.  The orderly waited while the nurse tucked me in.  When they left, I nodded off again.

The phone woke me.  It was Bernie Clive, a reporter for the Fairbanks Daily News-Miner.  He wondered if he could have a few minutes of my time.  Face to face would be best, but a short chat over the phone would be O.K.  I opted for the phone interview.  He asked what had happened and I briefed him.  He wanted to know about the bear – species, size, male-or-female, etc.  I told him it was a grizzly, real big, and our relationship had been so brief I couldn’t really attest to its sex.  He liked that, and asked if he could quote me.  Sure, why not.

Five minutes later the phone rang again.  Karina Romanov, KXFX - Channel 7 News.  Would I mind if she came to visit?  Sure, why not?  Could she bring her cameraman?  Fine.  Would later today be O.K.?  I’d prefer tomorrow morning.  Well, gee, if that was the earliest I could manage.  It was.  O.K. then, she’d see me first thing in the morning.

By now I was fully awake and getting very hungry.
  The clock radio on the bedside stand seemed to think it was only three in the afternoon.  My stomach insisted it was dinnertime.  I pressed the “nurse call” button.  A pert, well-starched nurse appeared in less than a minute.  Good hospital.  I asked her when dinner was served.  She consulted her watch.

“Not for another couple of hours, I’m afraid.  Getting hungry?”

I told her I was, and she was sympathetic but said I’d just have to wait.  She could get me a drink if I liked.  I told her no, it was alright, I’d manage.  She smiled and left.

I picked up the bedside phone and dialed information.

A perky female voice answered.  “Directory Assistance.  What city please?”

“Fairbanks.”

“What listing, please?”

“Domino’s Pizza”

“Big Al’s is better.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“Oh! Sorry – one minute, please, I’ll get you the number for Domino’s.”

“No, no.  Hang on.  What did you say about Big Al’s?”

“Big Al’s is much better.  I know I’m just supposed to tell you the number you asked for, but I’m also supposed to be “Information”, right?  My brother works at Big Al’s.  Their pizza’s the best in town.”

I loved this girl.  “O.K.”  I told her, “Big Al’s it is.  What’s the number?”

There was no “one minute, please”, this time.  She knew the number off the top of her head.  She gave it to me.  “I can connect you direct for an additional fifty cents if you like.”

Why not?  “O.K.,” I said,” but before you do, what’s your name?”

“We are not allowed to give out personal information,” she said.  “My name is Wendy.  My brother’s name is Phil.  He’s working today.”

The line went dead and then I heard a series of tones beeping out the number for Big Al’s.

I asked for Phil and there was a brief pause before he came on line.  I told him Wendy had sent me and he laughed.  Said she was their best salesperson.  I ordered a large special and a giant coke.  He asked for my name and address.   I told him I was Gus O’Neill, and gave him the name of the hospital and room number.  He was dubious.  “Can we do that?”

“Sure, why not?  I can have visitors.  Send me a visitor with a pizza!”

“O.K.,” he said. “Give us half-an-hour.

I lay back on the fluffy pillow and used the remote to click on the T.V.  Civilization did have its points.

***

  
Haywood showed up at eight the next morning.
  I was up, shaved, showered and ready to go.  It didn’t take long to check out.  I think certain members of the staff were glad to be rid of me.  There’d been a little fuss over the pizza when it arrived and then, at seven that morning, Karina Romanov and her Channel 7 News crew had come barging in insisting on an interview.  The duty nurse had held them at bay as long as she could but, in the end, with my permission, she let them through.  Karina was young and energetic, and knew what she was doing.  She wasn’t the super model cutie type reporter you see on the tube in the major markets; she was short and stocky and looked like a peasant out of a Chekhov novel.  But she was good.  It was over in five minutes.  A few quick questions about the incident and a description of the bear was all the background she required.

“Could you please stay in bed and look a little more mangled?  Yes, that’s the idea.  Freddie, let’s try to get the shot from this angle so we can get all that equipment in frame.  Great, it’s in the can.  Thank you.  Should be on Evening News 7 at 7.  Good-bye.”  And they were out the door.  I guess news crews are the same everywhere.

When Haywood arrived the first thing I told him was that I was hungry.  I’d missed breakfast due to the Channel 7 interview.  The hospital was good, but a guy could starve if he spent much time there.  Aside from hunger, I was feeling quite well.  My stitches itched a little, and my shoulder was still sore, but my ribs didn’t trouble me as long as I didn’t breathe too deeply or, God forbid, cough.  But, I could get in and out of bed unassisted, and I’d already taken a couple of short walks up the hall under my own power. 

When the paperwork was completed and I was released, I tried to refuse the mandatory wheelchair escort but – it was mandatory.  I think they just wanted to make damned sure I left the hospital.  A male nurse wheeled me out the sliding glass doors, while Haywood walked alongside.  He was unusually quiet this morning.  Clearly, something was troubling him.  I didn’t press him.  It would come out when the time was right.

He had parked his pick-up in one of the “Reserved for Doctor” slots.  Well, after all, he was a doctor.  When we were both strapped in, he drove out the Entrance Only and made an illegal left turn to get us heading back toward downtown.

We stopped at the North Slope Café, one of Haywood’s favorite haunts, and had heaping platters of ham and eggs with home fried potatoes.  Haywood filled me in on his return trip to the Moose Jaw as we ate.

He’d conscripted Hard Case to fly in with him
to help with the skinning and butchering   Haywood explained that they had arrived back at The Varmitage just after ten o’clock, yesterday morning.  They had a little trouble with a young grizzly boar that had laid claim to Haywood’s moose carcass, and had to fire shots to run him off before they could fetch the antlers.  The hide and skull were so thick it had taken them nearly an hour of hard cutting and sawing bone to get them off.  Then they hadn’t been able to fit them into the plane.  They measured sixty-eight inches across, and that was eight inches too long, no matter how they maneuvered them.  Finally, they just strapped them across the struts of the landing gear.   After lunch, they had gone back in to skin out my bear.  Guess what?  It was gone.

“Gone?” I was incredulous.

“Gone.” Haywood said flatly.  Now I knew what had been troubling him.

He went on.  “We took the direct route back to the beaver pond.  I showed Hard Case where I’d found you on the dike.  Our tracks were still there in the mud.  So were your guns.  I’d taken them with me when I left the dead bear to go looking for you.  Had to leave them on the dike so I could carry you back to the cabin.  Then we followed my backtrail into the trees to the spot where the bear jumped you.  No bear.  We looked the place over good.  Hard Case is one of the best crime scene detectives in Alaska.  He went over everything inch-by-inch.  Not only was there no bear – there was no sign a bear had ever been there.”

He forked a large piece of ham into his mouth and chewed pensively.

“You sure you went back to the right place?”

He swallowed, took a sip of his coffee and nodded.

“I’m sure.  Your jacket was still there, right where you dropped it.  I hadn’t bothered with it when I picked up your guns.  It was ruined, so I left it.  We brought it out with us yesterday.  Hard Case wants to have the bloodstains checked out.  Aside from the jacket, there was no evidence there had even been a struggle.”

‘Here we go again,’ I thought.  “No evidence?”
I said.  “What about bear tracks?”

He shook his head. “Lots of tracks, your tracks, my tracks, even a few new wolf tracks, but no bear tracks.”

“Well,” I said, trying to keep my voice down.  “I know I didn’t imagine the fucking bear.  He was for real.  These claw marks are for real, and my ribs are for real, and I sure as hell didn’t tear up my own jacket.”

He looked as agitated as I felt.  “You don’t have to convince me,” he said.  “I saw the son-of-a-bitch.  Pulled your damned .44 out of his mouth.  I even grabbed him by the ear to roll his head over so I could get a better look at the hole you blew in it.  He was real alright – day before yesterday, at least.”

“What did Hard Case make of it?”

He looked at me across the table for a long time, then forked another piece of ham into his mouth and chewed slowly.

“That’s hard to say.  He seemed to take it all in stride.  He just sort of took off his friend hat and put on his cop hat, and started asking questions.  In the end, I told him the whole thing; about the woman that was, and then wasn’t; about the dead men and the lodge that were there one day, and gone the next.  Hope you don’t mind, but I had to tell him, there was no way around it.”