The tenth circle, p.29
The Tenth Circle,
p.29
He unzipped his jacket. Before theyd left, hed packed a duffel full of winter gear; he and Laura were pretty much wearing everything theyd brought all at once. It was cold in Maine, but nothing compared to what it would be like in the Eskimo villages.
The woman hung up. Hi. Can I- She broke off as the phone rang again.
Frustrated, Daniel turned away. Impatience was a trait you developed in the lower forty-eight, an attribute that a child who grew up here didnt possess. Time wasnt the same on the tundra; it stretched to elastic lengths and snapped back fast when you werent looking. The only things that really operated on a schedule were school and church, and most Yupiit were late to those anyway.
Daniel noticed an old man sitting on a chair, staring. He was Yupik, with the weathered skin of a person whod spent his life outside. He wore green flannel pants and a fur parka. Aliurturua, the man whispered. Im seeing a ghost.
Not a ghost. Daniel took a step toward him. Cama-i.
The mans face wrinkled, and he reached for Daniels hand. Alangruksaaqamken. You amazed me, showing up unexpectedly.
Daniel had not spoken Yupik in fifteen years, but the syllables flowed through him like a river. Nelson Charles had, in fact, taught him his very first Yupik words: iqallukfish, angsaqboat, and terren purruaqyou suck the meat off an asshole, which is what Nelson told him to say to kids who made fun of him for being kassaq. Daniel reached for Laura, who was watching the exchange with amazement. Una arnaq nulirqaqa, he said. This is my wife.
That kinds pretty, Nelson said in English. He shook her hand but didnt look her in the eye.
Daniel turned to Laura. Nelson used to be a substitute teacher. When the native kids got to go on field trips to Anchorage that were subsidized by the government, I wasnt allowed to go because I was white. So Nelson would take me on my own little field trip to check out fishnets and animal traps.
Dont teach these days, Nelson said. Now Im the race marshal.
That would mean, Daniel realized, that Nelson had been here since the start of the K300. Listen, he said, and he found himself slipping back into Yupik because the words, thorny on his tongue and in his throat, didnt hurt quite as much as they did in English. Paniika tamaumauq.
My daughter is lost.
He didnt have to explain to Nelson why he thought that his child, who lived a whole country away, might have wound up in Alaska when she went missing. The Yupiit understood that the person you were when you went to sleep at night might not necessarily be the person you were when you woke up. You could have become a seal or a bear. You might have crossed into the land of the dead. You might have casually spoken a wish aloud in your dreams and then found yourself living in the middle of it.
Shes fourteen, Daniel said, and he tried to describe Trixie, but he didnt know what to say. How could her height or weight or the color of her hair convey that when she laughed, her eyes narrowed shut? That she had to have the peanut butter on the top side of the sandwich and the jelly on the bottom? That she sometimes got up and wrote poetry in the middle of the night because shed dreamed it?
The woman who had been on the phone stepped out from behind the table. Sorry about that-the calls have been crazy. Anyway, the only kids coming through here I didnt know are the Jesuit Volunteers. One girl flew in late, because of the snowstorm, but by now, theyre all up at Tuluksak, manning the checkpoint.
What did she look like? Laura asked. The girl who was late?
Skinny little thing. Black hair.
Laura turned to Daniel. Its not her.
This girl didnt have a warm coat, the woman said. I thought that was pretty crazy for a kid who knew she was coming to Alaska. She didnt even have a hat.
Daniel remembered Trixie sitting in the passenger seat of his truck in the middle of the winter as they drove up to the high school entrance. Its freezing out, hed said, and he handed her a hunter-orange wool stocking cap hed used when he was out cutting wood. Wear this. And her response: Dad, do you want people to think Im a total freak?
There had been times, when he lived in Akiak, that he would know things before they happened. Sometimes it was as simple as thinking of a red fox and then looking up and seeing one. Sometimes it was more profound: sensing a fight building up behind him, so that he could turn in time to throw the first punch. Once it had even wakened him out of his sleep: the sound of a gunshot and the echo of basketballs thudding when the bullet upset the cart they were stored on.
His mother had called it coincidence, but the Yupiit wouldnt. Peoples lives were as tightly woven as a piece of lace, and pulling on one string might furrow another. And although hed dismissed it when he was a teenager in Akiak, he recognized now the tightening of the skin at his temples, the way light moved too fast in front of his eyes a moment before he pictured his daughter, not wearing a hat, or anything else for that matter, shivering in what seemed to be a haystack.
Daniel felt his heart jump. I have to get to Tuluksak.
Ikayurnaamken, Nelson said. Let me help you.
The last time hed been here, Daniel hadnt wanted anyones help. The last time hed been here, hed actively pushed it away. Now he turned to Nelson. Can I borrow your snow machine? he asked.
The checkpoint in Tuluksak was at the school, close enough to the river for mushers to settle their dogs in straw on the banks and then walk up to the building for hot food. All mushers racing the K300 passed through Tuluksak twice-once on the way up to Aniak and once on the way back. There was a mandatory four-hour rest and vet check during one of those stops. When Trixie and Willie arrived, a team of dogs was idling without its musher down at the bank of the river, being watched over by a kid with a clipboard who asked if theyd run into anyone else on the trail. All but one of the mushers had passed through Tuluksak, detained, presumably, by the storm. No one had heard from him since hed checked in at Akiak.
Trixie hadnt really spoken much to Willie this morning. She had awakened with a start a little after six A.M., noticing first that it wasnt snowing and second that she wasnt cold. Willies arm was draped over her, and his breath fell onto the nape of her neck. Most humiliating, though, was the hard thing Trixie could feel pressing up against her thigh. She had inched away from Willie, her face burning, and focused on getting herself fully dressed before he woke up and realized he had a boner.
Willie parked outside the school and climbed off the snow machine. Arent you coming in? Trixie asked, but he was already tinkering with the engine, not seeming the least bit inclined to finesse an introduction for her. Whatever, she muttered under her breath, and she walked into the building.
Directly in front of her was a trophy case that held a wooden mask decorated with feathers and fur and a loving cup with a basketball etched onto it. A tall boy with a long, horsey face was standing next to it. Youre not Andi, he said, surprised.
The Jesuit Volunteers who were in charge of the checkpoint at Tuluksak were a group of college-age kids who did Peace Corps-style service work at the native clinic in Bethel. Trixie had thought Jesuits were priests-and these kids clearly werent. She asked Willie why they were called that, and he just shrugged.
I dont know about Andi, Trixie said. I was just told to come here.
She held her breath, waiting for this boy to point a finger at her and scream Imposter! but before he could, Willie walked inside, stamping off his boots. Hey, Willie, whats up, the tall boy said. Willie nodded and walked into one of the classrooms, heading toward a table set up with Crock Pots and Tupperware. He helped himself to a bowl of something and disappeared through another doorway.
Well, Im Carl, the boy said. He held out his hand.
Trixie.
You ever done this before?
Oh, sure, Trixie lied. Tons of times.
Great. He led her into the classroom. Things are a little crazy right now, because weve got a team that just came in, but heres a five-second orientation: First and most important, thats where the food is. He pointed. The locals bring stuff all day long, and if you havent had any, I recommend the beaver soup. On the other side of the door where you came in is another classroom; thats where the mushers sleep when they come in for their layover. They basically grab a mat and tell you when they want to be woken up. We rotate shifts-every half hour someones got to sit out on the river, which is cruel and unusual punishment in this kind of weather. If youre the one on duty when a musher comes in, make sure you tell him his time and call it into headquarters, then show him which plywood corral has his gear in it. Right now everyones a little freaked out because one team hasnt made it in since the storm.
Trixie listened to Carl, nodding at the right places, but he might as well have been speaking Swahili. Maybe if she watched someone else doing what she was supposed to do, she could copy when it came her turn.
And just so you know, Carl said. Mushers are allowed to drop dogs here.
Why? Trixie wondered. To see if they land on their feet?
A cell phone rang, and someone called out Carls name. Left alone, Trixie wandered around, hoping to avoid Willie, who was doing such an effortless job of avoiding her. It seemed that the entire school consisted of two classrooms, and Trixie thought of Bethel Highs complex layout, a map she had memorized all summer before starting ninth grade.
You made it.
Trixie turned to find the vet whod been on the bush plane with her from Anchorage. Go figure.
Well, I guess Ill see you outside. I hear theres a nasty case of frostbite out there with my name on it. He zipped up his coat and waved as he walked out the door.
Trixie was starving, but not enough to want to eat something that might have beaver in it. She gravitated toward the oil stove at the corner of the room and held her hands out in front of it. It was no warmer than Willies skin had been.
You all set?
As if her thoughts had conjured him, Willie was suddenly standing next to her. For what?
This.
Oh, yeah, she said. Piece of cake. He smirked and started to walk away. Hey. Where are you going?
Home. This is my village.
Until that moment, it hadnt occurred to Trixie that she was going to be by herself again. As a teenager, she was always part of a greater whole-a family, a class, a peer group-and there was always someone sticking a nose in her business. How many times had she stormed off after a fight with her mother, yelling that she just wanted to be left alone?
Be careful what you wish for, Trixie thought. After a single day spent on her own, here she was getting all upset about losing the company of a total stranger.
She tried to wipe all the emotion off her face, so that it reflected back at Willie the same indifference he was showing her. Then she remembered she was still wearing a coat that belonged to someone he knew, and she struggled to unfasten it.
Willie pushed her hands away from the zipper. Keep it, he said. Ill come back for it later.
She followed him out of the school building, feeling the cold rake the hair from her scalp. Willie headed toward a cluster of small houses that seemed two-dimensional, sketched in shades of smoky brown and gray. His hands were dug deep into his pockets, and he spun around so that he wouldnt have to bear the bite of the wind. Willie, Trixie called out, and although he didnt look up, he stopped walking. Thanks.
He ducked his head deeper, an acknowledgment, then kept moving backward toward the village. It was exactly how Trixie felt: If she was getting anywhere on this journey, it was still the wrong way. She watched Willie, pretending she could see him even when she couldnt, until she was distracted by the sound of barking near the river.
The JV theyd seen when they pulled up in their snow-go was still on the ice, watching over the same dog team, which panted in small frosty bites of punctuation. He grinned when he saw Trixie and passed her the clipboard. Are you my relief? Its brutal out here. Hey, listen, Finn Hanlons up taking a leak while the vet finishes checking out the team.
What do I have to do? Trixie said, but the boy was already halfway up the hill, making a beeline for the warmth of the school. Trixie looked around, nervous. The vet was too busy to pay attention to her, but there were a few native kids kicking a Sprite can, and their parents, who hopped from foot to foot to ward off the cold and talked about who would win the race this year.
The lead dog looked tired. Trixie couldnt blame the poor thing; shed traveled the same route on the back of a snow machine and it had nearly killed her; what would it be like to do that barefoot and naked? Taking a glance at the vet-he could keep an eye out, just in case that last musher came in, couldnt he?-she walked away from the team to a set of plywood lockers. Rummaging inside one, she grabbed a handful of kibble and walked back to the husky. She held out her palm, and the dogs tongue, rough and warm, rasped against her skin to devour the treat.
Jesus, a voice yelled. You trying to get me disqualified?
Staring down at her was a musher wearing a bib with the number 12 on it. She glanced at her clipboard: FINN HANLON.
Youre feeding my dogs!
S-sorry, Trixie stammered. I thought-
Ignoring her, Hanlon turned to the vet. Whats the verdict?
Hes going to be fine, but not if you race him. The vet stood up, wiped his hands on his coat.
The musher knelt beside the dog and rubbed him between the ears, then unhooked his traces. Im dropping him, he said, handing the neck line to Trixie. She held it and watched Hanlon reconfigure the tug line of the dog that had been Junos partner, so that the sled would pull straight. Sign me out, he ordered, and he stepped on the runners of his sled, holding on to the handle bow. All right, he called, and the team loped north along the river, gaining speed, as the spectators on the bank cheered.
The vet packed up his bag. Lets get Juno comfortable, he said, and Trixie nodded, holding the neck line like a leash as she started to walk the dog toward the school building.
Very funny, the vet said.
She turned around to find him in front of a stake hammered into the grass along the edge of the river. But its so cold out here
You noticed? Tie him up, and Ill get the straw.
Trixie clipped the dogs neck line onto the stake. The vet returned, carrying a slice of hay in his arms. Youd be surprised how cozy this is, he said, and Trixie thought of the night shed spent with Willie.
A current suddenly energized the small tangle of spectators, and they began to point to the spot on the horizon where the river became a vanishing point. Trixie gripped the clipboard with her mittened hands and looked at the pinprick in the distance.
Its Edmonds! a Yupik boy cried. He made it!
The vet stood up. Ill go tell Carl, he said, and he left Trixie to fend for herself.
The musher was wearing a white parka that came down to his knees and the number 06 on his bib. Whoa, he called out, and his malamutes slowed to a stop, panting. The swing dog-the one closest to the sled-curled up like a fiddlehead on the ice and closed her eyes.
The children spilled over the riverbank, tugging at the mushers coat. Alex Edmonds! Alex Edmonds! they shouted. Do you remember me from last year?
Edmonds brushed them off. I have to scratch, he said to Trixie.
Um. Okay, she answered, and she wondered why he thought he had to make an itch common knowledge. But Edmonds took the clipboard out of her hands and drew a line through his name. He handed it back and pulled the sleeping bag off the basket of the sled, revealing an old Yupik man who reeked of alcohol and who was shaking even as he snored. I found him on the trail. He must have passed out during the storm. I gave him mouth to mouth last night to get him breathing again, but the weather was too bad to get him back to the medical center in Bethel. This was the closest checkpointcan someone help me get him inside?
Before Trixie could run up to the school, she saw Carl and the other volunteers hurrying down to the river. Holy cow, Carl said, staring at the drunk. You probably saved his life.
Whatever thats worth, Edmonds replied.
Trixie watched the other volunteers drag the old man out of the dogsled and carry him up to the school. The bystanders whispered and clucked to each other, snippets of conversation in Yupik and English that Trixie caught: Edmonds used to be an EMTKingurauten Joseph ought to pay for thisdamn shame. One Yupik woman with owl eyeglasses and a tiny bow of a mouth came up to Trixie. She leaned over the clipboard and pointed to the line splitting Edmondss name. I had ten bucks riding on him to win, she complained.
With all the dog teams accounted for, the onlookers dispersed, heading into the village where Willie had gone. Trixie wondered if he was related to any of those little kids whod been cheering for Edmonds. She wondered what hed done when he got home. Drunk orange juice out of the container, like she might have? Taken a shower? Lay down on his bed, thinking of her?
Just as suddenly as all the activity had arrived, there was nobody on the bank of the river. Trixie looked north, but she couldnt see Finn Hanlon and his team anymore. She looked south, but she couldnt tell where she and Willie had come from. The sun had climbed almost directly overhead, washing out the ice so that it made her eyes burn even to pick out the trail from the field of white.
Trixie sank down beside Juno on the straw and scratched the dogs head with her glove. The husky stared up at her with one brown eye and one blue, and when he panted, it looked like he was smiling. Trixie imagined what it was like to be a sled dog, to have to pull your weight or realize youd be left behind. She pictured how it would feel to trust your instincts in a strange land, to know the difference between where you had been and where you were going.
When the river froze in the winter, it got its own highway number, and at any given time you would see rusted trucks and dogsled teams driving over the ice in no particular direction or parallel course. Like most Yupik Eskimos, Nelson didnt believe in a helmet or goggles; to brace himself against the wind on the old mans snow machine, Daniel had to crouch down close to the windshield. Laura sat behind him, her face buried against the back of his coat.
In the middle of the river was a stationary white truck. As Daniel slowed the snow-go, he could feel Laura relax-she was freezing, even if she wasnt complaining. This must be a checkpoint, he said, and he got off the machine with his thighs still thrumming from the power of the engine.
A dreadlocked white woman unrolled the drivers side window. Kingurauten Joseph, for the love of God, go pass out in someone elses backyard.
