Read The Haunted Igloo Online

Authors: Bonnie Turner

Tags: #aklavik, #arctic, #canada, #coming of age stories, #fear of dark, #friendship, #huskies, #loneliness, #northwest territories

The Haunted Igloo (9 page)

BOOK: The Haunted Igloo
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Chinook glanced at the men
and lowered his voice as he rubbed his hands together. “We should
go back for Jean-Paul now.”


You think maybe he’s had enough,
Chinook?” asked Nanuk. “If he’s the coward I think he is, he won’t
know two hours from two minutes inside that
apudyak
.”

Aiverk shook his head. “A
blizzard is coming fast,” he said. “You guys can go back without
me. All I want is to go home now.”


All you want is to feed your fat
belly,” scolded Chinook, “and warm your fat behind inside a thick
robe! But think of poor Jean-Paul inside that
apudyak
!


Poor Jean-Paul, poor Jean-Paul!”
mocked Aiverk. “Well, I’m going to think of poor Aiverk! You don’t
catch Aiverk fooling around in a blizzard!”

The men glanced at the boys
as Aiverk’s voice rose. “Want something?” Ola asked.

Chinook shook his head.
“Nah, just getting warm,” he said.

Everyone looked up at the ceiling as a blast
of wind shook the building.

Nanuk whispered, “The wind
must be eighty miles an hour! But I’ll go with you, Chinook. I want
to see if Jean-Paul’s still alive.” He punched his friend on the
arm.


It isn’t funny now,” Chinook told
Nanuk. “After I get warm, I’m going back for him, even if I have to
go alone.”

____________

C
ordell sat at his desk, his thoughts unsettled.
Jean-Paul should be home by now.
The wind moaned. Cordell looked at the
ceiling.
A blizzard
? He put a sheet of paper in the typewriter. He held his
fingers curled over the keys for a moment, then lowered his hands
to his lap, balling them into tight fists.
I must stop this
!
Jean-Paul’s probably on his way home right now. He’s dressed
like a polar bear, and with boys who’ve lived all their lives in
this country.
The wind roared and it
rattled the windows. The blanket on the wall drifted outward, a
blast of frigid air pushing through the cracks. Snow sifted through
the cracks, swirled a bit, then melted in the warm room.

Lise sat knitting in the
rocking chair, her face troubled. At times she looked up and
glanced over at the door, as if expecting Jean-Paul to walk in.
Suddenly, she could bear no more. She put the knitting in her
sewing basket beside the chair and stood up. She went over to the
window, wishing she could see through the shutters that Cordell had
finally fastened over the glass. But she would’ve seen nothing
anyway because of the darkness.

Cordell’s eyes followed his
wife across the room. “He’ll be home soon, Lise.”

She turned and stared at
him, accusing him with her large, fear-filled eyes. “It’s after
eight! Just listen to that wind! We should never have let him go
with those boys, Cordell, Ice Patrol or not.” She turned back to
the window to brood. In the morning there would be drifts over that
north window.

Cordell got up and went to
Lise. “This won’t do you any good,” he said, putting an arm around
her. “Nor the little one, either. Jean-Paul will be home soon.
Those boys have been in this kind of weather before. They’ll take
care of him.”

Lise sat again and picked
up the knitting needles. She thought of Jean-Paul as she worked
with the yellow wool Cordell had brought her in early fall. A
shiver ran through her small body. Could they be lucky enough to
escape disaster this winter? Outside was a swirling snowstorm, and
for some reason, her son hadn’t come home. The signs were
frightening. She bit her lip so Cordell couldn’t see how worried
she was.

Cordell had returned to his
work and was lost in his own thoughts. More than once his eyes
turned to his wife. She was trying not to show it, but her furious
knitting told him how upset she was. The click and clack of the
needles said she was frantic with worry.
Jean-Paul. Jean-Paul. Where are you?
He looked at his watch, then returned to the typewriter. He
stared at the blank paper for a moment, then ripped it from the
machine, made a ball and flung it across the room.

Cordell got up and paced
the floor, then stopped before Lise. “If he’s not back in half an
hour, I’ll go out and look for him, eh?”

____________

I
nside the igloo, Jean-Paul sat with his back propped against
the cold snow blocks, staring into the darkness. Sasha lay quietly
with her head in his lap. How much time had passed? More than two
hours? Why didn’t Chinook come to let him out? He shivered, and
huddled deeper into his parka. The wind was louder now. Blasts of
frigid air puffed down the smoke hole. There was no fire to keep
the inside of the igloo warm, and Jean-Paul knew his own body heat
would soon give out. It seemed that hours had passed. How much
longer could he last?

Somewhere before him danced small lights,
pinpoint lights he had often seen while falling asleep at night. He
shivered violently and tried to wipe the lights away with his hand.
But when he looked again, they were still there. His skin prickled.
He heard and felt the dull thud of his heart.

His heart almost stopped
beating when he heard the howl of the phantom wolves.
Owoooooooo
!
Owoooooooo
!
Jean-Paul shrank back as the lights before him
changed to the green eye-slits of some horrible animals preying on
him in the dark. They were all around—waiting, watching.

Jean-Paul clenched his
fists and screwed his eyes up tight. His skin felt clammy. His body
shook from nose to knee. The
torngark
—evil spirits! They were here
in the igloo! There came mocking laughter, then sobbing. But
Jean-Paul didn’t recognize it as his own. Struck speechless, he
then heard his name whispered in the darkness:
Jean-Paul ... Jean-Paul ... Jean-Paul
...
He clamped cold hands over his
ears and buried his face in Sasha’s coat. Soon, his weariness
overcame him. He lay down against his dog and slept.

____________

J
ean-Paul awoke with a start. For a moment he thought he was at
home in bed. Then he remembered. His head was much clearer. He
wasn’t as cold as before. He looked around him in the dark igloo
and saw, instead of watching eyes, a soft, peaceful blackness.
Outside, the wind still roared. He listened, not daring to move.
Yes, the wolves were gone. They had crept away to the bottom of his
mind. Then he heard barking.


Sasha?” he called softly. “Where are
you, Sasha?”

Sasha’s excited voice
filled the igloo.

Jean-Paul reached out
blindly, trying to feel where she was. “Come on, come here,
girl!”

Sasha barked again and again, and in a
moment she was washing his face with her warm, wet tongue. She
whined and nuzzled against him as he threw his arms around her
neck. Her cold nose brushed against his cheek, then she wiggled
away from him again.

Jean-Paul forced himself to
move. He was stiff, but still able to stand. His crippled leg and
foot ached, the cold having seeped right into his bones. “Sasha?
Where did you go?”

From a short distance away
came excited yelps. And in his mind, Jean-Paul could almost see
Sasha’s tail wagging. Something was making that dog very happy! He
moved toward the sounds, his hands outstretched like those of a
blind person. He was surprised when Sasha bounded against him, her
front paws striking him in the chest. He staggered, but kept his
balance. He reached down and rubbed her head. “What are you doing
over here, Sasha?

Wh—?” Strong wind blew
against Jean-Paul’s legs. He dropped to his knees, landing in a
pile of snow. “You dug us out!” he cried.

Jean-Paul thrust his head
into the small opening. Cold air slapped him in the face as the
fierce wind blew in through the hole.

Jean-Paul knew he had to
get home. He had no idea what time it was, but one thing was sure:
Chinook, Aiverk, and Nanuk hadn’t come back as they had promised.
How could he face them again? When they returned, he would already
be gone. At school they would call him a baby, for leaving the
igloo before the time was up. Now he would never be able to join
Ice Patrol.

Pushing those thoughts from
his mind, he lay down on his stomach and inched through the small
opening, with Sasha following on her own belly. Outside at last, he
staggered against the force of the wind and driving snow. Jean-Paul
was shocked to see how the weather had changed while he was inside
the igloo. A blizzard had blown up and raged full force, battering
him from all sides. More than once he was thrown to his knees. But
each time, he gathered courage and got back up. He couldn’t see
where he was going. Which way was the trail? He knew where it
should have been, but in the storm there was no way to find it. All
around him lay frozen death. What normally was pure and beautiful
had now become ugly and cruel.

Jean-Paul staggered hunched over, going, he
thought, in the direction of home. There were no stars or moon to
light the way. Sasha ran ahead through the deep snow. Jean-Paul
tried to follow in her tracks. He listened for her voice, moving
slowly against the wind.

The snow came up past his
knees, and with one leg weaker than the other, it was too hard to
move. He would somehow manage to free himself, then sink again with
the very next step. It was like walking in a lake of soft ice
cream. His crippled foot hurt, the ankle turning inward more than
usual, making him lose his balance. He fell often, on hands and
knees and face. Then he got up and plodded on. There was but one
thought on his mind:
Dogs don’t get lost.
Sasha will take me home.

____________

C
ordell wound the thongs of his fur boots firmly around his
calves as Lise watched nervously.


It’s nearly nine!” she cried. “Where
is he, Cordell?”

Cordell arose and yanked
his parka from the peg. He was angry and frustrated as he thrust
his long arms into the sleeves.
No one has
any business outdoors on a night like this
!
What fool would leave a cozy fire to
go out in a blizzard
?
I must be crazy
!

Cordell was dressed for ten
blizzards. From the inside out were layered heavy flannel
longjohns, thick wool longjohns, a plaid wool shirt, and his
heaviest mackinaw pants. Three pairs of scratchy wool socks filled
his size-fourteen boots, leaving barely enough room for
toe-wiggles. He was ready for any weather—if he could still
walk.

He closed his parka
securely and pulled the fur-lined hood over his head, snugging it
at his throat. He then turned to Lise. “I’m as worried as you are,”
he said. “But I’ll find him!”

Suddenly, Lise ran over and
got her own parka. “I’m going with you,” she stated
matter-of-factly.

Cordell gently took the
coat from his wife and hung it back on the peg. He took her by the
shoulders and looked into her frantic eyes. His voice was husky
with emotion. “Now, I know how you feel.”


No…”


Yes, yes I do. But think of it this
way, that someone should be here in case Jean-Paul comes
home.”

Lise’s eyes misted as she
thought about that. “Well, of course,” she agreed after a moment.
“I suppose you’re right.”

Cordell gave her a
reassuring hug. “I’ll probably find the little stinker down at the
trading post, messing around with those friends of his.”


Please be careful,” Lise said. “I’ll
make a pot of coffee for when you get back.”

At that moment the huskies
began barking and howling. The couple turned to the door
together.


Aha!” shouted Cordell with a slap on
his thigh. He threw back his hood. “The wandering boy has come
home!” He stepped quickly to the door and flung it open. He peered
out into the storm. “Can’t see anything ... wait. Someone’s out
there.”


Is—is it Jean-Paul?”


I can’t tell.”

The wind battered the door.
Great swirls of snow blew into the room. Cordell slammed the door
against the force of the wind. The dogs kept howling. Cordell gave
Lise a puzzled look as the voices of strange dogs mingled with
those of his own. “Someone’s coming to visit in a blizzard? Oh, of
course, they must be bringing Jean-Paul home.”

Heavy footfalls sounded on
the porch, then a loud banging at the door. Cordell threw it open.
Standing there were two snow-covered figures—a short, stocky man
and a boy. Cordell quickly motioned them inside and shoved the door
shut.

Cordell stepped back as the
man pushed off his shaggy fur hood and shook his head like a dog,
spraying the room with flakes that melted instantly on hitting the
warm floor. The man seemed strangely familiar as he motioned to the
boy, who stood a little way behind him.


Chinook!” the man cried in a deep
voice.

Cordell looked from one of
them to the other. “What?”


Chinook, you tell!” The man shook a
fist at the boy.

BOOK: The Haunted Igloo
8.25Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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