The New World: A Step Backward (8 page)

Wednesday
~
August 7, 2075
~
7:20 pm

After the challenging start of the scouting mission, Protuk trudged up the steps to his cabin with his head held low, attempting to shed the images of his sentries' faces shrouded with fear.  Serious concern about the state of his crew for the next day's search chewed at his stomach. 
I'm not that hungry, but I better eat something.  It's going to be another long day tomorrow.

He lumbered to the kitchen and opened his primitive icebox, cooled by large frozen blocks.  After rummaging for a second, he took a fistful of leftovers: three slices of smoked ham and a chunk of cheese.  On his way to the porch, he grabbed what remained of a bottle of wine from the previous night, half full at most.  While the sun peacefully slipped behind the mountains, he moved his chair to catch the last of the sunset before the dwindling light melted into the night's abyss.

Settling into his seat, his thoughts wandered to when he and Odinuk became great hunting and fishing partners. 
I'm glad Father let me take that trip with Odinuk.  It was one of the greatest adventures of my life — the only chance I really had to explore Resourcelands and other parts of Old Canada.  Blazes that was a long time ago.  What was I ... only 18?

He looked to the sky. 
Hunting and fishing just aren't the same without you, my friend.  The youngsters today have no clue about fishing, but you probably felt the same about me on our trip.

Chuckling as he closed his eyes, he recalled his thrilling but embarrassing experience on Old Lake Winnipeg many years before.

June, 2048

Gimbliss, a large village established by Canadian Icelanders on the western shore of Lake Winnipeg more than 150 years earlier, bustled with anglers taking advantage of the spawning season.  After leaving their horses and wagon at a nearby stable, Protuk and Odinuk, five years his senior, approached a small, wooden shack to meet a fishing guide Odinuk had arranged the day before.

A 20-degree drop in temperature, ushered in by brisk, 25-mph winds, shot a shiver through Protuk's body.  Undeterred, his eyes were the size of chestnuts as he trotted up the steps. 
I can't wait to get started!
  Knocking lightly, he opened the door and poked his head inside.  "Hello!  We're ready to go."

A wiry man with a splotched, sunbaked face rose to his feet and waved him in.  "Good morning, I'm Zeek."

Protuk rushed up and shook his hand.  "I'm Protuk, and this is Odinuk."  He turned to his partner.  "Come on, let's not waste time."

The guide smoothed his silvery hair.  "Hello Protuk.  I met your friend yesterday.  Please, sit down.  Let's chat for a bit before heading out."

Plopping like a rock in the nearest chair, Protuk pressed his lips together. 
Forget talking — I want to fish!

As Odinuk joined them, Zeek sat in a cracked-leather chair.  "That norther has made the water mighty rough out there.  I don't usually take clients out in these conditions, but I know you guys are on a short stay and want to keep moving on your journey."

Slowly leaning back in his rickety seat, the weathered angler peeked through the steam rising from his coffee mug.  "Would you like a cup?  I just brewed a pot 15 minutes ago.  There's plenty."

Itching to escape and go fishing, Protuk clenched a fist and released it repeatedly.  "No, we've already had some.  We're ready to go, aren't we?"  He spun toward Odinuk, who gawked at him like he was a possessed stranger.

Zeek squashed a crumpled, sweat-stained hat on his head.  "Well, I'm used to bad weather, but a few people have trouble with the boat pitching back and forth on these waves.  It's up to you whether you want to tough it out in this kind of stuff."

Perched on the edge of his chair and aching with intense frustration, Protuk's knees vigorously bounced.  "Let's go!  There's no sense in us withering away in a boring room all day.  I didn't come to piddle.  I'm here to fish."  Overwhelmed with an emotional swirl of desire and exasperation, he whirled and glowered at his partner.  "What do you say?"

Odinuk patiently rubbed his whiskers.  "Well, I think we ought to listen to the man who lives and breathes this lake."  He cocked his head and looked at the guide.  "How serious is it out there.  Will we be okay?"

"I'd be lying to you if I told you there was no risk.  There's always some with this kind of turbulence; no telling how long the wind will howl.  If we go, we're liable to get mighty cold and soaked from the spray, but I've handled rough water all my life.  It's really up to you.  Are you ready for adventure?"

It's about time!
  Tossing caution out the window, Protuk sprang from his chair so fast it sprawled across the floor.  "We're going!  Adventure is what we came for!"

Zeek slurped his last drop of coffee and snatched his rain gear.  "Then let's do it!"

Giving in to his unrelenting impulse, Protuk bolted out the door.  He ran to the dock, sliding to a dead stop when he saw six identical boats and oodles of rods and tackle.  "Which is yours?"

"The blue and white one."  The guide approached as Odinuk trailed behind, shaking his head with his eyes rolled skyward.

Prepared to board, Odinuk glanced at Protuk.  "Why don't you sit in front so you can enjoy the best view?"  Odinuk spun toward Zeek and winked.

Oblivious to the pitfalls of being at the bow on a choppy lake, Protuk willingly jumped to the point for the best visibility of the action about to unfold.   "Thank you, Odinuk, you're a real pal."  His partner smiled.

As the vessel bounced along toward the desired location, the conditions grew more tumultuous.  By then, Protuk's forward position bucked wildly while he clutched the sides as his knuckles turned white.

With each dip of the bow a huge, icy spray swamped the side, drenching him.  He looked toward Odinuk and gave a thumbs up, while streams of water cascaded off his hat onto his face.  "This is great.  I'm having a blast!"

Odinuk returned the gesture.  "I'm glad you're...."

Protuk never heard the rest as another wave crashed over him, plugging both ears.  He flashed another big smile.  "Now this is what I call an adventu...."  Water gushed in his mouth, leaving him gasping and choking.  When he recovered, he held out a trembling thumbs up. 
Shivers!  I'm freezing!

Finally, the guide reached his destination, halted the boat, and eased the anchor into the lake.  "We'll fish here.  We're above a channel about 40 feet deep.  This is where I caught a bunch of walleye in the past few days."

Protuk was thrilled for the break from the pounding and dousing.  "What a ride!  I hope you guys had as much fun as I did."  Odinuk snickered.  "Oh, believe me — we did.  You were quite entertaining."

Thinking things would be better once the craft stopped, a grim realization hit Protuk when his soaked clothes turned frigid causing his teeth to chatter incessantly.  To make matters worse, the vessel thrashed to and fro as each swelling wave smashed into the sideboards.  Feeling queasy and disoriented, a deep rumble churned within his belly.

While bending over to grab a fishing rod, he suddenly gagged and attempted to cover his mouth, but it was too late.  Puke exploded between his fingers and onto his boots.  He heard shouting.  "Ooooh, put your head over the boat!  Not on the tackle!"

He tried, but disgusting projectiles erupted faster than he could react.  The uncontrollable urges kept surging.  Another gag, then another, followed by repugnant breakfast remains. 
How can so much stuff fly out of my mouth — and nose?

Unable to resist any longer, Odinuk sneered.  "How's that adventure thing working out for you?"

"Cut it out!  I feel horrible — ooouk — ooouk — blaaukk."  Over the sideboard his head swung again.

Odinuk looked at the guide; they both chuckled.

After 30 minutes, everything that could come out did.  Experiencing one of the worst times of his life, Protuk dismally watched as Odinuk and Zeek caught four good-sized walleyes, each at least five pounds.

Advancing to dry heaves every 10 minutes, Protuk clung to the slimmest sliver of optimism.  Once the guttural convulsions subsided, he picked up a rod, dropped a line, and immediately felt a sharp jerk.  "I've got one!  It's huge!"

He yanked back on the rod, as the shaft bent to a half circle. 
This is the one I've dreamed of!
  He pulled ... and reeled ... then tugged some more, ultimately hauling the enormous catch near the surface.  "Get the net!  This has to be the biggest lunker I've ever hooked!"

Odinuk grabbed the largest net on the deck and rushed to his side.  He stuck it deep in the water.  "Bring it closer!"

Protuk arched back, challenging his spine's limit.  "Can you see it yet?"

"Yes, there it is!"  Reaching down, Odinuk gripped Protuk's trophy.  "I've got it!"  He hoisted it over the craft's edge for all to witness the magnificence of the masterful effort: a big, muddy, round thing.

Protuk squished his face in a contorted grimace.  "What is that?  I've never seen anything like it before."

Zeek grinned.  "It's an old tire, used for transportation years ago.  There are a lot of them on the bottom of the lake, and once in awhile someone snags one.  This is your lucky day."

Laughing so hard, Odinuk lost his balance and almost fell out of the vessel.

Protuk's heart plummeted as he slumped to his seat, teeth clicking away between his blue lips.  "Is it worth anything?"

"Nope."

"You've got to be kidding.  All of that, and it's a stupid, worthless, tire thing-a-ma-jigger?"

He peered at Odinuk.  "I'm frozen."

The guide motioned to him.  "Open the lid.  You'll find a linen shirt and bear hide.  Shed those wet clothes."

Protuk hastily changed and after warming a few minutes fished with the others for another hour.  Eventually, as hope faded to a glimmer, he landed a couple of nice-sized walleye. 
Finally, something other than a thing-a-ma-jigger.

Just when his luck turned positive, the weather grew nastier, cruelly interrupting his tiniest splinter of paradise.  There was no choice but to head to shore.  Feeling like a cowardly bully punched him in the back a dozen times from the earlier ride out, Protuk sat at the stern during the return. 
No more broncos for me.

But the fleeting thought of a more comfortable trip was soon dashed.  Stormy waves thrashed about him as he baled feverishly to keep the flooded craft afloat.  When the angriest of the clouds finally fled and the threat diminished, Protuk stared ahead.  "Look, over there!  I can see the marina."

Zeek had the vessel on a perfect bearing all the while, and at the moment the boat touched the dock, Protuk leapt out, sprinted to the grassy beach, and kissed the ground.  "Thank you Lord!"

Monday
~
August 12, 2075
~
8:30 am

A spirited cardinal sang to the rising sun the morning Wolfuk was due back from his Skalag mission.  Lying on her furry belly across her master's porch, Fluf kept a curious eye on the relentless bird while she licked her sore paw, the one bitten by a chomper at the lake. 
Nobody really cares about me.

Mercy's voice emanated from inside the cabin.  "Remember, Fluf, I can understand your thoughts much better since we've been practicing so often."  The front door opened, and her ever-present provider emerged.  Mercy gave her a tight squeeze. "You know I care.  You're my protector and big teddy bear — the love of my life."

Fluf offered her affection with a deep gurgle. 
I really don't like being called Teddy.  I'm Polar — at least that's what others call me.

Mercy stroked the back of her neck.  "It's just an affectionate name.  I think Teddy is more endearing than Polar.  I can tell you're not feeling well.  Your paw must be pretty painful.  Next time lie still when I tell you to stay — it's usually for your own good."

Lifting her head, Fluf softly snarled. 
Mercy's right — I'm lucky to have her.

She plopped her jaw on the porch and reflected on her other frequent acquaintances. 
I like Thoruk, but Stormy boy is plain weird.  And Slimy, well let's just say — he's one of the strangest creatures in the world.  I know I'm supposed to call him "Whiskers," but "Slimy" fits him perfectly — in appearance and disposition.

Mercy chuckled.  "I don't mind.  You can use Slimy if you want, but I'll always call him Whiskers.  Regarding Stormy, I'm with you on that one.

"Since your paw hurts, I think you should stay home while I'm gone today.  You deserve a break.  Besides, you could use a little time to allow your wound to heal."

Fluf rose to her forefeet and licked the back of her beloved friend's hand. 
Thank you.

After gently tugging Fluf's furry chin, Mercy got up.  "I have to get going.  Why don't you and Whiskers play together in Arctic Bear Lake?  Your fishing buddies from the Northwest Canadian Territory brought a present for you this weekend.  I left your favorite treat in the usual spot near the shore — killer whale blubber."

Fluf perked up to all fours. 
Yum, blubber.  But I'm not sure I like the "Whiskers" part of that suggestion.  I usually don't have much fun when Slimy's around.

Mercy turned to the door.  "Bye, Mom, got to run.  I'll be away until after the five o'clock meeting with Wolfuk.  Fluf is going to stay home today.  She'll probably spend most of her time close to the lake."

Fluf heard footsteps.  Mom joined her master and gave her a big hug.  "Bye, my dear, have a good day.  I'll be making a rump roast for tonight — some freshly baked bread too.  Invite Thoruk for dinner.  He hasn't been over in awhile.  I miss him."

"Okay, Mom — gotta run — love you."  She peered at Fluf.  "You take care of Mom, okay?"

Fluf tilted her head and drooled. 
You can count on me.

Mercy strolled out the gate.

For a moment, Fluf was struck with a feeling of anguish knowing she'd be separated from her dearest friend for much of the day. 
I should be with Mercy to protect her — she needs me.

Her concern was fleeting as the craving for her treat took hold.  Watching the sight of her loving caregiver fade in the distance, she turned and lumbered toward her little paradise.  The near-icy lake water she loved reminded her of the frozen habitat she adored as a cub further north.

As she approached the shore, she looked around. 
I hope I can slip into the water before Slimy realizes I'm still here.  I don't want him pestering me while I'm eating my treat.