“What if ’ey was talkin ’bout ’em Russians we killed?”
“They wouldn’t need to send that message, because they would know a Russian was involved. After all, he was the leader in Barrow,” Avery said in a scolding tone.
“Well, smartass, who ’en?”
“I cannot say.”
“None of us can,” I said, trying to keep the peace. “You can’t make sense of something that doesn’t make sense.”
Avery mumbled. “That goes without saying.”
What I was trying to say was, none of it made any sense. There were all these different disparate parts. There was Russian involvement. We knew or was pretty sure, they provided the EMP weapon, assuming that’s what it was. I know what I heard back at the radar base. They were speaking Russian. Given the nationalistic bent of the Order, it was hard for me to square them being part of the leadership. Technical and otherwise, yes. But not a leadership role. But, the reality of things seemed to point out that they were. So, as unlikely as it was until we found otherwise, we had to assume the Russians had a seat at the Order’s table. That left…
“CIA,” I said, without fully fleshing out why I even thought it.
“Damn, son… you pull ’at out of your protruding butthole or what.”
I shook my head and rolled my eyes. “It just makes sense.” I turned to Avery. “You said that one of the messages said the Agent was tainted.”
“Specifically,” Avery turned to his ever-present notebook, “I said one of the people in the messages said, ‘The byeongsa is tainted and must be dealt with.’”
Feeling more confident in my assertion after hearing that, I said, “If the CIA is involved, the government is still standing. That… that’s potentially very good.”
“I don’t know, son. I thank you goin a long way ’round ’ere ta get back ta the beginin.”
“I am trying to agree with Sam,” Avery said, “But his hillbilly vernacular is making it difficult.”
Sam grunted. “Thanks for agreein, you little sonofabitch.”
We left it at that. Where else could it go?
“Are you writing text messages?” Quill asked, a few miles down the road from where we left out last conversation.
“No. I am currently trying to translate a message that was written in Korean into English, so I can read it.”
“Why would you have to do that?”
“The people this phone belongs to are not good. We need to know what the messages say so we know what is happening.”
“Are they the people who did this to me?”
Normally, Avery had a two-question threshold before becoming agitated. Not so much with Quill. He patiently answered all her questions, and without even the slightest hint of agitation. It reminded me a lot of Avery I knew twenty years prior.
“Yes, I believe so,” Avery said. “But you are not so different. You will be okay.”
“It’s okay,” Quill said. “I know I am.”
Avery sat the phone down. “So am I.”
She smiled and nodded at Avery. She then asked, “Can I see the phone?”
I stiffened as Sam gave me a questioning look – as in was I really going to let Avery give her the phone. Deciding to take a gigantic gamble that the girl was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, I allowed it.
With minimal hesitation, Avery said, “Sure. But do not touch any of the buttons. The wrong combination of button presses can have dire consequences.”
“It’s pretty cool,” she said. “I don’t know what any of those lines and house-looking things mean, but it’s still pretty cool.”
“I would agree with that.”
She handed the phone back to Avery. “Thanks.”
“You are welcome. Maybe I can teach you how to read Korean?”
“If you teach me that, will I sound like a cool robot like you when I talk?”
Avery tilted his head to the side as he thought about what she had said. “Do you think I sound like a robot?”
She smiled. “Yeah.”
“I had never really noticed. I guess I would not, though, would I.”
One of the last things I wanted to do before I left Alaska, oddly enough, was driving the Dalton Highway – from Ice Road Trucker fame. I guess if there was something positive to glean out of things, I was getting to do something I wanted to do. The thing is, though, most people interested in the scenery didn’t make the trip in the dead of winter. Not much to see except darkness and snow. Not only that, but the snow and inclement weather caused the highway to be nearly undrivable. Not that we would expect anything less. Most people didn’t have a vehicle like the Ripsaw, either.
Having gotten tired of staring at the darkness, I turned my attention back to the GPS. I started following the highway several miles forward. From my prior planning before the Order, I knew the essential order of places we’d come to before arriving in Fairbanks. Once we left Prudhoe Bay, we were looking at virtually nothing until after we crossed the Atigun Pass. If you’re curious, the Atigun Pass is a mountain pass through the Brooks Range of mountains. After passing through the Brooks Range, there is a camping area and Cold Foot, and that was it. Even before the Order showed up, you were on your own for most of the trip.
I saw something I hadn’t seen during my earlier planning. Toolik Field Station was the name of the place. I didn’t know what it was, but it was a place, and we were getting close to being there. It was just off the road, so it wouldn’t be a big deal to check out, I thought. That, and as tired as I was, I didn’t want to drive through Atigun Pass. Sam hated heights. He said he would drive the entire way except for that part. I agreed. Worst case scenario, we got off the road for a while, ate, and got a bit of rest before taking on the mountains.
I told Sam what I’d found. I’d barely gotten out a word on the matter before he said he would like nothing more than to pull off the road for a while and take a break. We had been on the road for over five hours by that point. That wouldn’t have been so bad if we had been getting regular sleep and rest. As it was, everyone was ready to eat, stretch our legs, and catch a few winks.
We made a right turn on a road that the GPS said was there, but for all intents and purposes, we were just driving on snow in a direction the GPS directed us. There was no road or evidence of a road; just snow and lots of it. Up ahead, though, there were lights: four yellow beacons laid out in a square. It was, oddly enough, a helipad with a helicopter that looked to have been moored to the pad.
The helicopter was a Robinson R44. The only reason I knew that was because I got to fly (and crash) in one during one of my early trips to the Patch, and the pilot nearly killed me in the process. All I remembered was bells and whistles and him shouting over the radio to “brace for impact.” I passed out on the way down. When I awoke, the first thing I got to see was his one-tooth smile, followed quickly by a huff of his rancid breath as he said, “It got a little hairy, didn’t it, feller?”
“What the hell is ’is place?” Sam asked.
I nervously shrugged my shoulders. “A place to rest, I hope.”
The snow-covered path diminished as a frozen brown dirt and gravel one took its place. With the way having been cleared as far as it had, someone to had to have been there. Fifty yards ahead lay two large, gray, rectangular objects. Before I could know for sure what I hoped I was looking at, Avery loudly confirmed it for me: “Generators.” That explained how there were working helipad lights. It also explained how the whole damn place was lit up as it was.
Sam glided the Ripsaw to a stop in front of a building that had an old rough-cut board with “Community Building” painted on it. To the south of the community building were several small, green, tent-like structures. The place was speckled with several buildings, all of which were of different sizes, shapes, and materials. Some were outdated and old, like the community building. In contrast, others looked modern, by most standards, but especially for that part of Alaska.