The storm that had first arrived two nights ago had finally passed, leaving in its wake a crystal-clear, dark blue sky and mounds of freshly fallen, powdery snow.
The morning star twinkled in the heavens, and Ootah turned to check on the condition of his dogs.
He had built a windbreak for his team on the opposite side of the igloo. Though the drifting snow made finding this protective barrier difficult, he was thankful to find it still standing. He brushed away the loose snow and found his team of seven huskies gathered in a tight embryonic ball. First to open his eyes and spot the gawking human was Arnuk, Ootah’s lead dog. This would be Arnuk’s twelfth winter, and though getting old in years, he was still the dominant member of the pack.
Quick to his feet, Arnuk howled in delight and moved over to playfully nuzzle his master. As the others awakened and shook the loose snow off their backs, Ootah walked over to the igloo, where a large, hollowed-out block of ice protected their cache of walrus meat. Cutting off several large chunks of frozen flesh from the hind quarter, he proceeded to feed his faithful pack. For they needed strength just like humans did, and when meat was available, all was shared equally.
While his dogs gratefully consumed their morning meal, Ootah turned his attention to the new sled that he had been working on when the storm arrived two days ago. He brushed away powdery snow, and found it behind the same barrier that had sheltered his dogs.
Only a few days’ work need be done on it before it was ready to hit the ice.
He had designed it to carry his ailing father.
Though Nakusiak hated to admit it, his illness had greatly sapped his once-formidable strength, and it was a struggle for him merely to stand, let alone keep up with them when they were on the move to new hunting grounds. Built much like the sleds of their ancestors, its runners were formed from frozen char that had been split and tightly wrapped in soaked caribou hides. Walrus tusks and whalebones comprised the body, on which a caribou hide would soon be stretched to hold Nakusiak.
Ootah’s current job was to make the runners as smooth as possible. He did so by chewing up large mouthfuls of snow and then spraying this liquid onto the existing runners. He was well into this tedious task, when a deep voice boomed out from behind.
“Well my son, you’re certainly up early. What demon could possibly have pulled you away from the warm body of your comely wife?”
Noting the unusual manner in which Nakusiak phrased this question, Ootah looked his father full in the eye and explained every detail of his recent nightmare.
When he finished describing his horrifying vision, he looked on as Nakusiak grunted.
“You are correct in ascribing this dream to Tornarsuk, my son. For you see, I had a similar vision.”
Puzzlement etched Ootah’s face as he questioned.
“But what does such a shared nightmare mean, Father? Is it a presentiment of an even greater evil yet to come?”
Nakusiak somberly nodded.
“I’m afraid that it is, my son. The songs of the grandfathers tell of a time in the not so distant future when a star shall fall to earth. Sent from the Great Spirit, this comet shall explode in the dawn sky for all to see as a signal that the time of prophecy is upon us. As the tail of this comet falls to earth, mankind shall face the final trial. And if the Great Spirit finds the people unworthy, he shall cleanse the earth with fire, and death will walk everywhere.”
“But how do we insure that such a terrible fate won’t befall us?” quizzed Ootah.
Reaching into the pocket of his parka, Nakusiak removed a hand-sized bone amulet that had a piece of sinew strung through it.
“This holy amulet was carved by my grandfather, Anoteelik, who was a great shaman of the people. He, too, dreamed of the cursed pool and the exploding comet that signaled the end of time. My time on this earth is almost over, my son. It’s now up to you to wear this holy amulet over your heart, and if the flow of your spirit is pure, perhaps the Great Spirit will intercede, and the people will be reprieved.”
As he handed the necklace to Ootah, Nakusiak was consumed by a fit of violent coughing. Blood red spittle drooled off his lips and dropped down to stain the white snow below.
“Come, Father, you’ve been out here in the cold long enough. You must take better care of yourself.”
Ootah’s pleas were met with an angry smirk.
“Stop coddling me, boy! Don’t forget who it was who brought you into the world. Now just swear to me that you’ll wear this amulet always, and that your meditations will be as pure as the snow that my life fluid has just violated.”
Well aware of his father’s stubbornness, Ootah meekly nodded, and slipped the sinew necklace over his neck. He could only look on helplessly as Nakusiak was once again consumed by a coughing fit.
Grasping the flat bone amulet with one of his mittened hands, Ootah angled his gaze to the distant horizon. There the fiery, golden-hued Arctic dawn continued to fight off the black tide of winter, in an eternal battle that began at the very beginning of time.
From a windswept plateau eighty-five miles due east of Ootah’s camp, another individual watched the Arctic dawn develop. Bundled in his down parka, Ensign Graham Chapman of the Royal Canadian Navy felt sadly out of place. The Calgary native had originally enlisted in the armed forces as a way of bringing badly needed adventure into his life. And for the first couple of months, he hadn’t been the least bit disappointed.
Having never traveled farther than Edmonton in his home province of Alberta, Graham initially had been sent packing to Halifax, Nova Scotia. There he underwent basic training. His naturally high aptitude got him an invitation to attend the Naval Officer’s training center in Esquimau, British Columbia. Once again he crossed the wide breadth of his native country, seeing magnificent sights he’d never dreamed existed.
He was most impressed with the ultra sophisticated city of Vancouver, and it was in this exciting metropolis that he spent many a cherished weekend leave.
In order to be as close to Vancouver as possible, he took a position on the staff of the vice admiral in charge of the Second Destroyer Squadron based in Esquimalt. Such duty demanded limited sea time, and gave him an opportunity to get his own apartment in nearby Vancouver.
For the son of an itinerant oil-well driller, this was like a dream come true. The petroleum business was in the midst of lean times, and if he’d stayed in Calgary, he’d most likely been on the dole like the majority of the boys he grew up with. Yet here he had a position that commanded respect, he was making a decent wage, and he was living in one of the most exciting cities in all of Canada.
Unfortunately, all too soon his luck was to run out.
It started that morning he was ordered into his superiors office, and asked if he wanted to take a position of the utmost sensitivity. Fooled into thinking that this was some sort of promotion, he immediately accepted.
Little did he realize what he was getting himself involved with.
Graham’s new job certainly started on an upscale beat as he was soon on a plane bound for balmy California. Though he never made it to Hollywood, his duty did take him to Beale Air Force base, north of the city of Sacramento. At this super secret installation he was to learn a whole new craft that would eventually take him from the land of surfers and bikinis to his current forsaken assignment in the frozen wastelands of the Canadian Arctic.
Totally sickened by the abrupt turn in his luck, Graham could only sigh heavily and shrug his broad shoulders. Like a wildcatter he had gambled his future on a single throw of the dice, and he had lost. It was as simple as that. And now he would have to pay the consequences.