Sunday, October 2, 2011
MHI Alaska :: A Dish Served Cold Pt III
The world exploded in thunder and fire, then went dark.
Something stabbed at Buck's neck. A cold icy pain, creeping down his spine.
It felt like...snow.
Buck was buried in snow.
Gingerly, he pulled himself up.
Laid out before him was a holy terror of blackened, shredded tundra, tossed snow, and cooked rancid dog.
Oh GOD what a smell...
Something flashed at the edge of his vision.
Buck looked up to see the double wings of Lucas' Stearman pulling up into the sky. The airplane did a quick low circle around him, and Buck could see a passenger wave down to him. The aircraft waggled it's wings, and started back for camp.
Buck bent to pick up his rifle, then started the long trudge back to join them.
“Dynamite?! You dropped DYNAMITE on me?!”
The pale dusk of an Alaskan midnight filtered through the tiny window of the small hunting cabin, barely large enough for the three men. Lucas McKinney grinned wide as he filled the small dirty glass and set on the table in front of the young hunter.
Buck was still pacing the narrow confines of the cabin - the ten mile walk back hadn't done much to ease his nerves. He glared down at the older man seated at the table.
“Of course I didn't drop dynamite on you," purred the man a thick Boer accent. "... I dropped dynamite in front of you.“
".. Where did you get DYNAMITE?!" Buck's nerves were starting to coalesce into anger.
Lucas broke in quickly, picking the glass back off the table and forcing it into Buck's hand. "Road crew had some cached up by the Copper. We didn't think they'd miss it." He nodded as Buck tossed back the whiskey. "Lucky we caught up to you. You find that lost trapper Mae was talkin' about?"
Buck sighed, and held out his empty glass for a second shot.
“Found him alright. His dogs went Zulu. Team tore him to pieces up by Baker’s Creek.”
“Damn. Anything else?”
Buck’s face darkened.
“Yeah...do we have any more of that dynamite? I think we’re gonna need it.”
… to be continued.