Hope and Despair on Great Bear

Boy Gone North : Part III

The Trapper explained everything, but it was hard to acknowledge. I had passed out and awoken in a foreign world. A world of snow and ice.

He told me how the power lines are down, electricity is out. How food is running low and the wildlife are on the hunt. I took all this on board, but needed to know one thing.

"Where is my Granda?"

"He went out a few days ago to harvest a deer carcass by the lookout. He told me he'd be back by dusk. I heard gunshots, kid. Four shots. He got into trouble."

"Why didn't you help him? Why didn't you take your rifle and go find him?"

"He told me to stay with you, in case you awakened."

"Well what are we waiting on?" I said. "Let's go". I turned and began to scale the ladder that led out of the bunker when he grabbed my leg, tugging me back down.

"Kid, we have to be smart about this. Do you know what the Aurora does to these wolves? Have you seen what it turns them in to? They fucking glow. They're faster, more vicious. Hungrier."

I swallowed a lump in my throat, nervous from the Trappers dreadful tone. "Bullshit".

"You go out there during the night, they'll rip you limb from limb. The best scenario you could wish for is that they knock you unconscious with a paw swipe. At least then you wouldn't feel your intestines being pulled from your body and your eyes popping between their fangs."

I took his advice.

We tried to sleep through the night, but talked most of it.

"Your grandfather told me you can shoot a bow".

"Stationary targets, maybe. You think these wolves would be polite enough to stand still while I aim?" The Trapper laughed at this.

A lantern flickered on the ground between us, lighting our faces. He passed me a wooden bow and a hunting knife, it's blade reflecting the yellow flame.

After a few hours, he peaked from the bunker. Daylight flooded in, blinding me momentarily. It was time.

It was like a foreign planet. Uninhabited, unexplored. Dreamlike. We walked along the tracks and past the lake cabin. The butt of his rifle rested firmly on his shoulder, the barrel drawn . I held the bow limply in my hand. The sky was steel grey. Snow fell silently. The Trapper nodded to a hill on our left.

"There's the lookout. Clearing is just below, we'll check for any signs."

We waded through a patch of deep snow and entered a clearing. Rabbits perked their heads upon our arrival and darted into the treeline. The deer carcass lay in the centre, opened at the throat and stomach. The flesh inside was frozen blue.

No footprints, no blood stains in the snow.  We continued onward, hiking uphill toward the forestry lookout. As we struggled upward through the snow, the Trappers knee buckled beneath him and he collapsed in agony.

"Shit, shit." He tried to stand and collapsed again. Using his elbows, he hauled his body towards a tree trunk and leaned against it.

"Go on to the lookout. I have to treat this, wrap it up." He grimaced as he unzipped his bag.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

He tapped the rifle which lay beside him. "I got all I need right here. Come back this way with or without him, and we'll make our way to the dam. To be honest, kid, he's probably in the lookout. Dead or alive. Be prepared. And keep your bow drawn on the way up and the way back."

My heart  began racing as he said this. I appreciated the honesty, but Jesus.

I slotted an arrow onto the drawstring and drew it, continuing through the snow. The bow hummed with tension as I prepared for the sight of a wolf. But I didn't see it, I only heard it.

As soon as I set foot on the steps of the forestry lookout, I heard a howl that echoed for miles. The crack of a gun followed, then the sickening scream of a man in pain. The Trapper missed his shot. The screaming didn't last long, a few seconds. Loud at first, then a babble, then silence. My heart was like a drum in my ears, pounding. I looked up towards the tower, then back in the direction I had come. I threw my bow and arrows to the ground and exploded up the steps, the wood rattling underfoot. I came to the door after what seemed like an infinity. I pushed it open.

He lay on the ground, back to the wall, his leg bandaged from calf to thigh.

He stared absently forward. I approached him slowly, tears welling in my eyes.

Then he turned to me, face frail and eyes hollow.

"You're OK. Kid. You're..."

I can confidently say he died with a smile on his face. I seen it. And it's the only thing that got me this far. He saved me from a horrible family and took me when nobody else wanted me. He gave me some of the best days of my life in the Canadian Wilderness. I sit now in the lighthouse, a rifle hung on the wall and shelves filled with rations. I don't know how long I'll survive, but I wouldn't have made it this far without him.