Under the Ice

The huskies were still barking up a storm as the two commandoes assembled in front of the igloo.

The dark gray sky had just a hint of light in it as the Inuit spoke, just loud enough to be heard over the gusting wind.

“I’m going to start behind the dogs and follow the ridge around to the floor of the valley. If there’s a pack of wolves on the prowl, they’ll most likely be found somewhere along the way.”

“I’ll follow about ten meters behind you, Sergeant-Major.

If these guys are as hungry as that bunch we encountered earlier in the day, its going to take at least a full clip to put the fear of god into those buggers.”

The Inuit flashed Redmond a thumbs-up and turned to begin his reconnoiter. With a fluid ease he scrambled up the ridge of rock that lined this portion of the valley and deftly proceeded down the icy ledge. As he passed behind the tethered huskies, he switched on his flashlight and aimed its narrow beam at the ground below.

Halfway between their campsite and the valley’s floor, the ridge widened into a large clearing. At first the Rangers had chosen this site to build their igloo in, but Cliff had pointed out the danger of an avalanche of rocks from above. As he now crossed this flat expanse, his torch picked out a series of large animal tracks in the deep powdery snow. They were freshly deposited and immense in size, and the Inuit didn’t need to see anymore to know what was disturbing the dogs so.

Moments later, Jack Redmond joined him in the clearing. His torch clearly illuminating his discovery, Ano firmly whispered, “It’s Tornarsuk. My ancestors called him the one who gives power, but we know him by a different name — polar bear.”

Redmond’s gut tightened.

“What in the hell is a bear doing out in this weather? I thought they’d be in their dens by now.”

The Inuit was quick with a response.

“One can’t generalize when Tornarsuk is involved. Lieutenant.

Though a good majority might be in hibernation at this time, others are still putting on fat to sustain them until spring. While some won’t even bother to den at all.”

“Do you think he’ll bother us?” queried Redmond.

“Chances are he’s already scented our dogs. That means he won’t rest until he’s checked out the possibilities firsthand.”

“Tied to their tethers like they are, they won’t stand a chance,” said Redmond.

“Not only that, after he finishes off the dogs, he’ll most likely come after us,” added the Inuit all too seriously.

A pained expression crossed Jack Redmond’s face.

“I’ve had my fair share of bear troubles this week, Sergeant-Major. Any ideas on how we can solve our problem? I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough of this damn wind. And besides, I was looking forward to snuggling up in my blanket and cutting some z’s.”

While waiting for some sort of response, Redmond noted that the Inuit’s glance had suddenly shifted. As Cliff Ano’s narrow gaze centered on that portion of the clearing directly behind his commanding officer, Redmond sensed the approach of trouble.

“Your prayers have just been answered. Lieutenant,” managed the Inuit in the barest of whispers.

“Just stay cool and don’t make any sudden moves.”

Redmond’s pulse quickened as he whispered back.

“Is it the bear?”

The Inuit nodded that it was and smoothly flicked off the safety of his rifle. Then in one smooth movement he pushed Jack Redmond aside and let loose a deafening volley of gunfire. By the time Redmond regained his balance and pivot ted to put his own weapon into play. Cliff Ano had squeezed off the last 5.56mm bullet of his thirty-round clip.

It only took one look at the mammoth, bloodstained body lying motionlessly at the edge of the clearing less than ten yards away for Redmond to lower the sights of his rifle. The polar bear lay fully extended, as if the Inuit had caught it while it was in the midst of a charge. It was at least twelve feet tall, its sinewy muscles still twitching in the last throes of death.

“Sweet Jesus!” managed Redmond as he slowly approached the bear and viewed its deadly razor-sharp claws.

“I’m sorry I had to ruin the pelt,” offered the Inuit coolly.

“An experienced hunter can take Tornarsuk out with a single shot to the head, thus insuring that the skin will be free from bullet holes.”

While yanking out his commando knife, the Inuit added, “Ever have a fresh polar bear steak. Lieutenant?

Though it might taste a bit strong to you at first, you’ll soon enough get used to it. I guarantee you, our dogs are certainly going to be in for a feast this evening. Why tomorrow they’ll be strong enough to pull the sled all the way to Lancaster Sound and back without even stopping to catch their breaths!”

Ootah’s search for the fiery comet he’d seen falling from the sky on the day of his father’s death took him far up the coastline. With Akatingwah and their son riding on the sled that Ootah had originally built for Nakusiak, they began this pilgrimage.