Книга - Mysteries in Our National Parks: Buried Alive: A Mystery in Denali National Park

Mysteries in Our National Parks: Buried Alive: A Mystery in Denali National Park
Gloria Skurzynski

Alane Ferguson

National Geographic Kids









BURIED ALIVE


A MYSTERY IN DENALI NATIONAL PARK




GLORIA SKURZYNSKI AND ALANE FERGUSON








From Lanie to my husband, Ron,

who has given me the adventure of a lifetime.


ISBN: 978-1-4263-0975-5

Text copyright © 2003

Gloria Skurzynski and Alane Ferguson

Cover illustration copyright © 2008 Jeffrey Mangiat

All rights reserved.

Reproduction of the whole or any part of the contents is prohibited without written permission from the National Geographic Society, 1145 17th Street N.W., Washington, D.C. 20036.

Map by Carl Mehler, Director of Maps

Map research and production by Matt Chwastyk, Joseph F. Ochlak, and Martin S. Walz

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to living persons or events other than descriptions of natural phenomena is purely coincidental.

Version: 2017-07-07




ACKNOWLEDGMENTS


The authors are grateful to so many people at Denali National Park who helped in the creation of this book: Joe Van Horn, Wilderness Coordinator; Diane Brown, Communication Center Manager; Stacey Chadwick, Staff Assistant to Superintendent; Theresa Philbrick, Staff Assistant to Interpretation; Martha Tomeo, Education Specialist; Clare Curtis, Supervisory Park Ranger; Annalie Wright, Park Ranger Protection; Stan Steck, Park Pilot; Doug Stockdale, Public Information Officer; Tom Habecker, Park Ranger; Pat Owen, Wildlife Biologist; Amanda Austin, Biological Science Technician; Chelsie Venechuk, Cultural Resource Technician; Carmen Adamyk, Kennels Assistant; Karen Fortier, Kennels Manager; Paul Anderson, Superintendent; Diane Chung, Deputy Superintendent. A very special thanks to Beth Van Couwenberghe for her generosity in hosting us at McKinley Village Lodge.




Contents


CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

AFTERWORD

ABOUT THE AUTHORS








“I already told you, I’ll take care of it!” the man barked. He took a final drag from his cigarette and crushed it in the ashtray so hard the tip splayed like a firecracker. “It’s bad when the mark is a kid. Yeah, yeah, I know it’s business, but I’m telling you, this is it, just one more time. You’re costing me, man. I had my own game going, and now I’ll have to end it. After this job, I’m through—you got that? Through. Do your own dirty work.”

Slamming the phone into its cradle, he stared out the window at the setting sun. It was low in the west, and it edged the clouds with a ring of brilliant gold. So they’d found him. He’d come all the way to Alaska to get away from his old life, but the hooks ran deep. Even in the vast wilderness, he couldn’t disappear, not from them. Well, after this job, he’d take his money and leave. This time he’d go to Mexico. There was a chance he could really vanish in Mexico.

The man walked to a drawer and opened it. Carefully, he pulled out a nickel-plated revolver and rubbed it on his sleeve until the light played along the barrel like a liquid bead. Then he jammed it into his belt and shrugged on his jacket. They’d told him this would be it. They said they’d never call him again. So what if it was a kid? He had a job to do.

Just one more time.




CHAPTER ONE


The lights of the aurora borealis flashed across the Alaskan sky in sheets of color: bright, dancing curtains of pale green and crimson that took Jack’s breath away. Every few seconds the aurora shimmered with new brilliance, its hues shifting from incandescent greens to soft pinks to blues to luminous white, as though a giant kaleidoscope had been set among the stars. He stood in awe in Denali’s frigid stillness. There was no way he could capture this with his simple camera, no way to reduce this magic onto photo paper. It was as if he were watching the heavens being painted by the hand of God.

“Awhooo!” Thirteen-year-old Nicky Milano, the Landons’ newest temporary foster child, threw back his head and howled at the northern lights. His breath made a steady stream of frost as he danced backward on his left leg, his right boot pumping the air furiously when he hopped along the pristine snow. “I’m seeing it, I’m feeling it, I’m loving it, I’m digging it,” he cried while somehow managing to shift his backside beneath his parka. “Oh yeah. Yip, yip, yip, awhoooo!”

Ashley, Jack’s 11-year-old sister, doubled over with laughter, but Jack could only shake his head in disbelief. His parents stood less than 20 feet away, too engrossed in setting up a photograph to do more than give Nicky a quick nod. Steven Landon struggled with a tripod, while Olivia held her husband’s expensive wide-angle camera close to her chest, careful not to drop it in the snow.

“Awhooo.”

“Nicky, what the heck are you doing, anyway?” Jack demanded.

“Howling!” Nicky cried. He stopped dancing and turned to Jack, cinching his hood tight. With the hood pulled almost to the bridge of his nose and his stiff parka collar zipped up so far it skimmed the bottom of his ears, Nicky’s face had been reduced to the size of a fist. Jack could no longer see Nicky’s slicked-back copper hair and the real diamond stud that pierced his right ear, but he could still hear his wise-guy accent. Nicky sounded as though he should be prowling the streets of New York instead of the wilds of Denali National Park in Alaska.

“I heard that true Alaskans bay like wolves when they see the northern lights,” Nicky explained. “I’m trying to be—you know—authentic. Yo, Ashley, why don’t you give it a try?”

Ashley threw back her head and let loose a thin, high-pitched yowl. The jingle bells on her hat rang merrily as she tipped her head farther back, wailing at the flashing night sky. Jack had to laugh. She sounded more like a coyote.

“Do it, Jack,” Ashley begged.

Shaking his head again, Jack said, “No thanks. You guys are completely crazy.”

“Yeah?” Nicky clapped his gloved hands together to warm them. They made cracking sounds that echoed across the tundra like gunshots. “You think so?” When he smiled, his teeth flashed white in the half light. “You’re right, Jack, I am crazy. And what’s scary is, you don’t know how crazy I can be. You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

What did that mean, Jack wondered. Problem was, he’d probably never find out, because secrets swirled around Nicky Milano. And no one, not his mother or his father or Nicky himself, was talking.

The strangeness had begun three days ago in the Landon kitchen. Jack had just finished pouring a bowl of Cheerios and Ashley had taken a huge bite of an apple-cinnamon bagel when his parents slipped into the two remaining kitchen chairs, coffee cups in hand. Sunlight caught the blond stubble sprinkled across his father’s chin like grains of sand. Watching him, Jack fingered the pale hairs that had sprouted beneath his own chin, but his were soft, thread-like. Still, those hairs might just grow into something. A goatee, maybe. He took a spoonful of cereal and waited for one of his parents to speak. He could tell they had something to say.

“Kids, we need to talk. There’s a new foster child we’ve decided to accept,” his father began. “His name is Nicky Milano, and he’ll be going with us on our trip to Denali.” Steven held up his hand to silence Jack’s instant stream of objections. “I know it’s last minute, but this is a very special case. Ms. Lopez asked us to take him as a favor, and we can’t turn her down.”

“Dad, we can’t change things now!” Jack had protested. “Mom—” He’d looked to his mother for help. She’d just gotten out of the shower, and her long, black hair was already curling into soft rings that bounced as she shook her head.

“I’m afraid it’s already settled,” Olivia told him.

“But what about the wolverines? The park’s counting on you to help find out why they’re dying!”

“Don’t worry about me. I can manage my job with an extra child in tow.”

“But—”

“Sweetheart, I said I can manage.”

A wildlife veterinarian, Olivia had received an emergency call from Denali National Park. A month earlier, a wolverine had been discovered dead inside the park boundaries. A week later, a second wolverine body had been found, again with no visible signs of trauma, and days later, yet another. Then, less than a week ago, two more wolverine bodies had been discovered in the same general area in the middle of Denali Wilderness. Park officials were mystified and alarmed. Wolverines were mysterious animals, so elusive they haunted the wilderness like ghosts. Most of the rangers had never even seen a wolverine in the wild. Now five had been discovered dead in less than a month! When they’d found no bullet holes, no apparent disease—nothing to explain why the animals had died—they’d turned to Olivia for help, as parks often did when they had a mystery involving animals.

In addition to the phone call from the park staff asking Olivia to investigate the deaths, she’d also heard from Chaz Green, the founder of the Wolverine Rescue Program. “You’re an expert,” he’d told Olivia. “We need you to solve this mystery. Please come, Dr. Landon, and help save the wolverines.”

Now Jack took a breath and said, “I know you can do your job, Mom, but you told me this was the weirdest case you’d ever been called on. This Nicky kid will just get in the way.”

Answering softly, Olivia replied, “Of course I realize it’s bad timing, but the child has nowhere else to go. He used to live with his father but now his dad is…” There was a beat, and then the word, “…gone. His mom died in an accident when Nicky was six. He has no other relatives. He’s alone, Jack.”

Jack placed his feet on the chair rungs and slouched down, his hand pushing the ball of his cheek almost into his eye. Ashley kept chewing on her bagel as if having Nicky join them didn’t bother her in the slightest. That was like her. His sister never seemed to mind when new people burst into their lives and flipped everything upside down, but it drove Jack crazy. Foster kids were always a gamble. Since his dad had been a foster child himself when he was young, Steven welcomed any child in need, wanting to “put something back into the system,” as he put it. Olivia often said she would love to take in kids full-time, but because of her intense schedule she would have to settle for offering temporary care. Temporary was plenty for Jack.

“Don’t worry about our Denali trip, Son, it’ll be just as good,” Steven said, reaching over to touch Jack’s shoulder. “We still get to stay in a ranger’s house near park headquarters, and we’ll still get to see all kinds of cool animals. Nothing will change.”

Jack sighed loudly. “OK, I’m sure it’ll all be great.” Forcing a smile, he tried to look like he meant it. It was selfish not to want to help someone in need. He just required a little time to get used to the idea. He pushed the Cheerios around his bowl until milk splashed on the tabletop and his dad told him to stop before he made a mess.

Ashley, her mouth full of bagel, asked, “So what happened to the dad?”

That was when Jack first sensed that there was something odd about Nicky’s situation. For a moment, neither one of his parents said a word. Olivia picked up a spoon and began stirring her coffee, but she hadn’t put any cream or sugar in it. Clink, clink, clink—the spoon tapped against the sides of the mug. She and Steven exchanged glances.

“What’s wrong?” Ashley asked again, wide eyed. “Is his dad dead, too?”

“Nicky’s father is still alive. I—” Olivia cleared her throat. “Well, actually, we, can’t go into detail. Ms. Lopez and the Department of Social Services said it was essential to keep everything about Nicky quiet. His background is…confidential.”

For a minute, Jack didn’t know what to say. Were his parents refusing to tell them about a foster kid who would be sharing their lives for who knew how long? What was up with that? Jack finally let out a snort, saying, “You’re kidding, right?”

“I’m afraid not.” Olivia took another sip of coffee and met his gaze head-on. Her eyes were dark and round, the same as Ashley’s. Jack’s were blue like his father’s.

“Why can’t you say anything? Is Nicky dangerous?”

“Of course not.”

“Is he a nut case?” This from Ashley.

Setting her mug down hard, Olivia said, “No! And I would appreciate it if you didn’t talk like that.”

Ashley tried a different approach. “So…we’re not supposed to bug him, but if he tells us about his life, then that’s OK, right?”

“He can’t,” Steven answered. “I mean, he won’t. Look, it’s a complicated situation. Nicky’ll only be with us a short while, and during that time you are not to pry.” He rubbed the back of his neck while he talked, a sure sign that he was worrying about something. “Of course you can chat with him all you want, just don’t…”

“…poke around in his past,” Olivia finished at a gallop. “Understand?”

“Yep.” Ashley nodded but added, “That’s really strange, though.” Her hair hadn’t been brushed yet, so it stood out from her head in dark, fuzzy corkscrews. A too-big blue terry cloth robe drooped crazily off of one shoulder, and her slippers made her feet seem even bigger than they were, like a puppy’s oversize paws. She looked at Jack and wiggled her eyebrows. “Nicky Milano, man of mystery. I think our trip to Alaska is going to be very interesting.”

Jack thought about that conversation now as Nicky’s eyes flashed in the spangle of the northern lights. Man of mystery was right. They’d been together for more than 24 hours, and Jack still didn’t know a thing about Nicky, not really. Nicky talked, but he didn’t say anything, as if his true thoughts were kept locked inside out of reach. The most he’d actually admitted about himself was that he was crazy. Well, maybe he was.

“Mom, Dad, everyone—look over there!” Ashley cried excitedly, pointing into the distance. “Something’s moving. Way off, where it’s flat. Look, Nicky, it’s right there.” She leaned close to him, so that their heads touched. “See that stand of trees? Now, go to your left. It’s in that open space.”

Nicky followed Ashley’s finger and nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I see it. What is it?”

“I can’t tell for sure—it’s too dark.”

Glittering snow stretched out before them like a sheet, and in the distance Jack could see an ink-black shape that seemed the size of a half dollar. With fingers made clumsy by gloves, Jack pulled out his camera. It took him a moment to locate the figure in his viewfinder, but when he finally did and focused the zoom lens, he knew immediately what it was. The animal seemed to stagger in the snow, bending down on one knee before rising up on unsteady legs. A few steps later it stumbled again.

“It’s a deer,” Jack announced.

“Caribou,” Olivia corrected.

“But it doesn’t have any antlers.”

“That’s because they dropped off last fall. If you were close enough, you’d see tiny little buds on the top of his head. Those buds are the beginnings of his new antlers. By June he’ll have a big, branching rack. Just think of how much growth that is in three short months!”

Puzzled, Ashley asked, “But where’s the rest of the herd? I thought caribou traveled together.”

“They usually do,” Olivia replied, “but it’s not too uncommon for one to be traveling alone.” She placed Steven’s camera to her eye, twisting the powerful zoom lens to enlarge the image. “Oh, no, I see what’s wrong. He’s injured. The others probably went on ahead of him. This guy couldn’t keep up.”

Ashley wailed, “Can’t you help him, Mom?”

“I can’t, honey.” Olivia quickly explained that Denali National Park wouldn’t allow her to interfere and that part of what makes national parks so special is that natural processes are allowed to happen. This means injured animals are never helped. “I’m sorry, Ashley. That’s just the way nature works.”

Steven said, “Better give me back my camera, Olivia. It’s time we started packing. We have to fly to Kantishna in the morning, and it’s already been a long day.”

Ashley stood next to Nicky. From the way her eyebrows crunched together, Jack could tell she felt upset about the caribou. Of course Jack felt bad about it, too, but what really preoccupied him was what Nicky had said. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”

Was he joking, or giving a warning?

Jack was just placing his own camera in his case when he heard it—a thin, wailing cry that hung in the air like a single, haunting note. First low, then high, it rang across the frozen space until a second, then a third voice joined in an eerie choir. From his time in Yellowstone, Jack recognized the cry of a wolf.

“It sounds like wolves!” Olivia said, her voice filled with excitement. “That would be an amazing thing to witness on our first night in Denali.”

Jack pulled out his camera again to zoom in on the caribou. “I can’t tell for sure, but I think the wolves are behind the trees. I see some movement—yeah! Here they come!”

Dark liquid shapes bolted out from the spruce trees, advancing quickly toward the injured animal. Jack counted six. They were moving in tandem, cutting in and out in a strange pattern, first three and three, then four and two. In a panic, the caribou tried to run but became encircled by the quicksilver shadows. It was both gruesome and awesome, this dance of death. The caribou made it only a few steps before a shadow cut it off. Switching directions, it stumbled and then, lightning quick, a wolf pounced, grabbing the caribou by the throat.

“I can’t stand it,” Ashley cried.

“It’s OK,” Nicky told her. “Just don’t look.”

It was over as quickly as it began. The rest of the wolves surrounded the kill, ripping pieces of its hide as if it were tissue paper. Ashley dropped her face into her hands.

“Sweetheart, you know that the wolves have to eat to stay alive,” Steven told her gently. “It’s the circle of life. There’s an old saying: Nothing in nature offends nature. This is elimination of the weak, survival of the fittest.”

Olivia rubbed Ashley’s back between her shoulder blades, her glove making a slipping sound against the parka. “The mother wolves will be having babies in the first part of May. The females need to eat for their pups. You wouldn’t want the wolves to starve, would you?

Just think of the little wolf pups.”

“I know, I know, but…the caribou is still dead.”

No one knew how to answer that. Finally, Nicky spoke, his voice both deep and quiet. “I know what it’s like to be left behind. I know what it’s like to be ripped to pieces. No one should ever get used to it.”

With that, he turned and walked toward the Jeep.




CHAPTER TWO


“Jack, wake up,” Ashley hissed in his ear. Her hands clamped onto his shoulder, and she rocked him so hard his teeth chattered. “There’s a moose outside in the back woods. She’s huge! I’ve never seen such long, spindly legs. It’s amazing. Come on!”

“What—what time is it?” Jack asked groggily. It was way too early for this much chatter.

“Six fifty-seven in the morning, which means it’s really 8:57 Jackson Hole time. Get up, lazy bum.”

Jack tried to open his eyes, but his lids refused to cooperate. He’d had a hard time sleeping in the ranger family’s house, probably because he kept hearing sounds all night. Since most hotels that served the park were closed until mid-May, the Landons had relied on the generosity of the park for a place to stay during this first week of April. It had been a real stroke of luck that one of the ranger families was spending some time in Utah, so they’d offered the Landons their home while they were away. Their house was furnished with three bedrooms on the main floor and one in the basement, plus a living room, two bathrooms, and a small, sunny kitchen. Nicky had asked for the room in the basement, which gave Jack and Ashley, in addition to their parents, rooms of their own. Perfect, except that the mysterious night noises had kept Jack restless. The digital clock had registered 3:42 before he finally figured out that the thuds were nothing but clumps of snow sliding off the pitched roof.

“Must…sleep,” Jack groaned now, hugging his pillow over his ears.

He saw a streak of yellow light as his sister yanked the pillow away from his face, but he jerked it back harder, practically smashing his nose into his face.

“Don’t be such a weenie.” Ashley’s words were muffled by the pillow. One by one, she tried to pry away his fingers.

Jack clamped his pillow in a death grip. “Show the moose to Nicky,” he croaked.

“I knocked, but he didn’t answer. I can’t just go into his room. What if he doesn’t wear pajamas?”

Pulling the pillow off his face, Jack tried to focus. His sister’s cheeks and nose had pinked up from the cold, and her hair billowed out from the bottom of her hat in an inverted mushroom cloud. She had on a pair of jeans and an unzipped parka with a single glove shoved in each pocket. Underneath she wore a blue nightshirt spangled with moons and stars, which hung loosely over her jeans to her knees. The tongues of her boots stuck out, and the laces dragged against the floor like whiskers. In her odd getup, she looked like a cartoon.

He could hear his sister stomp her foot. “Hurry up!”

“Go away!” Jack moaned.

“OK, fine. Miss the moose.”

Her footsteps clomped on the wooden floor as she flounced off, and then Jack heard the creak of an outside door. He lay there for a minute, then flipped the covers off and rolled out the rest of the way. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, but it was no use fighting it. He was awake. Well, he sighed, he might as well see the animal that cost him an extra hour of sleep. Grabbing his parka and camera, he stepped into his sneakers, not bothering to search for his socks. Then he entered the dim hallway.

It had surprised Jack, the way all the Denali ranger homes looked exactly like regular run-of-the-mill houses. He’d been expecting a split-log cabin heated by a wood-burning stove and maybe an old-fashioned hand pump for water. In his mind he’d pictured an outhouse behind every porch. Instead, this house and all the others in the cluster looked just like the tract homes in Jackson Hole. Indoor plumbing and everything.

Once outside, he followed his sister’s footprints to the back of the house. It had snowed hard in the middle of the night, a deep, fluffy layer of white that mounded on the branches like dollops of whipped cream. Light snow kicked into his shoes and onto bare skin, so he tried to walk in Ashley’s boot prints. When that didn’t work, he switched to threading a path inches from the side of the house, where the snow was still packed. He found Ashley hunched behind a spruce tree. When she turned and saw him, she smiled, then placed her finger to her lips and pointed to a cluster of trees.

A huge moose munched lazily on bare twigs, its large, bulbous nose and neck bell bobbing with every bite. Jack held his breath as the moose moved forward, crunching through the trees until it was less than ten feet away. Although he knew the powerful animal could be dangerous, he couldn’t pass on what could be the best shot of his life. Carefully, he unzipped his camera case and was just raising his camera to his face when he heard a door squeak noisily from the screened-in porch on the south end of the house. The moose snapped its head up and looked in the direction of the noise. Jack froze, until the moose dropped its head to begin eating again.

“…thought I’d come out here for a cup of coffee, even though it’s a bit nippy. I wanted to talk to you about the wolverines.” Two chairs scraped noisily across the wooden planks. His parents wouldn’t be able to see the moose from the porch.

“This is the strangest case I’ve ever been called on. I’m hoping this cold air will clear my head so I can think it through. There’s something about these deaths that just doesn’t add up.”

“Like what?” Steven asked.

Jack could hear his mother sigh. “First of all, I’ve read through stacks of papers, and the truth is no one really knows much about this animal. They’re still very mysterious. And it doesn’t help that they are surrounded by myths and legends. There’s one story where a wolverine supposedly broke into a cabin and ate a trapper alive.”

“Ouch!”

“Steven, you know that’s utter nonsense.”

His parents’ voices distracted Jack. He didn’t want to hear about wolverines when he had a huge moose in his camera’s viewfinder. He wished they’d keep quiet so they wouldn’t scare away this animal before Jack got some pictures. Compared with all the pictures of moose he’d seen in books, this one looked twice as big, maybe because he was so close to it.

The moose took another mouthful of twigs and munched idly, although Jack thought it might be watching him.

He’d heard that more people got hurt by moose than by grizzlies, so he didn’t want to tick this big guy off. Just keep it nice and easy, he told himself. Zooming in so close he could count its eyelashes, he began to snap photos.

Ashley huddled beneath the tree branches like a turtle in a shell, watching the animal with rapt attention. “We should get Mom and Dad so they can see this,” she whispered.

“No, don’t move. I don’t want to scare him. If he decides to charge us, we’re toast.”

The moose backed up, his enormous head whipping past branches as he turned to go. Even though he knew it wouldn’t make a great picture, Jack snapped a few of the animal’s rump.

“Maybe we should go tell Mom and Dad now,” she suggested. “They can still get a look at it, even if it’s moving away.”

“Nah, don’t bother. They’re all hung up on the wolverine stuff.” Jack didn’t feel like sharing the moose experience with his parents—or more truthfully, with his father. He wanted to develop these pictures, and if they turned out as great as he thought they might, he’d present them to his dad as proof that he could take some spectacular shots too—even if he didn’t have his dad’s experience or his expensive camera equipment.

Once again his parents’ voices penetrated his consciousness. Olivia was saying, “A wolverine would rather run away than fight anything its size or larger. If they hunt anything, it’s usually ground squirrels. But lack of information is just one problem. The whole case has got me all turned around. For one thing, I don’t like the way those bodies were found.”

“You mean because the last two were next to snowmobile tracks?”

“Exactly. It doesn’t make sense, Steven. They’re such secretive animals, so why would they even come close to the trail? And two of them this last time…two males together? The fact is wolverine males are solitary. They keep to their own territories. I just don’t get it.”

“Were they hit by the snowmobiles?”

“The report says there are absolutely no signs of impact. The last two bodies are at Kantishna. I’ll know more when I examine them, but it appears they weren’t hit. It’s just baffling.”

Jack knew about the report. After they’d arrived in Anchorage, they’d driven directly to Denali, found the house they were to stay in, then quickly unpacked before heading to the ranger station, where his mother had been given a packet with pictures of the dead animals. Now he heard a rustling as his mother handed some papers to his father.

“…deaths are compounded by another sad statistic,” she was saying. “This report says wolverine young have a very high mortality rate—up to 30 percent.”

“From humans hunting them?” Steven asked.

“No. Unrelated adults appear to be killing the kits of other wolverines. But 30 percent! That’s a huge amount to lose. Which underscores how the wolverine population can’t afford the loss of apparently healthy adults. They’ll be in serious trouble if we don’t get a handle on this.”

“Nature can be cruel,” he told her. “Although I must admit I’ve thought about eating my own young once or twice.”

“Steven!”

He just laughed. A beat later he said, “I still think nature can’t hold a candle to the viciousness of the human race. Look at Nicky’s situation.”

Olivia dropped her voice low. “Seriously, what could be more savage than that? The whole thing makes me sick.”

Jack and Ashley exchanged glances. Both of them knew they weren’t supposed to be hearing this. Every time they asked about Nicky, they were told his life was “confidential.” Yet here was a chance for them to find out something—maybe just a little. After all, they were the ones who had to put up with Nicky Milano, man of mystery.

“It’s true—those people have ice in their veins,” Steven was saying. “They have no conscience. All things considered, I think taking Nicky was for the best.”

Ashley had begun to creep forward so she could hear better, but Jack grabbed her by the arm. Any motion might alert their parents, who would be really angry if they caught the two of them eavesdropping.

“I agree, but I have to admit I’m still worried,” Olivia continued. “What about Ashley and Jack? When it’s all said and done, they are our first priority. Are you sure they’ll be safe?”

“Olivia, we’re in Denali, thousands of miles from any kind of danger,” Steven insisted. “No one could possibly find us here. Who would even think to look at a wildlife veterinarian and her photographer husband up here in the frozen north? You’re worrying over nothing.”

“But what if?…” Olivia pressed.

“We can’t live our lives for the ‘what ifs.’”

“You’re right, you’re right. I’m also worried about Nicky. He’s pleasant enough, but how much of all this does he actually understand?”

Jack felt his nerves tingle. The cold bit through the flimsy pajama flannel, numbing his legs. He was holding his breath, straining to catch every word when he heard it—the barely-there sound of footsteps in the snow, as soft as the wind rustling through trees. He turned, nearly jumping out of his skin until he realized it was Nicky wearing a knit ski hat pulled down over his face, with holes for the eyes and mouth. It made him look creepy, like he was going to rob a 7-Eleven or something.

“Naughty, naughty,” Nicky whispered, pointing to the two of them and then to Steven and Olivia.

Jack’s body froze, but his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Caught in the act by Nicky!

Nicky put his finger to his lips and motioned for them to follow him. Ashley crept forward, pulling Jack’s gloved hand; he fell in behind the two retreating figures, moving through the snow this time, not caring how cold his feet got. Had Nicky heard what his parents had been saying? How long had he been standing there spying on them?

The sun was brighter now, making latticework shadows against the glittering whiteness. Nicky kept walking, past a stand of conifers and a boulder with a surface scored like elephant skin, along a tampeddown pathway that led to the corner of the yard, over to a small wooden picnic table where he swept the snow off the wooden bench and pointed for them to sit down.

He had on all his gear—parka, boots and gloves, and that weird knit ski mask, blood-red in color, that covered his face all the way down to his neck.

“You think we can talk, you know, in private out here?” he asked softly. “We could go inside, but I’ve been taught to say what I have to say in open spaces. You OK with that?”

When Ashley nodded, Nicky said, good, because it was important that no one else hear what he had to tell them. Since he seemed to be waiting for Jack to comment, Jack asked, “How long were you standing there behind me and Ashley?”

“Long enough. I went outside early—I saw a moose. Did you catch that bull moose, Ashley? It was standing over there by the back fence, where the rail is split.”

“Yes.” Ashley nodded. “Yes, I did. But I thought it was a girl.”

“Nope. It had that bell thingy hanging down from its neck, which makes it a guy. I read it in a book.”

Jack felt his impatience rising as Nicky smiled a little, his lips visible through the lower hole of the ski mask. Was he just playing games, Jack wondered?

You’d think you’d be able to read a person’s expression as long as the eyes and mouth showed, but it didn’t work that way, Jack realized. All parts of a face had to come together to project gloom or joy, fear or scorn, interest or mockery.

“Then I saw you two, and I said to myself, ‘Nicky, something’s going on. Someone is talking.’” Before Jack had a chance to answer, Nicky waved his hand and said, “Your parents should be more careful.”

“Wait a minute. What do you mean they should be more careful?” Jack demanded. “We still didn’t learn anything about this ‘danger’ we might be in. I want to know who you are and why exactly you’re here with us.”

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

Ashley caught her breath, but Nicky just laughed. “Come on guys, that was a joke. I’m trying to lighten the mood here.”

“I don’t think you’re funny,” Jack told him.

Nicky’s voice turned suddenly grave. “Yeah. Nothing much about my life has been funny. It actually sucks. But it’s going to get better. My dad—he promised me that.” He looked out into the trees, his dark eyes staring at something Jack couldn’t see.

It was Ashley who finally broke the silence. “Can you tell us?” she asked softly. When she spoke, her breath made a tiny cloud.

Nicky shifted on the bench. “I’m not supposed to. But then again, you went and heard, so maybe I can tell you some. I’m from Philadelphia—maybe you already know that. It was just me and my dad and then about a week ago…about a week ago he had to leave, and I had to find a place to land and that’s how I ended up with you. But don’t feel sorry for me or nothin’,” he rushed on. “We’re going to get back together soon, me and my dad, and then I’ll be outta here. It’s all good.”

Jack scowled. Hadn’t his parents said there was danger? Hadn’t they talked about hiding from who-knew-what up in the frozen north? He wanted to reach out and shake Nicky, but Ashley kept talking in her calm voice, as if they were having a conversation about oatmeal. What was it like living in a big city? Crowded, Nicky answered, but with really good restaurants that served dishes with names he couldn’t pronounce and spices that made his tongue burn and streets that were lit up like noon all night long and stayed bustling until the crack of dawn. What was his favorite class? Science, because you got to dissect real frogs. After that maybe math. For ten long minutes the conversation droned on, Nicky’s dark eyes locked on Ashley’s, his mouth seeming disconnected because of the ski mask, as if it belonged to a ventriloquist’s dummy.

“…so I’m a city kid who ended up in the frozen north. Man, who’d a thought?” Nicky shook his head. “I can’t believe they would send me all the way here. But that Ms. Lopez lady was right; I do feel OK about it. Except for maybe the wolves and bears.” The whole time he’d been talking Nicky had been working on a tiny eight-inch snowman, and now he stuck two spruce needle arms on it as well as a spruce needle nose. “You like this thing?” he asked Ashley.

Jack’s annoyance deepened. If his sister wanted to chatter like nothing was wrong, that was fine, but he was sick of pretending the three of them were rambling through a regular conversation. Whatever Nicky’s secret was, Jack wanted to know and he wanted to know now. “What are you running away from?” he demanded.

The smile faded from Nicky’s face.

“You heard what my parents said—that no one would think to look at a wildlife veterinarian and all of that. So who’s looking?”

No answer.

“If you’re not going to tell us, then why’d you bring us over to this table?”

No answer.

“I mean, why all the secrets? Why don’t you just tell us and then we can go into the house and have some hot chocolate and forget about it. This is just dumb.”

Nicky held up his right hand. “No, it’s all right,” he said to Ashley when she began to argue that Nicky should be able to tell things the way he wanted to. “Jack’s right. See, that’s the part I need you guys to understand.” His voice became suddenly slow, deliberate, and in an odd way everything around them seemed to hush. Even a black-billed magpie that had been fluttering at the top of a spruce stopped its strident cawing. “There are…things…about me…you need to leave alone. Not that I don’t want to tell you, but it’s not safe for you to know.”

Snorting, Jack said, “Oh, come on, get real. You’re in Alaska. Nobody’s going to find you up here. Mom and Dad said so.”

“I’m not talking about me.” He cocked his fingers as if he were holding a gun, and pointed at the snowman. He pretended to shoot, then blew at the tip of his finger as if clearing smoke from a gun barrel. “I’m talking about you two.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack scoffed. “Somebody’s gonna come all the way up here to shoot us. Who? A terrorist?”

Nicky’s eyes narrowed, and he breathed quickly once or twice, sending vapor into the cold air. Jack could almost see the wheels turning inside his head as he thought things over. Suddenly he said, “I can’t really break my oath of secrecy, but we’ll play a guessing game. About my dad, right? I’ll give you a clue, and you have to figure it out.” His eyes were still narrowed, but now they had a glint in them.

“A game,” Jack said. “OK. Go.”

“Here’s the clue,” Nicky announced. “Charlie is alive.”

“Who’s Charlie?” Ashley asked.

“That’s the clue. You have to guess.” Nicky set the little snowman in the center of the table and pretended to shoot it, using his finger as a gun.

“Is the snowman Charlie?” Jack wanted to know.

“No. The snowman is dead. Charlie is the clue. Charlie. Is. Alive.” As Nicky bit off each word, Ashley looked toward Jack and shrugged.

Jack swept his gaze around the snowy landscape. “I got it,” he said. “Charlie is the magpie up there in the tree. It’s still alive.”

Nicky shook his head. “You guys are so dense. Charlie’s no one. Charlie is just a word. OK, I’ll give you another clue. Can icicles attack?”

“Huh?” What kind of clue was that? Jack strained his imagination to come up with some solution to the puzzle, because he couldn’t let Nicky beat him in this little brain game. He no longer cared whether it would reveal anything about Nicky’s father; it was just that he needed to win, to silence that superior tone in Nicky’s voice. Two clues, he told himself. Charlie is alive. Can icicles attack? “Well,” he muttered, “each sentence has three words.”

Ashley grew excited and added, “And the three words start with the same letters.”

“C-I-A!” Jack yelled. “Your dad’s with the CIA.”

Nicky leaped forward, slamming his hand over Jack’s mouth. “Keep it quiet,” he hissed. “Keep it quiet.”




CHAPTER THREE


Jack looked out the window of the plane and let the scenery wash thoughts of Nicky out of his mind. Beneath him was the frozen Toklat River, a winding, silver-white braid lacing through mountains that looked like sleeping dragons. Having traced the thin spider vein of the Toklat along his map, he knew it would flow out of the Alaska Range to join the Kantishna River, which would eventually flow into the Tanana River then to the mighty Yukon, which emptied into the Bering Sea. But the scene below couldn’t be translated by the ink scribbles on his map; this park was too immense, too beautiful, too vast. At six million acres, Denali National Park and Preserve covered three times the area of Yellowstone, and here there were no highways threaded with bumper-to-bumper traffic; no miles of walkway crisscrossing the forest like scattered pick-up sticks.

The wilderness beneath him was an untouched pattern of tundra and kettle ponds and spruce forests. His mother had told him that parts of this landscape had never felt the tread of a human foot, and that knowledge made Jack glad. In a way it took the edge off the uneasiness he’d been feeling about Nicky.

Ever since Nicky had pointed his finger to pretend-shoot the snowman, Jack’s distrust of him had grown. Saying that he couldn’t tell Jack and Ashley about his life or they’d be in danger—how phony it all sounded! Of course the version Nicky told did tie in a little bit with what Jack’s parents had said—that up in Alaska they were “thousands of miles away from any kind of danger.” And yet he had to be faking it. Vows of silence? That stuff about the CIA? What was that all about? Jack wished his folks would just tell the whole story straight up so he could figure out what was going on. Instead, he was forced to make sense from whatever scraps of information he could stitch together, a line here and a bit there, like tiny patches on a quilt.

Pressing his forehead against the small window, he felt the plane’s vibration run straight through his skull and into his jaw. In an odd way it felt good because something else was bothering him. He wasn’t quite sure how to put words onto it. Maybe if the throb of the engine filled his head, he wouldn’t have to think.

He watched the mountains unroll below in a rhythm of peaks and valleys, the tops of them treeless and bare, the valleys empty sugar bowls of snow. From his books he knew that the summer would bring wildflower carpets and willow thickets that hid 37 species of mammals. Concentrate on those, he commanded his brain. Instead, his mind kept flashing back to Nicky, and he realized what else was gnawing at him. It was Ashley. When they’d sat at the picnic table, her wide-set eyes had watched Nicky’s every move in a way he’d never seen before. Jack didn’t like it. He didn’t like the way her face lit up when Nicky talked about his life. He especially didn’t like the way she swallowed Nicky’s every word, gulping down his story like a baby bird. Yeah, exactly like a baby bird. In his mind he hatched a picture of her with a beak-mouth opened wide as Nicky fed her one fantasy after another.





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