Wilderness (5 page)

 

 

It was a white path. It was long and straight, and it
disappeared as they went over it. The sleds were going
faster than a car – that was what it felt like. And they
were nearer the ground; they could feel it right under
them. They could hear the runners, the blades,
beneath them. They could hear them scratch and
glide over the ice.

They looked straight ahead. At the dogs.

The dogs didn't gallop. They didn't lift their legs and
throw them back, the way horses seemed to, pushing
themselves forward. The dogs trotted, little steps, like
they weren't in that big a hurry. The boys had seen dogs
on Dollymount beach, charging across the sand, tongues
out, heads down to the level of their backs. But these
dogs weren't like that. They couldn't be; they were tied
to the sled. But Tom and Johnny knew: if they had been
ordinary dogs, they'd have been pulling too fast, bashing
into each other, getting themselves caught in the straps.

They were coming to a hill.

These weren't ordinary dogs. They were working
together. They had to save their energy, so they didn't
dash. They pulled and charged a bit at the start, to get
the sled moving. But then they calmed down. Rock,
the leader, didn't look at them or howl. But he slowed
down, and so did they.

But that was the thing. They didn't slow down.
They were going like crazy. When Johnny looked to
the side it was a white blur, and a bit scary. Then he
looked straight ahead again, and the dogs were just
trotting away, their breath steaming out. They were
much, much stronger than their size. Their tails were
up, and their breath was like laughter.

The hill was nearer. It wasn't that high. The boys
saw Aki on his snowmobile, on top of the hill. He was
waving, telling them to come forward. Tom tried to
look behind, at Kalle, to see if he was waving back.
But he couldn't turn properly. He was afraid he'd fall
out of the sled; it was bouncing a bit on the ice.

The dogs started up the hill.

Aki kept waving. They could hear him.

“Come, come! No cars!”

They saw it now; the top of the hill was a road. They
went past Aki, and straight across. They looked left and
right. The road was straight and empty. It was a scar,
right through the white forest. It was daytime now, but
the air was silver. The sky was low enough to touch.

The road was ending.

“Oh, oh.”

They laughed. They could feel their guts getting
ready. They were going to drop. The dogs ran down
the hill on the other side of the road; they didn't slow
down or hesitate. And Tom and Johnny were right
behind them. The path was gone. There
was
a path,
but it was narrow now, and never straight. They were
right in the forest and going over big snow. They
swerved around rocks and trees. They pushed into
each other as they turned; they couldn't help it. They
leaned out over the side of the sled. They couldn't
help that either. The dogs still trotted along, like this
was normal. They watched the dogs, and they felt
normal too.

This was the best thing that had ever happened to
them. They both thought that, at the same time.

The sled swerved, and they couldn't see the dogs
for a second – they were off the ground, and then they
were behind the dogs again. There was a path, but
only because the dogs were running on it. Johnny and
Tom couldn't really see it. The trees were green here.
They were in dark forest, away from the edge. This
was wilderness. They both felt it – they knew. This
was where you could get lost – really lost. Something
had changed. They didn't just like the dogs. They
needed them.

They could hear their dogs panting. They could hear the other dogs behind them. They could hear
the runners on the snow. They could hear Aki's
snowmobile.

They went between two big trees, and the land
opened in front of them. It was a wide, white space,
like a small park or a football pitch, flat and silvery
white. They could see the silver sky again. But the
wall of the forest was straight ahead. They were going
to go back in.

They heard dog breath and paws, right behind
them. Johnny looked back, but he couldn't see
anything. Tom looked, and saw four dogs running
towards him, coming up, about to pass them. They
were pulling an empty sled. It was bouncing around a
bit, jumping, because it was so light.

But the dogs didn't pass Kalle's sled.

“They won't pass the leader,” said Johnny. “That's
why they've slowed down.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Tom.

He heard Kalle shout something, over their heads.
Something short. One word, one syllable. That was
all, and the dogs in front slowed and stopped. Tom felt
the weight behind him; Kalle was standing on the
brake.

The other dogs stopped too. Kalle walked through
the snow to the other sled. He patted the front dogs.
They rubbed against his arm. They moaned and
muttered happily.

“Come on,” said Johnny.

He pulled back the blanket and climbed out of the
sled. Tom thought about this. There was no reason for
them not to do it. It wasn't dangerous, and they
weren't at school. So, he got out from under the
blanket too. He could make out lots of sled tracks,
and some paw prints. The snow wasn't thick. But
when he stood up and took a few steps away from the
sled, the snow went up his boots, right up to the tops.
It was great.

Kalle looked at Tom and Johnny. He said nothing.
They stood beside him and watched Aki come
towards them on the snowmobile. There was
someone else on the snowmobile, behind him.

It was their mother.

“She must have fallen off,” said Tom.

“Cool,” said Johnny.

The snowmobile slowed as it got nearer the dogs,
and stopped. Their mother got off the back. They saw
her stretch to get her foot over the seat. She nearly
fell. They could see her face. She was red. She looked
at Tom and Johnny. She smiled at them and stuck out
her tongue. She struggled through the high snow.
Then one of her feet landed on the hardened snow,
and she saw that it was easier to walk on the path.

“Hiya, lads,” she said. “I went on my bum.”

They laughed.

Kalle spoke.

“Why – did – you – fall – off – your – sleigh?” he
said.

“Ah Jaysis, Kalle,” said their mother. “I didn't do it
on purpose.”

They could hear Aki laughing.

“What – was – the – cause?” said Kalle.

“I – don't – know,” said their mother. “I – just –
fell – off.”

She lifted her hands.

“Sorry,” she said. “I'm being rude. Sorry, Kalle. But
I just fell off.”

Kalle nodded.

“
Paska
– happens,” he said.

The other sleds had caught up. Johnny could see
the other people trying to stay steady on their brakes.
Their dogs tried to pull, nearer to Kalle.

“And, so,” said Aki.

They heard him turn on the snowmobile.

Kalle held their mother's sled while she stepped on
to it and put her feet on the brake. He turned and
stared at Tom, and Johnny.

They ran – they tried to run – back to the sled,
through the high snow, then the flattened stuff. Tom
slid. He tried it again, but it didn't work. Johnny got
there first.

“Sorry, no room.”

He pushed Tom back.

“Lay off,” said Tom.

He slid again. But this time he didn't want to. He
tried to get on to the sled, and Johnny pushed again.

Suddenly, Kalle was there. He leaned down and
picked up Johnny. He hoisted him a few centimetres
and dropped him to the side. There was room for
Tom. He climbed in.

“Brothers,” said Kalle. “I – understand.”

“Do you have a brother?” said Tom.

“I – give – him – to – the – husky – dogs,” said
Kalle. “They – eat.”

“Really?”

Kalle nodded.

Tom believed him. He didn't – he did. There was
nothing jokey about Kalle. But maybe Finnish jokes
weren't meant to be funny.

Kalle stepped on to the sled, behind them. He
spoke to the dogs, and the sled began to move.

 

 

Gráinne looked out the window. Her mother was at
the front door, waiting. Her cases and stuff were
all around her. She leaned over one case and rang
the bell again. She looked back at Gráinne and
smiled.

Gráinne saw the door open. Her granny came out
to the porch and hugged her mother. She saw them
hold each other for a long while. She saw them speak.
Her granny looked at the taxi. She smiled, and waved.
Gráinne waved back.

She watched her granny and her mother bending
down and picking up the cases.

“What's the story there?” said the taxi driver.

She'd forgotten he was there.

“What?” she said.

She could see his eyes in the rearview mirror. His
glasses were on a bit crooked. She looked away.

She saw her mother coming out of the house. She turned, and said something to Gráinne's granny. She
waved, and started walking to the taxi.

“Is that your mother?” said the taxi driver.

Gráinne didn't answer.

 

 

They were going over ice now. They were on a lake,
just a few centimetres between them and the freezing
water.

Tom pulled back his head and called up to Kalle.

“Is it deep?”

“Not – understand,” said Kalle.

His voice boomed across the ice. The trees at the
lakeside seemed to shake.

“Is there much water?” said Johnny.

He pointed at the ice.

Kalle nodded.

There were branches and sticks poking out of the
ice. They marked the safe path across the lake, where
the ice was thickest. It was like a race now, like the
skiing they'd seen on telly. The dogs went right
between the sticks. Sometimes they skidded, but it
didn't slow down or confuse them.

Aki went past them, on the snowmobile. He hit one of the marker branches but it didn't snap or fall. It
sprang back to the upright position.

“The ice must be thick,” said Tom.

He had to say it loud. The sky seemed to swallow
up his voice.

“Yeah,” said Johnny.

They were safe, but it was still exciting. Ice melted;
ice broke. Some messers might have changed the
positions of the sticks and sent the sled the wrong and
dangerous way.

They sailed over the ice.

They went past a house. It was suddenly there, at
the edge of the lake, like a story house. It was wood
and painted green. It seemed to move beside them,
and then they left it behind.

Johnny looked back, but the house was gone,
hidden by the trees. He was cold. His face was very
cold. He hadn't moved in hours. He saw Aki ahead of
them. The snowmobile went over a hump and into the
trees. Aki was off the lake. Johnny couldn't see him
now. Just before the dogs reached the lakeside, he saw
a wide gap in the trees, and he could see the sun. He
could see half the sun, like the top half of a big red
eye, staring at him.

“Is that the sun or the moon?” said Tom.

“Sun,” said Johnny.

“How do you know?” said Tom.

“Shut up,” said Johnny.

The dogs climbed the bank. One of them slipped
but was held up by the others and the harness. They
dragged the sled up, off the ice. They were in among
the trees again, and the wind was off their faces. But
they were still cold, that shivery feeling that takes
ages to go away. The light had changed. It was darker
here. The trees closed in above them, and the light
was cut into long lines that got thinner, until the sled
went deeper into the trees, and they left the light
behind.

Then they saw the fire.

The dogs headed for it. They swerved among the
trees, but always, when the turn was finished, the fire
was in front of them.

They came out of the trees, to a small clearing with
a frozen stream and snow-hidden bushes and silver
light that seemed solid enough to climb.

Aki was sitting at the fire, on a log. He waved as
Kalle called over the boys' heads, and the dogs
stopped. The sled stopped completely. Two of the
dogs lay down. The boys started to climb off the sled.

“Wait,” said Aki.

Kalle walked past them and tied a strap to one of
the small trees that grew beside the stream.

“OK,” said Aki.

They got off the sled and stood up. They were stiff.

“Oh, me poor bones,” said Johnny.

Tom began to jump up and down.

“Good idea,” said Aki.

But they stopped, because Aki was cutting wood
and that was much more interesting. He was slicing
the top of a branch, again and again, making it look
like a pineapple or a mad haircut.

“Burns better, I guess,” he said. “See?”

He held the branch close to the fire, and the cut
pieces of the branch lit quickly. The boys watched the
flame spread up through the branch.

“Cool,” said Tom.

He wanted to take his knife out; it was hidden in
one of his pockets. But he knew his mother would
have gone mad if she'd seen it.

The air was full of panting dogs and excited people.
Aki and Kalle helped everyone to tie their sleds. The
dogs all sat or lay in the snow. They curled up and let
themselves sink in. They hid their noses under their
tails.

Tom and Johnny took off their gloves and put their
hands out, over the flames. They sat down on a log.
There were four logs, in a square; seats around the
fire.

“Luxury,” said Tom.

“Move over, lads,” said their mother.

She got in between them. She pretended she was
pushing them away.

“What did you think?” she said.

“Brilliant,” said Tom.

“Why can't we have our own sleds?” said Johnny.

“They told you—” she started.

“It's boring,” said Johnny.

“Boring?” she said. “Boring?”

She picked up a stick and shook it.

“Come here till I give you boring.”

Johnny ran, and she ran after him. He dived on to
the snow. She sat on top of him.

“Is it boring?” she said.

“Yeah.”

She picked up a handful of snow. She put it to his
nose.

“Is it boring?” she said.

Tom could hear Johnny laughing.

“Yeah,” said Johnny. “It's very boring.”

His mother's back was blocking Tom's view, but he
thought she was shoving some of the snow down
Johnny's back.

“Is it boring?” he heard her.

“Stop!”

“Is it boring?”

“No!”

He shouted so loud a small bird shot out of a bush
beside him.

Tom laughed.

“Siberian jay,” said Aki. “This bird is the soul of a
dead hunter.”

“Really?” said Tom.

“For sure.”

Tom heard his mother.

“Is it exciting?”

“Yes!” Johnny yelled.

“How exciting?”

“Stop!”

“
How
exciting?”

“The best ever!”

“Great,” said his mother.

She stood up. She hugged Johnny when he was
standing up. Tom wanted to go over there now, to
throw snow, and be chased and hugged.

The man from Belgium was sitting now, near Tom.

“Your mother,” he said.

He pointed, and smiled.

“Is a very attractive woman,” he said.

Tom knew his face was turning red. He wanted to
jump up and hit the man from Belgium. But his wife
or girlfriend was sitting beside him, and she nodded
too. She leaned out, so she could look properly at
Tom.

“She is very nice,” she said. “The way she plays with your brother.”

The man nodded. And that was fine. He just
thought Tom's mother was nice. And that was OK.
Because she was.

“Tom?” he heard Aki.

Tom looked. Aki was at the fire, kneeling beside it.

“Will you help?” said Aki.

“OK,” said Tom.

Would he help? He went so quickly, he nearly
tripped and dived into the fire. He landed right beside
Aki. Aki was cutting a thin branch at the top, to make
it split in two. He had tied three other thin branches
together, using a strip of bark. They stood like a
teepee, or the legs of a stool.

“See how I cut?” he said.

“Yeah,” said Tom.

Aki handed the knife to Tom. It was like one of the
knives in the showcase, and way bigger than the knife
Tom had hidden in his pocket. Aki was holding it out
for Tom. He wasn't telling him to be careful or
anything. Tom took the knife; he held the handle. It
wasn't as cold as he'd expected, probably because Aki
had been holding it. It was quite heavy. He looked
around. He hoped Johnny was watching, and his
mother too.

They were. They were looking at him. They were
coming towards the fire. He pretended he hadn't been
looking at them. He turned, back to Aki.

Aki was holding the stick he'd been splitting.

“See why I do this?” said Aki.

“Yeah,” said Tom.

“Why?” said Aki.

“Eh, not sure.”

“Cut it a bit more,” said Aki. “Then I show you.”

“OK.”

“What are you doing?”

It was Johnny.

“Helping Aki,” said Tom.

“How?” said Johnny.

“We are making the coffee,” said Aki.

Tom was careful with the knife. This was his
chance; he wasn't being treated like a baby. He cut a
bigger notch at the tip of the branch. He made sure
the sharp side wasn't facing his fingers and body. He
knew how to do it. He knew he was being watched.

“Let's see,” said Johnny.

Tom knew what that meant. Johnny didn't want to
see the knife. He wanted Tom to give it to him. Tom
ignored him.

“Give us a go,” said Johnny.

Tom could feel Johnny leaning into him. But he
knew that Johnny wouldn't grab the knife, not in front
of Aki and their mother.

“Next time, you,” said Aki, to Johnny.

That was fine with Tom. He was the first one to use
a real hunter's knife.

“That is good,” said Aki. “And, OK.”

Tom stopped cutting. He didn't have to be told
again. He handed the stick to Aki. He held the knife.
He did nothing with it. He just held it, like it was a
pen or a ruler or something normal from his life. He
watched Aki put the branch across the other tree branches, the ones he'd already tied. He made it lean
across the top of the branches. It was now hanging
over the centre of the fire.

“See?” said Aki.

“Yeah,” said Johnny.

“And, now,” said Aki.

He lifted the branch off the other branches.

“You will see why you cut the wood.”

He picked up the coffeepot. It was like one of those
old-fashioned pots from a Western film. It was made
of tin and had a handle at the top. Aki pushed the
handle between the two split parts of the branch top.
Then he held the branch and put it hanging over the
fire again, with the coffeepot right in the middle. He
sat back on one of the log seats and put the end of the
branch under his foot. The pot was on top of the fire,
but the branch was too high above to catch fire.

“That's brilliant,” said Tom's mother.

“It will take a very long time?” said the man from
Belgium.

“Not so long, I guess,” said Aki.

They all sat on the logs around the fire, squashed
into each other. They were very cold, but a bit too
tired to notice. They waited for the coffee; they held
the wooden cups Aki had handed them. The sweat
was drying inside their suits. Their arms were still
shaking, from holding on to the sleds. Their hands
were sweaty and aching. They sat in the silver, slanting sunlight. The heat of the fire lifted the smell
of strong coffee to their noses. They knew this was
special. They loved what they'd just done, and most of
them dreaded doing it again in a few minutes. Some
people spoke quietly to each other, and most were
happy to stay quiet.

“Boring!''

It was Johnny, and he let himself fall backwards off
the log, so he'd land on the snow and get out of the
squash of adult shoulders. Tom followed him. They
stood up together and ran straight at the deep snow.

Johnny stopped.

“Are there any snakes here?” he asked.

“Some, I guess,” said Aki. “Adder. Bushmaster.
Cobra.”

He shrugged.

“It's OK,” he said. “It's cool. They sleep, I think.”

Johnny looked at Tom.

They ran.

The snow got deeper and deeper. Ankles, shins,
knees, over the knees. They ran past the dogs. They
had to lift their legs higher.

“Jump,” said Johnny. “One, two . . . three!”

They jumped out of the hold of the snow. They
lifted their arms; they stretched them out. They stuck
out their chests. They hit the snow.