Chapter 17. Falling Toward the Arctic Ocean
They left the Great Slave Lake in their wake, having pushed their raft and themselves into the current of the Mackenzie three days ago. This raft - the result of 27 trunks of pines trees lashed together with nylon rope - gave buoyancy to all of their garments and guns, gasoline tanks and fishing gear, ammunition and books - all the provisions and supplies they required to survive in the wilderness for years should they choose to lose themselves for years. Their little sail was billowing in the breeze, giving them some steerageway should they need to dodge whirlpools or oncoming barges.
Amanda was leaning against the mast and thinking about Haakon. She wondered if he was of a seafaring race, as his named implied. His talents seemed to run in the direction of water craft though Amanda seemed to recall that his name was merely a nom de guerre. Unlike herself, who was forever battling the tedium of life aboard a floating vessel, Haakon seemed perfectly content drifting down a languid river. He had his fishing pole and his love for playing with Al, his gift for easy conversation with anyone who cared to listen. Amanda had to admit there was a great advantage to river drifting over oceanic voyages. Of course one couldn't get sea sick on a tranquil raft. The disadvantages, which were more in the manner of hearsay than anything she had experienced herself, were the plunging cataracts, the precipitous water falls, the rivers crowded with barges which could smash small rafts in a twinkling. She was impatient with the slow progress that a raft sans an engine makes, though she understood all of the mathematics explained to her: a 3 mph current will transport one over 700 miles in 10 days.
To the west was a mist-shrouded shore. To the east were small mountains rising into a cloudless sky. The scenery was enchanting, as the water shone with a sea-green color under the horizon, though it was grayish brown closer to the raft. The splendors of the Canadian North were helping to drive away her ennui. She wondered if she would ever be captivated by water and landscape they way some other people were. She was impressed with yesterday's sunset. Then the great river was not merely a languid flood of brown water: under the sun there were no end of glittering variations to behold, and the water went from brown to blue to sea-green to golden hues and then to black when the long twilight arrived. But, despite all these variations in nature, tedium descended all the same upon Amanda's head from the minute they crowded themselves on to this raft and shoved off from shore, leaving the Great Slave Lake behind them. Amanda had gotten into a rhythm during their months of hiking. The opiate of daily exercise had driven off that fog of discontent which hung over her whenever she was sedentary. It was not always possible to swim ashore and follow the raft on foot. There were bogs and sloughs and quick sands. There were swarms of flies and mosquitoes to torment one on large sections of both banks of this river. On the raft one had to subsist on day dreams, fishing, idle chit chat, watching for other boats, keeping a watch for storms beating up from the south, or at least if one cared to exercise one's imagination, one might think of frightful storms bursting forth at any minute. One could always keep illustrious company with the characters in the fictional and nonfictional books they brought with them. But when the shore was dry and free of mud, Amanda could always find someone to help her cure her melancholia, by swimming ashore with her and then hiking with her for miles over that shoreline.
Today, Maria and Amanda swam to the western shore to take a stroll.
`I never was any good at keeping a secret,' confessed Amanda.
`It's good everything has finally been explained,' Maria was saying. `I wonder if Haakon is ever going to confront me about my attempt to kill him. He's infinitely more devoted to me after I tried to kill him than he was before, so he might never mention the matter of my attempt to murder him. Men are strange creatures, in case you didn't know.'
`You mean he's flattered that you loved him passionately enough to try to murder him,' said Amanda.
`There might be more to it than just that,' replied Maria. `Maybe he just started to think more clearly after that fight he had with those convulsions and hallucination.'
`Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger, as they say.'
`Could be,' said Maria. `You must be a little torn about the course we're taking. I mean, if we gave ourselves up, and if people are now on your side, you might only get probation. Though, of course, a jury of idiots might give you the gas chamber.'
`To some people I'll always be a killer. That's why I want to stay a fugitive in the wilderness for awhile longer,' said Amanda.
`It hurts me to hear that Von Hellemann is trumpeting my secrets, not that I blame him for trying to protect you. You understand how I went a little crazy there. But I don't want you to think I'm a witch. I am not a sorceress. I was just insanely jealous.'
`I know,' said Amanda. `I've been on your side, and not just because I'm thankful you didn't try to murder my mom in your jealous rage. I only wish we could keep my dad and my brother in the dark about a few things concerning my mom. But that probably can't happen.'
`I don't see why not. It's only you, me, your mom and my husband who know about the bathtub scene. That didn't make the newspapers. Can't we execute a decent cover-up operation with something as simple as that? If we get caught and it comes out that I shot Haakon because I was convinced he was cheating on me with some mystery woman, I'll invent a convincing story. Your mom's name never has to be mentioned. As long as we all keep our stories straight no one will be convicted of perjury. And it's worth taking the risk to make sure your dad and brother never learns about my husband and your mom.'
`Agreed,' said Amanda.
`There's a secret you'll keep?'
`Hmm-Hmm.'
`So the story is this: I shot my husband because I knew he was cheating on me with some woman, but I don't know her name, she didn't work at Von Hellemann's beer-hall. I had never seen her before when I looked in some window to see her and my husband in the tub. We're saying it was a case of temporary insanity on my part, and of course a case of mistaken identity on your part, with the FBI agent, which is true.'
`Sounds good,' said Amanda. `Does Haakon really think that I have a good chance with a jury?'
`Von Hellemann might arrange a deal for you. You'd serve no prison time, probation only, provided you returned to Grand Marais and told the truth. It might help your story if Haakon and me lost ourselves in Europe or South America for awhile. Of course there's a problem. If it gets out that you perjured yourself to protect your dad from the truth, then you haven't told the truth. Then the deal's off. And then you would go to prison.'
`This gypsy life suits me for now. I got a new name. A new identity. Once I grow a bit taller no one will ever connect me with some photos in some old newspapers.'
`That's smart. Stay away from the courts and the press at all costs. They'll either try to hang you or try to make a profit off you, or both.'
`Yeah.'
`And like you said, you aren't any good at keeping secrets.'
`Yeah.'
`Not to be too blunt with you, but you have to assume that you will not be able to tell a lie, to commit perjury, when the wife and kids of the slain FBI agent get emotional in court, when they demand that you tell the whole truth. And then if you tell the whole truth, after you have already sworn to the jury that you were not protecting me, and that you never knew who shot my husband, then things could blow up in your face. You might get a lot of jail time.'
`You're right again. On the one hand I wish my dad knew the truth, not that I think he's tormented by the suspicion that I killed the FBI man for his money. He might never find out what happened if he never researches some old newspapers.'
`Haakon and me think Von Hellemann might have known there were FBI agents on his property the night you shot one. Odd how everyone slept soundly through that shotgun blast. We wonder if Von Hellemann was pretending to be asleep for some reason.'
`That crossed my mind
a few time,' said Amanda.
`When Von Hellemann returned later - and found your note - that must have shook him up. Once he saw that note, and saw the body, saw the letters FBI on the back of the man's jacket in the beam of the flashlight - letters which he couldn't discern without the flashlight - which is crucial evidence in your favor - Von Hellemann was probably thinking of ways to protect himself, not that he must have known that you killed the agent. If he didn't know it was you who killed the man, he probably thought the odds of him being murdered that night were fairly high, especially when he was walking back to the Castle through those dark woods after he found the FBI agent. If only he had gone outside of your cottage earlier and had done a better job of searching the premises after you woke him up, when you said you heard a gunshot, everything would have been seen as just a terrible accident, because you hadn't yet taken the agent's gun and money. Von Hellemann has threatening letters from real extortionists. The cops saw the bullet hole in Haakon. They know the Mayo Clinic pulled a poisoned bullet out of him. It sounds a little fishy to say one slept while a shotgun was blasting outside the door, but when one is dead tired one can sleep through a lot. If only you had not left your footprints and fingerprints everywhere. If only you had not bought the Doritos and the Diet Cherry Coke with the $100 bill - everyone would know that, at worst, you accidentally shot the FBI agent, because you were terrified of killers lurking in the dark forest. But cheer up, people are starting to believe it was an honest mistake on your part. Maybe everyone will support you soon, even juries and prosecutors. But everyone thinks I'm a murdering witch. If only I hadn't been so insanely jealous! I can hardly believe that I was driven to homicide. You watch movies about that sort of thing, and then, next thing you know, you're standing in the shadows waiting to pull the trigger on a cheating husband. How crazy is that?
`But weren't you hoping that that magic bullet would win Haakon back to you? And isn't it fascinating how bewitched Haakon is with you now! Look how devoted your husband became, and just after he was shot with a love-potion in the form of a poisoned bullet that you got from that witch-doctor in South America.'
`Tease me all you want. It's true I was overjoyed to see he hadn't died. I saw him hours later that night at the beer-hall. Talk about relief, and not just because I would hate to think of myself as a murder. At one minute I was filled with jealousy and murder, but all that disappeared right after I shot him.'
`Is the love between you two going to last this time?' asked Amanda.
`Who knows? Are you worried I'll shoot him again with another love potion under another full moon?'
`No.'
`Have you forgiven your mom for cheating on your dad? She was a good agent with the CIA. Secret agents are driven to live dangerously. We're adrenaline junkies.'
`Is that why she cheated on my dad?'
`Don't know what was in her head. At least she doesn't seem torn up that Haakon is back with me.'
`She's relieved you didn't murder her!' exclaimed Amanda.
`Your mom and me go way back. She knows that violence is usually out of character with me. If I was in a bathtub with her husband, she wouldn't stick an axe in my skull, at least I don't think so, but temporary insanity is a crazy thing.'
`I guess.'
`You can tell your mom about everything we've talked about if you want. I'm no longer mad at her about anything. I hope she feels the same way toward me. I know Haakon loves me not your mom, so that makes it simple for me to forgive and forget.'
`Oh we know Haakon loves you,' said Amanda. `And my mom already knows the latest news about you. I do like to talk. We've analyzed your case from every angle!'
Amanda and Maria hiked for 20 miles that day. When they were ready to rejoin the others they ran a couple hundred feet ahead of the raft, slipped into the cold invigorating current, swam toward the middle of the Mackenzie, and then tread water as they watched the raft drift into position to pick them up. Amanda and Maria then feasted with the others on fresh duck and fresh venison steaks which Sergio had shot, roasted and seasoned.
`I used some special seasoning,' Sergio was saying. `I got these spices in South America.'
`Oh no, not the Paraguayan spices!' exclaimed Pamela. `They give you a feeling of euphoria, but first your tongue burns, and then you start to sweat, then you feel your bones shaking in their joints, and then you finally get to the euphoria.'
`She exaggerates,' said Amanda.
`Not if you take the full dose,' said Maria. `And Haakon and I have both over-dosed on Sergio's cooking before.'
They dined as well on some of the delicacies which Haakon had selected on his hike into civilization: asparagus and red cabbage, beets and potatoes, Brie and Camembert, chocolate and raspberry tort, sherry and chardonnay, coffee and tea, brandy and bourbon; Irish whiskey, Canadian whiskey, Scotch whiskey…
Amanda sat between Al and Sergio: everyone was sitting round the campfire which rested atop a thick layer of rocks piled in a wooden box atop the timbers of the raft. The air had been oppressive that evening, sultry - the sort of choking atmosphere which led one to leap into the river every ten minutes to wash the sweat away. Later, dark storm clouds came surging up from the south: there were sporadic blasts of thunderbolts and strong winds came rushing over the river. The rain fell in torrents for only a few minutes, but, après le deluge, when the clouds cleared away, when the winds no longer blew in torrential gusts, when the cool air had been washed in the cleansing rain, the atmosphere became as sweet as perfume and was indeed intoxicating to inhale.
In a few more days they might make a trek over the mountains to the west. Perhaps they would follow a river until it fell into another river which fell into the Yukon River. Or they might find an Indian settlement and spend the winter teaching the Eskimos the White Man's ways. This alternative was especially appealing if the settlement was so remote as to be a stranger to newspapers, TVs and radios. When spring arrived they would hike over the mountains and find the Yukon River. Then they could drift upon it until they could make an easy trek into Fairbanks.
Amanda's hair could be dyed black again. Their phony passports were in perfect order. They could be safe in Warsaw or Prague, Berlin or Budapest a few days after they were in Fairbanks.
Haakon had purchased another two hundred pounds of delicacies at a barge company's general store on the Dease River: strawberry jam, raspberry jelly, blackberry preserves, green olives, black olives, smoked ham, currants, dried apricots, fresh oranges, chocolates, candies, wines: Chardonnay, Chianti, Burgundy, Zinfandels, Champagne etc. - to give as gifts to the Indians, not that they anticipated having to buy the silence of the Red Men. Sergio thought he would like to teach Math and Science, French and English literature, and the Bible, to Eskimo kids during the long winter. And yet the scholar was ignorant of so much knowledge! He was clueless about these people, these people with their violent and uncontrollable passions, who were sitting so close to him on the raft. Everyone save a cherub named Al had conspired to keep Sergio in ignorant bliss. And everyone was content to be fugitives and vagabonds drifting upon the waters of the great Mackenzie River as they fell toward the polar sea.
The End
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