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How did he do that? Sometimes it seemed as though he could read her mind. “I think you’re trying to be nice.”
He shook his head. “I wouldn’t have brought you if I didn’t think you were a survivor. You’ll surprise yourself, Carly. Mark my words.”
They stopped for lunch at noon, judging by the position of the sun. Carly didn’t feel all that hungry, but Justin insisted she eat to build her stamina. Their current meal was cold spaghetti rings from the can by the side of the road. Carly watched Sam try to coax Shadowfax into a game of chase, but the horse still didn’t cotton to the idea of being chased by a wolf. It brought up her instinctual fears. He nipped at her forelegs a couple of time, and Carly saw a big “trouble brewing” sign flash above them. Before she could swallow her bite of cold pasta, Justin called Sam to come over and lie down beside them before he made Shadowfax nervous enough to lash out with one of her hooves. Carly gave him a tentative smile. It was nice to know she wasn’t the only one Justin was looking out for.
Late in the afternoon, they finally arrived at the summit of White Pass and the border between the U.S. and Canada. Cement barriers, like those on the bridge, had been erected to block traffic, and a line of cars sat on both sides. Tattered flags flapped on the poles mounted on the rocky summit. Carly was disappointed. “I thought there would be something here.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Tourist shops or something. A building of some kind.” Not just a tiny log shack that held maintenance supplies. It wasn’t even large enough for them to sleep in with all of the stuff crammed inside, and they were too tired to even consider hauling it out.
“I learned in history class there used to be border guards who stayed out here to check to make sure each man had the required ton of supplies before allowing them to pass.”
Justin glanced at their wagon. “Puts it in perspective, doesn’t it?”
She stopped at the base of the flags. One more foot forward and she would leave Alaska for the first time and likely never see it again. She looked back over her shoulder for a long moment and was hit by the fleeting temptation to turn around and coast back down the mountain to Skagway. But she turned to face forward, to face the future, full of unknown perils and uncertainties. It was a long and winding road to an unknown destination, a road that would take courage to face. And she found she had that courage, the same courage her history teacher had said drove the gold miners onward when there was just a narrow trail through these mountains.
Perhaps it was because the border was so anticlimactic, but Carly was much happier when Justin told her that night they would make it to Fraser the next day. “Seven miles, all downhill,” he said, and in the morning she was eager to go, wolfing down her eggs and coffee with gusto. She couldn’t have said why seeing buildings and some measure of civilization was so important to her, but she was excited to get moving.
The downhill trek would have been more fun if Justin hadn’t been such a killjoy about her speed. He insisted she take it slow and easy, and Carly teasingly stuck her lower lip out at him. He reminded her that the animals couldn’t keep up such a pace, which convinced her to slow down.
Justin gazed around them, his eyes wide as he took in the vista before them. “Carly, are you seeing this? It’s beautiful.”
Carly had to admit she hadn’t noticed it. She’d grown accustomed to the majestic views, but she supposed someone from Omaha would find them incredible even if he had seen them once before on the way into the state. The awe on his face made her take another look at the jagged mountains over the sparkling water in the valley below, an image she engraved in her heart, knowing as she did, she was unlikely to ever see it again.
Fraser had only about half a dozen buildings, including a corrugated metal customs hut in a repulsive shade of yellow-brown and a small collection of identical split-level houses for road crew workers. Beside the tracks stood a red clapboard railroad station with a train parked in front of it. Carly nudged Justin with her elbow when they dismounted at the edge of town. “Can you drive one of those?” she challenged.
“Nope, you got me,” he said with a grin. “Never had an occasion to drive a train.”
“Yeesh, look at that thing.” Carly pointed to the strange, fan blade-like machine on the front of the train. Sam trotted around sniffing at the wheels.
“I think it’s a snowplow for the tracks. I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never seen one before.”
He wandered over to look at it, and Sam bounded after him. Carly headed toward the train station. The door was unlocked and she walked inside the silent and stuffy building. A pair of restrooms was in front of her, and to the left a door led into the rest of the building. It creaked when she pushed it open, and she had only a moment to gather an impression of a large, dusty room with an office desk before a blinding pain slammed across her upper arm and back. She was knocked to the floor by the force of it and saw a man standing above her, holding a two-by-four. In her old life, he was the kind of man she would have asked for directions—a plump, pleasant-looking man in his mid-fifties wearing rimless glasses. But behind the lenses, his eyes gleamed with gleeful hate.
“The black cowboy says you’re the seventh!” He drew out the “s” sounds with a snakelike hiss and swung the board down. Carly rolled, avoiding the blow, which would have probably crushed her skull. The man howled and dropped the board from the painful vibrations of striking the floor, and Carly scrambled to her feet to dart around the back of the desk. The man charged at her, and Carly grabbed the back of the office chair and slung it at him. He tripped over it as she had intended but regained his footing and lunged at her with an inhuman screech. “You won’t take my petals!”
Sam burst through the door and used the top of the desk as a launch pad to pounce on the man with a vicious snarl. He sank his teeth into the man’s shoulder, and the man screamed in pain. He punched Sam in the side, and Sam went sprawling with a high-pitched yelp from the force of the blow. Carly fumbled at her belt and pulled the gun out of its holster. She didn’t even have time to shout a warning as the man surged to his feet and barreled at her. She pulled the trigger as fast as she could, nailing him with three shots to the chest. It didn’t stop his momentum; he plowed into Carly and knocked her flat on her back, landing on top of her with a bone-rattling thud.
“Get off me!” She shoved him to the side and scrambled over to Sam, who had gotten to his feet and was testing out his legs. Carly grabbed his collar and hauled him toward the door. Her only thought was to get them out of there and away from the crazy man.
“Jesus Christ!” Justin shouted as he ran toward her. He caught her as she staggered out the door. “Where are you hurt? Show me, Carly. Where are you hurt?”
She realized she was still holding the gun, and the front of her body was soaked in blood. Justin yanked up her shirt. “It’s not me, it’s not me. Check Sam.”
“What the fuck?”
“I shot the man,” Carly said. “I shot him.” She looked at the gun still in her hand and released it. It dropped to the gravel with a dull clatter, and Carly swayed on her feet.
A mantle of icy calm fell over Justin. “Tell me what happened.”
Carly pointed. “The crazy man, he tried to hit me—he did hit me. With a b-board. He was crazy. He—he was going to k-kill me.”
“Stay here,” Justin ordered. He dashed inside the building as he drew his own gun. Carly sank down until she was sitting on the ground. She spotted a penny mashed down into the gravel. She picked it up and rubbed off the dust with her finger. Canadian. Sam, limping with every step, circled around Carly as though trying to guard her on all sides.
Justin’s boots crunched on the gravel again when he returned. He took her by the arm, and Carly cried out in pain. Without a word, he whipped her shirt over her head and examined her arm and back.
“Check S-Sam,” Carly said. “He got p-punched.”
