The Raven's Gift - Don Rearden [8]
“Want one for your back?” he asked.
“What do you think is up there?”
He looked toward the bulkhead in front of their seat. A mutely coloured carpeted wall separated them from the cargo taking up three-quarters of the jet.
“Our food, I hope.”
He took the seat next to the window and she settled in beside him.
“This is going to be some adventure,” she whispered. “Strange being packed in like this. You going to be okay?”
He nodded.
“You excited?” she asked, and he nodded again. “I’m a little scared, myself.”
“Why?” he asked.
“What if they don’t like us?”
He stifled a laugh. “Not like us? Has anyone ever not liked you? The most lovable person on the planet.”
She smiled and kissed his cheek. “You always know just what to say. Thanks.”
A rotund woman, breathing heavily and sweating at her temples and on her neck, squeezed into the aisle seat next to them. She buckled herself in and gave a giant sigh.
“Damn bush travel,” she said. “They can delay and delay our flights, but then when it’s time to go, you’d better be ready. I got sick of waiting and decided to go fabric shopping. They weren’t going to let me board.” She added, “I quilt.”
Anna smiled.
“You must be new teachers.”
They both nodded.
“I thought so—you have that new-teacher look.”
“Like a new-car smell?” John said. “What look is that?”
“Well, people new to the Bush have that half-terrified, half-excited look in their eye, but mostly it’s the shoes that give a rookie away. Look around. It’s fall out there. No one’s travelling in town shoes.”
She pointed to Anna’s feet, white canvas slip-ons, and then her own white-toed rubber slip-on boots. “See? Mine are tundra boots. I’m Cathy, by the way. I’m a nurse in Bethel.”
“I’m Anna, and this is my husband, John.”
“Nice to meet you,” Cathy said. “I didn’t mean nothing by picking on your shoes, it’s just that it’s August and that means fall’s just a day or two away. It’s our rainy season, usually. Lately though, with all this crazy global warming stuff, it’s been different. Even warm. Who knows? Might be seventy and sunny tomorrow. Don’t count on it, though. Might be forty and blowing rain sideways so hard you can’t stand on your feet. Then snow tomorrow! What village are you headed to? Or are you teaching in Bethel?”
“New-nah-jew-ak,” Anna said. John could tell she was trying to pronounce the name the way Gary had taught them. He loved how hard she tried to get everything right.
“Oh, that’s a nice little village,” Cathy said.
The jet taxied down the runway and lifted off. John watched out the window as the Anchorage skyline dropped away beneath them. They banked left over the inlet with a rapid ascent skyward. Soon the plane levelled out as they approached what appeared to be an endless mountainous void. No roads. No lights. Just mountains and glaciers stretching off forever in every direction. Their new nurse friend’s mouth kept running.
“I work at the hospital in Bethel. It’s the hub, really, serves all the medical needs of an area about the size of Oregon. And we get it all. This summer, I was in the ER when we had a case of botulism poisoning. Here’s some trivia for you. In all of America, there are two places with the antidote for botulism on hand. At the CDC, that’s the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta, Hot-lanna, as my sister calls it, and in beautiful downtown Bethel. Ain’t that something? We’re like a CDC hot zone practically, all kinds of exciting diseases, new and old. We’ve always got government scientists and know-it-all doctors up in our business with their half-baked studies and new protocols.”
She leaned in toward Anna and lowered her voice. “See, the Natives like to eat this fermented concoction of rotten fish heads. They bury salted fish heads in the ground and let them get just rotten as can be and then eat the heads! It’s like a delicacy to some of them, the elders now mostly. I would avoid it if someone offers it to you. I’ve seen what botulism poisoning looks like, and I can tell you that sickness is something awful.”