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  “You a Native Alaskan? Born here?”

  Kanut nodded. “Inupiaq. Lived here all my life, except my time in the army.”

  “Then maybe you’ll understand what those Washington pencilnecks can’t: protecting the permafrost isn’t some environmental nice-to-have. It’s essential to keeping carbon locked up underground. If the permafrost thaws—if even a fraction of the permafrost thaws—we’ve lost our planet as we know it. Mammoths are one way to help keep the permafrost solid. They live at the edge of the tundra, right where trees start to grow. There on the fringe, anywhere the permafrost starts to thaw enough for trees to set down roots, the mammoths will move in, take out the trees, compact the soil, tread the snow into ice.”

  “We already got caribou. Elk, bison.”

  “Those are grass-eaters. To destroy trees, you can’t beat an elephant—an elephant adapted to arctic conditions. We need mammoths, whether the army wants them or not.”

  Kanut grunted. “Sounds like you need a honking great herd of them to do all that.”

  “We will. I’ve got to get them out in the open where they can breed.” He carefully folded away the bar wrappers to be packed out with the rest of the trash.

  “Yeah, well . . . it’s all above my pay grade.” Kanut yawned. “We might as well get some sleep. I don’t suppose you got an extra sleeping bag?”

  “Afraid not.” Let the bastard freeze his ass off.

  “That’s all right. I got an emergency blanket in my pack.” He pulled out a small packet and unwrapped a thin, silvery heat-reflecting sheet that would crinkle with every move.

  Shit. The best thing about Brandon’s leaving was that Luis would have the tent to himself. He hoped the cop didn’t snore.

  Crinkle, crinkle as Kanut wriggled to find a comfortable position.

  “I’m married,” Kanut said, out of the blue. “That is . . . well, I got a wife. Two kids.”

  “Mazel tov,” Luis murmured.

  “I mean . . .”

  “You’re not gay, I get it.” Luis closed his eyes. “The thought never crossed my mind.”

  He’d never understand straights. We’re stuck with a herd of mammoths in the middle of a volcano eruption, and he’s worried I’ll try to kiss him.

  CHAPTER 23

  Grounded

  The Cessna’s cockpit tilted left about ten degrees, far enough that Estelle would have slid out of her seat if not for the seat belt. The wing seemed to be leaning against a bank of ice boulders. To the right, outside Annie’s window, the plane tilted up too far to see the ground below.

  Through the windshield, Estelle saw only forbidding rock hills and ominous gray clouds. Already, a light coating of ash clung to the plexiglass.

  “What exactly happened?” Sera quavered. “Shouldn’t we be evacuating or something?”

  “We hit an ash cloud from a volcano,” Estelle said. “Stay where you are for the moment.”

  Now that they were on the ground, the biggest danger was fire. Avgas was extremely flammable. She’d turned off the power in the plane, but a spark could ignite any spilled fuel or even vapor. So yes, they should be evacuating—but leaving the shelter and warmth of the plane might be even more risky, especially for Annie.

  The fuel tanks were tucked into the wings near the body of the plane. The tip of the left wing had dug into the gravel, but she didn’t see any leaks. Cautiously, Estelle unlatched her side window and leaned it open an inch. The acrid smell of ash wafted in—was it covering the smell of gas?

  She opened her door until it struck rock. Chill air blew in.

  “I’m going to check for damage. Sera, hand me the satphone from my purse.”

  Estelle braced herself and unhooked her seat belt, nearly falling. Got her feet out the door and onto something solid.

  Ash sifted down like a snow flurry. Estelle pulled her scarf up over her nose as a makeshift filter.

  Left wing tip damaged, but no sign of fuel leakage. Propeller bent.

  With small steps, holding onto the wing strut, Estelle circled to the rear. The left landing gear was corkscrewed, the tail skid bent, and the rudder hung by a thread. The right wing seemed undamaged but tilted up toward the sky.

  “Thank you,” Estelle whispered, patting the plane’s scraped side. The Cessna would never fly again, but it had performed admirably, keeping them alive.

  Now to get help. On the third try, she made a scratchy connection to Alaska Eagle Med headquarters.

  Robin answered right away. “Estelle! Thank God. Where are you?”

  “On the ground. No serious injuries, but we were in the air when the ash cloud hit. I had to land wherever I could—that turned out to be on a glacier. I’m sorry, but the plane is totaled.”

  “Holy shit! Forget about the plane, as long as you’re all right.”

  “We need a lift. Can you get someone to us? There’s nowhere for a plane to land—it’ll have to be a helicopter.”

  “Of course, don’t worry. I’ve got your GPS coordinates from the satellite. We’ll get someone to you ASAP. Just stay put and make yourself as comfortable as you can. It may take a while, but we’ll get you home.”

  Estelle shook ash out of her hair, trying to stay calm. Make yourself comfortable? How? They had no tent, no sleeping bags, just the food and luggage they had with them.

  And it was getting cold. She shivered. Night was coming on, with a drop in temperature even if the sun never really set—and she was standing on umpteen feet of compacted ice. Within the plane, they’d have shelter, but no heat: she couldn’t start the engine with a bent prop, and without the engine there was no heat.

  This is nuts! I’m a doctor, not a mountaineer. But she was a doctor trained to deal with emergencies.

  Right. Her med kit was already in the passenger cabin, behind Sera’s seat. What they needed were blankets, food, and water.

  She opened the cargo compartment in the rear of the fuselage and stacked their suitcases on the ice where she could get to them easily. The women were already wearing their jackets, but she mined the luggage for all the sweaters, socks, and Annie’s cozy-looking bathrobe and handed them in to Sera. The emergency box yielded two heat-reflecting blankets, a firestarter kit, two bottles of water, and a dozen power bars. The food might be boring, but it would keep them alive, even if they had to wait a day or two for rescue.

  She climbed back into her sliding-board seat. “I got through to Alaska Eagle Med Central. They have our GPS coordinates and they’re going to send help as soon as they can.”

  Relieved smiles beamed back, and a soft, “Thank you, Lord,” from Sera.

  “It may take a while—there may be other people worse off than we are. But we’ve got food and water and we’ve got each other. We’ll be all right for a night, won’t we?”

  “Sure,” Sera said quickly.

  The light was dwindling as ash obscured the windows. Annie was quiet—too quiet, except for her quick, raspy breaths. Hyperventilating? Or her leaky heart valve not getting enough blood to her brain?

  “Annie, are you all right?”

  “Yes, dear. I was just thanking the Lord for our delivery. In truth, I’m a little relieved. Is that too selfish of me?”

  “Relieved?” That wasn’t the reaction Estelle expected.

  “You see, I was wondering if the plane crash was somehow because of me. You know, the good Lord being displeased about my decision to leave Rainbow before Rufus’s funeral. But a volcano?” She shook her head. “I’m just not that important, am I? So it couldn’t be my fault.”

  Estelle laughed and took her hand. “You’re important enough that the good Lord saved all our lives in the middle of a volcano eruption. A prayer of thanks is an excellent idea.”

  For supper, Estelle broke a power bar into thirds, passed around a bottle of water, and made sure Annie took her pills. After, they all exited the plane for a toilet break and to put on the extra sweaters and socks. More socks went on their hands for gloves. They eased Annie into the back seat wh
ere she could find a more comfortable position and covered her with one of the reflective blankets. Estelle and Sera wedged themselves into the front seats with the seat belts to keep them from slipping together into a heap.

  For a while, they entertained themselves singing hymns and rounds. When that petered out, Estelle tried to sleep.

  Just before eleven, the buzz of her satphone woke her.

  “Estelle? How are you holding up?” It was Robin from Alaska Eagle Med dispatch.

  “We’re hanging on.” The cockpit was dark, the ash having covered the windshield. Estelle was cramped and cold. Even with Sera practically on top of her and sharing the blanket, she had to bite down to keep her teeth from chattering. “Is someone coming soon?”

  “Um, not yet. I just wanted to give you an update. Listen—they say the eruption might go on for days. What’s your situation?”

  Days? Estelle’s heart sank. “We’ve got food for a couple of days. Right now, we’re trying to stay warm. I’m worried about Annie—she’s not in any shape for roughing it.”

  “Fiddlesticks,” Annie mumbled from the back seat.

  “We’ve notified your location to the state police,” Robin said. “Also to the FAA, Alaska Emergency Management, even FEMA. They promised to get to you. I’ll call them all again—but we have to be realistic. You seem to be right in the path of the ash—they can’t get a helicopter to you until the eruption stops.”

  Translation: you’re on your own.

  Sera squirmed and drew her feet up under the blanket. Estelle could feel her shivering. Now that all the residual heat had dissipated from the plane’s cabin, cold crept in from the tons of compacted ice below them.

  The cold was bad enough for two young, healthy women, but for Annie, it could be deadly.

  “Uh, Robin, where exactly are we? How far to the Dalton Highway? Is there a village or a road I could hike to, to get some help?”

  “Hold on, let me pull up a map.” Half a minute of silence ticked by. “Sorry, but hiking probably isn’t an option. The Dalton’s the only road—and that’s at least fifty miles to your west, with pretty rough terrain in between.”

  Crap. “What about if I follow the valley down? That will lead to a river, and maybe a village.”

  “I don’t suppose you packed a kayak in your luggage? Seriously, don’t try it. That area drains into the Dirty Dog River. It flows past Cody and Mankeeta eventually, but you know how the rivers wind. As the crow flies, it looks like you’re forty or fifty miles southeast of Cody. Trust me, you’re better off staying with the plane. We’ll get someone to you, I promise.”

  Estelle ended the call feeling abandoned and desperate.

  Think positive. After all, headquarters knew where they were, knew that Annie’s condition was precarious. Help would come soon.

  And if it didn’t?

  Suppose the eruption went on for days? She might have brought two people she cared about to an early death. What would that do to her parents, losing their last living child and only grandchild so soon after Marie’s suicide? They’d be left with no one.

  Why hadn’t she ever settled down, got married, had a family?

  Sleep was impossible, her mind turning in useless circles. I should have let Sera stay in Fairbanks. I shouldn’t have pushed Annie into the surgery. If only I’d left Rainbow on time.

  And what about Annie? Her biggest fear had been that she’d die away from home and be laid to rest away from everything and everyone she knew. Estelle had promised to bring her back to Rainbow, whether alive or dead—a promise she might not be able to keep.

  Maybe we shouldn’t fight so hard. Everyone faced death eventually, and hypothermia wasn’t a bad way to go. Just fall into a coma and never wake up. Given the choice, she’d choose that over the slow decay of dementia.

  Given the choice. Marie had chosen, hadn’t she? Chosen to leave her child motherless and her parents bereft.

  Sera tucked the blanket more tightly around her.

  I can do better, Estelle thought. I have to do better—for Sera and for Annie.

  “It’s not your fault,” Annie said softly.

  Estelle turned to the back seat to glimpse Annie’s eyes glinting in the dim light. “You should try to sleep,” she whispered.

  A dry chuckle answered her. “So should you. But right now, I have to pee.”

  “Me too,” Sera said. “And why is it so cold?”

  “Because we’re sitting in an icebox,” Estelle said. “All right, time for a comfort break.”

  It took Sera and Estelle both to help Annie exit to relieve herself.

  “Reminds me of the old days,” Annie said genially. “My mama and daddy never had indoor plumbing till after I was married.”

  Estelle took the opportunity to do a back-of-the-hand check of Annie’s condition. Pulse irregular. Breathing quick and shallow. Skin dry, pale, and cool, even on her torso where she’d been covered up. For Annie, cold was becoming an urgent problem.

  The ice under their feet had been laid down as snow, compacted by millennia of snow added to it, until it was now as dense as granite—and as cold as a deep-freeze.

  They had to get off the ice.

  The cloud cover had lightened some, although the fine ash still filtered down. Estelle broke up another power bar and handed it around. “Eat. The body needs fuel to stay warm.”

  “I’d kill for a cup of hot coffee right now,” Sera said. “And some beignets.”

  While the women stretched their legs and shared around a bottle of water, Estelle took a good look at their surroundings.

  The glacier was a frozen river a hundred yards across. The ice sloped down to the south as far as she could see, filling the valley as it wound between hills. Somewhere downhill, perhaps miles away, the glacier would end in the river, chilling it with the glacier’s meltwater.

  The hills hemming in the eastern side of the glacier were bare rock—but to the west, the valley widened to an inviting, grassy meadow. Camping there had to be warmer than remaining suspended over ice.

  But how to get there? From the downed plane it was a good fifty yards to the edge of the glacier. Estelle and Sera had hiked on the glacier at Wrangell-St. Elias, but that was with a guide, pointed trekking poles, and crampons on their boots. Even properly equipped, she’d found it difficult. The veneer of gravel hid treacherous ice, as slippery as a skating rink in some places and honed razor-sharp by the wind in others. And the surface might be paper-thin in spots, hiding a void or crevasse where meltwater had carved a hidden stream.

  Even if Estelle could somehow get the women across the ice, they’d still have to climb steep banks of moraine—the rock and gravel left behind from the glacier’s last ice age surge.

  And Annie couldn’t even climb the steps to her bedroom.

  But staying where they were was not an option. There had to be a way.

  “All right, ladies,” Estelle said. “This glacier is too damn cold. We’re abandoning ship. Sera, pack everything into the suitcases.” She plugged the satphone into the cockpit charger. If they had to leave the plane, she wanted a full charge.

  From the cargo compartment, Estelle retrieved a tarp, the tie-down ropes, and the box of emergency supplies.

  Annie gazed toward the grassy field as if it were a distant galaxy. “Estelle, dear,” she said, “I’m not sure I can walk that far.”

  “You won’t have to. We’re going to make a sled.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Ash

  Luis was so exhausted, not even the crinkling and muttering of his restless tent mate kept him awake. The next thing he knew was waking to Kanut’s shouts.

  “Get out of here! Out! Out!”

  Luis sat up, fists ready to fight. “What the hell?”

  “It’s a bear!” Kanut clapped his hands. “Out! Away!”

  The tent swayed. A heavy snuffling worked at the tent’s underside. A looming shape was silhouetted on the dome, accompanied by a musty barnyard smell.

  A de
ep rumble, like distant thunder, almost too low to hear.

  Kanut picked up his rifle—an awkward task for a seated man in a little tent.

  “Put that down!” Luis snapped. “That’s no bear. Ruby, back.”

  He unzipped a tent flap enough for a curious trunk to wiggle in.

  Snort. The herd matriarch didn’t seem to like what she smelled.

  “I don’t like him, either,” Luis muttered. He slipped on his boots and crept out of the tent.

  Overnight, the world had turned a pale gray, from the clouds that still covered the sky to the ash that coated the tent, the ground, the sacks of supplies, and the spruce and aspen trees.

  And the mammoth. Ruby was miserably bedraggled, a walking heap of stringy mud. Clots of ash congealed like lumps of cement around her shaggy fur.

  “Tried to wash it off, didn’t you, old girl?” She’d only succeeded in making her ash overcoat heavier. He tried to break off some of the worst of the clumps, but it would take all day and a hedge clipper to clean her off properly.

  If the mammoths tried to eat the vegetation with that stuff on it, there was no telling what it would do to their insides.

  “Go on, girl,” he whispered. “Stay out of sight for a while, all right?” At Luis’s tcha, Ruby turned and faded back into the shelter of the brush.

  A glance at his tablet told Luis the thing he needed to know most urgently—all the mammoths were still in the immediate area. Good old Ruby, staying near as if he were the herd’s leader, and all the other mammoths taking their cue from her.

  He quickly switched to satellite images of the Alaskan heartland and the extent of the ashfall.

  The eruption seemed to have originated about ten miles to the southwest.

  The Cody area had just caught the edge of the ash plume. Luis studied the topographic map, looking for a sensible route to grid Hb27 that would keep the herd away from settlements.

  His best bet was to take the mammoths directly north, bypassing Cody as best he could, to get them as quickly as possible out of the ash field to clean grazing and water. That would be a diversion from his planned route east—and would mean adding days to his already delayed schedule.