It’s evening when I finally reach the town of Skagway, but I can’t stay there. It’s likely one of the first places the cops are going to look for me.
The lights of the city in the distance beckon me, promising food, shelter, and maybe even warmth. The temptation to go there is strong, but I circle around, even though it’s pelting with rain.
My fur clings to me, and if it weren’t for my double coat, I’d be drenched to the skin. The pads on my paws are raw, and every step burns.
I pass the town to my right, winding my way along the steep mountain slope until I reach the road that leads to the docks. The air smells like the ocean here, and it reminds me of home.
I collapse right there on the slope. No-one will see me here. It’s rocky and dense with vegetation. Although sleep takes me quickly, I have one ear peeled for any noise around me.
My body rests, but my mind is always alert - it’s a bonus of being a shifter. I’m up again hours before dawn, and I’m on the move again. My aching body protests, and I wonder if the cops are still following me.
What if I stop running? Maybe they have given up. I might be putting myself through this punishment for nothing. A growl forms in my throat, and I push on.
Johnson and Moore won’t give up that easily. They will pursue me until they’ve caught me or until I’ve died of some other causes.
It’s another hundred miles to Juneau, and there’s no road I can follow. Humans take a ferry, but I don’t have the luxury of being a human right now.
The wind has picked up again, and the driving rain stings my face as I head down towards the docks. It’s still dark, but it won’t be for long. They’ll be getting the ferry ready for the morning trip.
Stark lights illuminate the long strip of the cruise terminal. I’ve been here only once before, but it looked the same, then.
There is one huge tourist ferry, anchored further down, and then two smaller fast ferries closer to where I’m hiding - those are the ones I’m looking for.
Two men are getting one of them ready. Their breaths form clouds in the cold air, but they work quietly.
When one of them goes into a building on the other side of the dock, I take my chance. Pressing myself flat to the ground, I sneak towards the ferry. The other man’s back is turned, rolling up a rope.
My heart races as I set my paw on the gangplank. The man moves. I freeze. He turns to pick up a life vest, then bends down, again, to shove the vest into a box.
I take the moment to dash across, and I press myself against the outside of the ship’s interior as I run along until I find the door, and then I slip inside. It’s still cold in here, and it will be hours before the passengers arrive.
With my heart racing, I find the best spot to hide under one of the benches, and I catch up on some sleep. There is nothing else I can do until the humans arrive - it will be exciting enough when they do.
‡‡
The sound of many voices wakes me, and people pour into the cabin of the ferry. It’s a testament to my exhaustion that I didn’t hear them sooner.
I guess the ferry can take a hundred people, maybe more, I don’t know, but there are only thirty-two on board today. The one that worries me the most is a boy of about six years, who plays pirate and investigates the ship's interior - as long as his mother can see him.
The vibrations of the engines lull me as the ferry cruises to its first stop at Haines. Nothing happens along the way, except the occasional squeak from the boy when he sees something that excites him.
The stopover is smooth, as most of the passengers take the shuttle to Haines for the two hours, and I have the time to myself.
Then, it’s another five hours to Juneau. The weather is awful, and the sea is rough. The boy lost his enthusiasm and now sits with his mother, whining. I feel bad for him, but glad he’s no longer a threat.
I don’t feel so great, myself. Lying flat under the seat, not being able to see out of the window, exacerbates the roiling in my stomach. I’m grateful for the wind howling around the ship because it masks the sound of my frantic panting.
A crackle of static makes me perk up, and then the captain’s voice sounds over the intercom.
“Thank you for sailing with us today. We will reach Juneau within the next half hour. The weather is abating, and it will have smoother sailing from here.”
At least some reprieve. I lay my head on my paws - I may as well sleep some more. It’s not like I can get off this boat with the rest of the people, anyway.
As the captain said, a short while later, the ferry’s rhythm eases, and it now glides through the water at speed.
It won’t be long, now - twenty minutes, maybe - and I’ll be in Juneau. Even if the cops trace me to Skagway, they’ll think I would head back west, towards home.
Besides, my uncle has ways to make a man disappear. I just need to get to him.
“Mom, Mom, come look. There’s a wolf.”
The boy’s shrill voice pierces my ears, and I bump my head on the seat above me as I scrabble to my feet. He takes a step back as I dart out from my hiding place, and the people start screaming.
Mom zeroes in on her boy; fearless as only a mother could; and scoops him up. I zoom past her before she can react and make straight for the exit. The people scatter before me.
My paws and snout are clumsy as I try to open the door, but the thing eventually opens, and I dart onto the deck. Icy air assaults me, and I take a deep breath.
The door opens behind me, but I don’t look to see who it is. I dash around the ship, looking for another place to hide. Men now pour from other exits - some of them armed with whatever they could find inside.
I don’t know what to do. They have me trapped. I run back the other way, but the captain has now joined the hunt, and he has a rifle.
My hackles raise, and a deep growl forms in my throat. I have two options - expose myself or jump into the icy water miles from shore.
The captain levels his rifle at me. I briefly close my eyes - I hate guns - then take a running start, and jump over the high railing of the ship.
Chapter 7
My stomach swoops as I plummet further than I imagined. It feels like I’m falling two hundred feet, and when I finally hit the ice-cold water, it’s like hitting concrete.
My stunned body sinks beneath the surface. I’m too sore to move. Too cold to think. I float between the surface and the deep; my trance makes me watch my bubbles as they rise to the top.
There is no sound down here. It’s so peaceful. I blink.
My lungs scream at me to breathe. They burn from lack of oxygen. My body twitches, and I realize I can move.
Fighting through the pain, I doggie-paddle, following the direction my bubbles take. My will to live has kicked in, and now I’m doing everything I can not to die.
The burn in my lungs becomes unbearable. Spots dance in front of my eyes, and black creeps in around the edges of my vision. My paddling becomes weaker.
Bubbles. The only bubbles, now, are those I generate from my paddling. They are tiny, and I can barely see them through my screwed-up vision. I’m not sure where is up or down, but I keep going.
I think of Leah. I promised her to be safe.
I promised.
My head breaks the surface. The icy air sears my lungs as I breathe. It simultaneously clears my head and makes me dizzy.