Atiqtalik

By Kobe Jane

A killer polar bear hunts poachers in the Canadian, Arctic with several environmentalists caught in the crossfire.


"A gripping read...literally JAWS on ICE!" Eli Mann, Night of the Widows.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jul 1, 2016
• ISBN: 9781365232961

Book preview

Atiqtalik

Copyright

Atiqtalik © 2010 Kobe Jane. All rights reserved.  Atiqtalik © 2014-2016 Digital Edition by Little Big Lion.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, their distinctive likeness and related elements featured in this book are registered or unregistered trademarks of the author(s). If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as unsold and destroyed to the publisher. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by an information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author. This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the author’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.  This is a work of speculative fiction. All of the characters, names, products, incidents, organizations, religions and dialogue in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used satirically, as parody and/or fictitiously. Nothing in this fictional work is intended to be malicious toward anyone but is rather an exploration of creative ideas, theories and imagination. There is no intent to slander or libel in this work. All references to non-fictional or fictional works is referenced using Fair Use policies and not intended to infringe upon any copyrights.  Nalanda University Press™ is an unregistered trademark of Little Big Lion™. All rights reserved.

A killer polar bear hunts poachers in the Canadian, Arctic with several researchers and environmentalists caught in the crossfire.

ISBN 978-1-365-23296-1

1

The research station had been built in the Canadian Arctic near Amity Pass to cater to researchers from all over the world. One weathered rectangle building linked to a small, storage hangar composed the snowy Arctic resort. Thick wires ran from the rundown, creaking kerosene generators working tirelessly in the storage hangar to power the main building. The generators had been assembled by Frank Lapointe and his son, Rick and they had been repaired and maintained every year ritualistically. Even when Frank died of a heart attack five years back, Rick continued the ritual despite his younger brother’s pleas to change the generators for something a little more modern and reliable. Mikey argued the generators consumed more kerosene than they could afford and replacing the old with the new was a sound business decision. But Rick wasn’t ready to let go of the generators he and his dad had worked so hard to install, maintain and repair.

They’ve still got a few years in them, Rick thought as he lumbered out of his bedroom in his polka-dot boxer shorts. I’ll change them when I need to change them. When they’ve truly run their course. For now, they work just fine, even if they do break down occasionally and consume a little more kerosene than they probably should.

Rick walked past the sleeping quarters and the infirmary to enter the large, open dining room where he could see his brother Mikey in the kitchen preparing breakfast. There was a time when they took turns making breakfast. But at some point, Mikey seemed to enjoy preparing meals so much that he practically took over the task. Cooking was Mikey’s thing even if it hadn’t been stated directly, which was fine by Rick who could now spend some of his spare time taking pilot lessons online. Ever since he could remember, he had wanted to become a pilot and had even planned to get his license until his dad had passed away and he and his brother had inherited the station.

Rick walked a long, wooden folding table and a series of stackable chairs to a couch by a fireplace where he returned a French Canadian board game to a pile of board games and books and magazines by his dad’s favorite armchair. His missed his dad and lost himself in a memory of him telling stories by the fire to his brother and him. His impromptu version of The Little Prince. The story straight from his imagination to his lips was never the same though the meaning his dad had assured him was. Rick could never quite figure what his dad loved about the story so much.

Seemed to him a rather common story about a simple prince who lived on an asteroid with a rose who happens to embark on a long journey only to discover the reason why his rose is, in fact, the most important rose in the universe. His dad used to say the story was a lot more complex than what was on the surface, though he never gave his interpretation. He said that one day Rick would figure it out and understand why it was such an important story that spoke directly to the heart. But Rick didn’t think there was anything, really, to the story much less figure out. His dad was probably reading a lot more into the story than the French author had put. But then again, maybe one day he’d make a connection he hadn’t made before. 

Suddenly Rick heard the drone of an Artic Tern humming in the sky. Provisions at last!

Quickly Rick walked over to a small, bright window by the kitchen and checked the thermometer. Plus Five. A small smile creased his lips. A strange temperature for the Canadian Artic but he wasn’t complaining. The upside of global warming was that he could walk outside in his boxer shorts and boots in the middle March. Not every day. But a few days in the month and that was enough. Today was one of those days.

Rick didn’t bother putting on pants.

Taking in the aroma of sizzling bacon and pancakes, Rick moved to the entrance, strapped on his, thick, fur-lined boots and heard the engine of the plane power down just outside the door. When his boots were on, he opened the door. The glare of the bright sun against the melting snow and ice assaulted him. He turned away slightly, squinted, and lumbered outside toward the plane.

The pilot, Jack Singh, disembarked from the small, cargo plane. He shook his head in disbelief at Rick. You should at least wear a sweater.

Rick scoffed. Why should I? It’s only going to get warmer.  And Rick indicated a melting icicle dangling from the side mirror of his Bandvagn 206, or ‘The Tank’ as Rick’s father had called it. In this weather? Give me a break. He approached the plane which Jack had already begun to unload, placing bags of provisions and containers of kerosene on the melting snow.

Jack’s concerned eyes stared into Rick’s. Yeah…inconsistent weather…makes you wonder....

Rick grasped a container of kerosene with his right hand. Gotta love global warming. He grasped another container with the other hand. 

Great attitude, Rick, Jack said with a laugh. Seriously. But if this keeps up you could be out of business.

Business has never been so good! It’s actually great for business. We get more save-the-world extremists booking us than research teams every year.

Glad global warming is working out for you.

Rick sighed and shook his head dismissively. It's not as bad as people say.

Jack’s eyes widened. He stared at Rick incredulously. You're outside in your shorts in the middle of the Canadian Arctic in March. Call me an alarmist but that’s nuts and should never happen, not even in summer.

I guess I’ll enjoy it while it lasts, Rick responded flatly.

No pun intended, Jack said just as Mikey came outside from the station in his boxers and boots. And here comes twiddle dee. He turned to Rick. Great example, big bro. 

Rick shrugged innocently. What can I say? He's my brother. We think alike.

No doubt.

Mikey approached Jack and reached for a box of provisions. Forget something, Mikey? Jack asked, raising his eyebrows at Mikey. Jacket? Shirt? Pants?

Mikey hefted the box, turned, and trudged toward the storage hangar, saying, Gotta love global warming.

No, you don’t! Jack called out, then turned to Rick. He even talks like you! 

Well, he’s my brother. It’s bound to happen. Rick smiled, raised his eyebrows, and lifted the containers of kerosene, followed Mikey to the storage hangar.

2

The storage hangar was a corrugated iron, rusting half dome with two side entrances and an up-and-over, hangar door. Two skidoos sat parked inside next to the humming generator. Rick approached the generator with the kerosene containers as Mikey placed the box of provisions on a wooden table near the skidoos. Then Mikey turned to Rick and asked, You good, or you need help? Rick didn’t answer. He regarded the generator, remembering how he used to watch his father tinker with the contraption when it would stall or break down. Mikey continued, If it’s, all the same, I'm gonna get started on dinner. We got that activist coming with his team."

Rick snapped back to the present but didn’t face Mikey. He didn’t need help to fill a fuel tank. Why was he asking such a question? Something was on his mind. Rick sensed it. He shut down the generator and said, No worries. Go ahead and start dinner. I’ve got this. 

Mikey edged closer to Rick, indicating the generator. If you want my opinion…we should probably get a new generator.

We don’t have the money to replace the generator. Rick unscrewed the fuel cap