Snowman

By H. David Whalen

   Chicago's NorMine Corporation sends chief engineer Jackson Neuman to the gold-rich Yukon, where dreams of riches are made or lost. It is the summer of nineteen-sixty, and teenagers, Derrek and Sean, travel with their father for the vacation of their lives.

   The small town of Whitehorse is wrought from conflict between the reservation tribe and the local townsfolk. They only seemly agree on one subject—Snowman stories of Bear Claw Mountain.

   The legend goes that hard drinking and fighting Big Texas Frank and Buck Poole built a cabin up one of the five gorges back during the late eighteen-nineties. They strike gold and return to town for assaying the dust and nuggets.

   After they received good news, the men abruptly resupplied and headed back up the mountain despite the onslaught of winter setting in. That was the last time anyone ever saw them alive. A white man's search party, led by Flying Crow, found the site, but only half of their party returned.

   Derrek's first friend turns out to be the old guide, Flying Crow. It becomes his introduction to the story.

   That summer, the outgoing Derrek befriends other kids, and not just the locals. The competition between him and Erik, Wild Buck, outgrow challenging to the point of daring. Which one or both has the guts to climb the mountain—the bravery to confront Snowman?

   While the father has gone exploring sights, analyzing dirt, and collecting samples, it gives Derrek the perfect opportunity for his own adventure. What to do with his fragile younger brother? With no option, Derrek forces Sean along. And he's not the only kid.

   The young gang must bond over common needs; survive the mountain and survive forest animals. Hopefully, they bring enough firepower to do the job. Only time will tell.

• Language: English
• Publisher: H. David Whalen
• Release date: Mar 4, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224769902

Book preview

To the adventurers of the world.

ONE

Neumans

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Early morning, late spring, the north wind blows down Lake Michigan across Chicago. As he brews coffee, Jackson Neuman, a mining engineer, gazes at the foamy crests and crashing waves at Morgan Point Beach through the kitchen window.

As soon as the pot beeps, he goes into his sons’ bedroom to wake them up and get ready for school. I’m the first to emerge, the oldest. Sixteen-year-old Derrick enjoys getting up and is always eager to get to school and his friends. Shortly after, thirteen-year-old Sean follows. Father asks us what we want for breakfast. Sean loves French toast and asks if they can have that. I request powdered sugar topping while Dad and Sean opt for maple syrup.

Looking at Sean, Mr. Neuman sees he’s very pale and asks if he’s sick.

I had another bad dream last night, sober young Sean answers.

Concern covers Father’s face as he quits stirring the egg mixture. What was this one about? he asks as he walks over to feel the young lad’s forehead. You’re sweating.

Same as the last one. An ugly hairy monster was chasing me along the beach.

Son, you know that there’s no such thing as monsters.

I try, but I can’t help it after I get to sleep. The monster always eats me alive. I wake up scared to death, Sean quietly sobs.

Dad bends over, hugging his son. Sean, these will pass. I’ll call someone this morning and check if there’s something we can do. Alright?

Yeah...is breakfast is burning?

Shoot. Dad jumps to the stove and twists the flame knob off, as he slides the frying pan to a cold burner. Looks like they’re OK.

After eating, the man places the dirty dishes in the sink and heads to the bathroom to finish getting ready. The boys yell goodbye to him and take the elevator to the street level to wait for the school bus. A few minutes later, Jackson rides the same elevator from their luxurious apartment on the fourteenth floor to the parking garage. He ogles over our brand new nineteen-sixty Chevrolet Impala Sport Sedan. The four-door model he bought is fire-engine red with a white hard top and white rear-panel accents. What a beauty, Jackson utters aloud.

Jackson arrives and parks at his usual place within a paid lot, in the South Loop area, before walking two blocks along South Wabash Avenue to the Dexter Building. The old brick walk-up doesn’t have an elevator, and he climbs the four flights of stairs to NorMine Corporation.

Neuman’s boss of the last nine years hears the door open and close and immediately calls him into his room. Jackson sets his black crocodile leather flap-over attaché case on his desk and scurries to fulfill the request. Good morning, Bill

The balding, white-fringed-haired man tells his chief engineer to take a seat. He explains, I have a new expansion plan. I want you to spend August in the Yukon. You can use Whitehorse as a base, and from there, you can charter a private plane to explore the mountain ranges surrounding the southwestern area. And take excursions into promising regions to perform soil and geological testing for gold and other metals.

The only time Jackson had been to Canada was on his honeymoon fourteen years earlier. The bride and groom went to Niagara Falls and one afternoon drove across the border and along the shoreline of Lake Ontario to Hamilton for some shopping. Neuman expresses to Bill, That’s an excellent idea. I’m eager to get started.

Great. Make the arrangements and let me know.

The engineer spends the morning at his desk, checking flights, charter companies, and hotels in Whitehorse. Also, he makes a list of equipment and supplies needed to take along. After reviewing the list, Jackson opts to investigate the area to find local attractions. He takes a quick trip to the library during lunch and comes back with a list of Alaskan adventures for him and his son. We’re going to have an excellent adventure, He mumbles half-aloud.

Neuman asks Bill if he can bring his son on the trip and take a week of his vacation time afterward for recreational activities around Anchorage. Of course, that did not cause any objection.

The next order of business befalls, and the father looks through the Yellow Pages for a psychologist specializing in children. He finds a woman with an office five blocks from his apartment and sets an appointment.

He spends the next two hours overcoming intrepidness before forcing himself to pick up the phone and dial the boys’ mother. Even though he despises the task, there is no other option. He prepares himself for the anticlimactic conversation. No one picks up, and he figures his ex is out spending her alimony, which is generous and her favorite activity. The engineer resigns to drive the hour and a half to talk with her face-to-face.

After leaving work early, Mr. Neuman picks up a large, loaded-supreme pizza from Ultimate Italian. Sean is already home after school, but I, at baseball practice, won’t be home for another hour.

Jackson rubs Sean’s bushy hair and thinks, he needs a cut. I brought you guys dinner. I’ll be back before nine.

Got a date?

No. I need to see your mother.

Can I go?

You’ll see her this weekend. I need to go alone this time.

Please? I’ll stay out of your way.

Sorry, Sean. This is important. We need to talk.

Getting the Impala out of Chicago during rush hour delayed Neuman’s arrival in Clifton. It was after seven o’clock when he pulls into her driveway and rings the bell—many times without a response, though her car sits in the driveway. Jackson Neuman, seething at his self-centered ex, drives to a close-at-hand service station and uses the outside pay-phone to dial her number. She picks up on the second ring.

This is Jackson. We need to talk. I’m in town and coming over.

Not tonight. I just got home from work and am too tired for your crap.

Too tired or too drunk?

The line goes dead.

Many minutes after, Jackson continually pounds the doorbell until the pissed woman opens the door. What the hell do you want?

Why didn’t you answer when I was here the first time?

I told you I just got home. You must leave.

The door refuses to close. Remove your foot or I’m calling the cops!

This will only take a minute.

They glare at each other for the longest time before the woman states, You got five minutes, mister. Not a damn second longer! Meet me in the garage.

Jackson stands, buttoning up his sports coat and mumbling about the wind. Eventually, he hears struggling and reaches down, grabs the outside handle, and jerks the horizontal-paneled door up. It’s freezing. What are we doing out here?

If this isn’t good enough, go home.

Meriam Neuman wears a fur-collared winter coat, scarf, and gloves. Jackson, who had removed his woolen trench coat to drive, vigorously rubs his arms through his cashmere jacket. Can we just step inside the house for a minute?

I have company. And you’re not screwing it up this time.

Come on Meriam, I’ve never interfered with your life.

The woman cackles like a flock of old hens. You’re so full of shit. What are you doing here?

I’m going to the Yukon for a month this summer...

If you expect me to take the boys for a month, you’re living in fantasyland.

No. Well, Sean. I taking Derick with me.

Take them both! My relationship is getting serious and you’re not wrecking this one.

I never messed up any friendships you had. Remember how excited we were when we had the boys? The father tries desperately to guilt the woman.

I remember very little about our marriage. Mostly all your broken promises and failures. And neither one of us wanted a second child. We were fighting constantly, and the marriage was all but over.

Look, Meriam, you always have the boys for a month every summer, and this only adds an extra week.

Sean will be fourteen in June and starting high school in the fall. He’s old enough to go!

He’s still having nightmares. I don’t think taking him so far away from you would help him.

Nonsense. His bad dreams are over that Dixon kid bullying him. Did you ever call his principal?

No, Sean begged me not to. It would only aggravate the situation.

I thought Derrick was picking him up on his way home?

He was after football season ended, but baseball has started and he has practice every afternoon.

Then you need to pick him up. After a short glaring match, she continues, Crime is getting bad in the city—it’s time you move to the suburbs and get them into a better school. Grow up and solve your own damn problems.

On his drive back home, Jackson thinks about her words and decides she’s right...for once. He needs to move out of the city and resolve to look for a place this weekend and move as soon as they get back from their trip before the fall term starts.

Upstairs, the boys are watching Red Skeleton on their black and white cabinet television. Dad turns the volume down.

Hey, we’re watching that.

We need to talk. Jackson sits in his favorite chair. He does not recline but leans forward with his forearms resting on his legs. Did you boys get your homework done?

Yes. Can you turn up the sound?

Not yet. I have to go to the Yukon this summer for work and want you boys to go with me. It’ll be a lot of fun.

How can we have fun if you’re working? What are we supposed to do? I ask.

Where’s the Yukon, Dad? Sean interrupts.

Far north, above Canada.

I quickly talk over him. It’s part of Canada, Dad.

Not acknowledging my correction, Father pulls a piece of paper from his top shirt pocket. After I finish the job, we’ll go to Anchorage for an extra week. And reads all the activities he had noted earlier.

Sounds good to me, Sean pipes up.

Sounds cold to me, I add.

Derrick, it’ll be summer. Not any colder than Chicago. Which brings us to the next subject. I think we should buy a house away from the city.

In the suburbs? That’s grungy. After I think it over, Then I need a bitchin’ ride to get back and forth to school. I can’t change schools in my senior year. That’s not cool.

You’re right Derrek. We’ll work it out.

Fab, I’ll start looking for a car.

Sean, I will pick you up after school Thursday afternoon. No lollygagging.

Why?

We have a meeting with a woman.

What woman?

Ms. Schawn. She just wants to talk to you a little about your dreams.

I don’t need that.

One visit, alright? We’ll just see what she has to say.

TWO

Brothers

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Sean grabs his pajamas while I plop on the edge of my bed. Sean, sit down.

My brother looks over, then pulls off his clothes and throws them onto the pile in the corner. After redressing in his nightwear, he settles on his sack across from me. What’s up?

You know Dad’s only trying to help. Uh, having you see someone, I mean.

My brother stares at me without answering before lowering his head. Finally, he pulls his covers down and crawls in.

Sean, talk to me.

In good time, he rolls over. I don’t need anyone.

It must be said, but I don’t know how. So I just launch, Sean, you’re almost fourteen and will be in high school next year. I wait for a response.

Slowly, he turns back over. So what?

After I sit next to him and place a hand on his shoulder, I’m just saying, uh, you’re a good kid, but you need to toughen up. The guys in high school won’t give you a break. And I can’t watch over you all the time.

He pulls the covers over his head.

Sean? Please. We need to talk. I’m only trying to help you. You can’t act square.

A muffled noise comes from under the blankets. I yank the covers back, exposing his head and shoulders. Look, Sean, we’re having this discussion whether you like it or not. It’s for your own, uh, good.

Leave me alone!

Try this; when you are going to sleep, think about your favorite food. Like cheeseburgers and fries.

"You told me that before and all I think about is me being dinner."

Then think about something else, uh, like when mom and dad took us to the state fair. Remember when we saw the pigs and cows? Crap, I shouldn’t have said animals, I quickly think. How about the rides, like the carousel or the Ferris wheel?

The Ferris wheel scared me. And I didn’t like the merry-go-round either. I had to sit on the tiger.

OK, uh, what is your favorite thing?

I like comic books. Superman is my favorite.

Cool. Dream about being him. He’s not afraid of anything.

Kryptonite.

Sean, there is no such thing.

Or Superman.

I rub my eyes in frustration. What about, uh... There’s no such thing as a monster, either.

How do you know?

I turn off the light and strip down to my underwear before jumping into bed. Go to sleep!

Two days later, Mr. Neuman waits in front of Sean’s school. When he hears the last bell go off, he exits the Red Rocket, as Derrek calls the new Impala, and leans against the hood on the passenger side, watching for his son.

A herd of kids jostles down the large cement stairway. Jackson waits...and waits. Eventually, the drove clears out except for stragglers and twosomes. The last kid through the doors is his son.

Sean! Over here!

The ankle bitter has his daddy pick him up now. An unseen boy yells from inside a large group.

Jackson stares, trying to figure out the rabble-rouser. Many boys and girls are cackling after hearing the loudmouth, but Neuman can’t figure out who shouted out.

A teacher appears and nudges Sean. Your dad’s here. You need to hurry along. She follows the boy to the waiting man.

Mr. Neuman, is nice to see you again.

Son, get in the car. Can I speak to you a moment, Ms. Tilly?

Sean gets in and sits hunched over, staring at his hands. Jackson closes the door and steps to the rear of this vehicle.

Squealer! the delinquent, still on duty. Don’t believe him, Ms. Twitty!

All you kids must go home! Now! Get a move on! the teacher shrieks. She approaches Jackson, I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Neuman. Children don’t understand Sean and can be quite mean.

Neuman can’t understand the woman’s passive nature, since she got included in the insults. Name-calling isn’t the problem, Ms. Tilly. The bullying has to stop. Sean came home with new bruises twice last week.

Kids always develop minor scrapes. It’s from recess games and physical education hour.

I know the difference between sports injuries and fight injuries. Don’t you people monitor the playgrounds?

Of course, but one teacher can’t possibly watch seven hundred kids all at once. We do our best, but...

Your best isn’t good enough, Ms. Tilly. If the staff can’t do their job, I’ll have to take matters in hand.

Please, Mr. Neuman, threats are not called for. I’ll bring up the problem again at the next staff meeting. I cannot do more than that.

Jackson glares before marching to the driver’s door.

Minutes later, they park in an underground lot and find the elevator to the seventh floor.

I’m Jackson Neuman and this is my son, Sean. We have an appointment with Dr. Schawn.

She’s expecting you. I’ll let her know you’re here.

Seconds afterward, the inner door swings full. An attractive woman, a couple of years younger than Jackson, sticks her head through the opening. Gentlemen, please come in.

After the three get comfortable—well, two get comfortable—Sean sits rigid with his head down and eyes pointed at his knees.

Sean, you can call me Dawna. I’m pleased to meet you.

The boy does not peek or answer.

He needs a minute to adjust, the dad answers for his son.

Jackson and the doctor converse a little about Sean’s background and the problem with his dreams. After a few minutes, Schawn asks Jackson to wait in the outer office while she and Sean get to know each other.

When the two are alone, the doctor moves around her desk, pulls a straight-backed chair next to her patient, and touches his shoulder lightly. "Sean, I want to be your