...Bone of My Bone

September 25, 1996

The plane was sinking fast. Benton had no idea how long it would take before the entire craft was completely submerged under the frozen Arctic waters but he would not take any chances. A wide rift might mean that the ice was stable enough to walk on yet a hairline crack could mean death. Uncertainties in the wilderness. He pulled Elaine from her seat, lovingly wiping the trickle of blood from her scalp, and ran to the cockpit. The pilot was dead, his ribs protruding through his back. He grabbed his hunting rifle and moved into the fuselage. Kicking the hatch open, he hauled Elaine's unconscious body as far away from the plane he was sure that was safe. The biting cold and blowing snow felt like little airborne piranhas attacking his flesh. He wrapped a scarf around his head and ran back to the plane quickly. He would need supplies until a search-and-rescue plane came flying by. He grabbed the flare gun and the box of flares, the first-aid kit, the pilot's bundle and his own pack. His eyes fell on Elaine's backpack. He grabbed it and made way for Elaine. The snow had become more severe, more vicious. He hauled Elaine on his back and started walking. He heard the ice crack, like a battering ram on a medieval castle door. He quickened his pace, trying to ignore his tremendous load.
About a kilometre and a half away, Benton stopped. The snow was more choppy and packed. Probably solid ground. Knowing he could not go any further, he stopped, placed Elaine gently down and began to dig a hole. His fingers were numb and began to bleed. He did not feel his skin break. He felt the weight of his heart whenever he lifted his head from the hole to see Elaine laying there, the trickle of blood frozen by the bitter cold. When the hole was deep enough, he pulled Elaine and his packs in.
He blocked the hole's entrance with the packs, dragged out the first-aid kit. Setting the iridescent flashlight to Elaine's head, he threaded a needle, brushed a block of snow on the gash and began to patch it up. He spoke to her softly, as though she could hear him.
"This won't hurt a bit, Elaine. It won't show, either. I'll make small stitches, and your hair will cover it up. When you wake up, you won't even know you'd been cut."
It was a lie but he felt comfortable telling it. He brushed away her hair and stitched some more.
"When you wake up, there will be a search-and-rescue plane on its way. We'll be home before you know it."
Another lie. Benton wanted to believe this one no matter what really lay ahead of him. The stitching was done. Minute sutures were covered over by Elaine's fine black strands. He drew a blanket from his pack and covered themselves with it. Pulling Elaine's body closer to himself, he shut off the flashlight and slept, his hand nestled in her tresses.

Elaine stirred frantically. Benton could feel her body convulse beneath his and awoke. He turned on the flashlight.
"Where am I?! The plane! The plane...it's gone down..."
Benton rocked her gently.
"Sshh, it's alright. The plane crashed about a kilometre from here but we'll be alright."
Recollection haunted her. The engine sputtered and quit, the plane rolled from side-to-side and nosedived into the snow. She didn't remember anything after that. She put her hand on her head. Benton pulled it away.
"You've cut yourself. It's not that bad. I've sewn it up."
Elaine grimaced. That sounded painful.
"Where are we?"
"Right now, we're in a hole."
"But what is our location?"
"That is uncertain. You see, the malfunction that caused the plane's engines to quit also caused the navigational systems to go way off line. I saw it before we crashed." Benton stroked her hair as to reassure her. "We're in the middle of nowhere, Elaine."
She trembled. The fear in her eyes only strengthened Benton's resolve to get her out of here alive.
"We're going to die."
Benton gripped her shoulders.
"No, we're not. Someone will see that our plane did not arrive in Alert and a rescue party will search for us. They won't quit until they find us. All we have to worry about now is staying alive for a few days. The main thing is body heat. The temperature here drops down to minus seventy degrees Celsius. We will have to wear every article of clothing we have. Cover your skin always or you'll get frostbite. We'll have to sleep closely together when we are not moving."
"I think I can manage that," Elaine smiled slightly.
She felt his hands.
"They're cut!" she gasped.
"There are not as bad as you may think, Elaine. I don't feel them. We have to rest for a while, especially you. I'll stay up." He covered her head with the hood of her parka. "Sleep for me, my love."

Elaine rested his hands on her bosom and fell asleep.

September 26
Winter had set in on the tundra. Daylight appeared as navy twilight in the ebbing days of autumn. The worst had yet to come. Benton pushed the packs from the entrance of the manmade cave and peered at the sky. No rescue. He thought it might be that way. He felt the defeat jump onto his chest, beating out the hope for him and his wife. They were off-course, thousands of kilometres of where they should have been, crashed and without supplies. Now without hope.
Elaine pulled herself from the cave and joined his side. She touched the lock of hair that fell on his brow. She let her gloved hand slide along his despondent face.
"The rescue? Has it not come yet?"
Benton searched her naive face for some spark of reprisal. The truth would be hard to accept.
"There is no rescue," he told her.
She shook her head.
"No, that can't be. I know we don't have a radio but the people in Alert will see that we haven't come in and begin to look for us. They'll even start grid patterns..."
"They won't know where to look for us, Elaine. That's what I have been trying to say. The navigation system on the plane had been deliberately sabotaged, there was no portable CB radio, standard equipment on any Arctic-faring plane, and the box of flares was empty."
He showed her the empty box. She pulled away from him and began to beat her head with her fists. He pulled her fists away and tried to restrain her. She lashed out against him, hot tears forming in the corner of her eyes.
"You son-of-a-bitch! Why did I come with you?! You promised we would be rescued! You promised..."
Her voice broke. She doubled over. Benton bit his lip trying to contain his anger and impatience.
"You agreed to come with me, Elaine." He pulled her up. "You agreed to come with me in Chicago and to go further at Repulse Bay even when I told you that you didn't have to come, that I'd be a few days away and I'd come for you again. You said no, you wanted to come with me. I can think of one reason for that." He cupped her face in his hands. "I'll need you, Elaine. I have always needed you. Now will be no different. Will you come with me, Elaine?"
Tears fell slowly. She peered into his eyes.
"I don't want to die," she confessed softly.
Benton embraced her.
"We won't die. I promise you that."
She pulled from him.
"Then why are we wasting time?" She pulled the packs from the hole and chucked them before Benton's feet. "Which way south, Mountie?"
Benton smiled.
"This way," he pointed at the vast tundra.
A path had produced itself from the cruel wind. They followed it.

October 13
They had walked for several days, barred from their arduous journey a couple of times because of the raging winter storms. They were getting leaner, tougher. They ate was left from Jim's pack, savoured the morsels of Elaine's cranberry-nut bars and saved the calcium-rich powdered milk. Everything was in scant quantities but they had learned to go without fast. Benton had told Elaine that on the tundra you ate very little, once a day, but the food was very rich, full of fat. It might not have been exotic cuisine but it kept you alive. Soon, nature would substitute what man had not provided for himself. Ptarmigan, snow owl, fox. Elaine did not relish that food but she could see Benton did. She swore to herself that when they got back she would never make that for him for dinner ever.
She fared well. Frostbite attacked her extremities but traces of dying skin made no impression on her. Her head had healed up. Benton would soon take the stitches out. She looked at him. He was thinning out but kept his Adonis-like features. His hair grew a centimetre longer everyday and his face was covered with a fine fuzz. She chuckled to herself. This savage look was almost sexy.
Benton strained his muscles for an uphill climb. It was unusual for the usually flat tundra.
"Where the hell are we?" Elaine cried over the howling wind.
"We're going over a snow ridge," he cried back, "a pretty big one."
Elaine turned around. She observed the sloping curve of hardened snow. It was gentle, gradual, not choppy or storied like an iceberg. Beyond the curve of ice were layers of pent-up snow as hard as rock. She exhaled. Nature had carved it like a marble statue, magnificent and forbidding. Elaine followed Benton.
"The utmost caution, Elaine," he warned, "walk carefully."
She almost tiptoed, if one could do such a thing. Her feet were already bound up with heavy socks and her boots were hardly delicate. Benton stepped cautiously ahead marking the path for her. They came up on the peak of the slope. The wall below the snow ridge was dull, the ice it was composed of hidden by the driven snow. Elaine tried not to look down. She walked faster. Benton held his hand out to her.
"Not so fast," he cautioned, "we have to do this slowly. I have no idea how sturdy this ridge is. You never can tell really."

He stepped forward again. A quiet groan gradually increased to a deafening roar. A hairline crack appeared below their feet and spread.
"The ridge is breaking in half!" he screamed.
Elaine pounced ahead. She ran from the crack that was gaining on her. She lunged forward and grabbed hold of the jutting ice on the other half of the ridge. She hauled herself up and reached for Benton. He lost his footing and fell into the fissure.
"Benton!" Elaine screamed helplessly, reaching for him in vain.
Benton dug his fingers into the ice. He slipped further and further into the fissure. Yanking out his hunting knife, he made the attempt to defy death. He plunged the knife into the ice wall. It ripped into the wall and slowed him down by seconds. He flailed his free arm for something to hold but it was useless. The bottom fell out of the wall and collapsed taking him with it. With a dull thud, he fell onto the hard snow. Blood flowed from the back of his head. His blue eyes were bloodshot. He did not move but blinked, incredulous of what had just happened. He shut his eyes.
Elaine slid down the fissure, placing her foot in small crevices, jumping down the last few metres. She rushed over to Benton. He was unconscious and she had no idea how badly he had been injured. His head had been gashed, that was certain. His hands needed to be bound up again. She tried to ascertain if there had been any back injuries or even internal injuries. Snow blew into her face. Another storm. She submerged into the snow on the leeside of the fissure and made a cave for the two of them. She pulled Benton in. She leaned him up against her, stroking his hair, washing the blood away with snow. She chanted a song she had heard Bess sing once. It was a pretty song. She never understood it.
"Oh chi, chi mi na morbheanna..."

Benton opened his eyes. He shuddered slightly. His back hurt. Elaine coaxed him not to move.
"You fell from the top of that fissure," She explained, "it's amazing you're still alive."
He smiled weakly.
"Leave me here"
Elaine strained to hear him.
"What?"
"Leave me here," he repeated weakly. "I don't know if I can make it. My back hurts. I don't think I have internal injuries but things are pretty numb as they are."
She shushed him.
"Don't talk like that," she scolded him, "you're fine." She chuckled. "Besides, how will I get home? This is your nick of the woods, remember?"
"Due south, Elaine," he said, "keep going. Leave me here. I'll only hold you back."
She pounded his chest. He let out an anguished cry.
"Don't talk like that ever."
He spoke no more. Elaine hummed the song again.
"Oh, chi, chi mi na morbheanna..."
Benton smiled weakly.
"Do you know what that song means?"
Elaine shook her head and bandaged his chapped hands with torn strips of cloth.
"No. It's a love song, isn't it?"
Benton smiled again.
"It means mist-covered mountains. It's Gaelic."
Elaine now smiled.
"Harry told me that he tried to teach you Gaelic when you were a kid."
"My mother sang that to us when we were children. She used to lull us to sleep with those Gaelic songs. Bess remembers them as though they were sung to her yesterday. She sang them to Rory."
Benton went silent. Elaine hummed the song again, lulling him to sleep.

October 20
They trekked further on. Benton was still woozy. His back hurt but he tried to relate stories to Elaine of excruciating pain when he tracked down criminals in the Yukon. Elaine would not believe it until she heard it. Her perfect Mountie was capable of shameless bravado. She laughed but when he sat down to rest she could see the pain etched on his face. At night, under the snow and stars, she prayed for rescue.

November 12
Elaine was stronger than Benton thought. Her strength and resourcefulness kept him alive. Her very safety gave him a reason to live. Had she died in the plane, he never would have moved from her. Today, no wind hindered them. The sky was dark and clear. Elaine became pale in moments and even doubled over when they rose that morning. The rabbit they had eaten, raw, did not make him sick but she was not used to the taste of raw meat, Benton told himself. She would be.
A night wind blew across their covered faces and they made camp. Aurora borealis danced across the navy sky. Elaine had never seen them. She smiled, reached her hand up as though to touch them. She cowered into the igloo Benton constructed and regarded the thinking man.
"You know, we've done the yuppy thing for so long. We've had Diefenbaker scamper along and Anna, she's such a cute girl. Don't you think it would be nice if there was the pitter-patter of little mukluks around the igloo?"
Benton furrowed his brow.
"I don't know what you mean."
"I mean, it would be nice to hear the pitter-patter of little feet around the home."
"I'm not sure what you mean."
Elaine huffed.
"I mean, the seed has been sown. Things have been knocked up and it is the family way to put it to right. I am expectant with your reply though I believe I have made my feelings pregnant with meaning."

Benton still seemed puzzled.
"Could you dumb it down just a little."
Elaine became extremely impatient.
"What I am trying to tell you is..."
He put up his hand to caution her.
"No wait, Elaine. I am keen to guess. Something must be troubling you..."

(Two hours later)
Elaine sat outside of the igloo cross-legged waiting for Benton's reply. He climbed out and approached her.
"Now, I still am confused as to what you were trying to say to me at the beginning but I think I have the gist of it. You're frostbitten, that's it."
Elaine huffed, rose to her feet and scowled at him.
"Torrach, prenada, enciente, drachtig, gewichtig, przymiotnik, gravid, raskaana, incinta- pregnant!"
Benton's blue eyes looked at her with a delicate naivety.
"Is something troubling you?"
She struck him as hard as she could and stamped away in a hurry. Benton rubbed the place where she had belted him.
"I can't believe it!" she mumbled. "He never gets anything. Right over his head."
Benton gaped.
"I'm going to be father- again?"
He ran to the furious Elaine and kissed her. He held her for a long time. Her feet did not touch the ground for hours, she estimated.

Elaine lay in the igloo falling into unconsciousness. Benton ran his bandaged hand in her hair.
"Elaine, are you awake?"
"Hmmm?"
She rolled over and faced him.
"Yes?"
"What will we name him? Or her?"
She smiled at him and rolled over again.
"I don't know. We have plenty of time to think that through."
He nuzzled up to her, wrapping his strong arm around her burgeoning belly.
"Good night, Elaine." He shut his eyes and smiled ruefully. "Good night, little Fraser."

December 25
Waves gently lapped against the sides of the ice floe. Elaine had told him that it indeed was an ice floe and that she thought it was perilous. Benton shrugged off her worry saying that the ice floe was a sturdy mode of transportation. They had been sailing on this floe for a few weeks. Elaine painfully counted the weeks, the morning sickness and then the motion sickness, not to mention the frightful cold and how her back hurt. Benton tried to make her as comfortable as he could. Together, on the night of Christ's birth, they lay huddled in the darkness, wrapped around each other to preserve warmth.
Benton lay transfixed by the blinking stars in the clear sky.
"I wonder what Anna is doing now?"
Elaine measured the sorrow in his voice. He talked in his sleep. The whisperings of Anna became frighteningly intense.
"I know what she is doing," he answered his own question, "She isn't asleep as she should be. Ray has probably put her to bed twice this evening but she is being willful." He laughed. "She can be sometimes." His eyes went glassy. "I can hear her thoughts, Elaine. I really can. I know that sounds crazy but..."
Elaine rested her head on his shoulder.
"No it's not crazy, Ben. It makes perfect sense." She stroked his long, dark hair. "You'll get home to her. You promised you would and you have never broken a promise to her."
Elaine rolled on her back.
"You know what? All I want for Christmas is my Serta."
Benton gaped at her.
"That's all you want?"
Elaine nodded.
Benton tried to stifle a laugh but that proved impossible. Elaine laughed with him.
"That's what we should get when we go home. A Serta. Three or four of them. And we'll put them in different rooms so we can lie down on them according to our moods."
Benton gripped his belly from the laugh that ripped through it. The ice floe rocked slightly and they tried to control their unbearable laughter. Still, giggles escaped their frostbitten lips.
"Merry Christmas, Elaine."
"Merry Christmas, Benton."

January 5, 1997
They were escaping ice floe country. Benton leapt over the final lead and onto solid ground. He had fallen in once, a brief episode, up to his chest. Just now, he could feel the blood trickle through his body. He reached over his hand and helped Elaine across. She stepped onto solid land and breathed a sigh of delight and relief. Benton went ahead of her, stomping playfully on the choppy ice. He was metres ahead of Elaine last time she looked. She cupped her hands over her eyes. A mound of snow, it appeared, moved in the distance.
"Benton!" she cried.
Benton had crouched low. He was well aware of what was ahead of him. He removed the burdensome packs and the parka from his back and drew his hunting knife. He wished he had the hunting rifle but if the polar bear did not see him or simply backed away, it would not be needed. He prayed to God that it would not be.
Elaine tried to run to Benton but she was loaded with great weight. The mound of snow got bigger and took frightening shape.
The Inuit believed that the polar bear originated as balls of snow. Once born, the Great Mother Bear would lick their formless bodies and give them shape. And what a shape it was, Benton thought. Four hundred pounds of solid, muscled white fury. It did not fear man. Nanuk, Marie Pinsent had told him, feared nothing. He remembered very little of that stern, laconic Inuit woman, his maternal grandmother, but he did remember that. He rested on the balls of his feet and prepared his knife for the kill.

Elaine watched helplessly from the distance. The bear pounced toward Benton. She swung the hunting rifle from her shoulder, cocked it and aimed.
Benton was pinned beneath the furious animal. He had been slashed. He stabbed furiously into the bear's blubbery flesh. Its jaws enclosed his skull.
Elaine put her finger on the trigger, closed her eye and pulled.
The bear's head collapsed onto Benton's chest. Another round penetrated the thick fur, leaking out scarlet blood onto the snow. Benton breathed. He pushed the animal's skull from his body and stood. Elaine came bearing down on him. She looked at her kill, then at her husband. His left shoulder was gashed. He breathed heavily from his exertions. He plunged his knife into it, angry and alive.
"I say we skin this son-of-a-bitch!"
Elaine gaped at the inexhaustible Mountie. He nodded to her.
"That's right- we'll feed on the hand that bit us."

May 27
Wet snow blanketed the northern skies. A lone structure of greyed wood stood in the middle of the tundra. Benton kicked the door down. Elaine was slung over his shoulder, weakened and limping. A cot in the corner, musty and disused, would serve as her bed. She fell to it and propped herself up. Benton threw his packs and parka to the floor and helped Elaine remove her parka. She puffed out air wildly. Sweat poured from her head.
Benton threw scant pieces of firewood into the stove and placed a bucket of snow onto the burner. Elaine rolled on her side and gripped her belly.
"The baby will be fine," she breathed, "a strong, healthy baby...what doesn't kill you will only make you stronger...."
Benton tried to believe her but hope seemed faint. She had been marching since the crash and food was scarce. Now, the baby would arrive early. Benton sat at the corner of the cot. Her pain subsided.
"Elaine, you should prepare yourself," Benton frowned as he took off her boots, "the baby might not live."
She gritted her teeth. She hated his fatalism. Why was he hopeful with everyone else but not her? She kicked him feebly.
"Listen to me," she rasped between spurts of pain, "I have carried this child in me. I've given him every spare ounce of strength I have. If you've felt what I have over these past months, you wouldn't believe he would die. The baby won't die."
Elaine's tirade was cut off by groans. Benton believed her now. In a matter of minutes, the infant would be born and he would see with his own eyes the merit of Elaine's words.
Benton took the steaming bucket from the stove. Elaine gripped the folds of blanket that covered her naked waist. Benton wiped the sweat from her forehead. Forming a fist, Elaine struck him and sent him flying.
"You did this to me!"
She gasped as the pain cut through her lower half. Benton lifted himself from the floor and lifted the blanket slightly.
"Push," he said.
"Don't tell me to push!" she rasped.
He placed a piece of leather between her teeth to clamp down on. She propped herself up and pushed again.
"I can see an arm," Benton said in awe.
Elaine pushed again. She desperately tried to control the yelps of pain.
"A head!" Benton cried.
Elaine pushed once more and fell back.
"Come on," he urged, "we're nearly there."
Elaine clamped down on the leather, pushed and fell back, her strength leaving her.
Benton lifted the child up. He laughed.
"Elaine! Elaine, we have a son!"
She gazed at the huge infant as he kicked and cried. Benton placed the slimy boy onto her chest. She wiped away the viscous fluid from his face. His chest heaved with loud wails. She waited for the baby to open his eyes.
"He's so beautiful," she breathed and kissed him gently.
Benton placed his hand on his son's head. Even though the boy was big, his head was dwarfed in his father's hand. The baby's eyes opened to slits. Elaine could see the gleaming blue in them.
"He has your eyes."
Elaine rubbed the sobbing baby's face and kissed him once more.
"I want to name him Daniel," she said finally. "Daniel was my brother's name. It was because of him I became a cop." She closed her eyes. "He was gunned down on the beat."
A tear nestled itself in the corner of her closed eye.
"I like Daniel."
"Daniel Fraser," Benton smiled, his hand still resting on his newborn son's head. "Daniel Robert Raymond Fraser."

Benton slumped down in a chair next to the window. Light appeared dimly through the streaked window. Spring was coming. The shack, apparently, was a Danish weather station. It had been disused for at least two years. Benton could tell that by the wrinkled Danish language edition of Time magazine. The shack had no radio or batteries. Just a half-full kerosene lamp, two cans of cherry pie filling, more powdered milk, a can of herring and oatmeal. The eating was good. The Danes, he thought, always planned ahead.
Benton chewed on a piece of dried polar bear meat. He cast a glance over to Elaine and Daniel. They slept peacefully. Elaine's hot breath fluttered the boy's feathery black hair. His hands were rolled up into tiny fists. He smiled to see Daniel, big and strong. Something weighed in the back of his mind. Daniel had inherited his parents' struggle for survival. The Arctic was cruel and showed mercy to no man. It had tested Benton's metal for years and now it would test his son's. But what didn't kill him, made him stronger. Benton smiled proudly and allowed himself to be lulled by the infant's gentle breathing.

Elaine rocked Daniel to sleep by the window. Light shone upon Daniel's cream-coloured face. She touched the corner of it with her forefinger. The child did not budge. Benton lay sprawled across the cot. He was just plain exhausted, marching all day, carrying her half the distance and then delivering little Daniel. He didn't even bother to remove his boots. He didn't toss or turn. His breathing was light. Elaine recalled all the times she had lain with him, her head on his heaving chest. There were two people now for his chest to support. She lifted herself up from the chair and walked over to the cot. She lifted up the flimsy blanket and threw it over him. She sat back down and whispered to Daniel, stories of the Windy City.

Benton shot up, a sharp expulsion of air, a stream of sweat on his brow. Daniel stirred fitfully in Elaine's arms.
"What is it?"
"The plane," he breathed, "shadows around the plane, someone's sabotaging Jim's plane..."
Elaine sat next to him, wiping the sweat from his brow. His dreams were always intense.
"Who?"
"Someone who hates me...she hates me..."
Elaine looked at him still confused.
"She was there all along, Elaine," he explained frantically. "Following me."
He looked deeper into her eyes.
"Who, Ben?"
He rose and looked out the window.
"As soon as the weather clears, as soon as you are fit to travel, we'll go."
He grabbed his pack and refastened the buckles on it. Elaine shoved him.
"Who, dammit?!"
Benton looked at her seriously.
"Victoria."
A sudden weight had been thrust on her.
"But...she's gone. She can't have. How?"
"She followed me, Elaine. There must have been a reason. Whatever it is, I don't want to hear it. She's had her revenge a long time ago..."
Benton continued to sort out his pack. Elaine pulled Daniel closer to her. Now their trek was not only one of survival but a manhunt.

June 30
The landscape become more rocky. In the longest time, Elaine had not seen moss. It grew on the undersides of rock that sparsely dotted the snowy plains. Daylight perpetually shone and the weather was warmer. Elaine found herself removing the extra layers of mens' shirts she wore underneath her sweater. Daniel sweat in the amlaut he was constantly bound in. During the day, when he wasn't being nursed, he was bound to his mother's back in the makeshift rucksack cooing and playing with her hair. Benton would talk to him. Today, as they walked on the rocky ground, he taught Daniel The Cremation of Sam McGee.
"Strange things are done in the midnight sun by the men who moil for gold..."
Benton would notice that Daniel was not paying attention and he would call until the distracted infant would pay him heed.
"The Arctic trails have their secret tales that would make your blood run cold..."
Elaine must have heard the ballad at least fifteen times in the course of the day.
The land up ahead was more and more bereft of snow. A huge congregation of rocks lay ahead. Benton threw down his pack and stretched.
"We can camp here for the night," he suggested. "We'll get an early start tomorrow."
"Can't we go on?" she begged.
Benton simply looked at her.
"Why? It's so warm." He plucked a small bunched purple flower from the rocky earth and presented it to Elaine. "Saxifrage."
Elaine smelled the flower. She had not seen flowers since she left Chicago. She snatched it from Benton's grasp and ate it.
"Yummy," she mumbled. "Sure, we can stay here. Yeah," she nodded, "why not? It's pretty. And methinks I see food."
She crouched to her haunches and picked greyish-blue berries from the ground and ate them.
"Some would think the garden of Eden was right here," she smiled as she stuffed the berries in her mouth. Benton smiled with her and ate withered berries.
A stirring startled the couple. Benton saw a shadow behind a boulder. He drew his hunting knife an Elaine swung the rifle from her shoulder. They edged silently toward it. Benton peered behind the boulder. Elaine grimaced at the sight.
"Eww! What is it?"
"That is a muskox," he pointed at the huge, shaggy creature.
Elaine moved slightly. Benton kept her still.
"Don't torment it," he warned.
They backed away and let the yak-like creature feed on the moss. They moved to a place among the boulders where the air was still. Benton threw off his parka and tossed his pack aside. He brushed his shoulder-length hair from his face. He lay back on the rock. Elaine placed Daniel down and nestled him comfortably with her bundle. She slid up to Benton and started to undo the buttons on his lumberjack shirt. He lifted his head up.
"Elaine, what are you doing?"
"It's been a long time since I've actually touched your skin," she slid off the shirt and worked her way to the thermal shirt that had become a second skin to him.
"Elaine, it is no more than ten degrees Celsius."
"I don't care how cold it is. I want you."
She kissed the scars on his chest, the polar bear gashes, the reminder of the otter incident. Benton now could not resist. It was warm, he reminded himself as he moved his hands along Elaine's thin torso.

The evening grew colder and it was only when the mosquitoes bit their naked flesh that they put their clothes back on and covered Daniel's newborn flesh from the ravenous insects.

August 28
Autumn. It was when things had begun to unravel. A year ago, Benton returned from Fort Nelson after Uncle Harry's interment, when he had realized what a fool he had been for his short-sightedness, not noticing Elaine, his future helpmate, lover, mother of his child. Elaine had squandered her time for a scoundrel, a man not even worthy of her spit. She wondered why she had not been patient as she had always been. Now, the only question she asked herself now was if she had known that a year from then she would be stranded in the Arctic with the man she loved would she surrender herself to the dangers and deprivations? The answer had been a resounding yes.
"We're getting closer," Benton said without looking at Elaine.
A pause fell between them.
"What will you do when we get back?" Elaine asked.
"I'll bring Victoria in," he answered, his voice devoid of feeling.
Elaine had been afraid of it. The answer which confirmed her fear had fallen from his lips. He was obsessing as he done before Victoria betrayed him. The fact that she had even been worth a thought hurt Elaine. His every waking moment as they drew closer to autumn had been about her, how he would capture her, how her revenge would not be complete.
Elaine grabbed his arm.
"Am I the only woman?"
Benton stared at her.
"What?"
"Am I the only woman?"
Benton was flustered.
"Yes."
"Do you mean that? Am I the one you think of? Am I the one you make love to? Should I be the mother of your baby, or should she?"
Benton stared at her intensely.
"I want her behind bars."
"I want her dead!" Elaine blurted. "I want her dead inside of you. I want..." Elaine cleared her throat and retained her composure. "I want to be the woman you married, not her."
Benton pulled Elaine to him and buried her head in his arms.
"You are. There is only one woman, Elaine, and it always has been you."
Elaine could tell when he lied. Now he was not lying. The truth had come from his heart and she was satisfied.

September 23
Snow flurried around the sleeping couple. In the darkness, Benton could see a light. He edged toward it cautiously. The tiny light luminated a cabin in the darkness. His heart burst. He ran toward it. He could make out the porch, the front steps, the snow-laden roof. A small figure stood on the porch leaning against the rails. It waited for him. As he came closer, he could recognize who it was. Anna smiled at him.
"Come," she whispered.
Benton jerked up. He was still under the snow. He pushed Elaine up.
"Come on," he commanded, "we're nearly home."
"But we've walked all day," she griped.
Benton pulled her to her feet.
"Come on," he insisted, "we have no time to lose."

September 24
Constable Alexander Mackenzie Reynolds lifted his feet to his desk. A dreary report to fill out. How exciting. There were at least two reports to fill out a week in Grise Fjord. The town had less than one hundred people in it and nothing much went on. Fishing and hunting licenses were approved of, air field lights were replaced when they burnt out, Mr. Miggins worried about his chickens. Once, a kid broke into someone's home. It had caused an uproar in the sleepy town. Alexander, for once, had something to do.
He had been banished here for striking a superior officer, something he did not entirely regret doing as he felt the man was- as he had put it- a son-of-a-bitch. Still, he was here, bored to tears and itching to get out. He hoisted a copy of the Chicago Times from a disorderly pile of papers from his desk. In a red circle, the article stating a memorial service was being held for his friend, Constable Benton Fraser and Officer Elaine Besbriss, evoked a sense of emptiness in him. He had not seen his friend or the woman since the April before last. Now, condemned to this place, he could not even remember them with the congregation that would be assembled.
An elderly man burst into Alexander's office.
"Constable Reynolds! Constable Reynolds!" Mr. Miggins cried. "Jakey's foolin' with my chickens again."
"Is he?" Alexander ascertained.
"Yeah," Mr. Miggins nodded, "you've got to do something, please."
"I'll have a word with him," Alexander promised.
A young Inuit man flailed into Alexander's office. His long black hair flew into every direction.
"Alex, Alex," he panted, "there's a guy, crazy, I think. He's screaming. At the end of town." The man retained his composure and became earnest. "Do you want me to take him out?"
Alexander shook his head.
"Uh, no, Morrie. I'll deal with it."
Alexander placed his Stetson on his head, fastened up his parka and followed the eager Morrie to the strange man.

Benton pulled Elaine by the hand. Houses, scores of drab bungalows against the backdrop of snow and rock. They laughed. They had made it at long last. Benton jumped wildly up and down. Life could not get any better right now.

"Olly, olly, oxen-free!" he cried and laughed insanely.
Elaine cradled Daniel who whimpered when he heard his father scream so.
"Elaine, celebrate with me! We're almost home. We haven't seen people in...oh...a year now. And look, the town's people are crowding around us."
People rolled out of their houses. The quiet had been disturbed. Benton laughed at them. He had been separated from people before, even isolated himself from them, but now had been different. It was a test of the human will, of his marriage, of fatherhood, of the force, and he had triumphed.
Morrie pointed out to Alexander the strange man. Alexander neared him. When Benton saw him, he laughed and ran to him with arms outstretched. This wild embrace caused Alexander to fall to the ground. He punched Benton off of him.
"Alex! Alex! It's me!"
Alexander peered at the strange man. Underneath the parka, long hair and beard, it was Benton. He gaped in disbelief.
"You're dead! You're dead!"
Benton was happy to disappoint him.
"No, I'm not. I'm very much alive."
Benton lifted himself from the ground and ran to Elaine.
"Alex, you know Elaine. And.." he peeled back Elaine's hood, "my son, Danny."
Alexander let himself smile.
"Un-fucking-believable," he muttered.
Alexander dispersed the crowd and took the two to his office. Elaine and Benton ate the donuts at the coffee station.
"Okay, explain to me how this can happen. You died in that crash."
"No we didn't," Benton contradicted as he swallowed a honey-dip donut. "We survived and trekked across the Arctic. Now we have to head home and find who did this to us."
Alexander's blue eyes widened in mock engrossment.
"Really? Just like that?"
"That's right," Benton answered.
Alexander sat back.
"Who did this to you?"
"Victoria."
Benton's face was as stone. His resolve pushed him through the Arctic with wife and child just to track down the woman who had betrayed him and now tried to kill him. A Mountie to the end.
Alexander's face went white.
"Is this personal?"
Benton leaned on Alexander's desk.
"Very."
Alexander swallowed an obstruction.
"That aside, you're not going to believe this, Ben, but they are having a memorial service for you in Chicago."
Benton grabbed the newspaper Alexander produced.
"What? I'm not even dead." Benton turned to Elaine. "They might wait until we're actually dead, my love."
"A Flora Grey is holding the service."
Benton grasped the paper.
"That bitch!"
Alexander was surprised.
"That was Victoria's alias. The name she used when I first arrested her. She rented out the getaway car under that name." Benton became more serious. "We have to get down."
"Just like that?"
"Alex," Benton pleaded.
"There's a plane leaving for Chesterfield Inlet. I'll make sure you're on it," Alexander warily assured.
"I don't have my passport," Elaine added.
"Don't worry about it," Alexander consoled her, "I'm sure the American authorities would let you in once they understand the full story."
Alexander got up.
"No time to lose," he said and let them to the airfield.
Mr. Miggins ran to him.
"Constable Reynolds! What about my chickens?"
Alexander patted him on the shoulder.
"Mr. Miggins, I'm leaving you and Morrie in charge. You have the authority to do with Jakey as you see fit according to law. Godspeed."
Mr. Miggins smiled. He would make Jakey pay. Oh yes, he would make Jakey pay.
Alexander rapped on the side of a Sandpiper.
"Gary, you've got passengers!" he called out.
The oil-stained pilot stepped out of the plane.
"No, I don't."
Alexander stood toe-to-toe with him.
"Oh, yes, you do."
Elaine, Benton and Alexander piled in. The couple sat comfortably in the passenger seats as they had done in the journey over. When Alexander looked at them again, the family was huddled together, asleep.
"Let's get a move on, Gary," Alexander ordered.
The engine started, the propellers whirred and the Sandpiper lifted off the tundra. For the most part, the journey was over.

THE END.