Page 20

HEAT FROM THE high sun warmed my face differently than it had the previous five years.

Six inches taller and muscled from working out—what else was there to do behind bars?

—I could easily overcome any of the guards.

Not that I needed to, but I learned to be prepared for anything.

They were all fat, so it wouldn’t have been hard to do.

I pushed my glasses up my nose and smiled.

A real smile, one I had hidden away for that very day.

Freedom felt good. A good in a way I didn’t expect. The world was at my disposal, and I could do whatever I wanted. I wasn’t forced to follow anyone’s rules or to room with some asshole who cried himself to sleep every night.

The opportunity to start over was almost within reach. If I played my cards right, I could put the past behind me. At least, that’s what my counselor drilled into my brain. I almost believed him .

One problem: I was a twenty-one-year-old convicted killer just released into the wild. Who would hire me? The only option I had was to call Pete and accept a position with his brother’s crew. Or clean motel rooms, but who wanted to mop up someone’s whiskey-laced puke?

There was nothing left for me in the Pass.

I’m sure all the critters had been sold off to neighboring farms, and the house had a new family.

In my fantasy, the new owners kept all the animals, so they didn’t need to go through the stress of being rehomed.

Especially Soloman. For the people’s sake, I hoped my dad wasn’t haunting the barn.

During my stint, I had plenty of time to think about what I would do when I got out.

Without any family to speak of, my grandparents lived somewhere in the lower forty-eight—if they were even still alive—but I had never met them.

I understood I had nowhere else to go and had to be methodical with my plan.

“Where to, friend?” An Inuit man opened the back door to his taxi.

“I’m not your friend.” I tossed my duffle bag into the back seat and ducked so I wouldn’t hit my head.

Release from McLaughlin included five pairs of underwear, two pairs of jeans, two white t-shirts, a parka, my state ID, and five hundred dollars.

Barely enough for a month in a shitty motel and some food.

Supposedly, it would be enough to last until I could secure a job, then an apartment.

“Cheapest motel around.”

Lucky for him, the taxi driver understood how keeping his mouth shut during the short drive would be better than asking tons of questions. He pulled into the parking lot of a run-down building with three levels.

Two o’clock in the afternoon must be when the crazies came out.

Four men stood outside the office door and shared a bottle of something wrapped in a paper bag.

Used needles littered the ground and graffiti covered one wall.

At the far end of the property, scantily clad women flirted with men walking past. The neon sign was rusted and had long been broken.

Sketchy. I like it.

After negotiating a weekly rate with the hotel attendant, I pushed two hundred dollars into his hand and pursed my lips. Highway robbery. I followed him up cement steps to a blue door with chipped paint. It wasn’t unlike all the other doors.

Dirty carpet covered the floor of my second-story room; the sheets weren’t much better.

A faint odor of—what was it? Dirty underwear and spoiled milk?

—lingered. The clock beside the bed flashed 12:00 as if it didn’t matter what time it was inside this room.

I lifted an eyebrow and chuckled. “Classic.”

Not sure what to do next, I sat on the bed and pondered.

A bug escaped from under the TV stand, and I shuttered.

At least juvy had been clean. I wondered what the bathroom looked like but decided not to look.

When the time came, I would use it and get out.

For now, I just wanted to enjoy being on the outside, but it wasn’t easy to do here.

The freebie parka was too heavy and the t-shirt too thin; I needed to get some essentials. The crowd surrounding the bottom of the stairs had been surprisingly helpful when I asked for advice on where to get a jacket.

They pointed towards a secondhand store and, in slurred words, told me the only taxi they had seen in months was the one that dropped me off. I would need to walk if I didn’t have a car.

The Attic was located a few blocks away, down on Gambell Street, so I took off on foot.

It’s not like I was in a hurry. Five dollars and sixty minutes later, I had a nice new-to-me spring jacket.

It was a little too big and an ugly mix of red and yellow, but it was mine.

I bought it with money I had earned by spending time locked in a juvenile detention center.

DRUNKS TURNED friends welcomed me into their circle when I couldn’t fall asleep and ventured outside. Nightmares replayed the gun going off and my dad dropping to the ground almost every night. Still haunted by my actions, I joined in conversations to redirect my thoughts.

Various bottles of liquor exchanged hands as everyone in the circle took a swig.

At first, I was intimidated by the sheer amount of alcohol they consumed, thinking they would pass out and die right there on the steps.

Somehow, they all made it to wherever they called “home” after the bottles ran dry.

My next move needed to be strategic. I tapped my chin with one finger as I sat on the steps of the motel.

All sorts of dirty, skinny men and women, most likely drug addicts, came and went throughout the night; somehow, I didn’t feel threatened.

It worried me that they thought I was one of them.

Oh well, at least they didn’t mess with me.

Before my release, my probation officer communicated the rules tied to my freedom.

He told me counselor appointments for the upcoming year must be pre-scheduled, so I made it a point to ask for someone in Talkeetna, where Pete offered me a place to stay.

I had decided long ago to take him up on his offer but had some business to take care of before leaving the city.

A small envelope, what I referred to as my exit package, included, among other things, bank information. When the release agent handed me the envelope, I had no idea what it contained, but never imagined a savings account statement.

I don’t know how McLaughlin got ahold of it, but somehow it found its way to me. Leave it to my mom. She promised to always take care of me; this proved it.

Over the weekend, I explored the city. The bank sat in the middle of town, and I made a plan to arrive first thing Monday morning. The statement seemed to burn my fingers each time I studied it. Three pages listed dates of deposits and, most importantly, the account number.

Based on the history, my mom, the smart and slightly cunning planner she had been, opened the bank account in my name years ago.

Every week, she deposited a few dollars behind my dad’s back.

Just in case. It paid off. By the time I was ready to dip into the savings, it had grown to nearly ten thousand dollars.

The teller who helped me had all kinds of options for what I could do with my money. I wanted to apply for a debit card but didn’t have an address to receive it in the mail. Since I planned to leave, it didn’t make sense to wait for it.

The teller assured me that the bank had branches all over the United States and all my needs could be covered from anywhere. I withdrew some cash and decided to finish my banking business in Talkeetna.

UNABLE TO DIAL long-distance from the motel, I shoved the paper holding Pete’s number in my front pocket and left my room. Payphones didn’t really exist anymore, from what I’d been told, so I needed to ask for help. Not one of my strengths.

“Hey, man. Can I use your phone?” I asked the first person who wandered past. He responded with a scowl and kept walking, so I asked the next person. Another scowl.

One of the regulars who hung out in the parking lot recognized me and lifted his chin. “Ten bucks.”

Highway robbery. I pulled the money from my pocket, and he handed me the phone. Not knowing how these things worked, I stared at the device in my hand and raised my eyebrows. With a chuckle, the guy asked for it back and I gave him the number. He dialed and put the phone back in my hand.

A deep voice answered on the third ring. “Moore Industries, Pete speaking.”

“Wow, you sound so damn professional.”

Silence.

“Oh, sorry. Dude, it’s Jake. Moose from McLaughlin.”

“Jake! Oh my God. You’re out—so cool.” Rustling papers filled the background noise. “Let me give you my address. How soon can you get here?”

“Uh, I don’t have a ride. I just got out on Friday. ”

I practically witnessed the smoke rising from his ears, even though he had been over a hundred miles away.

“Okay. Let me think. How can I get in touch with you?”

“I borrowed a phone. I’m staying at a motel in Anchorage. I don’t have the number to either.”

“Well, then. If you can hang tight until the weekend, I’ll come get you Saturday. Where are you staying?”

AS PROMISED , Pete pulled into the motel parking lot on Saturday and honked his horn. I tossed my duffle in the back of his truck, and we headed north. Mountains in the distance grew larger as we got closer to Talkeetna.

Awkward silence filled the cab of the truck. Should I be asking about his life even if it doesn’t make a difference to me? I guess I should get to know him if I’m going to live on his property.

“So. Pete. How’ve you been?”

One simple question led to an hour of mundane chatter.

My old friend rambled on about how happy I’d be in his hometown.

“Even though the Iditarod doesn’t come directly through Talkeetna, the entire town still has a huge party the entire time the dogs are running.

Will you be here in March?” At least the tension subsided .

“I’m not sure, man. I hope so.” Since he promised me a job at his brothers company, I thought it was odd for him to ask how long I would be around.

“Oliver just filled an opening for a floorhand, but I’m sure we’ll be able to find an open position for you.” As we got closer to the city, Pete pulled off the road to an overlook. “You ever seen Denali?” Assuming my answer would be “no,” he parked. “Check this out.”

Being trapped for years surrounded by a dull gray, the captivating blues and greens took my breath away. Snow covered the peak and I thought of home. I missed home. I missed my mom. I almost cried. “Amazing.”

“Feels good to be out, huh?”

I chuckled. “You would know.”

He grasped my shoulder. “Damn good to see you, bro. Let’s get you back to normal life.”

Off the beaten path, situated within a forest of tall trees, the Moore property stretched for hundreds of acres. Pete dropped me at one of the cabins and said he’d be back later to take me into town for supplies.

Enclosed within the small four walls were a bed, couch, wood stove, a small TV, and a smaller kitchen. No bathroom. Shit . I chuckled. Literally .

It didn’t take me long to unpack, I didn’t own much these days. It will be so good to make something of myself, to prove I’m a decent human being despite my past. If not to anyone else, to myself. To Mom .

“Next page, Mom.” I stepped outside and found a chair on the back side of the building.

A small firepit offered a place to burn a natural fire.

Mountains filled the distance beyond the lake.

Any anxiety about my future disappeared as I took in the sounds of nature.

Songs of various birds, a growl, and a grunt came from the forest.

Hesitant to close my eyes, afraid I had been in some weirdly wonderful dream and would wake up back in McLaughlin, I took extended blinks.

“I have a good feeling about this place. Mom. Pete tells me that jobs in the oil field are hard work, but they pay really well. I’m excited to be able to work off some of my energy. ”

A whisper tickled my ear, and I turned, expecting to find Pete playing tricks. Tears stung my eyes, and I knew. “Mom. I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you. I know I’ve said it a million times, but I mean it more every day. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

As hard as I tried, I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I didn’t want to miss the view, but exhaustion took over.

I was startled awake when Pete closed his truck door. “Let’s go get you some things.”

FLAMES LICKED the sky from within their contained area. As much as I would love for them to roam free, the rest of the mountainside would not be happy. Especially Pete and Oliver.

With a stocked refrigerator, I invited Pete to stay for dinner. “My treat.” Hotdogs cooked over the fire are my specialty; my mom always loved it when I made my signature entrée.

“Listen. Moose.” Pete sighed and folded his hands.

The tone of his voice gave me pause. I could tell he didn’t want to deliver the bad news. Since he first told me about Oliver hiring a floorhand, I had a feeling there wouldn’t be room for me. To ease his mind, I let on that it was okay. It wasn’t, but he shouldn’t have had to pay for it.

“How long can I stay?”

“I’m so sorry. I did everything I could. I’ve been talking about you for months. My brother does whatever he wants, like he owns the company or something.”

“Doesn’t he?”

“Yeah, but still.” He stood and shoved his hands in his front pockets. “My brother rents these cabins on a week-to-week basis, so as long as this one stays empty, you’re good. It might be nice, though, to offer him a couple hundred a month. Maybe you can get a job in town. At the bar or something.”