PARKER FOLLOWED ABRAHAM AROUND THE boat, working the nets, hauling in the catch. Dawson and Fredricks only glanced at him with disinterested eyes, and Parker didn’t see any point in engaging them in conversation. It was obvious Abraham was his best chance for an ally, so that’s where he focused his energy.
During a quick lunch break, Abraham explained that they were aboard a type of boat called a purse seiner and gave a brief history of the type of fishing they were doing.
“Seine fishing has been going on for ages. There are seine nets in Egyptian tomb paintings dating from as far back as 3000 BC. Pre-European Maori deployed seine nets over one thousand meters long from their canoes.
“Native Indians on the Columbia River wove seine nets from spruce root fibers or wild grass. Here in Alaska we’re just doing a modern version of what they did. The net hangs vertically in the water. The bottom edge is held down by weights, and you can see the top is held up with buoys. Fish swimming near the surface are surrounded by this net wall, then the net is drawn tight, or ‘pursed,’ so it is closed at the bottom as well. Then we pull ’em in.”
Abraham pointed at a large drum-like object. “We’re using a drum seine, which, as you can see, uses a horizontally mounted drum to haul and store the net. We pull the net over the roller, and the spooling gear makes sure it gets wound tightly on the drum.”
Parker glanced around the boat, then focused on Abraham. “Not that much has changed.”
Abraham shook his head. “Why are you here, Parker?”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“Are you always this direct?” Parker laughed.
“Most of the time, yeah.” Abraham chewed slowly. “You here to escape?”
“I’m here to make money.”
“Oh.”
“A friend needs help.”
“Ah.” Abraham peered at Parker as if seeing right through him. “Why here? Why come to the middle of nowhere?”
Parker took a bite out of his sandwich and gazed over the water at the thickly forested coastline. Alaska was far more beautiful than he’d imagined.
“The job was available. Pays what I need. And I like the middle of nowhere.”
“Fair enough.”
Parker stood and tried to stretch his back. “How long are we working today?”
“When the fish are running, we work. Period.”
“That’s gotta be like five in the morning till nine at night.”
“Pretty close, yeah. But not quite. Try four till midnight. Or three till midnight. Or two till midnight.”
“Are you kidding?”
“Long days, you betcha.” Abraham sighed. “Hard days, won’t lie. Logan is shooting for twenty sets today. That’s pushing it, so we’re going to be doing some back busting. We’ll be hurtin’ for certain.”
“Sets?”
“Laying out and bringing in the net full of salmon equals one set.”
By the time Parker reached his bunk at ten past midnight, his body was shot. He’d wanted to shed his final extra pounds. This job would do it, or give him a heart attack.
By the end of three days, he was spent, but Abraham kept pushing him. Not like Logan probably would have—the captain still acted like he was going to toss Parker overboard at any moment—but enough that Parker had little time to think about home.
On the fourth morning Abraham tossed Parker a protein bar as they started work. “You’re doing fine so far.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever worked this hard three days in a row in my entire life. But it’s okay. It’s taking my mind off . . . my life.”
“Good not to think about life for a while, and glad to hear it’s okay, ’cause you get to do the same thing for the next thousand days. At least,” Abraham grinned.
“I can’t wait.”
“More good news then. You don’t have to wait. We got at least eighteen hours ahead of us today. But we might get three or four minutes for lunch and dinner.”
“How do you survive out here?”
“Like I just said, it’s only three months. Sometimes less.” Abraham shrugged.
“But it’s three months, averaging two to four or five hours of sleep a day. That’s insane. I don’t understand how anyone makes it without collapsing.”
Abraham stopped moving and lasered his eyes on Parker. “You gotta choose, kid. What are you going to fix in your mind, huh? How this is making you stronger, or how it’s tearing you apart? Take pride in busting your butt on this job, or whine about how your feet are killing you? Think about the fact you’re not suffocating in an office building, or that you’re living a crazy adventure? Fixate on lack of sleep and the constant stink of fish guts, or think about seeing firsthand some of the most stunning landscape ever created?”
Abraham gave him a light pop in the chest. “Who’s the real Parker, huh? The weak one or the strong one? Who are you at your core?”
“I don’t need this, Abe.”
“It’s exactly what you need. You have to accept that the muscle that gives out first isn’t in your legs or arms or back or hands or feet.” Abraham studied him for a few seconds, then tapped his head. “The one that always gives out first is right here. And it doesn’t matter what anyone else tells you. All the people in the world can tell you you’ll make it, but there’s only one voice that matters.”