Chapter 39
Depression
Ever since the rescue pilot had flown right over the cabin and tipped its wings to say hello, the survivors had not been the same. Nicholi was constantly talking to his hand saying, “I should have done something. Not sure what, but something. Why didn’t they get us? It’s my fault.” He paced around and around the porch of the cabin, hoping someone would fly by again.
Sam wasn’t playing with his cars anymore. He had been sitting around the house, not helping with chores, not communicating, just looking off into space. Truth was, he really missed his mama. This was the longest he had ever been away from her. Tears had been steadily rolling down his cheeks ever since that plane had passed overhead. He wanted to go home and give her a big hug.
Patrick had been sick for days now. Breathing was more and more difficult for him. He didn’t say much to anyone about how he felt; it wouldn’t do any good. No one could help him. He could no longer sleep in the bunk. He could breathe better when he was in his chair, so to help him out, the others found a chunk of plywood near the woodshed and leaned it up against the bottom bunk. Then they took the mattress off the bed and put it half on the plywood and half on the floor, making a crude version of a tilted hospital bed. With that, he was able to rest, sleep a little, and not disturb the others as much with his coughing all night. Patrick was tired of this adventure. The fun of it was over; it hurt too much. He wanted to be somewhere where he could get well. He had plenty of bad memories of his life before he came to live with Billy, and he had learned to internalize and fight his personal demons, but knowing that he couldn’t just leave made it hard to fight the depression that was setting in.
Helen was feeling a lot better. She wasn’t as helpless as before, though she still had her moments of weakness. Overall, things were definitely looking up. She wasn’t sleeping all day now, and she could stand up a little to cook. Thinking wasn’t so hard and her headaches were gone. Things could be a lot worse. Her charges were all doing okay. They had plenty of food because of Lillian’s excellent subsistence fishing and gathering. She wished the plane had stopped, but she knew why it hadn’t as soon as she realized what Nicholi was wearing. The pilot had thought Nicholi was Indian Joe.
Suddenly everyone jumped. There was a ruffing sound outside, like a big dog.
“Nicholi, what is it?” asked Helen from her bed.
Nicholi bolted back into the house, slammed the door, and locked it. “Big brown bear with huge brown claws and sharp white teeth is raiding the smokehouse. He’s trying to break it down and get to the smoked fish.”
Lillian had been standing by the cookstove, looking out the window, quite content with her life in the cabin. Her eyes opened up wide and her face changed instantly to one of anger. She reached up to the pot hangers above the cookstove to grab a big pot and a smaller pan, but she couldn’t reach them even when she jumped. Marie was just tall enough and took them down for her, not realizing what the plan was.
Once Lillian had the pots, she ran over to the door, unlocked it, and charged outside, banging them together as loudly as she could. She wasn’t afraid of the bear. She was on the porch, and he would have to go around the porch to the steps to get to her. She had plenty of time to dash back in the house if he attacked her like he was attacking the smokehouse. She stood banging and banging, driving the bear to distraction. He stood on his hind legs and growled at her. He wanted the fish, but he really didn’t like the noise. He charged the porch, but she stood her ground and continued to bang and bang those pots in her anger.
“Get away from my fish!” she yelled loudly. “My fish, not yours. Catch your own! Stupid bear! Get!!”
Everyone stood shocked in the cabin, watching the scene. Little Lillian was yelling loudly enough that they all could hear her. She was confronting an Alaska Peninsula Brown Bear, one of the biggest bears in the world, and she wasn’t backing down. She wasn’t shaking in her boots like any normal girl would.
“That’s my Yoda,” Nicholi said as went to the cookstove and grabbed another pot and a wooden spoon from the kitchen and headed outside. He stood beside her and joined her in the band against the bear.
Sam stopped crying and grabbed another pot and a big spoon and started banging even before he got out the door. He was smiling with wet tears drying on his face.
Marie refused to go outside, but stood in the doorway banging two big metal lids together like cymbals. “Go away, you bad bear!” she yelled. “Go away!”
Patrick was lying in his bed holding his breath, shaking with fear, wondering if the bear was going to get past his three friends.
Helen slowly got up, grabbed a chair, and used it as a crutch to make it to the can of bear spray on the windowsill and to see what was happening. The bear was no match for the four. No worries. She put the bear spray back on the sill and sat down in the chair, hyperventilating while watching out the window. The four friends all stood smiling happily as they looked off in the woods in the direction the bear had gone. As they calmed down, they one at a time folded at the knees and sat on the porch, shaking as the adrenalin wore off.
“That was amazing!” hooted Nicholi.
“That was scary!” said Marie, relieved it was over.
“Lillian,” said Helen, “I’ve never heard you talk so loud!”
Lillian sat quietly and daintily on the porch with a big smile on her face. She was proud of herself, her subsistence skills, her native heritage, and the fact that she had confronted the giant bear.
Sam leaned over to Lillian, put his arm around her shoulders, and smiled at her lovingly. For the moment, he forgot his mama.
“Lillian, what do you want to do about the smokehouse?” asked Helen. “Should we build the smoke up again?”
She looked straight at Helen, apparently having returned to silence.
“That’s a yes,” said Marie.
Later that evening before it was dark, Lillian checked the smokehouse and decided it was pretty bear-safe, but hopefully the bear wouldn’t come around again during the night. Bears that were hungry could really tear a cabin up if they thought there was food inside. The smokehouse was a big temptation, and the fish, though ready to be canned, was not ready to store with no refrigeration yet. If he did return, she would just deal with it.
They climbed in their beds for the night and all was quiet.
“We must make an SOS tomorrow,” Helen said into the silence. “Patrick, you and Lillian can stay here while we all go down to the beach. We’ll take the bear spray if Lillian agrees not to attack the bear while we’re gone.”
Lillian smiled as she looked up at the ceiling of the cabin from her loft floor bed.
“I’ll yell at her if she does. Just put the pans high enough and she can’t reach them anyway,” said Patrick, joking.
“If Sam, Nicholi, and Marie help me,” said Helen, “I think I can make it down there to make sure the signal gets built, now that I feel so much better. Does that sound good to you all?”
“Ate” (Great), said Sam.
Helen could see him peering over the edge of the loft sleeping area, watching her. He had a big smile on his face. He was ready to do whatever it took to get home.
“Tides should be going out about nine tomorrow morning, looks like,” she said. We’ll get down there and set up the SOS as it retreats. All right, everyone. Sweet dreams.”
“Night night, everyone,” said Marie.
“Good night,” said Patrick.
“May the force be with you,” said Nicholi in his deep, manly voice.
“Ite, ite,” said Sam.
Lillian was quiet, listening, smiling, as the sound of light snoring filled the little cabin off Cook Inlet.