26
Julie stared up the pressure ridge at Gunnar helping Mason as he made his way down. The ice popped beneath her, then groaned. The call of the ocean shifting its frozen surface hardly registered anymore. They’d woken to what sounded like a freight train chugging past only to find the small pressure ridge they’d camped near had grown into a jagged beast of a mountain over night with the shifting of the ice.
Jogging in place to warm up, she gritted her teeth as Mason passed a tricky section. The morning sun warmed the ice, making it slicker than snot. At this rate, with the temps warming and the ice thinning, they might never make it to the North Pole.
They had underestimated the time they’d need to get to their destination. While Mason had fantasized about making the same pace as most mushers made running the Iditarod, he’d been realistic in understanding they’d never average seventy miles a day. Even their guess of forty-five miles a day had been off.
Their plan for twenty-eight days on the ice had shifted drastically when they averaged only thirty-five miles a day. Thank God for Saylor and her ability to command. She’d reorganized all the supplies packed for the checkpoints, adding enough food and fuel for the dogs and people to go for forty-five days. They’d been able to clock a faster speed than that, but having the extra supplies helped ease some of the worry.
The only downside? The added weight made navigating the pressure ridges even more treacherous. With no more checkpoints scheduled, they couldn’t jettison the supplies that could mean life or death.
A week, maybe a week and a half, longer and they’d be at the Pole. If they didn’t hit any snags. She turned her back to the men and scanned the horizon. Clark and Sunny had gone ahead two hours ago to scout a trail. They should be back, but Julie couldn’t see a thing but white. The sun reflected off the snow, turning everything into a blank canvas. She’d be glad to see the dark green of the spruce and the deep blue and purples of the mountains when she got back to Alaska.
A shout spun her around just as Mason slid and fell the short distance to the bottom of the ridge. The dogs, finally on flat ground, bolted. Mason’s shout at them morphed into a scream of agony. He clutched his leg, the dogs forgotten.
Julie looked from Mason to the disappearing dogs and back. Should she stay and help Mason? If his injury was life-threatening, Gunnar might need her help. If it wasn’t, the dogs could be lost forever.
She glanced back at the dogs disappearing into the horizon. They were so far from anything, the dogs would never survive on their own. She couldn’t allow that to happen. Plus, they’d need those supplies if they were going all the way to the Pole.
Dashing to her own sled where her team was jumping at the leads to join the race, she yanked the snowhook from the ice. “Hup! Hup!”
She ran between the runners as the dogs picked up speed, only placing her feet on the flat surface when she couldn’t keep up with the dogs anymore. Tolstoy followed Mason’s sled’s trail, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. How she was ever blessed with such an amazing lead dog, she’d never know. He could pick a trail through the worst terrain but still listened to commands better than any dog she or her father had ever had.
Squinting against the glare of the sun, she scanned the horizon. Out of all the teams, Mason’s was the most unpredictable. They definitely had spunk, but their inability to follow directions had led to more than one incident. Nothing like this, though. Mainly, they liked to pick fights. This latest misadventure may just get them killed.
When she didn’t see any sign of them, she huffed out in exasperation. A wind buffeted against her and blew the tracks clear. She glanced behind her only to find her trail filling in faster than a dry riverbed at break-up. If she didn’t turn back soon, she might never find her way back.
Tolstoy howled, whipping Julie’s head around. He turned the team left around the base of a jumble of ice, and Julie leaned into the sharp curve. Just ahead, Mason’s team trotted along a lead of open water like they were taking a stroll in the park. If she didn’t approach them right, they’d take off again, thinking they were racing.
The ice stacked up on the left of her with the open lead to the right. Up ahead, the ice ended at the open water in a natural blockade. If she could just get her team close enough, she’d be able to block the renegades in.
“Come on, Stoy, let’s box them in.” Her encouragement did what she’d hoped.
The sled nearly flew across the ice. Her dogs yipped in excitement, their mouths smiling with their tongues hanging out. There was no way she could give this up. They loved the race too much.
Heck, she loved it.
She sent up a prayer that she hadn’t miscalculated and that no dogs would get injured and urged her team faster. They eased up on the left of Mason’s team. His dogs veered right, causing the sled to skid along the edge of the ice, tipping precariously over the edge.
“Whoa.”
Please let them listen.
She almost cheered when their pace slowed a bit. She swallowed the sound down when the ice broke beneath the empty sled. It careened toward the sea, dragging the wheel dogs with it. If they went in, they’d either drown or die from hypothermia.
“Ha. Ha!” Julie had never yelled the command for turning left as loud as she did.
Tolstoy veered, turning to run along the fast approaching ice barrier.
“Good boy, Stoy!” She willed Mason’s lead to do the same.
He lived up to his name, Loki, choosing to continue forward. Obstinate dog.
“Loki!” She put all the authority she had in her voice as Mason’s wheel dogs let out frantic barks as the sled dragged them over the edge. “Ha. Ha, Loki.”
The difficult dog finally listened and veered left.
“Good boy. Now, get up! Hup!”
Loki yipped, and the team lunged against their leads that pulled them backward. The wheel dogs’ heads peeked from the edge, their paws clinging to the ice.
“Good dogs. Keep it up.”
Julie didn’t want her team to stop, afraid that Loki would as well, but she had to get control of the empty sled. She jumped from her sled and dashed to Mason’s, still hanging over the edge. Just as she reached the front of it, the ice broke beneath it. Her heart flew into her throat as she tipped toward the open ocean.