Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

It was eminently dark; I have never seen darkness like this, either before or since. It was as if a vale of thick black velvet was drawn over your eyes. I could not tell the difference between when my eyes were open or closed. Even the white snow was a dark and the tree's were pitch black, and so was the sky, so that it was nearly impossible to tell where the top of the tree line met the skyline, there was so little contrast between them.
We sat silently for several minutes; both feeling very defeated and well aware of the fate of those whom suffered similarly before us. I imagine everyone dies in denial; no one ever believes that death is as near as it is just before they die. Those who froze to death sitting in their car never believed they were in a life threatening circumstance; or at least not till it was too late. If they had known, there should have at least been some evidence of some kind of survival actions taken by them, but there never was. Most were found still sitting in their cars or very close to their cars dead, as if all they did was wait till they died.
But I didn’t think our situation was that bad: Perhaps that is what they all thought? The thought of how embarrassing it would be for me to be found dead in such a manner was more than I could bear. Every story I heard about some one dying on this highway I had always thought; if I was there that wouldn’t have happened. I was sure that I would have been able to come up with someway to survive, I was sure that I could at the very least light a fire or something.
I turned to Danny, with each of his breaths a thick frost cloud billowed in front of his face; it was the same for me with my breath. This caused a layer of frost on the windows; building up thicker and thicker with each breath. "The first thing we should do is go into the bush and get some firewood to get a fire going." I said, breaking the silence. "Lets get a fire going, grab a couple of the extra blocks we brought and use them for something to sit on, and get as comfortable as we can around a warm fire, very few people die from exposure while they’re comfortable." I said hoping to encourage us both.
"We don’t have a saw or anything." Danny said, sounding helpless and defeated.
"We'll just break off whatever branches we can, drag anything we can find out of the bush, we got a four pound hammer and a roofing axe in that pail full of tools! We’ll hack and chop whatever we can, we can do it: we have to do it." I said, still trying to encourage Danny to believe that we could make it.
"It’s too dark; you can’t even see the trees! It is pitch black out there! How are we going to see anything?" Danny complained.
"I don’t know, so what? We'll just grab anything we can and pull on it, if it moves we burn it! There’s nothing to it!" I reassured him as I opened the truck door and climbed out into the frigid sting of the crisp night air. I walked towards the side of the road crossing in front of my truck. I called to Danny to follow me as I began to make my way for the tree line. I couldn’t see him, it was way too dark, but I heard him open the door and get out of the pick up, I assumed he was going to follow me to the bush.
As I made my way the snow was getting deeper, until it was up past my waist. I only had running shoes on, I didn’t bring any winter boots, and I was only wearing a parka. I did not have ski pants on or anything like that, only a pair of blue jeans, so the snow was pushing up my parka and getting under it, as well as up my pant legs and into my socks.
It was difficult to make progress, when the snow is that deep you can't just wade through it as if it were water or soft powder. I tried to crawl over it and through it, progress was slow, but I was determined to succeed. No matter how difficult it got, I refused to stop. By dogged determination I was going to make it to those trees. Even when snow was getting in my face and I had to crawl, I resisted being discouraged. I pushed on but I kept tripping and falling. I felt like a turtle rolled onto its back, unable to right it self; it was difficult to not feel discouraged.
As hard as I tried I only foundered in the snow. Then after falling down so many times I lost my bearings. I looked around but could not tell where I was, I could not tell which way the tree line was, or which way the road was, I could not tell the difference in any direction, it was all the same, pitch black. I decided to call out to Danny to get a bearing. "Danny!" I shouted, "Where are you?" I was worried that he had followed me into the deep snow and now was just as lost as I was.
"I'm over here!" he shouted,
"Where is that?" I shouted back
"I'm at the truck!" he called out as I struggled to make my way toward his voice.
“At the truck? You’re still at the truck? You were supposed to be helping me get firewood!”
“Why?” he asked. Oh what an idiot! I thought to myself.
“Because that was the plan! We go into the wood and bring back some firewood!”
“Oh, I thought that’s what you were going to do.” Danny replied indignantly.
“What? Why would? …I mean we were supposed to both be… oh forget it! Just keep shouting so I can find my way back!" I told him.
“Well see! It’s a good thing I am still at the truck or you would be really lost out there!” Danny replied as if somehow it was his good management that would save the day.
“Whatever! Just keep talking!” I said as I fumbled and struggled through the snow towards his voice. It was strange, I could hear him just fine but I could not see him at all; I could not even see my hand when I placed it less than six inches from in front of my face.
"Why don’t I just turn the truck lights on?" he asked.
"No just keep shouting! I don’t want to waste any battery juice, I'll be alright, just keep shouting!"
"What should I shout?" he yelled.
"Anything!" I shouted back at him.
"Like what?" he asked.
"Try shouting the alphabet!" I suggested.
“I don’t know the alphabet! Well not all of it anyways!" he said continuing to shout.
"Awe forget it! Just turn the truck lights on for a second!" I conceded surrendering to his contrariness.
When he turned the lights on I got my bearings and found that I had not been traveling perpendicular to the road and tree line but got turned around and instead was traveling parallel to the road and tree line. I was at least a hundred yards farther south; I had traveled the wrong way for that long. With great difficulty I made it through the snow and back to the truck; feeling extremely relieved that I had made it. The tree line was out of reach; I had to abandon any hope of getting firewood. For the first time I could see how someone could die out here in spite of all their best efforts.
"Why can't we just drive it the way is back to Enterprise?" Danny asked.
"No, it might ruin the engine, and it still might not even make it that far, and just leave us stranded some where else."
I was still not willing to concede that things were so bad that ruining an engine was an acceptable risk to take to get us out of our situation. I had reasoned that we were about forty miles from Enterprise, maybe as much as fifty, but no less than thirty-five. It may as well have been a thousand, there was no way we would survive the walk, we were not dressed for it, we were also very tired, or at least I knew I was, so to me this was not an option.
"I got an idea!" I began, "If we were able to slowly fill the engine with water, so that it froze as we filled it. It is definitely cold enough for that, and then slowly poured it in to the radiator so that it froze into a block of ice. Then the frozen radiator would hold the water in the engine as it warmed up! Maybe even long enough for us to make Enterprise!"
“You think that might work?” Danny asked.
“Hopefully.” I said encouragingly, “Let’s give it a try!”
So we took one of the extra blocks we had and poured some of the gas out of the jerry can over it and lit it up, adding gas to keep it burning from time to time. This was risky, but we used half of a plastic pop bottle we cut open to fill with gas and splash it onto the fire. The bottle allowed us to regulate the fuel to reasonable manageable amounts, and as long as we were able to throw it in such a manner that the flame could not run up the pouring gas stream we should have been okay. If we were able to keep the fire going we should have been able to melt some snow into water.
The problem was that we didn't have any pots to put the snow into to melt it, I had remembered from science class in my school years that the teacher boiled water in a Styrofoam cup over a Bunsen burner. Perhaps we could melt snow the same way. We had a couple of five-gallon plastic pails that we had brought along to hold some tools that I thought we might need. I took one of these pails and packed it with as much snow as we could jam into it.
We hung the pail from our shovel and held it over the fire. The smell of burning plastic was immediate as the plastic began to burn. I assured Danny that this was normal that it still would work. Danny had bee a skeptic of this plan from the beginning, but I assured him it was science. “To the uneducated mind…such as yours, I can see how to you it might seem like it might not work, but to those of whom are properly schooled in the sciences it is simply elementary my dear Watson.” I explained.
It got difficult to hold the pail due to the flames growing from it. Then the pail began to deform and cave in on itself. “That’s normal, were still good! Its science, to your untrained eye you might think that it looks like it won’t work, but it is only the outside of the pail that is burning, the inside will remain completely intact.” I assured Danny. Then the handles failed and the pail fell as a blob onto the block we had been pouring the gas onto. Surprisingly Danny had nothing to say, but the satisfied look on his face said it all.
The snow and small amount of water that had collected in the pail spilled out and put our fire out. Immediately the blackness of the night consumed our sight, and the cold rushed in to displace the radiant heat of the fire from our faces. "Oh great." I commented melancholy evident in my voice. "There's one more thing I learned in school that has no practical application in the real world." We got the fire going again and we tried to just hold a shovel full of snow over the flames and then transport this to the radiator. As you can imagine, it was a waste of time.
Danny then suggested that he go for water, he said that he had seen a creek about a half a mile back and he could go fetch some water. That is what you do for water, you "fetch" it. We poured the gas out of its jerry can and into the last remaining plastic pail. Danny would take the jerry can and fill it with water he would also bring the roofing hatchet to chip through the ice. Danny had chipped many holes through the ice while ice fishing so he was confident it would not be too much trouble to get water this way.
Although we had a flashlight it is hardly worth mentioning, for it was a typical flashlight, it never worked when you want it to, especially when you need it to. Never the less Danny took the flashlight with him, but the best we could get out of it was a dim yellow flicker by shaking it or rapping it against the fender of the truck. Danny set off down the road, I could not see him but I could hear him walking away, and before long the sound of his footsteps faded into the night.
I guess I could have gone with him, but it really didn’t cross my mind, or maybe it did, and I just didn't want to go. At least Danny was wearing his ski pants, and good winter boots, so he was more prepared for the cold than I was. My blue jeans were still covered in a layer of powdered snow as well as my socks were holding a considerable amount of snow that packed around my ankles and chilled my legs to the bone.
Alone now and standing in the middle of the road with nothing to do but wait, the sounds of Danny shuffling off had long since faded in the distance; I found myself feeling the cold very quickly. I needed to do something soon or I would freeze to death, I thought I might as well retreat from the cold back into truck. I jumped into the driver’s seat of the truck, but alas, that same old disappointment of expecting it to be warmer triggered the feeling that it seemed colder inside than it did outside. Maybe it was colder inside, who could know, but at least I could sit down for a while.
Sitting there I grew impatient as well as colder, so I got out and decided to give that science lesson one more chance. Perhaps if I lit the open topped five-gallon pail of gas on fire it would burn only the top layer of gas and not melt the plastic pail. Perhaps that is how that experiment goes; you can burn gas in a plastic pail, not boil water in it! Of course that’s it, not boiling water! Ha! That was just silly! I convinced myself.
I got another block from the box of the truck and made myself a comfortable place to sit. Then I took a match and lit the gas in the pail on fire. At first it burned nicely, then the rim of the pail began to burn, this was expected, but then the lip of the pail began to sag. At this point I began to think that it might not have been the best idea to light the pail of gas on fire like that. Gasoline began to run out the sagged part of the pail, brining a sheet of flame with it. This began to melt and deform that side of the pail all the worse.
Gasoline began pouring out the hole at exponentially faster and faster rate. Before long there was a huge inferno, towering some twenty or more feet into the air. It was hot, so I rotated my self into the heat like a rotisserie, slowly turning around to warm me on all sides. This flame was short lived, and in minutes my huge inferno was a pathetic flickering single wisp of a flame, struggling against the breeze to stay lit.
Sitting back in the truck for what was at least an hour, I was wondering what was keeping Dan so long. It was too cold for me to rest; I knew that if I let myself fall asleep I might surly die. I began convincing myself of this fact in an effort to help me stay awake. I also tried singing songs to keep me alert. I was getting hypothermic, it had been developing for a while, but now my speech was slurred to the point that it was difficult to form words so I could not sing any more. My face muscles were tightening up from exposure to the extreme cold.
I knew that now was time to get resourceful, to do something clever for a change. I needed something to keep me from freezing to death; after some thought I came up with a plan to make a stove for the cab of the truck. I could use the air cleaner assembly and set it up on some blocks or something on the seat and use it for a fireplace. The steel air-cleaner assembly can’t burn, and the block of wood should protect the seat. The air cleaner lid should provide a good means of controlling the fire. I was excited: This might work! I thought.
I removed the air filter housing from off the carburetor, and brought the block I had used as a stool onto the seat of the truck. I set the air filter housing on the block of wood, and put into it the remnants of the melted pails, as well as the rags we had brought. There was still a small amount of gas in the cut down pop bottle that we had used earlier. I soaked the rags in the gas, and packed it all as tightly together as I could. I then lit it all up.
The rags burned pretty good right off the bat with all that gas soaked into them. I quickly covered the top of the housing with the air cleaner lid. I took a small screwdriver and hammered it into the block through the small hole where the stud that protrudes out of the carburetor sticks through and the wing nut usually goes. This held the lid down, as well as held the housing snug against the block restricting air from entering in through the hole where the carburetor usually goes. I then was able to slide a longer screwdriver between the block and the housing to open a gap to allow air through that hole into the fire. I hoped I would be able to regulate the fire this way.
I had opened the passenger window about four inches to allow the smoke to escape, hoping it would work sort of like the old Indian teepees, I knew they used to light a fire inside the teepee, and the smoke would go out a hole in the roof. But my pickup was not shaped exactly like a teepee, and the harsh thick smoke of the burning plastic, and burning rags built up and drove me coughing and gagging out of the cab.
Still coughing and gagging on the smoke, I bent over and fell to my knees in the middle of the highway, hacking as hard as I could to clear my throat and lungs. I looked up at my truck and in the glow of rising flames I could see smoke still billowing out of the cab through my open door. I had to act fast or the whole truck would go up in flames. The thought of the burning truck did not seem so bad. I mean I could stand around it and stay warm from the flames, but something inside me said there might be a down side to that. Even though I couldn’t immediately think of what it might be I decided to save it if I could.
Opening the passenger side door I was able to clear the smoke and gain control of my makeshift wood stove. The smoke of the fire had left the entire inside of the cab coated in a layer of soot. I repositioned the block of wood so that I could stick the snorkel of the air cleaner housing out the triangular no draft window. I rekindled the fire and climbed back into the driver seat of the truck. The smoke was no longer flooding the cab, but venting to the outside.
The small fire smoldering inside the air cleaner housing instantly warmed the inside of the cab of the truck. The icy frost on the windscreen began to melt. The layer of soot that coated the windshield ran like the streaks of cheap mascara in the tears of a repentant whore. Well, at least I assumed it did, it was too dark to actually see the windshield. I was feeling kind of proud of my little stove now that it was working properly.
It was very warm and cozy, I had several large rags and I fed them to the fire over the next several hours. Reluctantly when I ran short of free rags, I removed the rags stuffed in the firewall plugging the hole around the steering column and burned those as well. I also burned the air cleaner element itself, as well as an extra pair of socks I had brought along. Inevitably the fire consumed everything available that I was willing to part with, and the fire burned itself out. The cold penetrated the truck cab’s interior with cruel efficiency and it immediately was well below freezing inside.
Within minutes I had gone from near living room comfort to the cruel reality of being at the mercy of the elements. Desperate for heat, I tore strips of material from the seat covers and tried to burn them, but they wouldn't stay lit. I then had an idea, one last chance for usable stove fuel. There was a charcoal canister that absorbed the gasoline vapors from the fuel tank. It was part of the emission control system, if I could break it open I could burn the charcoal, it wasn't much, but it would be something.
The charcoal lit easily and burned well, I spread the strips of material from the seat covers over the flames so they would burn as well. I replaced the lid and within less than a minute I was enjoying the comfort that the warmth of the flame provided. It had by this time been at least three hours since Danny had left to get water. I considered looking for him, but I knew that it was too dark, it would be hopeless. After less than half an hour the makeshift fuel in my makeshift space heater was consumed and the temperature once again fell rapidly inside the cab of my truck.
Sitting in the cold and dark was the worst thing I could have done; my inactivity allowed the cold to get its death-like grip on me. Shivering I huddled under my parka, I could feel the cold fabric of the inner liner of my down filled parka, usually it was warm, insulating me from the cold, but now it had given up all it's heat to the night air. With every little movement that I made the layer of warm air next to my skin was disturbed and lost into the entropy of the night and replaced with bitter cold air. I was psyching myself up to get up and do something, anything, but I didn't want to move.
Off in the distance I thought I heard something. It was the sound of a truck, a big truck; it was a rig. This was what I needed to get out of that spot; some hope! I jumped out the cab and could hear the roar of eighteen wheels pounding down the well-weathered highway. It was taking longer than I had thought; the crisp night air was carrying the sound well, even though it was still several miles away. Then the sound of it diminished, and seemed to be getting quieter. What a cruel trick! I thought, straining my ears to hear where the truck was coming from or going to. I could not imagine where it could have gone to, this is the only road out here; there are no other roads to turn on to or from.
Then I heard it again, getting louder and stronger with each passing minute. It must have been in a dip or valley, or blocked by some rocky hill, but now I could hear it charging towards me again. It seemed to take forever but finally I saw the lights of the big rig in the distance. I ran up the road towards it and when it got close I waived my arms wildly to try to get the attention of the driver. When he finally saw me he was very surprised and hesitated as to what to do next, but then he began to slow down to stop. I stepped back out of the way as he overshot my position and I was consumed inside a cloud of blowing dust and snow stirred up by the speeding rig.
The swirling of powdered snow behind the trailer obscured the taillights. I ran to catch the truck after it passed me by. The truck’s brakes let out a long squeal that continued until the truck came to a full halt. As I approached the side of the tractor I was unsure of how or what I was going to ask of him. I swung the passenger door open and the hot balmy air of the cab flowed around me and encompassed and soothed me like a bowl of hot porridge on a cold winter morning.
I stood there silently for a moment, enjoying the warm air as it escaped from the cab, as cold night air rushed in to replace it the trucker gave a shrug of his shoulders in a shiver. I could tell he wanted me to get in and close the door to stop all the heat loss, but I hesitated. I knew that if I got into the cab of that truck I would not be able to get out again, I knew I would not be able to pry myself from that warmth and comfort.
It had been a moment or so of awkward silence when I decided I should just explain my situation. I told him what had happened and he suggested I get in and he would take me to Enterprise or even Yellowknife if I wanted. Remembering Danny I said; "I can't! My buddy is out looking for water in the bush some where! I have to wait for him!" I knew that if I left Danny out here he would die; I would never be able to live with myself if that happened.
"Don't worry about him, just get in and let’s go!" he urged me.
"No I can't. Could you just wait here for a while and let me warm up before you take off?" I asked.
"No! You can get in and come with me but I can’t wait here, I gotta go!"
"Okay then, I guess you will have to go, I can’t leave my buddy out here!" I was disappointed that he would not let me warm up.
"Just get in and let’s go!" he tempted me; "He's a big boy isn't he? Can't he take care of him self? You shouldn’t be worrying about him! Your gonna die out here in this cold! Just get in and let’s go!"
"I can't! I gotta wait for him"
"How long has he been gone?"
"About three or four hours." I answered him.
"He's probably dead already, and if he's not then he's probably going to be okay anyway! Just get in and let’s go! He is not your problem! Your only responsible to take care of your self now let’s go! If you don't your gonna die out here!" His reasoning seemed sound and for a moment I was ready to give up any responsibility for Danny and get into the truck, but I stopped my self.
"I can't" I explained as I stepped down from the side of the truck and reaching up closed the door of the tractor cab. The trucker put it into gear and drove off. The big diesel engine strained against its load, and the Jacobs brake rapped loudly splitting the night air with each gearshift. I stood there on the road until I could no longer hear any more sounds echoing back at me.
The return of the silence left me all alone; it seemed as if I was even more alone than before. It was dark, silent, and cold, and I was very tired. I climbed back into the driver’s seat of my crippled truck, I couldn't help but think about what the driver said; Might I die out here? Was Danny already dead? I was not sure, I tried to asses the seriousness of my condition, but no matter how bleak it seemed I could not believe that I would die this night. Maybe that is what everyone thinks on the night they die! I wondered. I sat in silence for hours pondering that thought. Naw, this ain’t that bad I concluded.
"Where is Danny?" I spoke aloud breaking the silence. He had been gone for at least six or seven hours. I pulled the headlight switch out to shine down the road to see if I could see anything but the battery was too low, and the lights would not glow enough to be effective. I remembered how I had become disorientated in the darkness right beside the road next to my truck and realized this probably had happened to Danny as well.
I began to shout out Danny's name so that if he was lost in the darkness he could hear it and walk towards my voice. "Danny!" I shouted as loud as I knew how, repeating it over and over as loud and frequent as I could. I was taking in larger and larger breaths of air so I could shout louder and louder. The crisp night air began to freeze the back of my throat with each gulp of air causing me to develop a harsh cough.
I continued shouting for more than half an hour when suddenly out of the darkness came a familiar voice. "Here I am!" Danny called back.
I rushed up the road to meet him, he was carrying the jerry can; he had found water. "What took you so long?" I asked.
"The creek was a lot farther than I had thought!" Danny began, "When I got there it was down a real steep bank! And when I tried to climb down the bank to the creek, it was so dark I tripped over something and went tumbling all the way down the bank…I lost the axe and everything! And it was so dark I had to grope around in the deep snow till I finally found it all again!" In spite of his efforts to maintain composure the emotional stress of his ordeal was revealed by the tremor of his voice.
The excitement brought on by frustration caused Danny to speak rapidly, and within his voice a slight groaning kind of whine was detectable coming from deep with in his being. I was afraid he might cry his emotions were worked up to such a state. Not knowing how to respond but trying to be sympathetic, I asked; "How far was it?"
"I don’t know, four or five miles maybe." He answered; whining like some lost puppy that needed to be reassured and cuddled. I think he wanted a hug, the way he was whining like such a big baby.
I sensed that he might even breakdown and cry. To avoid the possibility of that awkward moment I quickly quenched it by mockingly exclaiming; "What? No way! You couldn’t have walked that far! That's too far! No way your gonna carry a full jerry can filled with water that far!"
"Well it was at least three or four miles!" he countered angrily, yet still with whining in his tones.
"No way! I'll give you two miles at best!"
"It was at least three!" Danny demanded.
"You don’t even know what a mile looks like! I bet it was not even a mile!"
"I do to! And it had to be three miles! Two and a half at the least!" Danny was sounding more indignant this time, the near crying whine gone from his throat.
"Okay, okay! Two and a half miles! …That’s still pretty far! It must have been quite a hike!" I conceded.
It had been quite a hike. The creek Danny had seen was actually more than five miles back, and Danny had hiked all that way there, and had come all the way back carrying a full jerry can of water. After tumbling down the bank to the creek Danny gathered up all his dropped gear and made his way to the creek bed.
He made his way onto the creek and kicked the deep snow off the surface of the ice so he could chop a hole in it to get water. He realized that he should have brought the shovel with him, but hadn’t because he did not want to carry too many things so the jerry can and the axe was all he brought with him. After chopping through more than a foot of ice he felt the axe hitting softer ground. He had punched through the ice only to find the creek was frozen solid. "Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!" he shouted from on his knees in frustration. He had kept the hole large enough to fit the jerry can in to it so that he could submerge it to fill it. So after so much effort to chop such a large hole it was heart breaking to find it frozen solid all the way to the creek bottom.
After sulking for a few minutes he gathered his composure and trudged through the deep snow cover to find a new spot to try on the creek. It was hard going through the deep snow, and it drained his energy, he was quickly becoming exhausted. But Danny was tough, he had lived all alone on an island out in the middle of Great Slave Lake in forty below with nothing but two sheets of plywood and a fire to shelter and warm him. He was confident the conditions of his situation were not more than he could handle.
But still the deep snow was not something he had encountered before. At least not like this, on the lake the snow was hard, packed by the driving winds, and on the island he could always avoid the deep snow. But here there was no avoiding it; he had to go right through it. Finding a spot he thought would do, he was too tired to kick the snow back with his feet. So falling to his knees he began sweeping the snow with his hands and arms to clear a spot on the ice. The deep snow cover was difficult to sweep away with his arms, but he persisted until he exposed enough ice to make another hole.
Nearly exhausted he began chopping the hole in the ice. This time he would not chop such a large hole as last time. Instead he concentrated on a smaller hole to probe for water before he would decide to expend the effort of chopping it large enough to fit the jerry can. He chopped through a foot and a half of ice before he struck water. Up from his last axe strike the water began flooding upward and filling his hole. When it got to the top of the ice it did not stop and began flooding over.
Danny was kneeling on the ice chopping and could not see the water filling the hole in the pitch-black darkness. Bringing his axe down hard to continue the dig, it plunged into the frigid water splashing the water up at himself. It was so cold out that much of the water froze the instant it was air borne, but much of it also did not, and it splashed onto Danny's face and caused a bitter cold biting sting. The over flowing water reached where Danny was kneeling and began to saturate his ski pants.
Realizing this Danny jumped back in horror, he knew that the difference between life and death out there hinged on being dry. What kept him alive on all those long cold lonely nights in the middle of Great Slave Lake was his savvy in managing the dampness of his clothes. The water flooded the snow and made a slushy mixture that then quickly froze. Danny tried to position himself in a dry spot and reached out with his axe to chip away more ice so that the jerry can could be filled. But with each swing of the axe more water splashed back at him. He kept trying to find a way to chop the ice without the water splashing on him but he could not do it.
Wet and cold Danny abandoned the water hole. If he had some kind of smaller container or pail to scoop the water out with, he could have filled the jerry can that way, but he did not have any such thing. In the darkness and through the deep snow he made his way farther up the creek, perhaps both physically and metaphorically. Choosing another spot he began chopping wildly, this time ignoring his exhaustion so that he could build back up some of the body heat he had lost.
He knew that he had to chop a large hole right from the start, and hope that he hit enough water to submerge the jerry can to fill it. He once again began chopping at the ice, using the exercise as a way of venting his frustrations he swung the axe as hard as he could. Each blow he took at the ice was harder than the one preceding it. His frustration and anger proved to be a good source of new strength. With a mighty swing and a grunt he smashed the axe into the ice. Take that! He thought. But then a shard of ice flew up and struck him in the eye. It hit hard and the pain sent him reeling over as the pain shot from his eye socket into his brain. It completely disoriented him. He did not even know which way was up, it affected his balance and he fell over onto his side and rolled over in the deep snow.
It took some time but he was able to recover from the initial shock, the pain was making him nauseous, he opened his eye but it was so dark he had no way of even knowing if he could see out of it. Feeling ill he laid back in the deep snow, the snow seemed like the perfect mattress, he was able to relax every joint as it molded to a perfect fit around his stocky body.
While lying in the snow and resting up, he debated allowing himself to just fall asleep and die right there. It wasn't so bad, he felt comfortable, there are much worse ways to die, he wondered if he gave up this painless opportunity to die if it would be replaced with a much more painful death. Here, a perfectly comfortable way to die was offering it self to him, something like this only comes along perhaps once in a lifetime, should he just let it slip away?
His eye was still smarting and it was causing a bit of a headache, the nausea had subsided but now he was feeling his exhaustion. He had decided he did not want to die, but he did want to sleep, but if he could just rest a while he hoped it would make him feel better. At a certain point he knew he had to get himself moving again, so struggling to his feet he positioned himself over the hole.
After a while he found his way back to swinging the axe at the hole. It was dark so he had to feel with his hand to tell how the hole was progressing. He would grab the jerry can and check to see how it was fitting in the hole to monitor his progress. It seemed like the hole was large enough but it was taking longer than before to chop the hole, he was getting weak and was not swinging the axe as deliberately or effectively as before.
It was heartbreak again; it seemed that again he had chosen a spot where the creek was frozen solid. His axe no longer was giving off the familiar clinking of steel chipping ice, but rather the softer sound of his blade hitting the frozen placers on the creek bottom. Danny could not believe it; he was not prepared for such a difficulty. He thought he had enough strength to chop this hole and hopefully make the trek back to the truck, but he was running on empty now. He did not feel he had the strength to chop another hole and still make the walk back to the truck.
He leaned back in the snow again to rest, he considered giving up and just heading back to the truck empty handed, giving up his effort to failure. He imagined himself returning to the truck without water, what a waste of effort it all would have been. No matter how he imagined it, he hated the outcome. Without the water the truck would not go, without the truck running he was no better off than if he just went to sleep right where he was, "So why waste all that effort walking back to the truck?" he pondered.
But no, he won't give up that easy. He rested long enough to recover the strength he needed to chop one more hole. Picking another spot he cleared the snow and began to chop another hole, he had to stop to rest several times, and after each rest session he had to mentally psyche himself up to return to the chopping. But this time it paid off, he was able to submerge the jerry can enough to get the water to flow in through the small filler hole on the top of the can.
He had to hold his hand in the frigid water to keep the can submerged, and when it finally was full he tried to pull the jerry can out of the water, but his hand was numb clean through and he had no grip. Shaking his hand to dry it as best he could he then unzipped his parka and slid his hand under his armpit next to his skin to thaw it out. It felt like he had shoved a chunk of frozen cold steel under his armpit; so cold was his hand.
Once the feeling and pliability returned to his hand, he reached into the icy water again and pulled the jerry can out. Immediately he dried his hand by shaking the excess water off and then warmed it under his armpit again. Again after his hand had warmed sufficiently he put his mitt back on and gathered up his gear to make the trek back to the truck. It was at this point the realized he was lost. He had got turned around so many times, what with getting the ice hit in the eye and tripping and tumbling through the deep snow that he did not know which way to go back.
He thought he could follow his old tracks but it was so dark he could not see them, and the snow was deep and powdery so he could not feel them. Groping around he tried to pick the correct course back to the road. He had not considered this problem, and now he was becoming afraid that there was a real possibility that his efforts to find his way back to the road might just cause him to become even more lost.
If he wandered about not knowing where he was going he would surly end up dead in some place where his body might never be found, or he might find the road and be okay. If he stayed put, he would never find the road but they might find his body. He decided that if he was dead he did not care if they ever found his body, so he continued to grope around in the darkness for some clue that would give him direction.
He was following the creek, or at least he thinks he was when he ran into some dead fall that was blocking his path. He had not encountered it before so he decided that he must have been going the wrong way. He turned about and headed back in the opposite direction, only to find more dead fall blocking his path. He was confused and so just randomly picked another direction to try. This time he came upon thicker and thicker brush, things were not going good at all, and Danny was beginning to experience real legitimate fear.
It was too hard to trudge through the deep snow much longer, Danny was running out of steam, he was tripping and falling often, unable to deal with the terrain in his weakened state. He paused for a moment, he thought he heard something. He stood perfectly still to stop the crunching of the snow under his feet and the rustling of the cold stiffened fabric of his parka. He strained his ears to catch the sound he thought he had heard.
The forest made tiny little crisp branch tinkling sounds as the cold locked its tight grip upon it. There was nary the wisp of a breeze, it was dead calm, and the air was thick, as if it too was being solidified by the bitter cold night. Then breaking the stillness was the bark of a Jacobs engine brake splitting the night air. He heard it bark through several gears till it had obviously pulled the rig to a stop. Then he could not hear anything but the sounds of the frozen forest again.
He made his way towards where he thought he had heard the sound coming from, frantically he charged, breaking trail with renewed strength he rallied all his will to close the gap. But he soon had to slow down, he was again unsure of his orientation, and so he stopped to listen to hear another sound from the truck. But there was nothing he could hear; several minutes passed and he could hear nothing.
Now slowly and deliberately he made his way in the direction he thought might be the right way towards where he had heard the truck, stopping frequently to hear any sound of it. He listened for it for several minutes more and still he could hear nothing. He tried to think of where it might be, and why it had stopped. There were no other roads or places out here, so why did it stop?
Then it came; he could hear the howl of tires and roar of eighteen wheels pounding down the frozen surface of the highway. He charged again towards the sound, as it grew louder the direction it was coming from began to seem to shift, Danny adjusted his course accordingly. He pushed on hard through the deep snow, leaping and bounding to try to escape its depth, but he could not clear the snow top with every hurdle and would fall headlong into the snow. Picking himself up each time he would continue to leap and bound towards the approaching sounds.
It was now getting very close, and Danny was so excited he was unaware of how fatigued he was becoming. His leaping and bounding had degenerated into a persistent trudge through the deep snow. Then through the trees up the top of a large bank he saw the headlights glow reflecting off the tree branches. Then he saw the orange and red marker lights on the side and back of the rig and trailer flicker between the trees as the truck roared past. He was so thankful to get his bearings that he did not find it discouraging that the truck had drove off into the night before he could reach the road. Now that Danny had a jerry can full of water so he didn’t think that it mattered that the truck had gone on past him, everything was going to be all right now.
Danny was not that far from the road, he now had his bearings and made his way to the base of the embankment that went up to the road. But it was a steep climb, and by now Danny was completely out of breath. He was wheezing deeply trying to catch his breath, but he was so excited, like in a near panic like state, that he did not stop and take the time to rest. He boldly attempted to charge up the embankment, driving his legs hard to make short work of the climb. He got a little less than halfway when his footing gave way and he slid back down to the bottom. Undaunted he tried again, but alas, he was only to slide down once more, this time polishing up his trail even more. He tried attempting a third time but now with all his slide marks he could not find good footing.
His excitement abated, he took the time now to rest and catch his breath. As he sat back and sunk into the deep snow, his chest heaved with each deep breath and his tongue longed for water as he gasped for each breath. After several minutes his heart skipped a beat in fear and a lump developed in his throat. "What if that truck had stopped to pick up Dave and they left me out here?" the thought was more than he could bear.
Now he did not know what to do, his motivation to climb up out of that creek valley was lost. "Now what was there to climb up for? What is the difference if I die up there or down here?" he moaned out loud, breaking the silence of the frosted forest. He did not know how to drive, and he was definitely no mechanic, so there was no point in walking back to the truck. He sat back in the snow and stared into the night sky, it had been rather overcast, but now the sky was clear and billions of stars clouded the canopy of the earth.
His eye was still causing a sore headache; he was cold, but not too cold yet, his parka was much better than mine was and he had ski pants on, so this helped a lot. His right leg was feeling some of the cold from the water that had soaked the knee of his ski pants, but at this point it did not bother him too much. However his feet were getting cold and the longer he sat there the colder they got. It was his cold feet that got him moving he decided that if he did walk back to the truck the exercise might at least warm his feet.
This time he took a slower methodical attempt at climbing the steep bank. The darkness and the deep snow made finding a way around the climb impossible. Using the axe and reaching as high as he could he swung it into the ground and used it as a hold to climb up the bank. Dragging the jerry can with him and then carefully jamming it into the deep snow to hold it on the incline. Then finding a hold from the sparse prickle branches and willow reeds clinging to the bank by their frozen roots, he carefully removed the axe to reposition it as high as he could to continue the climb.
Eventually he found himself back on the road. Too worn down to walk with any cadence or gate, he could only shuffle towards the direction of the truck, switching the jerry can between his left and right hands often to share the load. He thought of what he might do when he got to the truck. He did not know how to drive, but he thought he might be able to figure it out. So he would pour the water into the radiator, start the engine and drive to Enterprise. He did not know how to shift gears, so he figured he would just leave it in whatever gear he could get it into. Then just drive and not stop no mater what. So what if it wrecked my engine, he figured I deserved it after leaving him all alone.
After a long time Danny was sure he had traveled far enough, but still had not come across the truck. He pushed on, estimating how much farther he had to go, then reaching that point he would be discouraged by not to find it there. Then he would set another estimate of where his goal was, only to find nothing again and again.
He became unsure of him self, did he see a big rig drive by? Perhaps it was not a rig at all, perhaps it was the truck, and it only looked like a big rig, after all we were pulling a big rig trailer. He thought he was sure he had seen that it was a big rig, and that it was pulling a highway trailer van, not a highboy. But the farther he traveled the more he doubted what he saw, and began to recall seeing what he was now believing.
By the time he walked the next mile he had convinced himself that I had got the truck running and took off and left him for dead. He had lost all the will to proceed, he was sure he had traveled far enough and the truck was gone. His worst fear was now proved in his mind. He was now surer that he had seen me drive by pulling the highboy than he ever was of what he really saw.
Now there was no point in carrying on towards a truck that was not there. And to make matters worse, he had been walking away from Enterprise, if he had walked as far as he already had this night he might be nearly half way closer to it! Every man has his breaking point; this was his. He had convinced himself that I had drove off and carelessly left him to die. It was not hard for him to accept that possibility; a lifetime of abuse had left him with little self worth.
He could take being left to die in stride, but this night he found death his warmest companion. He could hear it rattling its call, it was not a scary sound; it was at this point a warm comforting sound. It was like the sound of your mother stirring a mug of hot chocolate, for you on a cold winter's morning. It was irresistible; he sat down in the snow, laid back and closed his eyes, fully prepared to never open them again.
It was about a half-hour after he had fallen asleep that I began calling his name, my persistence was eventually able to wake him up. Hearing his name being called at first did not register, he was sure he was dead, so he hoped it was the good Lord calling him, and not that other guy. But it was that other guy, and eventually I was able to wake him.