Inside Voices Read online

  Before her laid the bear that crept into her nightmares and appeared in her daydreams since her arrival in Alaska. Him…the bear in her pocket.

  Penny didn’t respond but crouched and ran her hand along the scars marring the massive, beautiful face. An old wound from another bear paw by her guess. The overwhelming stench of clams and bad farts stung her nose. She swallowed hard against the bile rising in her belly.

  Army injected the male with the chip and locked in his information into the electronic tablet. The bear that appeared in her visions, as well as rested in her jean pocket, would now be trackable.

  She pulled her hand back into her lap and stared at the vacant, small black eye. The eyelid closed in a slow blink. When it reopened, the vacant stare had departed, and the eye fixed on Penny. The bear inhaled a deep, slow breath. Noah pulled her up and away from the bear.

  He shouted. “Coming to.”

  Eelyn reacted with speed and administered another dose of tranquilizer as the male had started to paw and lift his head. Army nearly drug her away, although the bear’s movements were slothful and uncoordinated, he could still do a great deal of damage.

  “Sorry, I should have been paying closer attention,” said Eelyn as they stood a safe distance away waiting for the dose to take effect, and the bear relaxed into sleep once more.

  Can you imagine him turning into a man? That would be a big dude, thought Lucy.

  Penny snorted while snickering at the comment, recalling a favored childhood tale of the White Bear Prince.

  Noah nudged her arm with his. “What’s so funny?”

  “Just thinking about East of the Sun West of the Moon.” She glanced sideways at him and noticed his contemplative stare at the slumbering bear.

  “So, did the wind tell you there was a bear down here?” he asked quietly, his thick beard hiding a half-grin or a grimace. It was too difficult for Penny to tell, so she moved away pretending not to hear.

  It was surprising the wind hadn't brought the pungent odor towards them. The dead walrus saturated the air with its strong marine perfume. Penny wrinkled her nose and held her breath as much as she could while helping to take measurements of the bear.

  As they finished up their physical exam of the male, Eelyn returned to the original scene with Bill to inject the female and cub with a reversal drug that would revive them. Waking them before the male would allow enough time for the female and the cub to leave the area without being harassed by the male. The four humans hovered quietly in the bird over the area to ensure no bear confrontation occurred following the bears’ recoveries.

  Over the next few hours, Bill darted six more bears, and they removed three more collars from females before the team headed back to Utqiaġvik. Noah flew the bird through miles of air over the course of the long day. To the north of the route, vast expanses of open water brought a somber tone to the bird. On Army’s request, Noah scouted the retreating ice. Army swore at the incredible distance they traveled over open ocean. During springtime, the ice should still mostly cover the ocean’s surface. Below them, one whaling boat traversed the open sea.

  Spring whaling in Utqiaġvik customarily occurred out on the ice with snow machines, dog sleds, and umiaks, the Native sealskin boats. The current year was proving one of the more challenging of the whaling seasons thanks to the past three years of record arctic highs and temperatures above freezing during long stretches in the winter months.

  By early evening a heavy fog rolled in, so thick that Noah flew them back relying on his instruments. A heavy silence shrouded the group on the return trip and during the ride back to the research station, at least in the vehicle in which Penny rode.

  Penny hadn’t been impressed the first time she observed the station, little more than three buildings enclosed by a chain link fence. Like most other buildings in Utqiaġvik, the colors were faded, blending into the environment. The primary building was a wood frame covered by corrugated steel the color of muted ochre. The most interesting part of the exterior was the truck tailgate that sat out front, propped as a bench. A grey shipping container made up the second building, and a small, dilapidated woodshed the third. Rita once informed Penny that the woodshed held an entrance to an underground bunker. Bill claimed it was an underground ice cellar. Either way, Penny had not taken liberties at exploring it as it was locked.

  The team arranged their equipment inside the single room that held storage closets, shelves and ample space. During Penny’s last trip out to make sure the equipment had all been taken inside, Noah stopped her by the truck.

  “Seriously, Penny, how did you know the bear was down there?” His deep voice chased the cold from her veins.

  Penny looked around, unsure of what to say. “I caught a glimpse of him.” Not a lie. Conscious of his hand on hers, her heart beat faster.

  “But you were behind me,” he said. “I was closer to the beach, but I couldn’t see it over the cliff.”

  Penny shook her head. “I saw the bear, Noah.”

  He released her hand. “Yeah. I just don’t see how when I didn’t.”

  She let out a shaky laugh and ran her hand over her hair, brushing back loose strands. “Well, you were playing with Winter, right? You were a bit distracted.” She couldn’t share how she knew; she liked that Noah looked at her like she was normal.

  “Hmm, perhaps I was distracted,” he said faintly, his gaze contemplative. “Why did you tackle me?”

  Oh, that. “Well, I worried he would come after us, and, um, I didn’t tackle you. I tripped when I tried to pull you away…” she broke off as the slow smile creased the corners of his eyes. He was teasing.

  She shook her head and walked back inside without a backwards glance at the young man.

  Unusual Death

  Penny returned home that evening, weary down to her bones. After dropping her mother off at the veterinary clinic, a persistent throbbing began in her right temple. Replays of the vision and what occurred plagued her. On top of that, other older nightmares weaseled their way from her memories so that one blended seamlessly into the next.

  She repeated her mantra. I’m not broken; I’m only damaged. Healing takes time. I’m not broken, only damaged.

  Parked in front of her temporary home, Penny rested her forehead on the steering wheel.

  What is wrong with me?

  Nothing is wrong with you, her sister replied.

  Obviously, something is. The headaches are back. She had nightmares of explosions filled with rapid fire of gunshot for months before the school shooting. The gunfire troubled her so much that she had stopped going to the shooting range to target shoot with her father on their free weekends together. Headaches had plagued her then, occasional brief twinges that coincided with the strange visions.

  Healing takes time. You are stressed, hence the headache. And you have a gift, dear sister, reminded Lucy.

  Curse was more like it. The dark visions terrified Penny.

  She removed her boots and dropped them in the small porch. As she walked in, her pup, Blue, jumped and yowled, ready to go outside for some playtime. He shared his thoughts of injustice at being stuck inside with Lucy.

  Army provided the home for Penny and her family to use as part of her research stipend. The porch led into a slightly larger kitchen. Dividing the open floorplan was a kitchen table and four chairs. The quaint living room had a flowery couch, a threadbare brown recliner, and a television. A blue-black bird sat on a perch nestled against the wall between the kitchen and sitting area. The house contained two bedrooms and a miniscule bathroom, so small Penny found difficulty changing her mind, much less her clothes in the closet-sized space. But she did her best.

  Penny hefted Blue into her arms letting loose only a few grunts. Dude, you are getting too big. His unfaltering excitement to see her might have helped to eliminate some of her fatigue if her head hadn’t felt like it ticked closer to an explosion. The young dog’s thoughts were but ketchup compared to the spicy mental assault she would re
ceive at Army’s dog barracks. Penny placed the wiggling dog back on the ground, and he nosed and sniffed every reachable part of her legs. Sighing, she searched out a pain reliever. Mercifully, Blue picked up on her pain and patiently waited by the door.

  Lucy rested on the top bunk in the tiny room they shared. Beside the bunk bed there was only enough room for a dresser, a chair, and a thick throw rug on the narrow floor space. Huddled beneath a green blanket, the outline of Lucy’s body was barely visible. The thick curtains blocked most of the light, but as an extra measure, newspaper had been taped across the frame to prevent sunlight seepage.

  “Hey, how’s it going?” Penny asked, fearing using her inside voice would inflame her headache.

  There was no movement from beneath the green blanket—green because that was the color of spring and summer and, therefore, was Lucy’s favorite color.

  “Did you get much writing done today?” she probed. Lucy, in her disabled state, still found joy in writing and reading. A lot. Her intended majors had been in creative writing and journalism. Since they arrived in Alaska, she had been dabbling in short stories when not working on her lengthy sci-fi/fantasy novel.

  Lucy remained silent.

  “You alright?” Penny asked, although she already knew. There was very little that could be hidden from each other. Lucy’s ongoing illness left her tired most days. The few times she left the comfort of the house, Lucy usually went with their mother to the veterinary clinic; although truth be told, she kept to the office rather than helping.

  Okay. I’m tired. Her sister’s mental voice soothed the chaos in Penny’s cranium.

  “Too tired to come with me?”

  Yeah. Don’t worry about me. Go have fun.

  “It would be more fun if you came.”

  I’m always with you, Pen. You know that.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  There were times when Penny would have liked alone time in her mind and certainly vice versa. But it would be callous to think such a thought now. Although they shared many discussions about privacy over the years, their connection wasn’t something easily shut off, although intense emotions weakened it. Sometimes it was unsettling, Lucy being privy to all her experiences and thoughts. And so, Penny tried not to think about it. Their bond differed from the mental connection Penny developed with animals; her animal link diminished with space, which was fortunate otherwise she would have a permanent migraine from Army’s sled dogs.

  The older sister walked out of the bedroom, leaving her younger sister alone once more. Truth be told, Penny craved some alone time herself, but she still had work to do before supper at Army’s house. The sled dogs couldn’t feed themselves. A smile tugged at her mouth at the thought. Before leaving, she greeted the solemn-looking crow sitting quiet on its perch.

  “Hello, Edgar. How are you today?”

  The bird ruffled his feathers and gave her a steady look with one beady eye. Penny sensed the melancholy that rolled off the bird in waves now that Blue’s excitement waned.

  As she reached out to pet him, Edgar stretched his head toward her and leaned into her touch. Penny stroked his glossy blue-black feathers, something he would not have allowed weeks before.

  “Oh buddy, I know. It sucks losing someone you love.” Edgar’s pupils dilated and contracted in response. “I need to head back out. You want to come with, do some reconnaissance flying for the dogs?" Penny projected images of Edgar soaring through the sky. He fluffed up his feathers and shuffled down into his roost. Not today, then.

  I’ll see you both soon, she thought as she and Blue left the house. Her head no longer twinged and as thoughts of the bird filled her mind, she shielded them from Edgar until her connection to him fell away.

  The crow had been rescued as a fledgling and lived with one owner, Kate Kingston, up until several weeks ago. He had not spoken to anyone since he was rescued from his owner’s home. Kate had gone missing in early spring; her body was found days after Penny’s family’s arrival in May. The remains pointed to a bear attack at her hunting cabin outside of town. No one had come to claim the bird, so after a short stay at the veterinary clinic, Eelyn brought Edgar into the Osborn household.

  Penny and Blue walked over to the dog runs behind Army’s neighboring home where Noah waited with the dogs.

  As she approached the tall chain link fence that surrounded the dog enclosure, the yard lights blazed ineffectively in the white fog that hovered just overhead. Within the fence next to the front gate sat a lone shed that served as storage and dog food prep. It was nothing more than a wood frame covered by planks of tundra turf with patches of moss stuffed haphazardly in the collection of cracks.

  Army’s horde, as he referred to the twenty-two dogs, overwhelmed Penny at first. The lack of boundaries between the dogs and her mind was like a dam breach of flooding senses. After feeding the dogs the first few weeks, she would leave with headaches that often grew into migraines. As the dogs grew accustomed to her though, they eventually settled down, responding to her mental requests for calm. The fact that with Penny’s arrival the dogs got out every day for exercise correspondingly played into their more mollified natures.

  Noah slipped out of the shed as Penny walked into the yard, his heavy boots clunking on the wood steps. He joined in untethering the dogs for their daily walk.

  The odor of wet dog surrounded Penny and triggered memories of early morning jogs with one very different canine. Her throat closed, and her eyes burned causing her to blink rapidly against the rising moisture. He, too, had been named Blue—an exceptionally large, gun metal grey Weimaraner, all lean and no mean. Her childhood companion and running partner for over twelve years. His life had been snuffed out by cancer only weeks after her father had died. Life was full of loss, and she had suffered several in a short period of time.

  She was still musing about Blue when Noah handed her a .243 rifle to carry. They set off on a different path than yesterday, south toward a creek, silent partners to the dogs’ vocal jaunt.

  The dogs worked so well together that taking them out for exercise was quite simple. They leashed a few dogs while the others ran free, including Blue who responded quite well to her unspoken requests. Because of Army’s diligent training, the dogs responded extremely well to verbal and even physical commands, but Penny unconsciously directed them with her thoughts.

  Penny’s knack of working with animals extended beyond physical cues, and its usefulness was undeniable. Her mother enjoyed having Penny work with her during veterinary calls. Eelyn was aware of the twin’s ability to communicate mentally, so it was not out of line to acknowledge Penny’s similar ability with animals.

  Although not interested in career as a veterinarian, Penny thoroughly enjoyed the summers spent working at her mother’s clinic during high school. She enjoyed helping her mother, even though she grudgingly accepted her mother’s use of her abilities. It was time she was able to spend alone with her mother who was often absent from home due to one emergency or another.

  “You bringing the new Laguna over tonight?” Noah’s voice pulled her back to the present.

  Their footsteps were soft in the moist tundra as they ventured east with the dogs, away from the houses. The howls were overpowered by the mental noise and excitement that spilled over into Penny’s mind since she had arrived. Fortunately, the ache had receded before the short walk over and stayed tucked away. The dogs jumped, sniffed and nosed, and ran circles around each other and the two human companions. Winter, Noah’s near constant partner, padded silently alongside, unwilling to partake in the puppy-like behavior but nonetheless tolerant of Blue who bounded about and licked his sire’s face.

  Penny brushed at the mosquitoes dive-bombing her, then gratefully accepted the insect repellent lotion Noah offered.

  Annoying bugs …

  Yeah, hence the name bugs. They bug, chirped her sister. Penny mentally groaned.

  “Thanks…” She handed the lotion back to Noah. “I suppose I could bring it.
Not sure I want to let you touch her, though.” Her dimpled smile was mischievous.

  “What? Come on, I let you play my Gibson last week,” his voice bordered on a whine. Noah’s Gibson Les Paul guitar was his new baby or as Rita had coined it, his girlfriend. She claimed he hadn’t spent money on dates in ages, just his guitars.

  “And I didn’t even put a scratch on her, did I?” Penny ribbed the young man who so willingly met her to help with dog chores.

  “I suspect you play all my guitars when I’m gone.”

  “You do? Huh, the thought crossed my mind,” she admitted with a chuckle.

  “I still can’t get over how your mom hustled us,” Noah said.

  His comment took her back to her family’s second night in Utqiaġvik back in May. She and her family had been invited next door to Army’s home for a welcome meal with the entire team. Eelyn had found a pair of drumsticks on the kitchen counter and twirled them between her fingers. Poorly. She smacked herself hard enough in the head to cause a small bruise. When Bill asked, Eelyn admitted she liked banging on a set of drums every now and then. Not to be left alone in the spotlight, she outed Penny’s talent with the guitar.

  “So can you bloody play guitar?” he solicited in his gruff voice.

  Penny grinned at her mom and the question and then admitted that, yes, she played guitar. Not very well, though.

  They then descended a narrow staircase into the cool air of an underground bunker buried beneath Army’s home where Eelyn’s bumbling with the drumsticks was revealed as a gaff when she and Penny played. They, of course, had been playing together for years.

  The team had a comfortable, family-like quality. Relaxed, Penny dropped her guard a fraction. Noah sang that night; his voice was deep and smooth like liquid dark chocolate. It stirred emotions within her she didn’t fully understand but very much liked. She sang only once that night. Noah’s comment on wanting to listen to her sing on repeat thrilled and embarrassed her for she was sure that he was being overly kind. Her voice was raspier and lower than her mother’s soprano, and she rarely shared it with others.