Safe Passage by Brett Diffley

Author:Brett Diffley [Diffley, Brett]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2020-02-18T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

With his rifle over each shoulder, Clayton Wolmack stepped outside, and closed the front door of his family’s two bedroom home on Eglinton Island. Snowfall had been extreme in the last three weeks leaving the house half-buried, and the drifts taller than him on either side of the door. Across from his house, the two neighboring homes hadn’t fared much better, with more than six feet of drifting snow that sloped up the walls, and covered most of the windows in a blanket of white. But this wasn’t unusual in this barren, wind-blown, treeless landscape.

Of the six inhabitable residences in the small village, these three buildings were the only wooden structures. The other three were igloos. Although less comfortable, and unlike the wooden counterparts, these rounded, ice structures weren’t prone to collapse in the event of large snowfalls, which frequented the area. Primitive but practical, it was all part of living on one of the Arctic islands in the region.

However, that wasn’t the only inconvenience.

Amenities, such as running water or even electricity, were nonexistent. Heat was limited to firewood in fireplaces and cook stoves. Each home also had a generator, but those ran on gas, which was a luxury out here, and only used in an emergency, work related, or for the cooking of food when wood wasn’t available.

The twelve-year-old took a deep breath of the cold winter air. It carried the hint of smoke from both the neighbors’ chimneys, which drifted lazily above the recently shoveled, snow-covered roofs. As was usually the case, the early afternoon was bitterly cold, hovering around

-30 Celsius. It was also very quiet. Compared to the inland landmasses, and aside from storms, there wasn’t much natural sound: no bird song, no rustling of wind through the trees, and no lapping of water from the nearby sea. Even the smell of salt water was buried under the thick layers of ice and snow; the air remaining mountain fresh but extremely cold. Occasionally though, the howl of a wolf, miles away, would break the ominous silence to remind all who lived there that they weren’t alone.

Clayton liked the animal’s solemn call, and also the tranquility of the surrounding environment. This was the only life he had ever known, and he loved every minute of it. He looked up at the iron grey clouds that spotted the blue sky. A light snow was coming down, and without any wind, the big flakes floated gracefully down from the sky as if on miniature parachutes.

The door opened behind him, and his mother stuck her head out. A heavy set woman with black hair, her eyes were bright, and at the age of fifty, the hard years left her face seamed with lines. Over her shoulders she wore a thick wool blanket.

She sniffed loudly and smiled. “According to the radio, another storm will arrive by nightfall. Get back home before it arrives.” One of the few forms of communication from the outside world, the radio transmission was automated, and came from the weather station across the main channel on Banks Island.

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