Chapter 9

It wasn't easy, but the next two days, Wednesday and Thursday, were enough to help Ginny forget the unforgettable-- those horrifying minutes at the mercy of Arnie's vicious dog, the incredible depths of degradation she sank to, even worse than her experiences with Marty Bondman back in California. Ginny had awoke the next morning feeling worse, perhaps, than on any day of her life, but by midmorning, she'd nearly forgotten the depravity of the night before.

Flo rushed her out of the house almost before it was light, and Gus was waiting for them when they made their way through the mud and slush to the post office. Ginny posted the letter to Fred she'd written on the plane coming up, and they sped away for a long day of sightseeing, beginning with the rugged drive east of town to the foothills of the Mackenzie Mountains. Those towering, rocky peaks were even more beautiful than she'd pictured them from Arnie's letters, remote and forbidding, almost untouched by human despoilation, they rose silently on the far horizon, like the Great Wall of China, running as far north as she could see.

Gus drove them up into the hilly meadows for an even closer look, and parked the jeep nearly ten miles from town, on a treeless bluff that afforded a picture-book view both of the river behind them and the majestic Mackenzies ahead.

"Can you drive all the way to the mountains?" asked Ginny.

Gus shook his head. "No... but there are horse and foot trails. Some of them date back to the eighteen-hundreds. You can cross them even, if you are very brave. The hunting up there is fabulous... better than any place in the Territories."

"Wow, I'd sure like to ride up there... I'll bet the scenery's fantastic!" exclaimed Ginny, standing on the jeep's fender for a better look. "I sure wish I'd brought my camera. I left in such a hurry this morning, I forgot all about it."

"Don't worry about getting pictures," said Flo. "We'll be up here plenty of times. It's one of the most beautiful picnic spots around. Sometimes on week-ends, half the village is up here."

"Oh, I don't think I'd like that," Ginny decided. "Too many people would just spoil it. I like it like this."

Florence unpacked the sandwiches she'd thoughtfully brought along, and the three of them enjoyed a leisurely lunch high on the top of the world, a million miles from the nearest freeway or traffic jam, and completely free of pollution and noise. Ginny couldn't recall when she'd spent a more pleasant morning. Once in a while, when she'd look at Flo, she'd remember last night, and Flo's naked genitals right before her curious eyes. And more important, she'd remember everything that happened... including those horrible few minutes with Novlik. But the sun and the cobalt-blue sky were the perfect cure, and by afternoon, she'd nearly put those frightful memories out of her mind.

They wound their way back through the forest, back down the hills, and arrived back in Norman Wells in time to watch the season's first cargo barge heading north, bound for Inuvik, and the gas fields of Alaska's North Slope. It wasn't much to look at, just a squared-off rust-colored hulk being towed by a chunky, smoke-spitting little tug, but it seemed that everyone in town was lining the banks for a peek.