ICE DREAMS - CHAPTER A

I will be posting one chapter per week of my latest book, ICE DREAMS. Please note that the numerical chapters are autobiographical. The alphabetical chapters are pure fiction. 

Several weeks after my harrowing experience at the beach and crossing the tundra, I decided to go again. This time I took a strong flashlight with me. Several times I stopped, bent down and looked closely at the tundra growth. It was really fascinating. Even though it was brown and dead looking, I could see the variety of plants. It was almost like a forest in a miniature world. I thought of Gulliver’s Travels. I was like Gulliver.

I reached the beach and sat, as before, watching the surf crash against the enormous black, hardened lava rocks. The waves hit, surging almost to the top. If I had been closer I would have been drenched by the spray. The pounding surf began to take on a beat, a rhythm. It was a lullaby for me that made me doze at times.

I was about to leave when I saw a young lady by one of the rocks. There were no women, military or civilian, stationed on Shemya! This young lady was wearing a white blouse with puffed material at the shoulders, a bright vest of many colors and a full skirt. She had long brown hair. She was motioning to me. Hesitantly I walked toward her, expecting her to disappear as I came nearer. I wondered how she could stand to be out in this cold January air in only a dress. She beckoned to me more urgently. Maybe she was getting cold.

As I drew nearer, I saw that she was very attractive. She was speaking and her words were happy and musical, but I couldn't understand them.
She was standing at the mouth of a cave. Warm air wafted out of its mouth in the largest rock. She took me by the hand and led me down a slope that went on forever. Down and down we went. The tunnel or shaft, whichever it was, showed the marks of having been hewn out with tools. It was only wide enough for one person to walk in it, and only high enough to walk by bending at the waist. If anyone had been approaching us, they could not have passed by us.

I wondered what language she spoke because I couldn't understand her. Just then the thought came into my mind, “No, you cannot SPEAK our language, but you and I can communicate with our thoughts.”

“Where does the heat come from?”

 “There is a pool of water which is heated from under the earth by the same volcano whose lava once formed this island.”

“How can your people survive living in a cave all the time?”

“We have always been resourceful. We fish and garden in the summer. We are excellent scavengers and craftsmen. You would be surprised at the wood, metal, and military gear we find lying around. When we run low on supplies, usually in winter, we can sometimes “liberate” some food intended for the mess hall. We find many useful items around the terminal building at the airport. After the War, what was dumped during the day or was left to be dumped the next day, we took for our own use.”

“They haven’t caught you?”

“They don’t know to look for us.”

The tunnel led into a large natural room. It reminded me of the Mammoth Caves in Kentucky. I saw no evidence that this big room had been hewn by human tools. In the center was a large oblong pool at least twelve feet across. The ceiling above the water was covered with stalactites. From the pool there emanated light that illuminated the whole room.

My “guide” spoke in a Slavic-sounding language, though I did not recognize half of the words as Russian. I did gather that her name was Tatyana. Beside the pool sat an older man whose name was Evgenij. Tatyana explained to him why she brought me into their cave. Most of the time she addressed him as “Starshij” (Elder).

While they were speaking, several women walked quickly through the room. They came out of a side tunnel, and went across to another side tunnel. Starshij motioned to one of them to join us. The women were attired like Tatyana. They were dressed like Russian peasant women.

Tatyana left and the other woman, Gretchen began translating for the Elder. “You are wondering what language we speak and why Tatyana brought you here

“Our ancestors were Cossack soldiers who fought on the side of Czarist troops during the Russian Revolution. The battles brought them to Siberia and the Kamchatka Peninsula. It would have been suicide to cross the broad expanse of Russia, now ruled by Bolshevics, in order to return to their native land. They decided to buy a fishing boat and sail to Alaska. There were already many Russians in Alaska. Russians settled in Alaska before your own Civil War. One of our Czars sent a fleet of ships to keep California from being retaken by Spain. There was even a Russian fort in Northern California.”

“Starshij” told me that they loaded the fishing boat with seeds and implements just as our pioneers loaded covered wagons to travel West. Many Russian and Japanese fishing boats sailed into these waters and returned with rich catches of fish. Some, however, floundered and wrecked in the cruel sea. That is what happened with the boat loaded with their ancestors. The boat was driven by the winds and sea currents and smashed into the huge rocks at the entrance to the cave.

Some people perished from injuries or the cold. The more resourceful found or made shelters for themselves and their families.  They discovered warm air being wafted from a large crevice in the rock and built a shelter around it large enough for the survivors. Then the men set to work making the hole wide enough to crawl into. In time, they found their way into this large underground room.

It then became a priority to make a tunnel to access the underground room. It was not livable until even women and children could go in and out each day. Humans need sunlight each day to stay healthy.

“How have we sustained our colony for generations now?” Starshij continued answering my questions, “Let me show you our workshops.” He took me to several underground rooms. In one room, men and women made material from scavenged items. Men took packing crates and pallets apart, straightening the nails, smoothing the boards. Women made glue and leather from the remains of whales. On a shelf, I saw boiled-clean whale bones and jars of screws, nuts, bolts, and rivets.

A small room was the design room. Men and women with Montgomery Ward, Sears, and other catalogs cut out pictures of items to possibly make in their shops. Another room was a carpentry shop. Women sewed in the dormitory. Finally, we reached their stock room.

“When we have a large supply of goods to sell or barter, and the weather is not terrible, we flag down a fishing boat and offer to pay him to take us to Japan, Russia, or one of the Alaska islands. We don’t go to cities or even towns because we have no passports or identity papers. We go to Indian villages or the villages of poor people in Japan or Russia. We have a long history with them. They eagerly barter food supplies, other things we need, or even pay us money for our handcrafted goods. They know they can sell them in the towns for more than they have given us. Maybe they sell them as native craft. Everyone wins.”

“Why did Tatyana bring me down here? There have surely been many other soldiers and airmen who have visited the beach.” I asked.

“Tatyana is the only virgin in our community. Unfortunately for her there are no unmarried men in our community. She could go on a fishing boat that takes our crafts and several of our men who will trade them. She could meet an Alaskan native or Siberian native or Japanese peasant young man. I think she would rather meet a young American military man. Her parents are dead so she could move away from here.

“I see that you wear a ring, so you are married. I’m sure that she did not know that you were married when she invited you down here. Maybe you wore gloves and she didn’t see your ring.”

“Yes, I am married. The Air Force sent me to Alaska on our first wedding anniversary. We are expecting a baby in five months.”

“That is wonderful. You can leave now. I ask you for your solemn oath that you will never tell anyone what you have seen and learned today.”

He extended his hand and we shook on it.

I walked up the sloping tunnel to the cave’s exit. It was pitch black outside and soon I was beyond the warm air of the cave’s entrance. I was grateful for the flashlight. I could see the path back to the mess hall and our barracks. The further I walked away from the beach, the less sure I was that what I had seen and experienced was real.