Amanda watched in horror as a wall of ice and snow swept down the mountainside, dragging her little brother away with its murderous will. The cries of terror from the little tow-headed tot were soon drowned as the avalanche buried him beneath many tons of ice and snow. His mother, father and sister, along with Haakon and Maria, stumbled and fell as they made their frantic way down the mountain as best they could, desperate to dig Al out from beneath the avalanche which had missed them but had carried little Al away. They dug furiously at the place where they thought it most likely that Al was buried. For many long minutes they scratched and clawed and dug into the snow, trying their best to rescue him, hoping and praying he was in an air-pocket, and, somehow, miraculously, was finding enough air to keep himself alive.
But they only recovered the lifeless body of the little guy. He had suffocated under all those tons of snow. With tears streaming down their faces, each of them was devastated to see that the sweet little fellow had perished.
Then Al's grief-stricken mother turned on Haakon and Sergio and cursed them for leading them into this wilderness.
`Damn you! Damn you!' screamed Pamela.
For awhile Sergio held his peace, and then he unleashed his grief and anger on his wife.
`If you hadn't been naked with your friend Haakon here in Maria's bathtub, then Maria wouldn't have shot Haakon in the woods, and then Amanda wouldn't have been so terrified of murderers lurking in the scary woods at night, and then she wouldn't have shot and killed the FBI agent by accident, and then she would not be a fugitive, and then none of our troubles would have hit us, and Al would still be alive, and we would all be happy, if only you hadn't lusted after Haakon in the bathtub…'
Amanda woke from another one of her wilder dreams to find Al sleeping sweetly in the same tent in which she and their parents were sleeping. An avalanche had not killed the sweet little guy!
Amanda left the warmth of her blankets. She left the tent to kindle a fire and brew some coffee. They had slogged hundreds of miles and had arrived at the banks of the Great Slave Lake, from whence flowed the immense Mackenzie River. It was midsummer and in these high latitudes a gray twilight prevailed over the sky at midnight. Amanda's complexion had deepened under all the days full of sunshine over the last two months to dark brown. Her hair was sun-bleached to the palest shade of blonde.
Amanda usually slept soundly, free of nightmares. The rigors of the march brought exhaustion, and the loneliness of the wilderness - with no lawmen in sight - were all conducive to restful sleep. Her muscles and sinews were certainly toughened from lugging heavy packs a thousand miles over the roughest terrain. Amanda had to wonder if the Royal Canadian Mounted Police or the FBI were closing in on her. Perhaps her nightmare meant danger was at hand. But she didn't feel any intimations of sudden arrest now that she was awake. Her woman's intuition wasn't warning her to run from camp.
She had a pile of sticks formed like a little teepee above the dry kindling needles. Amanda struck a match. The flame flew up. The kindling caught fire and soon the wood was popping and hissing in the flames.
Soon enough she was sipping her coffee. Then she thought she would postpone her breakfast and instead take a bath, which she liked to take twice a day. Throwing off her clothes, grabbing a bar of soap, she waded to the depth of her waist in the Great Slave Lake. She didn't have to drink any whiskey to protect herself from the shock of the chilly water. Then she plunged herself under the cold water. Then she stood up and lathered up with the soap, before plunging under the lake again to rinse herself off. A towel was waiting for her when she got back to shore. Amanda got dressed under the wan sky of the subarctic summer night; she looked round her again just to make sure no one was spying on her. Amanda saw, very far away, the microscopic silhouette of a man looming up on a treeless horizon. She had been wondering about Haakon. He had ventured off by himself several days ago, intent on reaching a village where he could buy food and supplies. Amanda had wondered where he was and how he was faring. Had he met a beautiful Indian woman? Or was he still in love with Maria? Amanda had to admit that if he had never fallen out of love with Maria life certainly would be different for all of them, herself especially!
Haakon was indeed returning from his mission to gather supplies for the run northwards. They needed a new saw to cut timber. They required rope to lash the timbers together to make the raft on which they intended to ride down the river. Food had always been abundant yet dull as there was no shortage of lakes and streams in which to catch fish. But how much fish can you eat before you get sick of fish? Sergio brought down an elk now and then, with his machine gun, so there was fresh venison to be had, now and then. Their supply of brandy and bourbon was running low and Haakon was being counted on to remedy this emergency.
In 30 minutes Haakon had arrived and greeted Amanda as he lowered the huge pack which carried all the supplies. Haakon said it weighed 200 lbs. Then Haakon took a towel and the soap and proceeded to give himself a scrubbing in the lake. After a wash and a shave, Haakon sat down by the fire next to Amanda to rest his bones and give her the news.