Lucy had thrown a shoe and my side hurt like hell. I was pretty sure the pain had nothing to do with the change in her gait. Our trip north wasn't going well, and I was pretty sure it it was only going to get worse. In fact I was pretty sure I had a kidney infection, and a kidney infection was the very last thing I needed.
A kidney infection meant antibiotics. Antibiotics are a pretty rare commodity. About twenty years ago some sort of germ escaped, contaminated all the worlds oil fields, destroyed the oil, and caused a fuel shortage. We called it the Great Short. Eventually the fuel ran out, and supply shipments stopped making their way to up us in Alaska. We were pretty dependent on supplies being shipped in by boat or plane back then, but things had changed. Our last shipment of supplies had been sent about two years into the Great Short, and those were sent as some sort of emergency relief after thought. They'd basically been a farewell package from the lower 48.
Most people fled Alaska when they saw the writing on the wall, but those that stayed were well prepared. They were used to living rough, and they were used to making do without. Unfortunately for me, antibiotics aren't something you can easily make do without. Your options were to track down some sort of healer, someone with a stash of expired medical supplies, or someone who knows enough chemistry that they're more likely to help you than they are to kill you with whatever they cook up.
I was in unfamiliar territory without access to any of those three options. I'd only come up this way because word in Anchorage was that last spring some families had rolled through town headed out to the Palmer hay flats with twenty head of cattle and plans to settle the area. My hope had been the few years I'd spent ranching in Seward would make me worth paying with food and lodging, and having Lucy with me would make me even more employable. However, there had been no operation out on the fats. I'd headed into Palmer to see if they'd landed somewhere closer to town, but all I'd seen were a few homesteaders spread throughout town eeking a living off the land and the river.
I decided Plan B was to take the Old Glenn Highway back down to Anchorage and try to track down another opportunity. Taking the Old Glenn meant I'd be able to do some hunting and fishing along the way, so we'd roll into town with something to trade. The two lane road ran right between the Chugach mountains and the Matanuska River. One side of the road was sheer rock face and the other was fast moving water. The road inbetween would, in theory, be a popular trail for bear, moose, and all manner of critters headed up or down river. It had sounded like a good opportunity, but Plan B was no longer going to get us to Anchorage fast enough.
I was trying to formulate Plan C as Lucy and I plodded along. I'd dismounted to avoid causing her any injury, so we were strolling side by side in the middle of the road. I reached into the pocket of my moose skin kuspuk and pulled out a piece of moose jerky to gnaw on. Food helped me focus, and jerky is a great food for multitasking. I often chewed on jerky when I was sewing or tanning hides. The rambling in my head quieted down, so I could really pay attention and make sure I did the job right.
Looking around, I could see up ahead on the north side I there were some odd looking garages coming into view. An enormous oversized gravel lot housed a half dozen squat buildings covered in wood paneling with white garage doors affixed to the front. In the middle of the lot, up against the road, was wooden sign. I kept us on the road and hustled toward the sign. Lucy made a sound of displeasure and gently tugged back on her reigns. She was absolutely done with this trip, and was expressing her desire to find a nice sunny pasture to snooze in by giving me sass. I patted her long neck to reassure her just as the sign came into focus. It read, 'Butte Volunteer Fire Department.' It told me nothing about any locals that may or may not be around.
I grunted and rubbed my aching side. My kidney would not give up the ghost and just let me be. I needed to find a good bush to do some business. I directed Lucy into the lot and listened to her huff with each step. I made my way toward the last of the garages, looking to find more privacy away from the road. We rounded the corner and to my delight found three four wheelers and two dog sleds parked in a line along the side of the building.
A lot of four-wheelers had been converted to run on vegetable oil or were hitched to sled teams for transportation. Dogs leds were the second fastest form of transportation available. With no one home, and this being an emergency center of sorts, the ATVs and sleds were probably left out for use in emergencies. Looking the machines over I could tell everything was in good repair and recently used, but there were no keys in the ignition or in any of the usual hiding spots. The locals were trusting others wouldn't steal from the fire station, but they were only trusting them so far.
I was grinning like a fool. There were people close-by. Very close by. And not just a family, but enough people that they had a setup like this organized for emergencies. Enough people that I might get a shoe for Lucy and something to make my onry kidney behave for a while.
"Lucy my lady, were are finally in luck!" Lucy shoved me with her nose in response. Apparently I was not doing whatever it was that I was doing fast enough for her taste.
I found a convenient bush, made use of it, and dragged Lucy back out onto the road. She huffed all the way. I pulled out a piece of celebration jerky, and kept my eyes on either side of the road looking for signs of life. Up ahead I could see what must've once been a yield light hanging at a crossroads. A sign on the right came into view, indicating Bodenburg Loop right, and Plumley Road left. A bright green gas station with a single crooked pump started taking shape. The sign read 'The Green Store', and out front were several four wheelers. As we approached, the front door to the Green Store swung open. I grinned and punched the air.
