Bristol Bay Summer Read online

  Could they really be living in that?

  Zoey went over to Eliot and put her arm around his shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

  Eliot shrugged her hand away with a big wheeze.

  She took a second look at him.

  “Mom, what’s wrong with his face?”

  Zoey’s mom pushed Eliot’s bangs aside. “Oh, my God.”

  Eliot’s once smooth white cheeks were covered with weird red splotches. He held up his hands and turned them so the backs were facing his mom. More of the same.

  “They itch, and I’m really hot,” Eliot croaked.

  A pickup truck that might have been blue many years ago bounced down the beach toward them on oversized tires. A big winch squatted on the front bumper, and a rusty spotlight jiggled on a pole above the roof like the eye of a Cyclops. The cargo bed was built from rough planks. Zoey had never seen such a tough-looking truck.

  Lee Roy hoisted Eliot into the passenger’s seat and his mom climbed in after him. Thomas vaulted neatly into the cargo bed and once again held his arm out to Zoey. She didn’t look up, but grabbed his hand and braced her foot on the bumper. Two seconds later, she was standing next to him still feeling the warmth and roughness of his fingers. They stepped over a pile of old rope and sat with their backs against the cab. Zoey looked at Thomas’s hands, brown and streaked with mud from the beach. A moment later Lee Roy revved the engine, and they lurched forward.

  The truck trundled along the beach past shacks lined up like tired old lookouts staring out to sea through dark window-eyes. Were they watching for fish? Patrick had said the salmon were already pressing up the Naknek River. Various people along the way waved as the truck lumbered along.

  At the wheel, Lee Roy picked his way through ruts and boulders, careful to avoid the occasional metal post that poked out of the sand.

  “Deadman,” Thomas said pointing to a bright blue post. “That’s where a fisherman died.” Zoey’s face froze in horror and Thomas’s smile slipped into a grin. “No. We attach our net lines to those metal posts. Not sure why they call them deadmen, but they go way down in the sand. You’ll see.”

  What a strange place!

  Zoey held tight to the side of the truck. She had never been allowed to ride in the back of a pickup truck. Here it seemed perfectly normal. Ahead was the pier she had seen from the skiff. It blocked their path and extended a long way out over the water. They followed a track up the hill behind it. A sharp curve and a huge pothole later, and they were on a real road.

  “Alaska Peninsula Highway,” said Thomas.

  Zoey nodded then turned to peek through the truck’s back window at Eliot. She could only see him from the side, but he didn’t look any better. The wrinkles around her mom’s eyes told Zoey his condition was still serious.

  She turned back in time to see “Fisherman’s Bar” painted on a wall above a big window. Several men huddled near the doorway. Nearby another hand-painted sign on a long blue building said, “Hilton.”

  Thomas leaned over to Zoey. “That’s where the cannery workers sleep. There are bunkhouses like that all over town.”

  Zoey thought of the fancy Hilton Hotel in Anchorage and got the joke. But she didn’t feel like laughing.

  “King Salmon is up that way.”

  “Is that a fish or a person?” asked Zoey.

  “It’s a town,” said Thomas with another grin.

  Zoey wondered what a place called “King Salmon” might look like.

  “It’s a little bigger than Naknek. The jet lands there.”

  Zoey sat up straight. “You mean a jet that can take you out of here, like down south?”

  “I guess so, but mostly people just take it to Anchorage.” Zoey’s mind raced. She would have to find out how much it would cost to fly from King Salmon to Denver.

  “I suppose if Eliot was sick enough they might fly him to Dillingham or Anchorage,” said Thomas, interrupting her thoughts.

  Zoey felt terrible. Her little brother was really sick and all she could think of was leaving. She wondered how much it would cost if Eliot had to be flown out. In fact, she wondered how her mom planned to pay for the doctor visit. Weren’t they stuck in Halfmoon Bay because they were broke?

  The truck picked up speed and the chilly wind made Zoey wrap herself tighter in her jacket. A few similar looking trucks rolled by them going the opposite direction toward the beach. She could smell Thomas next to her. Gasoline, fish, and some kind of soap. She didn’t look at him, but instead stared out over the tailgate.

  Clouds of dust swirled behind the truck. Through it Zoey saw boxy houses surrounded by scrubby bushes and open lots dotted with all sorts of mechanical gear. Naknek only had a couple of streets. Still, it felt a lot more like civilization than Halfmoon Bay.

  Every yard they passed was piled with stuff. Most held at least one four-wheeler and a couple of boats. Snowmachines and gear she didn’t recognize were draped in bright-blue plastic tarps. Fishing nets and floats of all sizes. Here and there an old bicycle. Then right alongside of their truck, on the dirt that paralleled the highway, a kid about Thomas’s age sped past them on one of those four-wheelers. He had on a wool watch cap and a raincoat that flapped in the wind. He waved at Lee Roy.

  What was she doing here? How had her life gotten so, so … lost. She felt stuck in a bad dream. But she was awake.

  She realized she felt better sitting next to Thomas. This boy they didn’t even know was taking care of them. Then she remembered, “city girl.” He probably just thought of her as a big pain. But he had smiled a few times.

  “That’s the restaurant,” said Thomas pointing to a homey-looking, barn-like structure. The restaurant? The only one? Zoey was hungry. Everything had happened so fast, they hadn’t eaten in hours. If her mom had brought food with her, she had forgotten to give it to anyone, so Zoey would have to wait until they got to the clinic.

  At a sign that said “School Road,” Lee Roy made a sharp left. The school was big and new-looking. Across the road was a building with “Camai Community Health Center” hand-painted in black letters over the front door. As they pulled into the parking lot Thomas pointed farther up the road.

  “I live down that way.” So Thomas didn’t live at Halfmoon Bay. This was his hometown.

  Inside the clinic, the receptionist, a thin woman in white pants and a Seattle Seahawks sweatshirt, greeted them.

  Zoey’s mom stepped forward. “My son is really sick. He needs to see a doctor.”

  “I’m afraid the doctor only comes through here once a month, dear. We’re too small to have our own. But our health aide is here and she’s seen just about everything, including some things you don’t even want to know about. If she has any questions, she’ll call one of the docs in Dillingham.” With that, she led Zoey’s mom and Eliot down a hallway.

  “I’ll be back soon,” her mom called over her shoulder. “Don’t worry.” And then they were gone.

  11

  Knives and Fur Hats for Sale

  Zoey sat in the waiting room absently flipping the pages of a magazine with a moose on the cover.

  “Vroom, vroom.” A little girl pushed a plastic truck past a table that held crayons and paper. A woman nearby balanced a sleeping baby sprawled on her lap. Lee Roy and Thomas stared out the window to the parking lot and talked in low voices. Soon they came over to Zoey.

  “How you doin’?” asked Lee Roy.

  “I’m okay.”

  “High tide tomorrow is around noon,” Lee Roy went on, “so that’s the soonest you could float the skiff and get back to camp. You think your brother will be better by then?”

  “I don’t know. If he’s not, we’ll probably have to take him to Anchorage.”

  “I’m gonna leave you two here a while and run up to my sister Rose’s house. You could maybe stay there tonight.”

  Thomas added, “Everybody around here knows Rose and her husband the Captain. I would take you to our place, but a bunch of cannery workers are staying
there for the season. Mom’s idea to save some money.”

  Lee Roy turned to the door. “Be back shortly. Good luck with the little guy.”

  Zoey thanked Lee Roy and watched him leave.

  “So, how do you like Naknek?” Thomas asked.

  Zoey didn’t know how to answer. Naknek was a little like the old mining towns in Colorado, with their bleached-out wood buildings, falling-down wire fences, and old pickup trucks. But those places were dry and dead-feeling. Naknek felt alive. The salmon were coming. The fishermen were getting ready.

  “I’m not sure yet. It’s a lot different from Anchorage.” She put her magazine down. “How long have you lived here?”

  “Grew up here.”

  “Do you have brothers and sisters?”

  “No. Just me. And my mom.” He turned toward the window. Zoey waited, but Thomas was quiet.

  “Do you want to draw while we wait?” She grabbed a few sheets of paper and a handful of crayons, and sat on the floor.

  “I think I’ll just watch.”

  Zoey skillfully worked a crayon to re-create what she had seen earlier that day.

  After watching a few minutes, Thomas said, “That looks just like the fish camps down by the river. How’d you learn to do that?”

  “I don’t know. No one taught me. I just like doing it.”

  The little girl with the truck stopped playing and moved closer.

  “Can I color too?”

  “Sure. You can help me draw Naknek. We’re going to make the whole town.” She grinned at Thomas and gave the little girl the sheet she had been working on and a couple of crayons.

  “Can you fill in the building there?”

  The girl studied the drawing for a moment, then bent down, her nose almost to the paper.

  Zoey moved away and Thomas followed.

  “What about your dad? What does he do?”

  Thomas stared at the floor and didn’t answer. Behind him, Zoey saw her mom coming down the hall. Where was Eliot?

  “Well, it’s a good thing we came,” said her mom. “Thank you so much, Thomas, for bringing us. Eliot probably has a virus. The health aide thinks he should be better in a couple of days. He’s breathing better. That rash though—they don’t know what that is. They’re waiting for a call back from the doctor in Dillingham. Come on, you can see him now.”

  They followed Zoey’s mom back to another room.

  Eliot lay on a small bed. A boxy machine hummed on the tray next to him. It was connected to Eliot by a tube that wound up to his mouth. White smoke snaked inside the tube whenever he inhaled.

  Zoey felt dizzy. Was Eliot on some kind of life support? She forced herself to act normal and was about to ask if he needed to go to a hospital when the receptionist entered the room.

  She smiled at Eliot. “You’ve just about got it all.” She took the tube from his mouth and turned off the machine.

  Eliot looked tired, and his face was still puffy and red. He managed a smile.

  “Hi, Zo.” He pointed to the machine. “I’ve been neverlized.” He took a deep breath. “No more Darth Vader!”

  “What was that white smoky stuff?” Zoey felt a little better.

  The woman put the machine in a cupboard. “It’s a mist of the same medicine in his inhaler. It’s called a nebulizer.”

  The phone rang and the Seahawks lady answered. She described Eliot’s condition, then turned to them.

  “What did Eliot have for dinner last night?”

  “Spaghetti. We have it all the time.”

  “Did you give him any medication before you came here?”

  “I did give him a couple of Tylenol.” She paused in thought. “Oh, and a couple of vitamin C.”

  After relaying that information the receptionist talked some more, then hung up.

  “The rash might be an allergic reaction to a medication or food, but the doc thinks it’s part of the virus. Should be better in a couple of days. If not, bring him back in.”

  Zoey felt like jumping up and down. Her little brother wasn’t going to die.

  “Zo! See what I got.” Eliot opened his hand and revealed a little red Chevy tow truck. “A matches truck!”

  “Matchbox truck,” Zoey corrected. “Guess what? Thomas says we can’t leave until tomorrow. Something about the tide.”

  But Zoey’s mom didn’t seem to be listening. She looked tired. “Sure. That sounds good. I don’t think Eliot’s ready for another boat ride yet.”

  “But, Mom, have you thought about where we’re going to stay tonight?” It surprised Zoey to hear the edge in her own voice.

  “No, Zoey,” her mom shook her head. “I haven’t gotten that far.”

  “Lee Roy says maybe we can stay with his sister. He went to ask her.” Zoey threw the information out like a punch.

  Zoey’s eyes met her mom’s, and Zoey turned away. Why was she always so mad at her? It’s true, her mom was an airhead sometimes, but today had been a hard day for everyone.

  “Fine. I don’t want to argue about it,” her mom said. “Let’s let Eliot rest. Come on, back to the front room.” She gave Eliot a kiss and walked out, leaving Zoey to follow her down the hall.

  In the waiting room, the little girl was gone, and the drawing lay on the floor. Zoey’s mom was chatting with the receptionist, and Thomas sat on the floor, back propped against the wall and hat low over his eyes. He was sound asleep. Zoey picked up the drawing and took it back to Eliot.

  “Since you were out of it most of the way here, this is what Naknek looks like.”

  Eliot smiled, but he was too tired to keep his eyes open. Zoey rolled the picture up, tucked it in his jacket, and tiptoed out.

  As she sat waiting for Lee Roy to return, Zoey wondered what the mystery was about Thomas’s father. Maybe his parents were divorced too. His dad must have moved away somewhere. Soon she saw Lee Roy’s pickup roll into the parking lot. Zoey’s mom must have seen it too, because shortly after, she walked Eliot into the waiting room. Soon Lee Roy was driving them all to the home of someone named Rose.

  They had gone less than a mile when Zoey noticed a small sign on the side of the road that said “Knives and Fur Hats for Sale.” Lee Roy turned right onto a small dirt road that led to a house with a huge TV dish on a pole in the yard.

  The pickup stopped a few yards short of a rickety-looking garage. The front door opened and a large, gray-haired woman wearing a bright yellow apron greeted them. Turquoise glasses hung from a beaded necklace.

  “Oh my, the sick child. Come in, sweetheart, come in.”

  She hugged Thomas. “You’ve grown a foot since school let out. Or maybe it’s just your hair.” She pulled his bangs down below his eyes. “I’ve got some good scissors. Be happy to help.”

  Thomas smiled broadly. The biggest smile Zoey’d seen on him yet. “Hi, Rose.”

  Rose led them into what must have been the living room. In the middle of the room was a table made from an old door and two sawhorses. On it sat an ancient-looking sewing machine. Animal skins covered the walls. Rose must have noticed Zoey’s wide-eyed expression because she pulled one down and passed it to them.

  “These are for my hats. This one’s a muskrat. Funny little rodent but real nice fur. Go ahead, it won’t bite. Not anymore.” Her laugh made Zoey think of tropical birds she’d seen on the nature shows.

  Zoey’s fingers tingled as they brushed the pelt. “It’s very soft.” She put it to her cheek. Eliot mashed his face into the fur until their mom gently pulled him back. “Time we got you to bed.”

  She turned to Rose. “If that’s okay. He’s pretty wiped out.”

  “You should eat first,” Rose said in a voice that said the matter was already decided. “Then the little one can rest in the spare room. Later, you and Zoey can share the foldout couch. I’m sure Thomas is okay with a sleeping bag on the floor.” She peered at him over her glasses.

  “No problem,” said Thomas.

  Half an hour later, they were sitting around the ki
tchen table slurping chicken noodle soup and munching peanut butter sandwiches. Zoey scarfed down a sandwich and started on another. Eliot didn’t show much enthusiasm. When he had managed most of a bowl of soup, Zoey’s mom took him to the bedroom.

  “Where’s Captain?” Thomas asked as he picked at the last crumbs from his plate.

  Rose turned to Zoey’s mom. “That’s my husband. He used to be a guide up in Lake Iliamna, then he came out here to do drift-netting. He liked giving orders so much that everyone calls him ‘Captain’.” More birdcall laughter. “Except me!”

  “Driftnetting?” Zoey asked.

  Rose smiled. “The nets attached to the shore, like the ones Thomas’s family has, those are setnets.” Zoey nodded. “The fishing boats around here are called driftnetters. They have bigger nets and they catch more fish. Sometimes the setnetters and the driftnetters have, you know, disagreements, over whose fish are whose.” She looked at Thomas and laughed again.

  Thomas rose and took his plate to the sink. “Driftnetters think they own the Bay, but they have to let us catch our fish. That’s the law.” He didn’t sound angry, but his eyes flashed. “Is Captain in the workshop?”

  “Been holed up all afternoon. I don’t think he even knows you’re in town.” She got up and put two sandwiches on a plastic plate. “Here, take him this. If he wants anything else, he’ll have to come in.” To Zoey she said, “He got so good at making fancy knives and other stuff that he sold his boat to open up his little shop. So now I got my man around the house all winter and summer, too. A mixed blessing, I’d say.” She winked and the birds cackled in her throat.

  Zoey followed Thomas out the back door. They walked past a patch of rhubarb plants and a tangled mass of raspberry bushes to a small shed. Thomas knocked, and a deep voice from inside growled, “If you’re not a king salmon, I hope you at least brought something better than peanut butter!”

  Zoey looked at Thomas as if to ask, “Are you sure we want to go in there?”