Frozen Stiff: Chapters 1–3

How could they sneak off in a stolen truck when he was so noisy? Well, Cody thought wistfully, it wasn’t really stolen. Just on temporary loan, without permission.

Cody tossed the last duffel onto the flatbed already loaded with canvas bags holding a tent, two sleeping bags, and other camping gear.

Two nights alone on the fjord, without any adults. They would paddle their kayaks down the steep-sided seawater passage until their muscles ached, then scout a sandy bank and pitch their tent—the image warmed Cody’s insides.

For three years now, any thought Cody had of the Golden State and its inhabitants—especially certain inhabitants—had been tarnished with bad memories.

How had Derek known that a caribou was the same animal as a reindeer?

He helped pull her boot out of the boggy hole.

“The mosquito nets for our hats are in the duffel on the beach,” she hollered, and stumbled downhill toward the strand of coarse sand.

On the beach, Cody tore into the duffel bag. Without even removing her pack she dug frantically for the nets.

She dropped onto the drab green mound of duffels and let the pack slip from her shoulders.

She wouldn’t even see him much, after what he’d done. Mostly only through the sheer curtains in the living room when he dropped off Patterson.

Cody jumped, startled by the sound of leaves rustling behind her.

It was hard to remember that this inlet was filled with water from the Pacific Ocean until she spotted a pile of mussel and barnacle shells.

Where was the little varmint? "Derek!"

‘‘Don’t tell him I said anything, okay?” Aunt Jessie had said, adding a conspiratorial wink.

Then she lifted the bow of her kayak and scooted the long body over the coarse sand.

She picked up speed when she glided into an eddy not far from shore.

The faster she paddled, the more invigorated she felt.

She was high on the adrenaline pulsing through her veins.

The boys and clothes they talked about seemed so superficial.

Over her shoulder she watched the twigs turn into a fin, a large triangular appendage moving up behind Derek’s craft.

Cody silently pointed to the dorsal fin less than twenty yards out, speeding toward the kayaks.

He gripped his paddle, turning his knuckles the same stark white.

“Should we throw it some salmon?”
“You want to chum it?” Cody stared unblinkingly as the fin made a wide circle.

When the sun peeked through the dreary clouds Cody shed her slicker and tied it to her paddle. The makeshift sail swelled under the chilling wind blowing off the ice-capped mountains.

The current moved faster here, a torrent of water that twisted and rolled past cliffs dotted with empty swallow’s nests.

Cody paddled hard to keep from hitting the steep walls, but closer and closer she rolled toward the murky water slapping the granite.

Somehow she didn’t remember the current being this treacherous.

She knew that finding a good campsite could be tricky; tides sometimes fluctuated twenty-five feet a day in Southeast Alaska, so beaches and meadows that looked inviting might be flooded within hours.

She suddenly had the uneasy feeling that someone was watching her from deep in the forest. Ridiculous, she chided herself.

Cody scrambled up on a boulder and scanned the trees. But the bushy vines and limbs guarded the forest against her scrutiny.

Its fur was a matted mess—nothing like a bear in a zoo. This bear was wild in a way she couldn’t describe.

Cold and tired, Cody left the dwindling fire and crawled into the tent.

Then the piercing words “I’m leaving.”

She’d used every attachment on the vacuum cleaner, sucking dust off baseboards, window frames, even upholstered chairs.

Mostly it was just a lot of noise; it didn’t even begin to fill the void left by Dad and Patterson.