Ch 38 - Failure

— Have you come to our rescue? — On the

ground, Bergeron was smiling, as if the man who stood

there was an angel. Holding out his hand to return him to

dignity, Jimmy Bruneau answered him:

— You didn't think I was going to let you go so

easily, did you?

— But you said that you would not send any of

your warriors to fight against these creatures. I didn't

think you would come yourself.

— And I kept my word. I didn't let any member

of the tribe know I was leaving and I told my trusted

men to guard the huts in case of attack. As I said before,

boy, only an incredibly brave warrior would fight this

beast. That is, brave or stupid.

— We already know which is the case, — Keene

hissed.

— Mr. Bergeron, — Lucy interrupted. — I

believe that half of your plan is in full operation.

In fact, as we looked out over the plain that

connected to the mine bottom, we could see that the herd

had completed the loop around the hill that sheltered the

mine. Soon, they would be seen by the predators just

below, and we would have to be quick enough to act.

Meanwhile, the ritual was over and the animals

were back to sniffing around, looking for food. When the

huge female that coordinated the flock stood up, her

feathers ruffled, as if to clean them of the sticky snow.

Her eyes, a dull yellow, scanned the frozen fields that the

entrance to the pit allowed them access to. Then a herd

of caribou walked right into their field of vision,

bellowing, heading for the tree line. It was the perfect

chance for an opportunistic predator like her, especially

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in hard times. Her body had suffered through months of

scarcity, no longer finding the elk that were usually her

main food source and even bears and wolves that they

used to attack in packs, tearing the huge predators apart

in minutes. But now, all this was rare, and they had

moved towards the ice mountains, where the temperature

protected them and the preys were abundant, as it was

now. Right before their eyes was a vulnerable prey,

enough to feed their flock for the day. It was a pity she

was in a bad position, not being able to attack by

surprise, but it didn't matter; eventually, she would reach

all the animals in the herd.

With a low roar, she summoned the males of the

pack to follow her steps, which were advancing heavily

toward the exit of the crater. Standing up, her hunting

companions would not understand her orders until they

reached the plain, but they dared not disobey her. The

pack walked cautiously to the entrance of the huge ice

field, ready to strike at the female's command. There was

now no way to cloak themselves first, but they would try

anyway. With another roar, she voiced all the necessary

attack commands, causing an epic scene of destruction.

Fanning out across the plain, they covered all the

caribou exits, not allowing them to escape. Their roars

were loud enough to reach our ears, but they were

primarily directed at the prey, which, paralyzed with

fear, was slow to move. When the caribou finally moved,

their tactic was to move as a whole to where they had

come from, but the third male covered the other side of

the mountain. Trapped, the animals pushed each other,

trying to move in different directions, but there was no

more time.

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The rope that had tied my body to the birch tree

trunk now served as a rappelling anchor. Attached to a

wooden stake, it held my weight, just enough, allowing

me to prop my feet against the wall of the mine entrance

and land safely on the ground. As Lucy, Andri and

Jimmy climbed down, I tried to put out of my mind the

horrendous sounds in the background. Sounds of death

and pain, the last expression of the animals' struggle to

stay alive.

— This damn plan better work, — I thought. The

idea should be good enough to be worth the senseless

death of an entire herd of innocent animals. Of course,

Bergeron himself had faced cold and exhaustion to bring

them here, not me, but hearing that sound was as painful

to me as the pain of the constant cold would be.

Bruneau had already hit the ground at this point

and Keene was the only one still on top.

— Hurry up, — Andri said lowly. At fifteen

meters up, Jacob probably couldn't hear more than the

wind humming high above Datsá, but the Canadian's

facial expression was enough to get him to start down

the braided rope. There was no secondary safety line,

and Keene held on tightly, dreading the height at which

he found himself. His feet slipped on the smooth surface,

adding to the instability. As common sense dictates, he

knew not to look down, but as the human he was, he

could not resist. The four people below seemed so much

smaller and their image so blurred, even with his glasses

on. Then he remembered that he hadn't taken them off

before he grabbed the rope. — Blimey... — he thought to

himself. The rims and lenses had been unnoticeable for

years, seeming to have integrated with his body; to have

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become one with Keene's face. But there he was, at last,

tied to a taut rope, unable to use his hands and held to

life only by a small stake. Controlling his breathing, he

took another step toward the ground. In the background,

the noise of the caribou had finally ceased, which meant

that the Ceratosaurus had slaughtered them all. This was

great, it would be easier to descend without the terrible

sound covering the scene, and of course, this was at the

same time terrible, because the predators would not be

busy for much longer.

Another meter. Keene's tension was now

increasing. He could stand on a rock watching an animal

for hours on end, but rappelling? That was too much to

ask. Another step back and the rope stretched.

— For God's sake, O'Riley! Don't you know how

to tie a rope? — he complained.

— This man better shut up, — advised Chief

Bruneau. — Predators return to their lairs when they

have finished feeding. We don't want to hurry their

return.

— Keene! — called out Andri, too tired to be

polite. — Come down at once, or I'll pull this rope!

This was not what Jacob wanted to hear at that

already frightening moment. Taking his feet off the ice

wall, he retreated another two steps, allowing the rope to

slip through his hands. Then, with a few more, he went

down most of the slope. There were only a few meters to

go now; three perhaps, but enough to hurt in the event of

a fall. With a cry of dread, Jacob Keene fell before us,

his curls fluttering in the wind that blew through his hair

during the fall. Plummeting to the ground below, Keene

remained motionless.

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— Dr. Keene! — Lucy called out, followed by

me. Even though we were coming to the rescue of the

biomedical doctor, we were afraid it was too late to do

anything. Before we reached him, though, a scream of

pain, even more horrifying than the fall, erupted in the

ice chapel. But when we finally arrived at the site of his

drop, the sight was far less terrifying than we calculated

it would be. All the professor's limbs were in their

original position, with no obvious fractures or injuries.

Trapped in the snow, he had sunk almost a meter into the

ground, leaving only his legs and arms sticking out, and

apparently, enough room for his voice to get through.

— Please, Doctor Keene, — I politely asked him

to remain still while Lucy and I pulled him out of the ice

hole.

— Why, of course! Do you want me to die

quietly, too? You're not the one who fell off a

fifteen-meter cliff, are you?

— You fell ten feet, — Lucy corrected, holding

his other arm.

— Don't you want to know more about my pain

than I do!

— Now, shut up, you bastard! — ordered

Bergeron. Beside him, Bruneau had his arms crossed and

an expression that threatened Jacob's existence without

uttering such a threat. Finally silenced, the Briton

marched into the warehouse, which opened into two

huge metal side doors. Before we could enter, however,

Keene stumbled and fell to his knees, taking us with him

closer to the ground. Once again he howled in pain,

bending his injured leg. Unfortunately, this time his howl

was answered. In the distance, we saw the female

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Ceratosaurus turn back toward the mine chapel and roar,

summoning the support of her companions. Immediately,

she began to run toward us, and we, like her prey, had no

spirit to act.

— Go, go, go! — shouted Chief Bruneau,

bringing us back to our senses. While he and Bergeron

opened the heavy iron doors, Lucy and I dragged Keene

into the safe space that was now the warehouse. Once

inside, we released Jacob's heavy body, allowing it to fall

to the floor, and returned to the door to close it. Lucy and

Bruneau pushed the left half, leaving the right one for

Bergeron and me. With a strong shove, the rusted wheels

of the doors turned and they came to meet again. A

gigantic padlock sealed the structure, reinforced by an

equally massive steel chain. Outside, the roars grew

louder, more ferocious. Within seconds, the Leader

reached the doors, throwing her enormous weight against

them, hoping they would yield to the pressure. The thick

iron barrier trembled in its tracks, but did not budge.

Soon, the males also reached the building and began to

throw themselves against the doors, roaring in

frustration. Moonlight streamed in under the huge

structures, showing the position of every creature on the

other side. The four of us were still standing right in

front of the doors, waiting, almost expecting something

terrible to happen, as had been the pattern until now, but

not this time. With one last roar of hatred, the predators

moved away, returning to the easier prey they had on the

plain.

Bergeron let out a long sigh, resting his forehead

on the cold metal doors. — What do you want, anyway?

— he asked. And then, turning to Keene:

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— Do you intend to kill us all?

Jacob just stared at him, now with a crying,

helpless expression.

— Answer me! — Andri demanded again, but

nothing came out of the doctor's mouth.

— Leave him alone, — advised Bruneau, with a

hand on his shoulder. The indigenous chief's power of

persuasion seemed to be immense, especially over those

who, like Bergeron, respected his authority and

experience.

— You should have left him in that hole, — he

told us, before pushing to the ground a pickaxe that was

resting on one of the boxes surrounding us.

— Mr. Bergeron, — Lucy called out, — We

arrived at the deposit just as you wanted. What's your

plan, anyway?

— There is no plan until those beasts are far

away from here. It would have worked today, hadn't it

been for this imbecile with a certificate! — The words

were spoken as if he were throwing poison darts, but

Keene turned his face away without answering.

— Find a comfortable place to sleep! — ordered

the Canadian. — Maybe tomorrow we'll have another

chance. Chief, if you could accompany me to the bottom

of the warehouse, I would like your opinion on what we

can do about it.

Bruneau immediately followed his pupil, leaving

us alone with Keene, who was now covering his face

with his hands. Lucy then held my arm, leading me away

from there, as well.

Skirting the many boxes of some unknown

material, we made our way to a reserved compartment of

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the warehouse. This rectangle, about 2 by 4 meters, was

surrounded by metal walls much thinner than the ones

that had blocked the attack a few minutes before. Inside

the cubicle was a metal plate attached to the wall and

curved like an "L" with the overhang facing outward —

surely a rudimentary bed for whomever worked there.

Sitting down on this makeshift platform, we assessed

together the situation we found ourselves in.

— What is the plan? — I asked as soon as I

touched the cold metal underneath me.

— The plan is to wait for Jacob.

— Jacob? How can a wounded man be part of the

plan?

— Not only part of it, Kevin. Jacob is the plan

itself.

— I don't get it.

— But you will; I promise. Tell me, what do you

think of his personality?

— Wicked?

— Nothing else?

— Well, he seems to be able to show some

compassion, especially towards wild animals, but...

— Precisely. Keene is capable of showing mercy

and that is my plan for us to escape from here, not

without resolving some issues at the same time.

— I suppose I should wait until your plan is put

in place before I know the details.

— For the safety of success, yes. Now, think

about where you will sleep later. We have some

questions to ask Mr. Bergeron.

— Any one that I can ask?

— Is there a question bothering you?

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— No, but I would feel more useful in helping

with this investigation as well. The last one I participated

in was when we were still in South Africa.

— Well, let me plant some doubt in you, then. Do

you remember when we met Andri Bergeron?

— Yes, he was on the same plane that brought us

back from the Everglades.

— Don't you find it strange that a man coming to

chase a cryptid bought a seat on the same plane as us,

and more than that, next to the man who finances us?

— Well...yes. The chances are slim, really.

— No, Kevin. The chances are not slim. They are

zero. Someone orchestrated this whole show that we've

been living for the last few months and I've had enough

of being a part of it.

— And what are you going to do?

— Us. We are going to learn more about

Bergeron's story. Come with me.

Weariness was already taking its toll, but I had to

get up again and look presentable in front of the

community leader and the indigenous chief.

The maze of wooden crates stretched across the

entire warehouse, leaving little space between the aisles

for us to move around. Squeezing ourselves between the

rows and towers of crates, we approached the back,

where a metal barrier marked the far end of the hangar.

— Then you would go around, passing behind

the herd? — Jimmy Bruneau's placid voice said calmly.

With our presence, the explanation of the project was

immediately interrupted and the two men now looked at

us, as if taken by surprise.

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— Lucy, Kevin, would you like to join us? —

Bergeron invited. His tone was much softer now than it

had been when he had vociferated with Keene a few

minutes before.

— Are you planning what to do tomorrow? — I

asked innocently. Bergeron's expression to Bruneau was

trying to be discreet, but it was not possible for him to do

so.

— If you want to hide something from someone,

do it right, — Bruneau told his pupil. — Sit down, kids.

Let me explain to you what we intend to do.

Obeying the chief's orders, we settled down on

two tiny three-legged stools lying on the ground.

— The Datsá mine was established by colonizers,

— said the Big Chief. His eyes stared into the infinite, as

if he could see through the high solid walls and

contemplate the timeline that had caused such events.

— But it was taken over by the natives, — he

continued. — This ground is sacred to the Dene people.

On top of this mountain, for years on end, we performed

our rituals among the rows of fir trees that surround its

summit. We fought bravely, until the enemy gave up,

leaving behind not only this scar on the face of our land,

but also a list of those who died in battle. Of those who

survived, I was the only one who entered this place

before, trying to understand what it was.

— And he then told me the details, — Bergeron

explained. — With that, I had a very practical idea of

what to do when I got here. — With steady, almost

calculated steps, Andri walked over to one of the stacks

of boxes and opened its board lid, revealing whatever

was inside. Pulling out from inside the box something

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like a brown cylinder, pale as liver pâté and linked to

others, he revealed what he had planned:

— Let's blow these bastards up!

— So that's what's in the crates? — Lucy asked

calmly. — Creative.

— Effective, — Bergeron corrected, slightly

offended by the criticism of his plan.

— It was the material left over from the mine

operations, — said Bruneau still with his arms crossed

and his gaze lost. — When the builders were driven out,

they left all this behind, and it's what Andri has been

thinking of using ever since he was offered a chance to

come here.

— A chance, you said? — I asked, trying to

sound as naive as possible. Of course, I did not really

know the facts behind Bergeron's coming, but I also did

not want him to suspect my intention to know them.

Paying attention to my voice, I noticed that the tone

sounded forced, easily identifiable. Lucy really was

better at this than I was.

— Well, yes, — Bergeron sat down to tell the

story. — I was just now reporting to Chief Bruneau what

happened in Florida. You see, I was on vacation and, as

you know, the state is a great refuge for those who want

to rest or for those who simply have no occupation in

life. Fortunately, I fall into the first category. On one of

those days, though, a phone call shattered any peace I

still had. A member of the village went to Whitehorse

and called from there, warning me that the herds were

being attacked and that I should come soon. The Dene

could have handled it themselves, as they have done for

centuries, and as they did even before we got here, but

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my village considers me a hero...for some unknown

reason.

— It's because you have achieved what young

people only dream of achieving, young man, — Bruneau

spoke fondly. There was a note of resentment in his

voice, however, as if to abandon the beautiful land of his

ancestors, and to wish to do so, was an act of ingratitude.

— Maybe...just maybe. But anyway, I began to

plan my trip, without much certainty as to how I would

even pay for it. I was about to take out a loan that would

take me another three years of work just so I could pay

for it, when I decided to go clear my mind a bit. I was

drinking a coffee and complaining about life when this

young man, thirty years old maybe he was, introduced

himself, saying he could solve my problem. He belonged

to an association; what was it?

— Protection and Aiding for Indigenous Natives,

— Bruneau reminded him.

— Precisely. And this kind gentleman offered to

pay for my ticket as a form of support for the local

aboriginals.

— And what did this young man look like? —

asked Lucy.

— Well, he was...Caucasian, wearing a tight suit

and sunglasses. Do you know the guy?

— I just thought he sounded eccentric, — she

answered.

— Well, that was the only eccentricity about the

man. The name is one of the most common in birth and

baptism announcements, you know? Nathan Allard,

that's what he was called. The very next day I was

already on a plane, flying with the ticket he had bought.

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— But you flew to New Haven first, didn't you?

— Yes, indeed. That's when I met you and your

brother, plus Frost and that scandalous fellow in the

back. — The mention of Keene was made with disgust,

and his eyes searched the biomedical doctor's curls

through the maze of crates, even though he knew they

wouldn't see them.

— Don't you find it...strange that it was a

connecting flight, when it could have been direct?

— No, no, he assured me that it was necessary to

go to Connecticut first, because that would reduce the

ticket price. You see, I was already getting a free ticket

to see my family; I wouldn't complain about having to

fly some more, would I? Besides, it was on that plane

that I got a friend, which is hard to do when you work

wearing a mask all the time.

— And that's the same man who came to me, —

said the Chief, finally bringing his eyes to the ground.

— Is Frost here? — I asked, alarmed.

— Not only that, but he almost stayed right here,

boy. The poor old man braved the cold mountain to reach

our tribe. He was found unconscious by some members

of the tribe, who brought him to my hut, where we gave

him a drink of spruce tea. In a few minutes, he was

already talking again and told me what you were

planning to do here. He himself could not come, so he

asked me to come in his place. I asked my men to leave

the cabin before he told me what he wanted, so that no

one else knew that I'm here.

— But how...did Frost know what we would do?

— I asked, increasingly confused.

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— Come on, Kevin, — Lucy smiled as she said,

— Don't forget that he played cards with Mr. Bergeron.

It was the perfect subject to discuss, I believe.

— Indeed, — he confirmed, returning the

friendly tone. — Well, now that you know me better than

my mother, why don't we discuss the plan to be executed

tomorrow?

— Andri and I will make sure that these rascals

are long gone by the time we leave, — Jimmy said. —

You stay behind to guard the fort. Now, Andri… —

Bruneau's voice was faint now, and I allowed myself to

get lost in thoughts. I didn't care about the details of a

failed plan; I had something much more interesting to

digest. Had Nathan Allard brought Bergeron here? It

seemed inconceivable to me that someone could have so

few morals as to lie unnecessarily. Besides, what was his

purpose in doing so? Here he was, hunting the creature,

and what had Allard gained from this? Absolutely

nothing. His body lay in an abandoned ditch far south,

already digested and decomposed. And now I learned

that the dean had arrived, after all, going against

everything and everyone, including ourselves, who had

drugged him to slow his steps and prevent him from

coming on this trip that seemed to be the riskiest so far.

But why had he sent Bruneau after us? What danger was

there that the killing plan he and Andri Bergeron devised

was not capable of defeating?

— You got it, Kevin? — I heard Bergeron ask as

I came to my senses.

— Oh yeah, sure. Perfectly, — I answered.

— Great. Get some sleep. Don't worry, those

demons won't be able to penetrate the walls, and

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tomorrow...tomorrow we will be rid of this public

menace.

Lucy stood up, her look unimpressed with

Andri's motivational speech, and together we walked

through the labyrinth again to return to the guard's

cubicle, where an uncomfortable metal bed awaited us.

— Do you think he had a mattress to put on that?

— I asked Lucy, contemplating our misfortune.

— I think the idea was that he wouldn't sleep,

Kevin.

— And watch the boxes of dynamite in storage

all night? This is insane!

— Well, look around; there are all kinds of locks

here that you would expect to see, like bolts and

padlocks on the outside and a lock on each side of this

door.

That was the first time I noticed it. The door in

front of us closed the cubicle and had a double lock, with

a hook and keys on the inside and outside of the room.

— First, it was designed to protect the cargo, — I

concluded, — and then it had to be rethought to protect

the guard as well.

— Precisely. When Datsá was founded, its

creators must have thought that the only danger would

be a pack of wolves, forgetting that the Dene are

warriors who are zealous for their territory.

— And what a way to end the narrative of this

place. With a pack of Ceratosaurus trying to invade it.

— Isn't that what you imagined?

— It doesn't sound good for my book.

— That's the least that should bother you now, —

she said with a wry smile. Still not understanding Lucy's

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plan, I got up again and went back to see Jacob one last

time before going to sleep. Facing the doors, he admired

them as a portal, as if he could open them and allow his

animals to enter. I walked over to him, trying not to

attract attention, but he did me the favor of reminding

me of my weaknesses.

— Haven't you learned to be discreet yet, Kevin?

— I wanted to know how you were

doing...before you went to sleep.

— I am magnificent. I've never been better.

The moonlight now reflected off the metal

surfaces and reached him dimly, giving a ghostly glow to

his face, which looked exhausted and wounded; the curls

of hair now messy and streaked with snow. He held the

weight of his head in his fists, propping his elbow on his

legs, while maintaining a still look.

— Your leg...

— No, Kevin, I don't think I could run a

marathon tomorrow.

— Well, if you need us...we are still here for you.

But Keene didn't answer. His hopes of saving the

group of predators seemed lost, and so did the little

self-respect he had left. Still holding on to what little I

had, I returned to the cubicle and leaned against the wall

where we tried to sleep sitting on the metal platform.