Project Hannibal Kathryn Hoff (best free e book reader TXT) 📖

see it. With the garden gone before anything was even ripe, and Bigfoot threatening our lives . . .”

The mammoths would be gone in a day, but there was no way Luis could let her know that. Besides, he reminded himself, these people were homesteading illegally in the wildlife refuge. They weren’t supposed to be there.

“We’ve got some food with us,” he said, “and we’ll be glad to share what we have tonight. I wonder if anyone else has seen Bigfoot around here?” Fanning the rumor would be in the mammoths’ best interest.

“Not that I heard, but next time I go to Cody, I’ll be asking around.” She dropped her voice, looking to the hut’s open door. “I fired up the gas generator last night, got on the shortwave, and reported it to the state police. I don’t think they believed me. Jerry didn’t want me to—this land ain’t supposed to be open for settlement and we don’t got much kerosene for the generator—but suppose that monster killed us? They need to know there’s something out here. Something unnatural.”

CHAPTER 12

Rainbow

A helpful villager with an all-terrain vehicle met Estelle and Sera at the airstrip and transported them and their baggage to the clinic, the newest and nicest building in Rainbow Village. Estelle put the coffeemaker on to brew while she gave the exam room a quick scrub, setting Sera to mop the floors and wipe down the four-chair waiting room.

At noon, Estelle officially opened the clinic and released Sera to explore the village. No reason to worry about the girl. Everyone who lived in the village was Athabaskan—they’d know on sight who she was. Her biggest danger was being stuffed with more sourdough bread and raspberry preserves than were good for her.

Three women were already waiting at the clinic door, two with babes on their hips. Estelle welcomed them by name, dispensing smiles and reassuring small talk.

All afternoon, Estelle checked blood pressure, listened to hearts, weighed babies, administered vaccinations, swabbed throats, passed out antibiotics, reassured a young woman with an almost-due pregnancy, and cleaned and stitched one festering laceration. Children got colorful pencils as a reward for being brave, women got small bottles of hand lotion. Medical data and test results were uploaded to Alaska Eagle Med via satellite, and when needed, she could always consult with headquarters staff about a troubling set of symptoms or get an opinion on an electrocardiogram.

As the line of dark clouds drew closer, the trickle of patients petered out. Everyone seemed eager to get home before the rain started.

When Estelle locked up the clinic at six, Sera was on the steps with a gaggle of village children, looking at something on her phone. The children giggled every time Sera spoke in her Louisiana accent. One of the girls shyly touched Sera’s hair, fascinated by her springy curls.

“Go on home,” Estelle said. “Storm’s coming.”

Sera fell in beside her for the walk up the street, the children in their wake. “I feel like I’m leading a parade,” Sera whispered. “Are we the only Black people they’ve ever met?”

“Maybe, the young ones. They may only know the Black people they’ve seen in movies.”

Rainbow’s homes reminded Estelle of Louisiana’s old shotgun houses, but the steep roofs and covered porches sheltered the residents from cold and snow instead of tropical rains and burning sun. Satellite dishes sprouted from most of the roofs. Behind the houses, garden plots and smokehouses dotted the precious few feet of flat valley floor before the mountain walls rose to hem in the village. No cars in sight, but almost every home had an all-terrain vehicle parked nearby, and a caterpillar-tracked snow machine under a tarp or in a shed.

And dogs. Husky mixes in a variety of colors lounged on porches and frolicked in yards, all with the long legs, strong chests, and eager attitude of dogs bred to run.

“I think there’s more dogs here than people,” Sera muttered as they stepped around one curled up in the middle of the single street.

“Could be. They’re working dogs. They haul sleds in winter.”

As the breeze picked up and the sky began to darken with cloud cover, mothers called their children in, leaving the village street quiet.

Sera scanned the sky. “Everyone’s talking about the storm. Should we be worried?”

“Heavy rain’s unusual here, and even with a little rain, there may be danger of flood. There’s permafrost under the soil, so the ground can’t absorb much.”

Sera nodded solemnly. Flooding was something every New Orleans resident understood.

Annie’s house was halfway through the village. A battered rocker graced the porch, the small garden in back was overgrown with weeds. The house was a little bigger than most: Annie’s husband had been a village success, supplementing subsistence hunting and fishing with cash earned in summers as a firefighter for the forest service. Hoping for a big family, he’d added a half story with two tiny bedrooms above the chinked-log main floor.

“Good evening, Miss Annie,” Estelle called through the screen door. “How are you today?”

“Come in, come in,” the lady called back. “Bring that girl in with you and let me see her.”

Thin, gray-haired, and bright-eyed, Annie sat ensconced in her battered recliner, strategically located so she could see out the window as well as watch the television.

“This is my niece, Serafina,” Estelle said. “My younger sister’s girl.” Village residents tended to be exact about their relationships.

“Well, that’s fine.” Annie peered over reading glasses, making no move to rise from her chair. “Come closer, girl. My, she favors you, doesn’t she?”

Estelle took her stethoscope and blood pressure kit from her medical bag. “Chérie, why don’t you make yourself comfortable on the porch for a few minutes?”

Sera took the hint. “I think I’ll try out that rocker.”

“Careful, dear,” Annie called. “There’s a storm coming!”

Estelle