The Abominable Snowman of Pasadena Page 3

  “Maybe they got lost in the tundra,” Dad suggested.

  “Doubt it,” Arthur said. “Those two knew what they were doing. The monster killed them. That’s what happened.”

  He paused to butter another slice of bread.

  “Close your mouth, Jordan,” Nicole said. “I don’t want to look at your chewed-up french fries.”

  I guess my mouth had been hanging open. I shut it and swallowed.

  Arthur seems like a weird guy, I thought. But he’s not lying to us. He definitely believes in the Abominable Snowman.

  Nicole asked him, “Has anyone else seen the snow monster?”

  “Yep. A couple of TV people from New York. They heard about what happened to my friend and came to town to investigate. They set out into the tundra. Never came back, either. We found one of them, frozen to death in a block of ice. Who knows what became of the other.

  “Then Mrs. Carter — she lives at the end of Main Street — she saw the snow monster a few days later,” Arthur continued in a low voice. “She was looking through her telescope and spied him out in the tundra. He was chewing on bones, she said. Don’t believe me; go ask her yourself.”

  Dad made a noise. I glanced at him. He was trying to keep from laughing.

  I didn’t see what was so funny. This snow monster sounded pretty scary to me.

  Arthur glared at Dad. “You don’t have to believe me if you don’t want to, Mr. Blake,” he said.

  “Call me Garry,” Dad repeated.

  “I’ll call you what I please, Mr. Blake,” Arthur said sharply. “What I’m telling you is true. That monster is real — and he’s a killer! You’re taking a big risk, chasing after him. No one has ever caught him. Anyone who goes out after him … doesn’t return.”

  “We’ll take our chances,” Dad said. “I’ve heard stories like this before, in other parts of the world. Stories about monsters in the jungle or weird creatures in the ocean. So far the stories have never turned out to be true. I have a feeling the Abominable Snowman will be no different.”

  Part of me really wanted to see the snow creature. But part of me hoped Dad was right. I don’t deserve to die, I thought — just because I want to see snow!

  “Well,” Dad said, wiping his mouth. “Let’s get going. Everybody ready?”

  “I’m ready,” Nicole piped up.

  “Me, too,” I said. I couldn’t wait to get out in the snow.

  Arthur said nothing. Dad paid the lunch check.

  We waited for change. “Dad,” I asked, “what if the Abominable Snowman is real? What if we run into him? What will we do?”

  He pulled something small and black out of his coat pocket.

  “This is a radio transmitter,” he explained. “If we get into any kind of trouble out in the wilderness, I can radio the ranger station in town. They’ll send a helicopter to rescue us.”

  “What kind of trouble, Dad?” Nicole asked.

  “I’m sure there won’t be any trouble,” Dad assured us. “But it’s good to be prepared for emergencies. Right, Arthur?”

  Arthur smacked his lips and cleared his throat. But he didn’t reply. I figured he was angry because Dad didn’t believe his stories about the snow monster.

  Dad returned the radio transmitter to his coat pocket. He left a tip for the waitress. Then we spilled outside into the cold Alaskan air, ready to head out for the frozen tundra.

  Was an Abominable Snowman waiting for us somewhere out there?

  We would soon find out.

  Smack!

  Bulls-eye. I hit Nicole in the middle of her backpack with a snowball.

  “Dad!” Nicole cried. “Jordan hit me with a snowball!”

  Dad had his camera in front of his face, clicking away, as usual. “Good for you, Nicole,” he said absently. Nicole rolled her eyes.

  Then she ripped off my ski cap. She stuffed it with snow and smushed it on top of my head.

  Snow trickled down my face. The cold burned my skin.

  At first I thought snow was cool. I could mush it up in my hand to make snowballs. Fall down in it without getting hurt. Put it on my tongue and let it melt into water.

  But I was beginning to feel the cold. My toes and fingers were getting numb. We had already walked two miles out of town. When I looked back, I couldn’t see it. I could only see snow and sky.

  Only eight more miles to the cabin, I thought, wiggling my fingers inside my mittens. Eight more miles! It was going to take forever. And all around us, nothing but snow — miles and miles of it.

  Dad and Arthur trudged beside the dogsled. Arthur had brought along four Alaskan huskies — Binko, Rocky, Tin-tin, and Nicole’s favorite, Lars. They pulled Dad’s big trunk and the other supplies in a long, narrow sled.

  Nicole and I each carried a backpack filled with emergency food and other supplies. Just in case, Dad said.

  In case of what? I wondered. In case we get lost? In case the dogs run away with the sled? In case the Abominable Snowman captures us?

  Dad snapped pictures of the dogs, of us, of Arthur, of the snow.

  Nicole threw herself backward into a snowdrift. “Look — an angel!” she cried, waving her arms up and down.

  She jumped up and we checked out the snow angel. “Cool,” I admitted. I lay on my back to make one, too. When Nicole came closer to inspect it, I whopped her with a snowball.

  “Hey!” she cried. “I’m going to get you for that!”

  I leaped up and darted away. The deep snow crunched under my shoes.

  Nicole ran after me. We raced ahead of the dogsled.

  “Be careful, kids!” Dad called after us. “Stay out of trouble!”

  I stumbled in the snow. Nicole pounced on me. I wriggled free and bolted away.

  What kind of trouble could we get into? I thought as my feet crunched along. There’s nothing but snow for miles around. We couldn’t even get lost out here!

  I turned around and ran backwards, waving at Nicole. “Try and catch me, Miss Factoid!” I teased.

  “Name-calling is so immature!” she yelled, chasing after me.

  Then she stopped and pointed behind me. “Jordan! Look out!”

  “Hey — I’m not falling for that old trick,” I called back. I skipped backward through the snow. I didn’t want to take my eyes off her, in case she planned to pelt me with snowballs.

  “Jordan, I mean it!” she screamed. “Stop!”

  Thud!

  I landed hard on my back in a pile of snow. “Unh!” I grunted, stunned.

  I struggled to catch my breath. Then I stared around me.

  I had fallen down some kind of deep crevasse. I sat shivering in the pile of snow, surrounded by narrow cliffs of bluish ice and rock.

  I stood and looked up. The opening of the crevasse was at least twenty feet above me. Frantically, I clutched at the icy walls. I grabbed onto a jutting rock and fumbled for a foothold, hoping to climb out.

  I hoisted myself up a couple of feet. Then my hand slipped, and I slid back to the bottom. I tried again. The ice was too slick.

  How would I ever get out of here?

  Where were Dad and Nicole? I tried to warm my cheeks with my mittens. Why don’t they come to get me? I’m going to freeze down here!

  Nicole’s face appeared at the top of the crevasse. I’d never been so happy to see her in my life.

  “Jordan? Are you all right?”

  “Get me out of here!” I shouted.

  “Don’t worry,” Nicole assured me. “Dad’s coming.”

  I leaned against the pit wall. The sunlight didn’t reach the bottom. My toes felt ready to break off. They were so cold! I jumped up and down to keep warm.

  A few minutes later, I heard Dad’s voice. “Jordan? Are you hurt?”

  “No, Dad!” I called up to him. He, Nicole, and Arthur all stared down at me from above.

  “Arthur is going to lower a rope down to you,” Dad instructed. “Hold on to it, and we’ll hoist you out of there.”

  I stepped asi
de as Arthur tossed one end of a knotted rope into the crevasse. I clutched the rope with my mittened hands.

  Arthur shouted, “Heave!”

  Dad and Arthur tugged on the rope. I planted my feet in footholds in the ice, bracing myself against the side of the crevasse. The rope slipped out of my hands. I clutched it tighter.

  “Hold on, Jordan!” Dad called.

  They pulled again. My arms felt as if they were going to be yanked out of their sockets. “Ow!” I cried. “Careful!”

  Slowly they hoisted me to the top of the crevasse. I wasn’t much help — my feet kept slipping on the icy walls. Dad and Arthur each took one of my hands and dragged me out of the pit.

  I lay on the snow, trying to catch my breath.

  Dad tested my arms and legs for sprains and breaks. “You sure you’re all right?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “It was a mistake to haul kids along,” Arthur grumbled. “The snow is not as solid as it looks, you know. If we hadn’t seen you fall, we never would have found you.”

  “We’ve got to be more careful,” Dad agreed. “I want you both to stick close to the sled.” He leaned over the side of the crevasse and snapped a picture.

  I stood up and brushed the snow from the seat of my pants. “I’ll be careful from now on,” I promised.

  “Good,” Dad said.

  “We’d better push on,” Arthur said.

  We started walking again across the snow. I gave Nicole a shove once in a while, and she shoved me back. But we were quieter now. Neither of us wanted to end up frozen to death at the bottom of a snow hole.

  Dad snapped away as we walked. “How much farther to the cabin?” he asked Arthur.

  “Another couple of miles,” Arthur replied. He pointed to a steep mountain of snow in the distance. “See that snow rise, about ten miles off? That’s where the monster was last spotted.”

  The Abominable Snowman had been seen by that snow rise, I thought. Where was he now?

  Could he see us coming? Was he hiding somewhere, watching us?

  * * *

  I kept my eyes on the snow rise as we walked. It seemed to grow bigger as we came closer to it. The snow rise was dotted with pine trees and boulders.

  After about an hour, a tiny brown speck appeared a mile or so away.

  “That’s the abandoned musher’s cabin where we’ll stop for the night,” Dad explained. He rubbed his gloves together and added, “It sure will be nice to sit by a roaring fire.”

  I clapped my mittens together to keep the blood flowing through my hands. “I can’t wait,” I agreed. “It must be minus two thousand degrees out here!”

  “Actually, it’s about minus ten,” Nicole stated. “At least, that’s the average temperature for this area at this time of year.”

  “Thank you, Weather Girl,” I joked. “And now for sports. Arthur?”

  Arthur frowned into his beard. I guess he didn’t get the joke.

  He fell behind us a little to check the back of the sled. Dad turned around to snap Arthur’s picture.

  “When we get to the musher’s cabin I’ll take a few more scenery photos,” Dad said, as he changed his film. “Maybe I’ll photograph the cabin, too. Then we’ll all turn in. We have a big day tomorrow.”

  By the time we reached the cabin it was almost eight o’clock at night.

  “Took us too long to get here,” Arthur grumbled. “We left town after lunch. It should’ve taken us about five hours. The kids having accidents and all is slowing us down.”

  Dad stood a few feet away from him, shooting a portrait of Arthur while he talked.

  “Mr. Blake, did you hear me?” Arthur growled. “Stop taking my picture!”

  “What?” Dad said, letting his camera drop to his chest. “Oh, yeah — the kids. Bet they’re hungry.”

  I explored the musher’s cabin. It didn’t take long. The tiny wooden shack was empty except for an old wood-burning stove and a couple of broken-down cots.

  “Why is the cabin so empty?” Nicole asked.

  “Mushers don’t stop here anymore,” Arthur explained. “They’re afraid of the monster.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that. I glanced at Nicole. She rolled her eyes.

  Arthur bedded the dogs in a lean-to outside the cabin. The lean-to was a shed built against the back cabin wall. It was filled with straw for the dogs to sleep on. I spotted a rusty old dogsled propped in a corner.

  Then Arthur lit a fire and began to fix some supper.

  “Tomorrow we’ll search for this so-called monster,” Dad announced. “Everybody get a good night’s sleep.”

  After supper we crawled into our sleeping bags. I lay awake for a long time, listening to the howling wind outside. Listening for the thudding footsteps of an Abominable Snowman.

  * * *

  “Nicole, get off me!” She rolled over in her sleeping bag and jabbed her elbow into my ribs. I knocked her arm away and snuggled deeper inside my own toasty warm sleeping bag.

  Nicole opened her eyes. Bright morning sunshine streamed into the cabin.

  “I’ll be back in a minute to fix breakfast, kids,” Dad said. He sat in a chair, lacing up his snow boots. “First, I’m going out to check on the dogs. Arthur went out to feed them a few minutes ago.”

  He bundled up and stepped outside. I rubbed my nose — it was cold. The fire in the stove had gone out during the night. No one had relit it yet.

  I forced myself to climb out of my sleeping bag and start pulling on clothes. Nicole began dressing, too.

  “Do you think there’s a hot shower in this dump?” I wondered aloud.

  Nicole smirked at me. “You know perfectly well there’s no hot shower, Jordan.”

  “Oh, wow! This is incredible!” I heard Dad’s shout from outside.

  I jammed my feet into my boots and raced out the door. Nicole pushed right behind me.

  Dad stood at the side of the musher’s cabin, pointing in shock at the ground.

  I gazed down — and saw deep footprints in the snow. Huge footprints. Enormous footprints.

  So big that only a monster could have made them.

  “Unbelievable,” Dad murmured, staring at the snow.

  Arthur hurried over from the lean-to. He stopped when he saw the prints.

  “No!” he cried. “He was here!”

  His ruddy face grew pale. His jaw trembled with terror.

  “We’ve got to get away from here — now!” he said to Dad in a low, frightened voice.

  Dad tried to calm him down. “Hold on a minute. Let’s not jump to conclusions.”

  “We’re in terrible danger!” Arthur insisted. “The monster is nearby! He’ll rip us all to shreds!”

  Nicole knelt in the snow, studying the footprints. “Do you think they’re real?” she asked. “Real Abominable Snowman footprints?”

  She thinks they’re real, I thought. She believes.

  Dad knelt beside her. “They look pretty real to me.”

  Then I saw a light glimmer in his eyes. He lifted his head and squinted at me suspiciously.

  I backed away.

  “Jordan!” Nicole cried in an accusing voice.

  I couldn’t help it. I started laughing.

  Dad shook his head. “Jordan. I should’ve known.”

  “What?” Arthur looked confused — and then angry. “You mean the kid made these prints? It’s a joke?”

  “I’m afraid so, Arthur,” Dad sighed.

  Arthur scowled at me. Beneath his beard, his face reddened to the color of a slab of raw steak.

  I cowered. I couldn’t help it. Arthur scared me. He sure didn’t like kids — especially not kids who play jokes.

  “I’ve got work to do,” Arthur muttered. He turned and stomped away through the snow.

  “Jordan, you crumb,” Nicole said. “When did you do it?”

  “I woke up early this morning and sneaked out,” I admitted. “You were all sleeping. I carved the footprints over my own prints, with my mittens.
Then I stepped in the prints on my way back, to cover my tracks.

  “You believed,” I added, jabbing a finger at Nicole. “For a minute there, you believed in the snow monster.”

  “I did not!” Nicole protested.

  “Yes, you did. I got you to believe!”

  I glanced from Nicole’s peevish face to Dad’s stern one. “Don’t you think it’s funny?” I asked. “It’s just a joke!”

  Usually Dad liked my jokes.

  Not this time.

  “Jordan, we’re not at home in Pasadena now. We’re out in the middle of nowhere. The wilds of Alaska. Things could get very dangerous. You saw that yesterday when you fell down the crevasse.”

  I nodded and hung my head.

  “I’m serious, Jordan,” Dad warned me. “No more practical jokes. I’m here to work. And I don’t want anything to happen to you, or Nicole, or any of us. Understood?”

  “Yes, Dad.”

  No one said anything for a minute. Then Dad patted me on the back. “Okay, then. Let’s go inside and get some breakfast.”

  Arthur returned to the cabin a few minutes later. He stamped the snow off his boots, glaring at me.

  “You think you’re funny,” he muttered. “But wait till you see the snowman. Will you be laughing then?”

  I swallowed hard.

  The answer to his question was no. Definitely no.

  After breakfast we hitched the dogs to the sled and set off for the snow rise. Arthur wouldn’t talk to me and would hardly look at me. I guess he was angry about my joke.

  Everybody else has forgiven me, I thought. Why won’t he?

  Nicole and I walked at the front of the sled with the dogs. Behind me I heard Dad’s camera clicking furiously. I knew that meant he’d found something good to photograph. I turned around.

  A large herd of elk moved toward us, toward the snow rise. We stopped to watch them.

  “Look at them,” Dad whispered. “Amazing.” He quickly loaded new film into his camera and started snapping away again.

  The elk calmly picked their way across the snow, antlers high. They stopped to eat at a stand of bushes. Arthur pulled back the rein on the lead sled dog to keep him from barking.