Doyen and the Covered Ones

Someone was knocking at the door. Apparently he had solved the problem of the dogs, and solved it silently. I briefly wondered how he could have taken out my strategically-placed, police-trained, team of canines without a sound, but knowing that would not help me now.

I parted a couple of slats in the blinds and looked down at the porch. There Doyen stood wearing his severely outdated gray wool frock coat, ascot, and top hat. He resembled a kind of Dickensian doctor. Flanking him on both sides were the covered ones, roughly human-shaped figures with a piece of gray canvas about the size of a bed sheet covering each individual.

I quickly went and looked out the back and side upstairs windows. The covered ones had formed a cordon around my house. Standing at roughly arm's length from each other, I estimated that there were about 50 of them. Doyen knew I couldn't fight them off in such numbers.

Still the knocking continued. Doyen was well aware of the materials that went into my bank-vault-serious front door but could have blown it to bits had he wanted. That wasn't his way, though. He wanted me to hear him knocking, wanted me to know I was surrounded, wanted me to know I was doomed.

But living alone in the Yukon teaches those brave enough to try it a crucially important lesson: Prepare for all contingencies. Being 100 miles from the next human, I have learned how to survive everything from weeklong blizzards to marauding polar bears. I have planned for this.

I raced downstairs and went to the pantry. Ignoring my powerful 10-gauge Browning and my Steyr Aug A3 assault rifle, I reached instead for a box that I had previously filled with Molotov cocktails. I knew they wouldn't kill the covered ones, I just wanted to create some chaos.

Heading upstairs two steps at a time, I went to the back window and flung it open. The cold air of the arctic bit at my face and dried my eyes. Ignoring it, I grabbed my lighter out of my jeans pocket and lit the rags atop a couple of the bombs. One in each hand, I dropped them upon the two covered ones just beneath me.

With an audible whoosh, the thin-glassed bombs exploded atop the gray canvas coverings and quickly engulfed them in flame. For a couple of seconds, the flaming covered ones made no movement. But once openings in the burning material could be seen, the covered ones realized that their childishly simple concealment was in danger and dropped to ground and began rolling in an effort to extinguish the fire.

The knocking at the door continued. Apparently Doyen considered this first salvo not worth investigating. Quickly lighting and dropping the remainder of the bombs on those standing at the back of the house, I managed to cause enough disconcertion among the covered ones to keep them from noticing a small panel opening.

I crept out of the opening, almost catching my gray canvas covering on a stray nail. I took up a position among the covered ones and stood rigidly in attempt to mimic their military-like stance. From beneath the pinhole eye openings I had made in the canvas, I looked around. None of the covered ones seemed to be aware I was among them.

From within the house came a loud boom, and all at once flames exploded out of all the windows. This got Doyen's attention, and he began circling the house to see if I had snuck out before the explosion. Satisfied that I had not, he stood a short distance away and watched the house burn. In minutes the house was reduced to cinders and, although the heat nearly killed me, I did not break ranks from the other covered ones and try to step back from the house.

After a quick inspection of the rubble showed no signs of life, Doyen shouted something in a strange language, and the covered ones arranged themselves into a single line and began to follow him. I slipped in amongst them.

We have now been marching nonstop for three days. I know these creatures could march forever if necessary, but I cannot. Even though I have been able to sneak a few drinks from a water bottle I brought with me, it won't last forever.

I figure I can last about another two days. I'll try to slip away from the group at night and hide in a nearby valley. If I can get just a few hours of sleep, maybe I can figure out a way to get to Keno City. It's about a week away on foot, but I've made more difficult treks before.

The sun is setting. Almost time. I will survive.