The Great Arctic Adventure: An Elf’S Christmas Tale

© 2012 by Jerry Yost. All rights reserved.

Cover Illustration by: Danny Martin

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 08/15/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4772-6037-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-6036-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012914748

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Epilogue

Dedicated to two of my granddaughters

Victoria and Jessica

With the assistance of our third grandchild

Danielle Martin

Property of Santa Claus Incorporated

   CHAPTER 1

The small helicopter circled high above the frozen tundra; the pilot maneuvered the craft for landing. The girl watched from the passenger side of the cockpit as the windsock fluttered wildly. The snow drifted in blowing gusts across the makeshift landing site. She looked down on the tented camp below, and her lower lip began to quiver. It wasn’t the cold, but a trembling that comes when your emotions begin to grip the reality of the here and now. Her mystical travels had taken her into a wonderland seen by very few, if any, humans, and it was ending.

The pilot descended slowly, inching the copter down while gauging his descent against the windsock’s erratic behavior. He landed with a soft bump on the deepening blanket of snow. The girl glanced at the pilot, sadness showing in her face. No words were exchanged; they both sat in silence. She grabbed her bag and jumped to the ground . . . the tears running down her cheeks said it all. The events of the past few days made saying goodbye very difficult, if not impossible. She could only manage a half-hearted wave as she tried to smile. The pilot nodded, but his grin seemed not nearly as wide and his eyes not nearly as bright as they usually were. Were there tears in his eyes, too? She guessed not; the storm had distorted her view as she moved away from the copter. His image was now hidden behind a veil of snow that covered the copter’s cockpit as it lifted off. The pilot quickly turned back to the controls; there indeed were tears in his eyes.

The young girl had arrived in despair, failing to make the connections for her very first assignment. She could not have known that the events that were to follow would take her on a mystical journey . . . one that would end in sadness, exposing her to a knowledge that fate’s mysteries were all part of the circle of life.

She relished the experiences that led her through this unique adventure; however, she would abandon any journalist instincts to write the story. It would remain a secret that she’d carry with her forever.

The pilot’s hand pushed the stick forward, and he lifted the helicopter back up into the sky. The young girl wiped her eyes, focusing on the small craft’s departure. She followed it until it was no more than a red dot, and continued her gaze until it disappeared into the white wall of the blizzard.

The elderly man dressed quickly before leaving his tent. He was not quite certain what he had heard or where it was. Outside, he stared into a blanket of white, having left his goggles in the tent. Blindly he followed the sounds in the direction of the area where their supply plane could land. But no supply plane was scheduled . . . not in this weather. What unfolded was unbelievable.

He thought he saw a red and yellow helicopter landing in a storm that no one should have tried to navigate.

Yet there it was, its rotors whipping snow into the air, making identification all but impossible.

He wiped his eyes, barely able to make out the letters P.O.S.C.I. below the tail rotor. They didn’t belong to any helicopter service he could remember. His curiosity increased watching someone climb out onto the snow. Then, just as quickly, the rotor blades hummed back to full power, and it lifted back into the air. He shook his head; the passenger backing away from the departing craft should be able to answer his questions.

The girl turned back toward the camp and slowly shuffled through the mounds of snow toward the tents. She made out a figure waiting for her and waved. Surprised, the man finally recognized the form plodding through the snow.

Hello, Tori? he yelled over the swirling gusts of snow.

She recognized a surprised Dr. Simpson moving toward her. She raised her arm to shield her face, and acknowledged his greeting as the last sounds of the copter blended into the howling wind. She wondered just how much he had seen before the helicopter disappeared.

Where have you been, and how on earth did you find us in this storm? Simpson questioned.

The polar expedition had used sleds to arrive at this remote area, no one could have known their exact location without using their radio beacon’s signal. They had shut that down to save the generator. Since setting up camp, it had been three days without any radio contact. Simpson concluded only a fool would risk flying into an uncharted area in this weather.

That’s a very, very long story Tori replied. Seeing the perplexed look on Simpson’s face, she wasn’t quite sure how she would explain her arrival. He just nodded.

Julia Carson, the expedition’s nurse, had now joined them, and other members of the group started coming out of their tents. She put her arm around Tori and headed the girl toward the tent that served as the cook tent and central meeting place. More questions followed, but Tori was able to avoid them by claiming she couldn’t hear anything over the sound of the storm.

There’ll be plenty of time to unravel the mystery after we get her inside Julia laughed as she gently pushed the girl past the tent flaps into the large tent. Tori sat and gladly took the hot coffee mug offered to her.

Where’d you find a helicopter service to fly you out here? Better yet, who would make the trip in this weather? Simpson was determined to get answers.

Tori sighed, It wasn’t easy, but the service was recommended. She explained that the pilot was reluctant to fly, but seemed to have an idea where the expedition might be located. He decided to risk it, even with the storm getting worse. And here I am.

Tori

Three days ago, Tori had landed on a commercial flight at the Nome airport. She couldn’t believe her luck. She had missed her original flight to Nome, and now this flight had been delayed. She walked toward the terminal’s entrance, where she was supposed to meet the expedition. No one stood waiting for her, and she had no indication where she might find them.

She slumped down on one of the benches, and her head dropped into her hands. Her assignment was blown. She had counted on this opportunity . . . her first big assignment as a photo journalist since graduation. It was to be the big break in her short career. She had moved to New York after graduation from the University of Texas. Several interviews later, she was happy to take the job with the scientific journal. Now all her education and training had earned her the first opportunity to cover a real story. Overwhelmed with disappointment, tears streaming down her cheeks, she sat trying to figure out what her next move could be. She was tired from having been in the air the entire day.

Maybe if she curled up on the bench and rested for a few minutes, things would become clearer.

When she finally opened her eyes again, the terminal was empty. Evidently, the few minutes of rest had turned into hours of sleep. Everyone had made their connections, left for other destinations, or gone home. How long had she been there? She looked up at the terminal clock; the hour hand moved toward eleven. To much time had been wasted, and feeling sorry for herself wouldn’t accomplish anything.

First things, first she thought . . . she’d have to retrieve her bag, then figure out her next step.

Walking toward the baggage area the glass above the walkway indicated that the clear early evening had turned into a bleak night with a raging snow storm. Reaching the baggage area, an eerie quiet hung above the carousal assigned to her flight. She watched the conveyer, but it held no bags. Luggage left earlier had been set off and placed near the back wall. She had that sinking feeling you get when something is amiss. She looked for her camera equipment; it was gone. Picking up her other bag, she grinned to herself, remembering it had been sent ahead and was now traveling with the expedition. What else could go wrong, she wondered?

Lugging her bag back through the terminal, she sat down again to gather her thoughts. She watched as the snow fell in torrents. Maybe, just maybe, she could grab a cab if they were still running, and at least spend the night in a hotel. Surely the storm hadn’t brought everything to a standstill, or was she stranded. The idea of sleeping on one of these benches again until morning would be the final straw.

The automatic doors near her bench opened and then shut, letting a blast of cold winter air into the terminal. She looked up; an elderly woman with a broom was sweeping the floor. If anybody might be able help, it could be her. Tori got up and waved, catching the woman’s attention as she walked in her direction.

Can I help you, honey? the woman smiled and put her broom down.

Yes, would it be possible to call a cab? I need a place to stay tonight, Tori explained.

Oh, my goodness! The storm has shut everything down. If I hadn’t already been here for the late shift, I’d be gone. It might clear up by tomorrow morning, she offered.

She could see the girl was upset. What happened? she asked sympathetically.

Tori wasn’t the type to confide in a total stranger, but her whole life was crashing down around her. She told the lady about her assignment, the missed flight, and the delays that had caused her to fail to catch up with the polar expedition. She was sobbing again when she finished her story.

The woman put her arm around the girl, and pulled a tissue from her apron.

Look, I can’t leave here, but there might be some fellows in the terminal that might help you tonight. If they’re still here, they should be decorating a Christmas tree. Don’t know if they can get you to the folks you missed, but they might be able to get you put up for the night.

The distraught girl finished dabbing her eyes, hugged the woman, grabbed her bag and turned to walk back through the terminal.

You are so very, very kind, she managed to say over her shoulder, as she slowly dragged her bag, and made her way down the mezzanine following the woman’s directions.

Turning back, she smiled at the lady, and the woman grinned and waved. Tori’s spirits were beginning to lift just a little. Somebody might really be able to help. The woman’s words about getting you to your folks’ made it sound possible that they might even be able to help her catch up with the expedition. Not likely . . . but it was a thought.

She finally turned a corner, and there in the middle of the floor stood a large Christmas tree.

She hesitated; two people were on the floor digging in boxes. Decorations and lights were scattered everywhere around the tree. The closer she got, the two figures appeared to be very small. When they got up to greet her, she realized they were, in fact, midgets. It seemed rather weird that the airport would hire midgets to decorate a tree that large in the middle of the night . . . but what did she know?

She was now face-to-face with two of the strangest little people she had ever seen. They looked very old; surely they were wearing makeup. It gave them terribly weathered looking faces, so if it was supposed to emphasize aging, it was working. The grins on their faces seemed greatly animated, while their bright blue eyes sparkled with exaggerated expressions of pure joy.

Although it was late November, and Christmas was indeed on its way, it seemed strange to be decorating a tree at midnight.

The terminal was empty; the blizzard had stopped everything, and yet these two continued in character to finish a tree. She had to admit the disguises made them look like traditional elves, but she wondered, with everyone gone, how much they were being paid to keep up this act.

Both were dressed alike, in green jackets and red pants, with red caps trimmed in white fur. The jackets had matching red pockets trimmed with yellow thread. They wore black boots with gold buckles and had their names embroidered in gold over one of the jacket pockets.

Tori almost broke into laughter. The name Dingle identified the one on the left, and his partner was Dongle. Sure, they wouldn’t use their real names. Who’d get caught up in the holiday season if they were George or Harry? It was evidently an arrangement on the part of the airport to welcome holiday travelers.

Can we help you? their high pitched voices asked in unison.

Tori coughed politely to keep from chuckling, and tried to muster only a smile to replace her urge to laugh. If they could help, what did it matter how they looked or sounded? Now was not the time to insult them or question their willingness to help.

Tori explained her conversation with the terminal employee, and said that the woman had suggested she find some fellows in the terminal that might still be decorating a tree.

She thought maybe you could help me get to a hotel. She hesitated before telling them any more than that.

Any idea that they could help beyond getting her to a hotel for the night would be totally ridiculous, or so she believed. Dongle looked at Dingle, shaking his head.

Well, hotels are out; we don’t know about those things. Tori swallowed hard . . . they didn’t know ‘what’ about hotels? Who were these people? She began to have second thoughts.

Well, thank you anyway, Tori said as she turned to leave. Sleeping in the terminal didn’t seem so bad after all.

Hold it! Dongle called out.

Startled Tori turned back . . . Yes she asked.

Your people . . . where are they? he asked, a serious tone to his question. Tori was shocked. She had not mentioned anything about any other people; how could he know about her other problem?

What people do you mean? she wanted to know.

Well, if you’re here, there has to be a reason why, and usually it means getting met by someone. There was some hesitation in his voice.

Tori stared at the little fellow; although his inquiry surprised her at first, it made sense. It also made him very astute, but his concern that other people might come looking for her made her a bit uncomfortable.

She shrugged, and decided not to tell them everything. Dongle didn’t look very friendly. She watched their faces; they seemed to hang on her every word even when she tried to explain about the hotel thing.

She felt silly when she finished, but still asked, "Can you