Precious Cargo

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***This is a story I wrote for a contest, please comment thoughts and comments***

City life was to be no more for Ann. Her dwellings were ripped to shreds by the familiar faces that once revered her every word. For it was her doing, that she was here now, in the dead of winter. Her loyalty never faltered. Her sentiments never wavered. The only option was to leave all civilization behind. Never to return. Never again would she see the shining lights of Broadway, nor catch the scent of fresh sustenance filling the streets of Madison Ave. All that remained were the failed ideals in a book, which she wrote, and the precious cargo she carried across the frozen tundra of Alaska.

In fear of being recognized, Ann was forced to sell most of her belongings before the evacuation. Jewelry and fine watches were replaced with winter clothing and firewood. Makeup and designer handbags traded for a supply of food that could outlast the harsh winter. A luxury BMW bartered for a plain wooden cart attached to a sled, and six gorgeous huskies. If the dogs actually understood what they were working so tirelessly to drag through the snow, it is possible that they too, would have turned on Ann with a senseless wrath only rabies could produce.

“Mush! Mush!” she yelled out to the dogs, tugging firmly on the leashes attached to their harnesses. Mush, she thought, a peculiar word to use to motivate dogs. She heard it in a movie once, and for now it seemed to work fine.

Up in the distance, a man dressed in warm winter garb stood there alone under a balding tree adjacent to a frozen lake. It had been days since she encountered anyone. She was genuinely excited for the prospect of conversation. Her natural blonde hair, cut down just past the shoulders, now barely touched the nape of her neck and was dyed jet black. She wore a pair of round tinted spectacles to hide her all too familiar misshapen hunter green eyes. She was nearly unrecognizable from her days of infamy and stature.

The cart approached the man and Ann pulled back on the reins to give the poor wearied dogs a break.

“Good day, sir,” she began, “What are you doing out here all alone?”

“Ah ma’am. Good day to you,” he replied, “I am doing a little ice fishing. I guess I could ask you the very same question.”

“Yes. I suppose you could. I am making my way as far north as possible. I’ve arranged for a cabin just outside of Fairbanks. I wish to be alone for a while,” replied Ann.

“Sounds like you could really do some thinking. But why the isolation?” The man inquired.

“Are you an Eskimo? Or are you American?” Ann quizzed.

“Well this is Alaska, which is part of America. So, I suppose I don’t really have to answer that question. Besides, the indigenous people really don’t prefer to be called Eskimos. It’s like a racial slur to them,” replied the man aptly displaying his intelligence and wisdom on the subject.

“So you are an Eskimo.” Ann said, completely disregarding the small education she had just received free of charge.

The man caught a glimpse of a book laying in the empty seat next to her and wondered,

“What’s that you’re reading? It looks familiar, and I know this sounds strange but so do you?”

“That’s impossible sir. I am no one, we have never met, and this book is not your concern,” she groans as she flips the book face down on its cover. The muffled sound of laughter, originating from underneath a cozy burlap blanket in the back of the wooden cart, caught the man’s attention.

“What was that?” He asked with a cold stare sprinkled with bewilderment

“What was what?” Ann played coy with the man. She too had heard the sound.

“That laugh. That sounds familiar too.”

“All of this ice fishing has gone to your head, sir. Good day,” Ann threw the book over her shoulder and as it crashed on top of the burlap, an inaudible grunt confirmed that there was something hidden in the back of that old wooden cart.

She lifted the straps attached to the dogs and wailed mercilessly until her sled, cart, and cargo started moving. The man stood there completely baffled by the surreptitious behavior he just witnessed.

Some days later, Ann had finally reached her destination. The cabin was set up out in the middle of nowhere, as planned.

This will be perfect,” she mused, “but what next?” Her mind was wearied with the cries of those who had turned against her. Her master plan had come to fruition, but it was not what they had thought. Inciting fear in the hearts of so many, using the issues that had haunted Americans for years as a means to gain the advantage, and using her status as an author to push a failed agenda.

A cold gust of wind pushed its way across her body and that same maniacal laughter from the back of her cart continued. She was safe now. She could finally feel secure. She threw back the burlap cover in the back of the wooden cart.

“What now Donald? What do we do? Where do we go? The whole country is after us because of what you did during your presidency!”

“Miss Coulter,” he said still laughing, “We should go to Mexico! It’ll be UGE. I have the best relationship with the Mexican people. The BEST!”

“It’s a good damn thing they never built that wall,” Replied Ann. “I’m in!” She could never leave behind her precious cargo.

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