Arctic Thunder Read Online Free Page A

bit by bit Mike improved until by the end of the season he was, in fact, the best on his team.
    When his father announced they were moving north, once again it was his mother who kept telling him that everything would be all right. Every day she would say some new fact about Inuvik or about the North. And every day Mike would shake his head and get more depressed. Now for the first time he realized that his mother might be right.
    Raising the cup of Pepsi to his lips, Mike took another sip and returned his gaze to the window. The clouds were now intermittent, and the land below was beginning to change. North of Edmonton the patchwork quilt of farmland spread to the horizon, and a criss-cross of roads of various sizes sliced through the pattern. The farther north they travelled the more forest areas intruded on the land that had been cleared to grow crops, with only the odd road disturbing the rural mosaic.
    Now the ground was quite different. Without Mike noticing, it had shifted from a patchwork pattern to a pockmarked array of lakes, ponds, rivers, and what appeared to be marshes. And there was snow! It was early March and an unexpected thaw had melted all of the snow in the Edmonton/St. Albert area. But not here. The lakes were still frozen, and the wooded areas were full of snow. With every kilometre they covered it seemed to get whiter, causing Mike’s brief interlude of positive thinking to evaporate.
    * * *
    There wasn’t much to see in Yellowknife. The stop was brief, and they were in the terminal for a short time. The terminal was nice, but Mike figured about forty buildings that size could be fitted into the terminal in Edmonton. It was located outside Yellowknife, so all they saw were the surrounding airport hangars, warehouses, scrubby trees, and snow. Lots of snow.
    The flight from Edmonton to Yellowknife had taken about an hour and forty minutes, and it was another hour and a half to Inuvik. If there was this much snow in Yellowknife, what was waiting farther north?
    When they took off from Yellowknife, Mike had a brief view of the city — a few taller buildings and lots of rock and snow. As they flew northwest toward Inuvik, it seemed all he saw was frozen water, stunted trees, snow, and … more rock. He had never seen anything like it. It was as if they were flying over the moon and its craters were full of frozen water. His eyes began to feel heavy, and before he understood what was happening, he nodded off to sleep.
    Mike wasn’t sure if his mother had nudged him or if he had woken up on his own. Sleepily, he sat up and rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. He had been sleeping with his head against the hard wall of the plane, and his neck was stiff and sore as he swivelled, trying to rid himself of the knots in his muscles. Then he noticed his mother smiling at him.
    She pointed at the window. “We’re landing.”
    Craning his head, Mike took a look. “How long was I asleep?”
    Jeannie studied her watch. “I’m guessing about forty-five minutes. It’s three-thirty. Why?”
    Mike pressed his face against the window. “It’s gloomy outside, but it’s three-thirty in the afternoon.”
    â€œIt’s early March and we’re inside the Arctic Circle,” his mother said.
    â€œSo?”
    â€œSo they lose the sun in the winter and it still isn’t very intense yet.”
    Mike darted a look at his father. “They lose the sun?”
    Ben nodded. “Your mother’s right. They lose the sun.”
    â€œWell, when do they find it?” Mike asked dreamily.
    â€œPffffffft!” Ben burst into laughter, then covered his mouth and quickly turned away to face the aisle.
    Jeannie swatted her husband. “Ben! The boy’s asking a perfectly good question. Don’t pay any attention to him, Mike. Losing the sun is a figure of speech. What I meant was that we’re so far north that there’s a period of time in