Alaska's Illicit

V

Chapter 5 | WHITEHORSE

Grace wakes me up 6 hours later at 5 am to inform me that we're at a gas station. 

We go in, use the restroom, and walk out with coffee and snacks. 

When we're on the road again, it finally hits me that we're only four hours away from Beaver Creek. 

Then, I'll be one step closer to finding my uncle's friend, who remains a living mystery in my mind. 

Honestly, though, what was my uncle thinking? I remember being 11 and reading his letter, being wholly lost, torn, and confused by everything going on around me. And then reading his confusing directions to get to Alaska? It was too much for me. 

So, I had stored the letter away for years, only taking it out on my worst days. The days when I would curl up on the floor and shake with pain because I was crying too hard. Then, the letter would give me hope, no matter how confusing it was to me.

When I was 14, I started researching. I got curious about what my uncle had been discovering, where he ended up, who his friend was, and mainly, what the letter all meant. I began investigating the town where he was last seen, aka Chickaloon. I gathered up as much information as I could, and I studied it. I thought about it almost as much as I thought about my schoolwork. 

The next thing I had done was formulate a plan to go to Alaska and find my uncle and his friend. However, that plan, though quite basic, took years, and I only finished it about 8 months ago. There was much to consider; money, transportation, supplies, etc. 

I had it all planned out: I would get a job as soon as I turned 15, work until the day I turned 18, and then a month or so later I would finally get out of Washington to venture to Alaska.

But that's not how it ended up.

Instead, it was three days after I turned 18 that I was forced to leave by smoke coming through the cracks in my bedroom door.

I never expected my life to be this way at all. I thought that one day, I might be able to go to college, learn about what I'm passionate about, aka law and law enforcement, and get a job in that particular field. But, here I am, running from the law instead of pursuing it.

Good luck with getting a job in that, now.

Maybe one day, if I'm desperate and not in prison, I'll find a way to become a bounty hunter. That could be fun.

Just then, Grace's phone starts ringing, interrupting my thoughts.

She grabs it off the dashboard, answering it.

"What do you want, Jason?"

I hear a faint, minuscule voice, but not the words it's saying.

"No, I don't care."