Doyle Flynn's Alaskan Environmental Crime Story

PRELUDE TO A DEATH AND LIFE FORETOLD

Picture this. In the cold winter a late middle-aged man who is fit for his years looks out through small, square, imperfectly glazed panes of antique glass that distort his view. He is alone. Then through the distortion he espies the familiar figure of a younger man he has never before seen. The younger man who has materialized from nowhere approaches and, still at a considerable distance, looks in the direction of the place where the middle-aged man stands. The older man is unconcerned by the intrusion. He knows he cannot be detected because there are no lights and he stands back from the glass panes, in the darkness. He realizes he is in the middle of what they used to tell him was a black spell. The distorted illusion of the younger man is part of the spell. The late middle-aged man appreciates that the spell and the illusion that comes with it signify it is alright to be doing this. Consequently he feels relief.

The older man does not mind that the door is not locked. He welcomes the approaching illusion’s anticipated entrance because now he knows the illusion that is part of the black spell is coming to rescue him from the spell itself. Encouraged, the late middle-aged man turns his back on the imperfectly glazed panes of glass that are the only source of light on this dim, overcast winter afternoon. He walks to the middle. He inhales very deeply and enjoys the comfort of what he smells. Gasoline, engine oil, tractor grease. Cut hay. Through his nose he exhales evenly and with measured force. He comes to a point of tranquility when he hears the door rattle open behind him. He hears the younger man enter and move about. He finally senses the presence of the younger man standing right next to him, no longer an illusion but really there, whispering into his ear. The younger man brings the exact salvation that the late middle-aged man had hoped for when he first saw the younger man through the small square, antique glass panes.

Thousands of feet above, in the sky, a commercial passenger airplane moves in the direction of the place where late middle aged man and the younger man are still standing. The aircraft, a 747, begins its descent. It comes over that portion of the Alaska Range that separates Southwestern Alaska from what is known as South Central. It comes down toward where the Anchorage Bowl sits along the Cook Inlet. The fuselage of the big 747 is marked with the name “China Airlines.” Aboard, the pilot announces in Mandarin Chinese that the passenger cabin crew should make final preparations for landing. The passengers talk rapidly, almost all in Chinese, excited by the view as the plane descends towards Anchorage International Airport. One passenger does not speak because he is traveling alone and is preoccupied by thoughts of his business in Anchorage. He speculates about whether has come too late.