“I told you not to mess with me. I gave you the chance to do business properly with me. They say it only takes three seconds to drown,” he said to Ubluriaq as he pushed down on Aviak’s head. “I’ve called in a few of my boys, Ubluriaq. If I was you, I’d be getting outta here as fast as possible. You’ve fucked up and now you’ll have to explain your story to them. I wonder if they’d even begin to believe you? None of this had to happen.”

Chevy let go of Aviak’s head. He and Ubluriaq looked down into the water and watched Aviak’s body dance its final tremor before sinking to the river’s muddy bottom.

Kunak opened his eyes. Aviak was gone, yet it felt like he had someone next to him. A friend. As he sat there, he realized that he did not miss Aviak.

“I know it is your doing, Grandpa Chevy,” he said to the person he could feel beside him. “I’m off to The Hope now.” Kunak got up and walked across Dawson Bridge, singing loudly, “Come little fish, come!”

Eskimo Heaven

I don’t know why I reached out the way I did. I just did it. Touched old Ittura’s fingertips and we landed in a city. The tips of my fingers only brushed up against the old man’s hand, and now here we are, Ittura and me. But the day had started like every other Sunday. I was preaching the early morning mass.

“Praise God!” I thundered at the congregation. “Praise God!”

The congregation stared back at me, the same stare, the same Sunday morning blank looks I got every week. Empty eyes with vacant souls. In the periphery of my vision, I imagined seeing an old Inuk in his atigi shouting, “Yes sir, Priest Prentice! Praise God!”

The congregation broke into giggles hidden behind their tanned hands, and their slanted eyes darted out from beneath coarse black bangs. I looked around but couldn’t find the voice of that old man who had put a stop to the one thing I tried to achieve every Sunday—The Pure Moment.

Searching through the small group, I couldn’t find the face that belonged to the voice, but instead I saw a soft glow with a black dot hovering in the cobwebbed corner toward the Gospel side of the log church. I didn’t want to lose momentum and shouted one more time, “Praise God!” And again, a male voice echoed through the church, “Yes sir, Priest Prentice! Praise God!”