Never Cry Wolf

I just jumped at

the opportunity to go,

without even thinking about it, really,

because it opened the way to an old

and very naive childhood fantasy of mine.

To go off into the wilderness

and test myself against

all the dangerous things lurking there.

And to find that basic animal I secretly

hoped was hidden somewhere in myself.

I imagined that at that point

I'd become a new man,

with a strength and courage

that I'd never known before.

As I traveled north,

it was on about the third day

that the reality of what I was about to try

to do began to seep into my bones

and gather in a knot

in the pit of my stomach.

Then I finally reached

the end of the line, Nootsack.

The sheer bulk of the supplies

the department sent along set me back,

as I had to get not only myself

but all this stuff

another 300 miles into the wilderness.

So, you think north of here?

The place is crawling with 'em.

But you wouldn't wanna go up there, son.

Got nothing to eat up there now.

There's nothing but ice

and snow and trees and...

You would be

the only fresh meat around there.

They'll come after you, son.

Just for the ugly fun of tearing you apart.

I'd heard some of the tales

about the Arctic.

The mad trappers, Diamond Tooth Gertie,

the ice-worm cocktail and all that,

so I was prepared

for things to be a little weird.

You found the bayonets,

I knew you would.

Charlie.

That's much better, much better, Francis.

Keep practicing.

The only plane in Nootsack

belonged to a part-time bush pilot,

gambler and real-estate tycoon

named Rosie Little.

While negotiating our deal, he introduced

me to this drink that he'd invented.

Known locally as Moose Juice,

it consisted of equal parts

Moose Brand beer and ethyl alcohol.

Before I knew it,

my old fear of flying evaporated,

and I spent all the money I had left

on 24 cases of beer.

Too much weight, Tyler.

Hang on!

Whoa... Nelly!

Come on, Something else out of there now.

The big, heavy ones, Tyler.

I really had no way of knowing

exactly what of the department's gear

we donated to the people of Nootsack.

That big wooden box there.

Get rid of it. Go on. You don't need that.

But by our third attempt at takeoff,

it was a lot of what I might really need.

I tried not to think about it.

In fact, I tried not to think at all.

This one is it. I can feel it.

With my eyes still shut,

I realized that I was still alive.

But this was only the beginning.

It's funny how I keep thinking back

to that going-away party.

All the toasts by Dr Spivey

and Dr Showwalter,

and everybody singing

old Johnny Horton songs.

And the cake with all the coconut frosting,

with the plastic snowshoes on top.

But, then, why me?

Maybe this whole thing was a mistake.

Maybe my name just somehow

got onto the wrong page.

It might have been a typo, or maybe

somebody spilled a cup of coffee,

shuffled a couple of pages,

and there I was.

I can't go on with this. This is suicide.

But I can't turn around now.

I'd be a laughing stock.

Still, I wouldn't last six hours down there,

let alone six months.

Uh...

How do you...?

Don't worry about a thing.

I feel my way through these mountains

blindfolded all the time.

Tell me, Tyler...

what's in the Valley of the Blackstone?

What is it? Manganese?

Can't be oil.

Is it gold?

It's kind of hard to say.

You're a smart man, Tyler.

Keep your own counsel.

We're all of us prospectors

up here, eh, Tyler?

Scratching for that one crack in the ground

so we'll never have to scratch again.

I'll let you in on a little secret, Tyler.

The gold's not in the ground.

Rate this script:(0.00 / 0 votes)