The Arctic Cache
In the frozen reaches of northern Alaska, where the aurora danced over endless snow, Kael ran a small trading post near a remote Inuit village. Known for his quiet reliability, he kept the post stocked for emergencies: jerry cans of fuel, a crate of MREs, a medical kit, and a satellite beacon. A snowmobile, always fueled, sat under a tarp, and a hidden cache of blankets and flares lay buried in a marked snowdrift nearby.
One February night, a distress call crackled over his shortwave radio. A research team, stranded 20 miles out, had lost their heater in a blizzard. Their GPS was failing, and frostbite was setting in. The village had no one else equipped to respond; the nearest ranger station was a day away. Kael didn’t hesitate. He checked his beacon’s battery, packed his go-bag with thermal packs and a portable stove, and fired up the snowmobile.
The storm was fierce, visibility near zero. Kael navigated by compass and memory, following faint tracks to the team’s coordinates. He found them huddled in a failing tent, three scientists shivering around a dead heater. “You’re gonna make it,” Kael said, handing out chemical warmers. He showed the lead researcher, Dr. Lin, how to use the beacon to signal for backup. “Rule one: always have a lifeline.”
Kael set up his stove, melting snow for hot drinks, and draped blankets from his cache over the group. When one scientist’s fingers showed early frostbite, Kael applied dressings from his kit, teaching Dr. Lin to monitor for worsening. “Rule two: act fast, but smart.” He radioed the village, coordinating a medevac once the storm cleared.
By dawn, the blizzard eased, and the beacon’s signal guided a rescue chopper. The team was airlifted, thanking Kael through chattering teeth. Back at the post, he restocked his cache, adding extra warmers. Dr. Lin sent a message later: “Your prep saved us.” Kael shrugged, tuning his radio. In the Arctic, the next storm was never far off.
