Landlord in the Arctic-Chapter 58: News
’Damn it!’
’I finally broke through!’
’Who knew getting out would be even more dangerous than getting in.’
Wiping the cold sweat from his forehead, Feng Shan turned to look at the back seat. Aunt Susan’s breathing was steady; you could even say she was sleeping peacefully.
The Witchcraft had treated her bleeding and internal injuries. Her external wounds looked terrifying, but she wasn’t actually in any danger.
Hm?
’Are those people down there?’
Through the windshield, he saw two orange bush planes parked on the ground. Beside them, several people in orange uniforms were waving at him.
Feng Shan slowed down and descended, positioning himself above them before picking up the radio transceiver.
"Hello, hello, this is the Carnation, do you copy? Over."
"Flying Man, we copy. We’re the Fairbanks rescue team. Have you extracted the injured party? Over."
"The injured party is aboard the Carnation. Her condition is stable. I’m now en route to Fairbanks. Over."
As soon as Feng Shan finished speaking, a cheer erupted over the radio, followed by a deep voice.
"Carnation Knight, you’re a hero. Please accept our respects."
"Allow us to escort you back to Fairbanks."
"Alright. I’ll maintain a slow flight speed."
After ending the radio call, Feng Shan circled once above the rescue team and then headed toward Fairbanks.
A moment later, the two orange rescue planes appeared, flanking the Carnation on its left and right. The pilots and rescue team members gave him welcoming gestures.
...
「Fairbanks.」
NBC’s Alaska branch office.
Inside the office, reporters and cameramen were leisurely sipping coffee.
Being assigned to Alaska was tantamount to exile, with no prospects to speak of.
What kind of big news could possibly happen in Alaska?
One-point-seven million square kilometers of land with a paltry population of less than 700,000.
Most of the news was about brown bear sightings, extreme weather events, conflicts between the Indigenous People and new immigrants, or the Independent Party popping up to demand a referendum.
The small stories weren’t worth reporting, and they didn’t dare cover the big ones.
The dangers in Alaska weren’t just the animals. It also had the second-highest violent crime rate of any state in the United States. Furthermore, Alaska was considered the most dangerous state for women, with 59% having experienced violence.
Similarly, in the assessment of the most dangerous metropolitan areas in the United States...
...Anchorage City in Alaska had held the number one spot for years.
According to the latest data from the FBI, 1 in every 23 people in Anchorage City will become a victim of property crime, and 1 in every 84 will become a victim of violent crime.
The reporters weren’t stupid. Why would they willingly walk into danger?
Was that a death wish?
Wouldn’t it be better to sit in a comfortable office, drink coffee until quitting time, and then go to the club to watch beautiful women dance?
Of course, while some were content to wallow in mediocrity, others wanted to claw their way out of the mud pit.
Julie was one of the latter, determined to become a distinguished female journalist like Maggie Mason, Esther, Robin MacDowell, and Martha Mendoza.
Under threat of death, those four female journalists had spent a year uncovering the truth about over 2,000 enslaved fishermen in Southeast Asia, winning the 2016 Pulitzer Prize for Public Service.
Sensing the decadent and degenerate atmosphere permeating the office, a flicker of resentment and disgust passed through Julie’s eyes.
Just then, her phone chimed with a Facebook notification.
Julie casually tapped it open. Her eyes widened, her breathing quickened, and a blush rose to her cheeks. She shot up from her office chair, knocking her coffee over and sending it spilling everywhere.
"Pick, hurry! Come with me, we’ve got a job!"
A job?
Her colleagues, who had been chatting and laughing, all turned to look at Julie. An Indigenous man stepped out from the group. With a pained expression, he put down his coffee cup and, amidst a ripple of snickers, walked to his workstation to grab his camera.
"Julie, what’s the big job? Did a brown bear steal food from someone’s house again?"
"Or did a ship hit an unlucky whale?"
"If it’s a gang deal, I’d advise you not to go. Those Black guys are not to be messed with."
"Julie, you don’t have to work so hard. Come have a drink with us tonight."
Ignoring her colleagues’ advice, Julie gave a slight smile, grabbed her press bag, and strode out, followed by the cameraman with his long-suffering expression.
In the parking lot.
"Boss, what’s the job?" the cameraman asked, sitting in the passenger seat and adjusting his equipment.
"We’re going to Dawn Airport. I just got a tip. A supply camp in the Far North Region was attacked by a brown bear. They’re transporting the injured to Fairbanks now."
Julie started the Pickup Truck and slammed on the gas. Like a roaring beast, the truck shot out of the gates of the NBC Alaska branch.
The cameraman pursed his lips. "A brown bear attack? What’s the news value in that?"
In Alaska, brown bear attacks were all too common. There was no shortage of that kind of story.
"The supply camp was in the middle of a level-four blizzard. A Hunter flew his plane, forced his way into the storm cloud, crash-landed at the camp to rescue the injured party, and then flew back out of the blizzard. Here’s a photo."
With one hand on the steering wheel, Julie used the other to open the Facebook app on her phone and tossed it to the passenger seat.
The cameraman caught the phone and looked at the photo on Facebook.
The photo was very clear. Against a dark gray blizzard cloud that reached into the sky, a bush plane with a carnation painted on its tailfin was emerging from the storm.
The roiling storm clouds looked like a terrifying demon, its bloody maw wide open, trying desperately to crush and devour the plane.
Paired with an epic, heroic soundtrack, it was enough to make one’s blood pump.
The cameraman glanced at the video’s view count. In less than half an hour, it had already racked up over a hundred thousand likes. He let out a low whistle.
"Cool!"
"Boss, this is going to be a huge story."
"Of course," Julie said from the driver’s seat, the corners of her mouth turning up slightly as she made a silent decision.
In a country where individual heroism was celebrated, people adored stories of valiant knights like this, worshipping them just as they did Batman, Spider-Man, and Captain America.
Publishing this story would undoubtedly cause a massive stir. ’And if I handle it correctly,’ she thought, ’the news value will be even higher. Maybe I can win this year’s Pulitzer Prize.’
At the thought, Julie’s body trembled with excitement.
’I have to get the exclusive, no matter the cost. That includes the exclusive interview with the Hunter who saved the victim. It’s the only way I can escape this Alaskan mud pit.’
「Dawn Airport.」
A small airfield on the outskirts of Fairbanks, used specifically for landing bush planes.
By the time Julie rushed to the airport in her Pickup Truck, she was taken aback by the scene before her. A crowd was milling about the airfield; a large number of people had already gathered.
A group of paramedics stood by, ready for action. Stretchers and first-aid equipment were neatly arranged beside them, their expressions focused and tense as they prepared to jump into the rescue effort at a moment’s notice.
Not far away, numerous townspeople craned their necks to gaze at the sky, whispering amongst themselves. Their faces were filled with a mixture of curiosity and concern, having come purely to join the commotion and be the first to witness the hero’s return.
Airport staff bustled through the crowd, directing traffic and answering questions, their foreheads beaded with sweat.
And at the edge of the runway, a line of police officers formed a human barrier, struggling to maintain order.
They were all here to welcome the knight’s plane.
"Pick, get all of this on camera! Let’s go!" Julie said, stepping out of the Pickup Truck, full of passion.
...
