Book 1, Chapter 1 | Start Here

All these are but the beginning of the birth pains. (Matthew 24:8)

This is the first chapter in the Positive Apocalypse trilogy. Follow Katie Whitefeather, an Alaskan native teenager who learns about love and rejection, truth and lies, and faith versus compromise.

Her journey, from sin and shame to immortal glory, dramatizes the crucial role God’s overcomers play in the end-time conflict between God’s kingdom and Satan’s.

Chapter 1

Ketchikan Fish Cannery, Monday, August 8th

Katie Whitefeather couldn’t help envying the salmon, its struggles now over in death. She feared hers were just beginning.

On the cannery’s butchering line, she stood alongside Johnny, her summer boyfriend, a handsome, blond surfer. And each time their gloved hands met, a pang of uncertainty ran through her. Does he love me? She’d soon know.

They both wore rubber aprons, gloves, and boots.

Cut, gut, slide. Cut, gut, slide. Cut, gut, slide.

They’d cut off the head, pull out the guts, then slide the carcass down the stainless-steel assembly line for others to wash, fillet, and package. This was their life, twelve hours a day, seven days a week during Southeast Alaska’s ten-week coho salmon season.

On summer vacation from Kataan High School, Katie took this job in Ketchikan to avoid three months of boredom in her native village—population 289. A good student, she’d be a junior in the fall.

Johnny was eighteen. He’d dropped out of Fresno High School in California after his sophomore year. Since then, he surfed up and down the Pacific coast, financing his lifestyle by picking seasonal fruits and vegetables in California, Oregon, and Washington, and working in Alaskan canneries during the salmon season. A hard worker, bosses loved him and welcomed him back each season.

On a good day, Johnny could cut, gut, and slide 1800 fish. Katie had to use two hands to cut off their heads, so 1400 was a productive day for her.

Her summer job at the cannery included a bunkhouse and cafeteria meals, but Katie preferred having a TV, kitchen, and other benefits at Johnny’s apartment.

After another long day of cutting, gutting, and sliding, they walked to his bachelor pad, about a half-mile away. A continuous misty drizzle showered them. Fog shrouded their surroundings, obscuring the verdant mountains across the channel less than a mile away.

Many people think it rains a lot in Seattle. But Seattle’s rainfall only averages thirty-four inches a year. In contrast, Ketchikan gets over 140 inches of rain annually. To produce that much rain, a pregnant layer of gray cloud blankets the Southeast Alaskan coastline most days of every year.

As the sun dropped toward the horizon, the temperature dropped with it. Shivering, Johnny said, “Just another beautiful day in paradise.”

Katie observed his rain-soaked cotton jeans and jacket. She thought, It’s no wonder he’s cold. In a lighthearted tone, she said, “Cheechako.”

Johnny said, ”Ha ha. Just because I’m from the lower 48, there’s no need to call me names.”

He took her hand, smiled, and said, “Besides, it’s nothing a good hot shower won’t fix.”

Katie didn’t mind what the locals called ‘liquid sunshine.’ Her Klinatok ancestors thrived in Southeast Alaska for the last 5,000 years, so it was in her blood. This was home. And, unlike him, she dressed for it.

As they neared the front door, Katie released his hand and said, “Take a rain check on the shower? I need to go to the drugstore. I’ll be right back.”

***

When people entered Johnny’s apartment, they initially smelled dust and mildew. But, after five minutes, they didn’t notice the smell anymore. A realtor would euphemistically describe the apartment’s décor as “dated,” with its wood veneer paneling, orange shag carpets, and yellowish popcorn ceiling that used to be white.

When she came out of the bathroom after her shower, wearing sweatpants and an Alaska Aces hockey jersey, she saw Johnny in the doorway. He was talking to a scraggly teen standing outside. Johnny passed him a small paper bag, and the stranger slipped Johnny some cash.

Seeing Katie, Johnny quickly closed the door.

“Who was that?” she asked.

“Oh, nobody. Don’t worry about it.”

Johnny, barefoot and wearing pajamas, plopped onto the worn brown sofa, its upholstery stained by pizza sauce and pockmarked with cigarette burns. It emanated a stale cigarette odor from a previous tenant.

Katie never walked barefoot on the shag carpet. She slipped out of her moccasins and sat cross-legged at the other end of the sofa, combing the tangles out of her long black hair. “I’m not worried about him, but I am worried about something else.”

He clicked the TV remote. A shirtless Cajun pulling an angry twelve-foot gator toward his boat instantly mesmerized Johnny. A moment later he said, “Uh, huh.”

She reached into her pocket, pulling out a small plastic stick. With her hand shaking, she held it up toward Johnny. “I’m pregnant,” she stated flatly.

Johnny pressed pause, freezing the thrashing gator with his mouth wide open, showing long rows of white teeth for tearing flesh.

Johnny’s mouth dropped open. His face showed panic and confusion. He focused on the stick in disbelief.

“You’re what?”

“My period is late, so I just went to the drugstore and got this home pregnancy test. It says I’m pregnant.”

“Who’s the father?”

For three seconds she glared at him in shock and disbelief. Then, her eyes involuntarily narrowed and her jaw clenched as rage grew inside her, like molten lava rising inside a volcano. With all her strength, she threw the pregnancy test at his crotch.

“How could you ask me that?” her voice breaking with a mix of fury and hurt. “You know I was a virgin two months ago.” Tears streamed down her face as her body shook with anger, her heart wounded. I gave him my virginity, a gift I can never give again. How stupid and ungrateful he is. He has no idea how he just hurt me.

He looked at her, his face devoid of emotion. Cold and business-like, he said, “There’s only one thing to do.”

Her sobbing subsided. She looked at him, hoping that he’d propose something positive, some solution they could implement together. Katie loved him, and she was committed to their relationship. And though she was aware there’d be many problems and obstacles to overcome, she could envision them starting a family together.

“What one thing?” she asked.

“Get rid of it.” He turned back to the TV and pressed play. Wild gator-thrashing resumed.

In that moment, when the realization of what he said hit her, she felt like she’d been crushed under a bulldozer. Whatever love Katie had toward Johnny instantly evaporated, replaced by loathing and revulsion. The gator thrashed and rolled, desperately trying to escape. She understood exactly how the gator felt. She was trapped too.

Devastated, a tornado of thoughts and emotions swirled in her mind.

Get rid of it?

It?

It’s a human being. My baby. His baby too.

Johnny continued to ignore her, his eyes glued to the TV, as if to say, “Don’t bother me, it’s your problem.” She felt betrayed, alone, and sorry she’d been so naïve.

She remembered an hour ago, when his fingers intertwined with hers as he suggested they take a steamy, hot shower together. But now, he’s shutting me, and our baby, out of his life. How could I be so stupid, so gullible, to think what we had was real? He never loved me. He was just using me, and I believed him. Now, the memory of our intimate times together turns my stomach in disgust. It was all lies.

She marched into their bedroom and crammed her things into her duffel bag.

She crossed in front of the TV with her belongings, but Johnny’s only concern was when she momentarily blocked the gator’s action. At the front door, she slipped into her boots. Not wanting to delay another second, she grabbed her wool jacket and raincoat off the coat rack and stuffed them into the top of the duffel bag, along with her moccasins. The only sounds she heard were gator thrashing and unintelligible Swamp Nation dialog.

In the open doorway, she paused and looked back, waiting for him to speak. His gaze remained on the TV screen. She spat on his filthy shag carpet, shouldered her duffel bag, and walked out into the dark drizzle.

***

Eight minutes later, she turned a corner and saw the cannery’s bright streetlamps in the misty darkness.

Her cold, heavy sweatpants and jersey clung to her skin. Katie shivered as she entered the female employees’ bunkhouse.

It smelled of damp cement and rough-cut lumber, with a faint scent of soap and shampoo. Katie was glad the bunkhouse was empty, since she wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone.

The bunkhouse had ten battleship-gray steel bunks arranged around a central wood stove. Looks like somebody shopped at a Navy surplus store.

Within minutes, she had a fire blazing, radiating both heat and the familiar aroma of spruce firewood. The dented black kettle was half-full of clean-looking water, and she noticed a colorful tea bag assortment on the shelf nearby. She put the kettle on the wood stove to boil.

Rummaging through her duffel bag, she found a dry flannel shirt and jeans to change into. As she peeled off her wet clothes, a cold draft cooled her damp skin. She quickly clothed herself.

Katie wrung out her sweatpants and hockey jersey onto the cement floor. As she hung them on the indoor clothesline, she enjoyed the stove’s warmth against her back.

In dry clothes, she sat near the stove and poured boiling water over a spearmint tea bag. She held the cup in both hands to warm them. Breathing in the minty steam, she sipped her tea and watched her clothes slowly drip, drip, drip. Mmmm, tastes good. And it’s hot.

As the fire crackled, she realized her life would never be the same after this day. Not only had she learned a sobering lesson about trust, love, and betrayal, but the conception growing within her ignited a fuse that couldn’t be ignored.

What should I do? What will I do? A battle between responsibility and freedom raged within her mind.

How could I even consider an abortion? The principles her tribe and church nurtured in her screamed in opposition to the idea. Abortion contradicted everything she believed in.

But the allure of an easier path and a future unchained by this unexpected burden sorely tempted her. I need my freedom. Her dreams and aspirations for travel and adventure beyond Kataan and Ketchikan didn’t include a baby. Being an unwed mother would kill those dreams. As an orphan herself, she didn’t have a mother who might love such a grandchild and help her raise it. And her tribe in Kataan would certainly shun her, as she’d seen them do to other girls in this situation.

How can I work with a baby in tow? With no marketable skills, she wouldn’t be able to earn enough to make a living, especially with the added expense of childcare. She’d be sentenced to live in poverty, on welfare.

Am I just being selfish? She realized that this child, however unplanned, was now part of her. In the hour since she’d learned of its existence, she already sensed a connection to the new life within her. A mysterious maternal bond, fragile yet undeniable, already tugged at her soul. Could she sacrifice her dreams to bring this new person into the world?

She wondered, If I take the easy way, will I live under a shadow of guilt and shame for the rest of my life?

 Like a cocoon, this life-or-death decision enveloped her.

If I keep my baby, everyone will judge me for being a slut. But if I abort it, they’ll judge me as a selfish baby killer.

She thought about what her life would be like on welfare, recalling the unwed mothers she knew. They barely scraped by from month to month, always anticipating the next crumbs that fell from the government’s table. All of them lived without hope they’d ever climb out of poverty. No, I don’t want to go on welfare.

Also, the unwed mothers I’ve seen can never escape the stigma of getting pregnant outside of marriage. They’ll never regain the full respect of their community. Their reputation always has a footnote, reminding people of her youthful indiscretion.

Katie recognized she stood at a precipice. The decision she’d make would determine the path of her whole life.

I’ll never let another person use me again like Johnny did. Men like Johnny and this job at the cannery will not be my future. I will be successful. I will earn honor and respect in this world.

Within her heart, a metamorphosis began. This promise to herself—this binding commitment—marked the beginning of her new life.

Abortion, Wednesday, August 10th

As Katie walked out of the clinic, she experienced residual pain, but the doctor had warned her of this as a normal after-effect. She took comfort in the HIPAA medical privacy law, which assured her that the procedure would remain confidential.

Now, nobody back home will ever find out that sweet little princess Katie got knocked up by a worthless doper and had to get an abortion.

With the coho salmon season ending, she’d be going home to Kataan a couple thousand dollars richer than when she’d come to Ketchikan. She looked forward to putting this summer behind her.

But she’d never forget the crude violation, and the loud vacuuming sound as they sucked her baby out. And, for the rest of her life, whenever she heard a vacuum cleaner, she’d flashback to this day.

She understood her fetus wasn’t developed enough to scream, so . . . .It must’ve been my imagination.

She rested in the bunkhouse for the rest of Wednesday. Friday marked the end of the coho salmon season, and she eagerly anticipated her return to Kataan.

Upon waking Thursday morning, she felt chilled and a little feverish. She encouraged herself, thinking, I only have two days to go. I’ll feel better if I get moving.

After taking two aspirins, she got dressed and walked to the dining hall for breakfast. She moved through the serving line, adding scrambled eggs, two sausage patties, and an English muffin onto her plate.

As she walked to a table, she sensed something warm running down her thighs. Something’s wrong. What is it?

Setting her tray on a table, she looked down to see blood on her rubber boots. And a trail of blood showed where she’d just walked.

A girl behind her said, “You’re bleeding!”

What? No! How can I . . .

***

In The Hospital, Friday, August 12th

Katie awakened to a rhythmic beeping. She opened her eyes to see a white ceiling. She turned to see her uncle, Andy Byrne, sitting next to her, holding her hand between both his.

“Hi Katie. You gave us quite a scare.”

Her mind raced to remember how she got here. Spitting on Johnny’s carpet . . . her cold, wet walk to the bunkhouse . . . the abortion . . . her blood on the cafeteria floor.

Oh, no! Now everyone’s going to know what I did.

Uncle Andy must’ve read her face because he gently squeezed her hand and said, “I’m just glad you’re all right. The doctor said you almost died from blood loss before they could operate and get it stopped. You listed me as your local next of kin at the cannery, so they called me after the ambulance brought you here.”

A handsome young doctor entered the room and quietly read her treatment chart at the foot of her bed. “He’s right, Katie. Ten more minutes and you wouldn’t be here today. But we stopped the bleeding and replaced the blood you lost, so we should be able to release you within a couple of days. We just need to make sure there won’t be any post-op infection.”

Nodding, Katie forced a weak smile. They all know why I’m here.

“The good news is you’re going to totally regain your health.” He paused and looked at her uncle, then back at Katie.

Uncle Andy got the hint. “I’ll wait outside.”

After Andy closed the door behind him, the doctor said, “When the ambulance brought you in, you’d already lost a lot of blood, so we had to do emergency surgery to locate where it was coming from. An infection in the wall of your uterus ruptured. To save your life, we had to do a hysterectomy.”

“Uterus? Hysterectomy? What does that mean?”

“It means you’ll be able to live a healthy life, but you won’t have monthly periods, and you’ll never be able to have children.”

Turning her gaze back to the ceiling, Katie nodded.

Is this God’s judgment for what I did? Am I less of a woman now? What man will want me if we can’t have a family? I’ll never know my kids. I’ll never enjoy grandkids.

The doctor left, leaving the door open for Andy, who returned to hold her hand.

Although she hadn’t seen him in years, she saw pure, innocent love in her uncle’s eyes and felt it in his hand. Unlike Johnny, her welfare was his only interest.

Andy visited her every day, but he never asked her why she was in the hospital, or what the doctor said to her. She assumed the hospital staff initially briefed him, or that he read her chart while she was unconscious, but they never discussed it.

He focused on her positive qualities, overlooking whatever she did in her past. His daily encouragement helped her look positively at her future. She’d be glad to leave her past behind.

Katie didn’t have a plan for her future yet. But, looking ahead, she rededicated herself to be successful and earn people’s respect.

Friday, August 19th

A nurse wheeled Katie to the hospital curb, where Andy waited in his old, four-wheel-drive pickup truck. A black-and-white border collie accompanied him in the front seat.

As Andy helped her step up into the truck, he said, “Don’t worry about Buster. He won’t bite, but he might lick you to death.” She laughed with joy, petting and hugging her new friend.

First, they drove to the cannery to collect Katie’s pay and belongings. She waited in the truck while Andy entered the cannery office. She waved at the cannery manager when he stuck his head out to verify her permission to give them to Andy.

Next, they drove to the Shipping Container for some of the best food in Ketchikan. The name came from its small, rectangular orange building that resembled a shipping container. No inside seating. Takeout only. But locals didn’t care because the food was delicious, and the prices were low.

As they ate in Andy’s truck, he asked, “The school year starts next Monday. Are you looking forward to it?”

Buster, seated between Andy and Katie, stared at Katie’s burger but had enough discipline not to move toward it.

She said, “He’s really well trained.” She tore off an ounce of burger and brought it to his mouth. Buster barely touched her fingers as he took it and gulped it down.

“I like it okay, but I’m looking forward to graduating next year and getting on with my life.”

“I had similar feelings at your age. Would you rather fly home today, or rest today and fly home tomorrow?”

“No hurry. Tomorrow’s good.”

Back to Kataan, Saturday, August 20th

Southeast Alaska is home to dozens of cities, towns, and villages that are scattered across hundreds of forested islands along the Pacific Northwest coastline. Since there aren’t any roads connecting these islands, all Southeast Alaskan travel is by boat or aircraft. This enabled Uncle Andy to make his living as a bush pilot, flying passengers and cargo out to villages, or hunters and fishermen to remote sporting locations.

With the breakfast dishes washed and put away, he led Katie down the path from his cabin to a yellow-and-white floatplane, secured to his floating dock. The morning sun shone bright and warm, casting rays of golden light through a rare patch of clear blue sky. Dark green mountains proudly rose a half-mile away, contrasting against the deep blue saltwater channel. A pair of bald eagles soared overhead. So Beautiful.

As they neared the dock, she said, “Nice plane.”

“Thanks. I love flying it, but it also puts food on my table. So, I’m twice blessed.”

A rope secured the floatplane alongside the dock. Entry was through the pilot’s door, so Katie scooted across the pilot’s seat to sit in the copilot’s seat on the far side. After securing her duffel bag in the cargo compartment, her uncle strapped in, donned his headset, and gave Katie the copilot’s headset. Suddenly, Katie experienced Déjà vu from the last time she flew with Uncle Andy—the flight that killed Andy’s wife and both her parents eight years before.

***

She was eight years old. As they walked to the plane, an evening chill descended on Kataan, so Katie’s mom wrapped her royal Chilkat coat around Katie.

The Klinatok tribe is matriarchal, and Katie’s mom led the clan. They were flying to Ketchikan after a potlatch.

At the plane, Katie returned the Chilkat coat to her mom, then stepped up and scooted across the pilot’s seat to sit in the copilot’s seat. After helping everyone board, Uncle Andy strapped in next to her, then donned his headset and gave Katie the copilot’s headset. The first half of that night’s flight was uneventful. Katie remembered the bright, full moon, and how the sky was so full of stars. The moonlight illuminated the flat layer of clouds below them, like a solid layer of bright white cotton balls.

Then, without warning, the engine stopped. Katie’s dad was sleeping. Her mom and her Aunt Sarah, Andy’s wife, both yelled, “What’s happening?” As they glided down into the clouds, Andy couldn’t restart the engine. “Mayday, mayday, mayday. November 8187 has an engine failure.” They broke out of the clouds seconds before impact. When the plane’s floats contacted the water, Andy pulled the control yoke all the way back to keep the nose up.

We’re going to make it! Next, Katie’s memory was a jumble of a collision, darkness, her father, mother, and aunt screaming, and icy-cold seawater rushing into the flooding cabin.

In the darkness and confusion, Katie couldn’t tell which way was up. As the rising water reached up to her chin, someone unlatched her belt, grabbed her arm, and pulled her out through the pilot’s door. It was Uncle Andy. He then tried to save the others but couldn’t. He swam to the nearby shore with Katie on his back. They used a flare from the plane’s survival kit to light a fire, then huddled together to keep warm through the night . . .

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If you skip ahead to the 10:02 mark of this podcast, you can hear 7 minutes of the author’s commentary on the topics of cohabitation, abortion, and God’s grace from this chapter.