The Sting of the Bee

by K E Lanning

  Lowry rolled her eyes. “He took a video of the meeting that shows Durant pointing to the tracts ANT wants to grab.” Lowry dug the tiny disc out of her pocket and handed it to Nick.

  Nick held the silver disc up, turning it in the light. “This ought to play well with my connections at the UN who hate Durant.”

  Lowry pursed her lips. “That’s the good news.” She shot a look at Ginnie, gazing out of the window. In a low voice, she continued. “The bad news is that Dad is also on the video. Durant has him in his pocket with called-in gambling debts.”

  Nick’s eyes grew wide. “Damn it, Duff.” Then he shook his head. “My own brother is up to his eyeballs in this mess.”

  Lowry touched his arm. “We’ve got to get that video to the authorities, no matter what it does to Dad.”

  “Yes, there’s no question of that. The man will have to live with his own devils.” Nick rubbed his mouth, and leaned forward, staring first at Lowry, then at John. “It’ll be hell if this Durant cock gets his talons into Antarctica. They’ll rename it Durantland before he gets through.”

  “Or New Russia,” Lowry murmured.

  Nick hit the arm of the chair with his fist. “Over my dead body, by God!”

  John watched Nick’s face flush as he sat quivering in fury. Perhaps to Nick, killing a dangerous man might not be any worse than eliminating a poisonous snake. John raised an eyebrow. Maybe the brothers weren’t so different after all.

  Exhaling, Nick rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Let’s not dwell on this. Ginnie girl, help me get drinks and a snack for everyone, and I’ll tell you a few stories of the opening of Antarctica, back in the good old days.”

  The two left the room, and John stared at Lowry. He scooted his chair nearer to her and whispered, “Tell me about your Uncle Nick. You keep pulling these rabbits out of hats. What’s next?”

  Lowry shrugged. “I told you. My uncle came here as a geologist on the first survey expedition.”

  “And he stayed? He must have been a young man. No wife, kids, nada?”

  “There was a woman.” Lowry glanced at him sideways. “Really like digging through the skeletons, don’t you?”

  “I’m not trying to pry, but it is getting juicy.”

  With a sigh, Lowry faced him. “It’s a long, irritating story. My grandfather was a vicious bastard who beat my father and Nick, though the way my dad tells it, Nick was protected by my grandmother.” She shrugged. “Regardless, the scars have never healed, and a deep hatred grew between them. Classic Cain and Abel.”

  Lowry ran her fingers through her hair. “While Nick was away at college, my father married my mother, Margaret. After Nick graduated, he returned home. Rumor was he fell in love with her. As the family story goes, Nick signed up for the Antarctica trip because of an ‘incident’ with my mother. You can imagine my father’s anger.”

  John raised an eyebrow. Rage seems to be a family trait.

  “To tell you the truth, I don’t know what happened between my mother and Nick, but I do know one thing: he’s a great man and a natural leader. He led the miner rebellion over the mining company’s use of convict labor.” She glanced around the room. “That’s why he has this cave. He was under death threats for months and made this his home for his protection. He wound up liking it so much, he stays here whenever he can.”

  “Perhaps he should run for president once they set up elections.”

  She smiled. “He’d make a great first elected president. He feels that a government should perform certain tasks: protect the borders, keep transport and communication lines open, and limit the power of economic vultures like Durant. Beyond those functions, he’s as near an anarchist as is possible. ‘Keep the government off the backs of the workers,’ is what he always says. He believes that a true democracy requires a strong free-enterprise system.”

  Lowry’s mouth tightened. “I know folks at the UN, and I’ll make sure that Nick’s name is on the ballot for president. He has grass-roots support from the miners, and I’m sure the homesteaders will love him. He’s what Antarctica needs in its infancy. He would be like George Washington at the birth of the United States.” She put one hand out and then the other. “We have Nick on one hand and Durant on the other—what a choice!” Lowry shook her head. “Washington or Stalin as the first elected leader of Antarctica.”

  CHAPTER 9

  The beeping of robo-dollies intermingled with the din of the crowd as the settlers descended from the ship.

  “What a madhouse,” John muttered as he and Ginnie watched their crates moving smoothly into a temporary warehouse near the dock where they would be stored until after the Land Rush.

  The campsite in the distance bloomed with tents, and excitement snapped as loudly as the pennants bordering the camp. With the Land Rush two days away, final preparations were in high gear, and crews hurriedly erected water and food stations near the campground.

  John looked over his shoulder. Supposedly the ANT scandal was over, at least for the time being. Once the video of the meeting got to the UN, Durant’s contract for ANT had been suspended, but Durant himself had vanished. John crossed his fingers. No news was good news?

  When the solar-electric dune buggy came off the ship, John drove it to their campsite and unfurled the solar panel to charge the battery. It was rugged, built to withstand the rough terrain of the Land Rush and fly like the wind. John checked over the vehicle for any problems that might have cropped up during the voyage. After the campsite was set up, Ginnie sat cross-legged on a blanket, sipping lemonade like a kid at summer camp.

  Once the dune buggy’s battery was fully charged, John climbed into the driver’s seat and gestured to Ginnie. “Come on, Sunshine, let’s take a shore excursion.”

  With a grin, Ginnie jumped in and they headed away from the base camp, past the crew erecting the framework for the Land Rush banners.

  Ginnie pointed to the crew’s hovercar. “Why aren’t we using a hover for the Land Rush?”

  “Speed mainly. Hovers aren’t fast—at least as yet.”

  “I think the air cushion needs to push against a fairly level surface?” Ginnie held her hand out flat.

  “Exactly. They’re great for a continent with no roads, but they don’t do well over extreme inclines like we’ll experience during the Rush.”

  They drove onto a flat plain of land covered with hardy grasslands. He took the buggy through its paces, speeding over ridges of dirt and around piles of stones deposited by glaciers on their way to the sea. The buggy performed like a dream and seemed well worth the money he had spent to have it modified for the race.

  John slowed as they dropped into a valley and crossed a patch of muddy tundra. At a large river, he parked the buggy on the high edge of the bank. Overhead, birds flitted across the flowing water, searching for dinner. They crawled out of the buggy and hiked toward the river bank across a field of tussock and Antarctic hair grass. It was deathly still; the only sound was the soil crunching under foot.

  He shivered in the chill air and smiled to himself. They had made it to Antarctica. The beauty of the valley took his breath away. The river flowed around boulders sculpted by the melting ice sheets. Patches of buttercups clung to the river’s bank, growing in soil littered with fossils of creatures that had preceded the ice caps.

  He winked at Ginnie. “Do you think any ghosts were left behind?”

  Ginnie raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, and maybe we’ll finally find Bigfoot,” she teased, sticking her tongue out at him.

  Shrugging, John said, “It would be interesting if there were humans here before the ice sheet formed.”

  They hiked down toward the river’s edge. Ginnie laughed as she slipped on the loose gravel along the bank.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She picked her way to the water’s edge.

  “We need to be careful. I’m not sure if this is a permafrost area or not.” He grinned. “We don’t want to be swallowed by Antarctica the first day.”<
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  The river was high, filled to capacity from melting snow in the mountains, rushing its way to the nearby ocean. The water glistened in the sunlight, rolling like a festive Chinese dragon, roaring with power.

  John wanted to pinch himself. Was he really here? Was he, John Barrous, actually standing on the continent of Antarctica, contemplating the view, like a tourist on vacation? A few short months ago, he was in an office, trudging to work every day. Now his dream of freedom from a stagnant Old World unfolded before his eyes.

  Other creatures of the Earth had already moved to Antarctica. Birds were abundant; dogs, cats, and livestock came with the miners, and the lowly mouse had made itself at home in the mining station. He wondered if they thought it strange to now live on another continent. He shook his head. Of course not. Only humans think living is strange. Other creatures just live; they fight, they eat, they procreate.

  John knelt and picked up a handful of loose soil. He sifted it through his fingers, letting it fall back to the ground. Not a sliver of plastic or trash—not yet, anyway. He stood and brushed the dust from his hands, feeling like an intruder to this pristine land.

  The slanting rays of the sun signaled it was time to return to camp, and John waved to Ginnie. She sauntered back, showing him the freshwater shells she had found along the shore. They jumped back in the buggy, and John punched the accelerator, pressing their heads into the seats. Ginnie screamed in joy as he maxed out the speed of the buggy, bouncing along the rocky shore and laughing as they zoomed back to camp.

  That evening, the camp was boisterous with the adventurers enjoying dinner, drinks, and music provided by the UN staff. Children and adults danced in the firelight, parents as excited as their children to be so close to their dreams of free land.

  John saw Lowry near the edge of the bonfire and he sidled over to her with two glasses of wine. They toasted to the night, and then John asked, “How’s Durant and the boys?” With a grin, he winked. “I don’t see them here tonight.”

  Lowry shrugged. “I heard they were in ‘discussions’ with the authorities on alleged improprieties with their charter.”

  “Good. It sounds like the Land Rush scam has been sidelined.”

  Lowry raised her wine and clinked his glass. “Here’s to the hero of the hour.”

  John smiled. “You are the real hero in this story, so I’ll drink to you.”

  She tilted her head toward him, and they drained their glasses. “John, I’m taking the mares out for some exercise tomorrow. Do you and Ginnie want to join me? We’ll be riding out to a picnic spot I know about an hour from here.”

  “Ginnie’s going to a Youth Orientation to Antarctica program tomorrow.” Swallowing hard, he silently waited for her reply.

  “I’d be happy if you came with me. It’s a beautiful spot.” She gestured with a hand. “The mares are dead broke. They’re very easy to ride.”

  “Okay. What time?” His insides squirmed at the thought of being alone for the day with Lowry. Scary on several levels.

  “I’ll pony one over and pick you up near the starting line at eight tomorrow morning.”

  John coughed. “Okay, see you in the morning.”

  ***

  Up at dawn, John grabbed coffee and breakfast, and took Ginnie to the meeting point for the youth program.

  With his second cup of Joe, he waited beside the tall metal support set last night at the starting line, ready for the banner of the Land Rush to be placed. Lowry cantered across the field, riding Hadeel and leading another gray mare, already saddled.

  “Good morning!” she called out, dismounting in front of him.

  “Top o’ the morning to you, too,” he replied, not knowing why he’d used that hackneyed phrase. The beautiful horses sported Australian-style saddles. He exhaled a nervous breath. Here goes nothing.

  He tied his water bottle on the back of the saddle and mounted. Lowry adjusted his stirrups, remounted, and they turned away from the camp area.

  “It looks like you’ve ridden before,” she said, nodding.

  “When I was a kid, I rode at summer camps in Colorado.”

  “It’s like riding a bike, you never really forget how.”

  The air was cold and dry as they trotted toward the hills. A breeze kicked up and the mare skittered under him as a dust devil spun across the glacial till. They slowed to a walk as the terrain got rougher and entered a narrow canyon. John jumped as a cold splash of water dripped onto his shoulder from a high ledge. The canyon narrowed further and sandwiched the horses and riders into single file.

  John’s brow furrowed; if he stretched his hands out, he could touch both sides at once. Rocky knobs jutted from the walls, like stone fists threatening to strike his legs. He hoped the nag wouldn’t panic.

  They turned a corner. Lowry stopped her mare and glanced back. “Just ahead, it gets really narrow for about ten feet, so hold your legs close to the horse.”

  John muttered, “Much narrower and I’ll need a skinnier horse.”

  The sheer rock walls rose above them. The wind whistled eerily as they threaded their way into the crevice. Ears pricked forward, the mare snorted at the fluttering sounds of birds nesting in the deep cracks of the sheer walls.

  The rock walls widened and John gasped as they entered a luscious, emerald oasis. The air was humid and warm in this isolated valley. John turned to the sound of falling water, cascading into a small pool near the center of the meadow. A warm haze hugged the surface of the pond, glowing from a narrow shaft of sunlight. Delicate dragonflies hovered above the surface of the clear water.

  Pale green tufts of grass grew between the marble stones on the bank of the pool, and ancient blue-green algae covered the rocks beneath the surface of the water. Small, exotic trees with branches like palm fronds leaned over the warm water. He breathed in a voluptuous scent, emanating from the orchid-like blossoms hanging from the rocks on either side of the waterfall.

  They halted the horses near the pond and dismounted. John shook his head at the wonder of this Shangri-La, he asked Lowry, “How did you find this place? What is this?”

  “Uncle Nick and I stumbled onto it years ago on one of our expedition trail rides. This is a thermally active area, and the meadow exists because there must have been a warm pocket in the ice surrounding it, with just enough light through the thin ice above to keep the plants alive—like a greenhouse.” She pointed at a waterfall streaming down the rock face and gurgling its way into the pool. “That cold water mixes with the boiling water percolating up from fissures below. The blend creates a pool of water as warm as a hot tub. Because of the thermal activity and protected location, the air temperatures have remained much warmer than the rest of the area. It’s hard to believe, but the natural fauna pre-existing the ice caps survived.”

  “It’s stunning. Does anyone else know about this place?”

  “No, just Uncle Nick and myself.” She wagged her finger at him. “Don’t tell anyone—I know it will be discovered soon enough, and then, so long to my retreat!”

  “Maybe you should claim it?”

  “Unfortunately, it’s not within the designated Land Rush tracts. I’m trying to establish a preserve area, which would include the oasis.”

  Lowry untacked the horses and hobbled them in a patch of grass, while John spread out a blanket near the edge of the pond. She untied the saddlebags and dropped them beside the blanket. She knelt, pulled out a thin wooden board and laid out a lunch of cheese, dried sausage, and bread.

  John rubbed his rear end, and with a sigh, gingerly sat on the blanket. “My butt needed a little rest after that ride.” He removed his boots and socks and splashed his feet in the warm water.

  Lowry pulled a bottle of red wine and two camp cups from the saddlebag. She opened the wine and filled the cups. “Come and get it before I throw it out,” she said.

  John pulled his feet back onto the blanket and scooted closer to her.

  They clinked cups. “Cheers.”

  �
�Cheers.” He gulped the red wine and held out his cup for more. He pointed to his rear with a grin. “For medicinal purposes.”

  She laughed and refilled his glass, then nodded toward the lunch. “You’d better eat, or you’ll get sloshed.” Lowry raised an eyebrow. “I don’t want you falling off the horse and scaring her.”

  John stuck his tongue at her. “Since I’m starving, your words are my command.”

  They layered the cheese and sausage onto the chunks of bread and devoured the meal. After lunch, they relaxed in the warm air. A tiny iridescent hummingbird buzzed past them, thrusting its beak into the pale pink orchid over Lowry’s head, before disappearing into the palm fronds hanging over the water.

  “What a little beauty!” John said. He picked up the wine bottle and refilled their glasses.

  With a smile, Lowry looked into the branches, trying to catch sight of the bird again. “I’ve only seen the one species of bird in the oasis, but I’m not sure what it’s called.”

  John gazed at Lowry’s profile. “Lowry’s Hummingbird,” and raised his wine glass to her. “Let’s have a toast to The Oasis.”

  Clinking glasses, they killed the bottle of wine, and then Lowry brought out chocolate squares for dessert.

  After lunch, John peeled off his sweater and wadded it up into a pillow. He lay back on the blanket, breathing in the scent of the fragrant blossoms.

  Lowry finished her glass of wine and stood. “I’m getting hot.” She glanced at him. “I hope you don’t mind if I take off some layers.” She slipped off her riding pants, down to her underwear. She sat back and splashed her bare legs into the pool.

  He bit the inside of his mouth and swallowed hard. “Great idea.” He stripped off his pants and joined her by the edge of the pond. The steam twisted in slow spirals as they dangled their feet in the warm water.

  Emboldened by the wine, John tapped her leg, letting his hand linger for a moment. “You know, you’ve been driving me crazy. I think about you all the time.”