by Rebecca Hunt
‘And I’d do it again, if I needed to,’ Brix said with an unusual authority.
‘Yeah, well, being serious for a minute . . . ’ Jess’s words faded into embarrassment. In trying again, she sounded as though she was reading the words from a board. ‘The business with the seal. I suppose I didn’t thank you for dealing with that. I appreciated it.’
Undecided about how to interpret this suspiciously affable Jess, Brix kept her voice neutral. ‘Glad I could help,’ she said, ready for the inevitable abuse.
‘Thank you, though,’ Jess said, with such sincerity that Brix allowed herself to respond with a very small smile.
Decker stood up and stared off in the opposite direction for a moment. ‘Want to hear my prediction? We’re in for a blizzard later.’
All the signs were there, he told them stiffly. The temperature rise was ominous. He said the snowflakes were too wet and fat. This warm pap was indicative of blizzard snow.
Jess started down the beach. ‘Decker, I remember the days when you were fun.’
‘What days?’ He took off his sunglasses, rubbing his eyes. ‘It’s just an endless single day, and if anything it’s getting whiter.’
‘Think of it as a continual fresh start,’ Jess shouted.
‘I’m sick of your fresh start,’ he called after her. ‘It’s too bright.’
25
March 1913
Listening to the storm crash outside, Dinners lay in his sleeping bag and estimated that it was around dawn. Which meant he had a few hours in which to play his favourite game before anyone else woke. Shutting his eyes, he transported himself to his family.
He could never imagine himself as having a solid body. Instead he was a sentient mist, hovering past the gold-framed watercolours and antique vases and stone fireplace. He went up the stairs and drifted along, picturing the carpet. In his mind the windows were open and it was a summer morning for all eternity. His ritual was to visit his daughter first, materializing from an exaggerated angle near the ceiling to look down on her cot.
Hello, Madeline, he said, seeing the six-month-old baby he’d kissed goodbye, although she would be nearly four now. The weight of his remembered baby varied dramatically each time he picked her up. It was so long since he’d held her that pieces of Antarctic equipment had been substituted. He wafted around, rocking a child who weighed as much as an oilcan in his arms, or an ice axe, or a drawstring bag of rocks. Then he went to his own bedroom, and without any movement, or any real thought of any kind, he was just in the bed beside Elizabeth.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said to her. ‘I did it because I thought you’d be proud of me.’
Sometimes, if he didn’t ruin it by forcing the memory, Elizabeth would reply in her own sweet voice. Mostly, because he tried too hard to summon her from his memory, she’d reply in his voice. Or he’d have her reply telepathically. She’d say she loved him.
I want to come home, Dinners said. I made a mistake—
He stopped, interrupted by a low-frequency noise. A blubbery rubber thunder was vibrating from inside the ground, causing stacked pots to overbalance and clang across the floor, and he sat up, yelling in fright.
Napps and Millet-Bass bolted upright. The island was shaking beneath them.
‘What the fuck is this?’ Millet-Bass cried, hit by a sliding volley of boots.
26
November 2012
There was a blizzard, yes. Nothing too bad, though,’ Brix told Aegeus, talking on the radio phone to Canadian Sam. Decker was finishing his porridge while Jess wrestled on her boots. None of them had bothered with a flannel wash that morning, or the morning before.
The migrainous orange of the sunlit tent lining had been muted by the overnight drifts of blizzard snow. They’d awoken inside an unusually dark tent.
‘Say again?’ Brix said to Canadian Sam, because Jess was speaking loudly, wanting Decker to check behind him for her fleece jacket.
‘I said I hope you’re all right, Brix,’ Sam repeated. ‘You know, managing.’
‘Of course I am.’ Brix tried to laugh brightly. ‘Did you think that I wasn’t?’
Sam was using the very sympathetic tone which automatically inspired dread in the listener. ‘Well, that’s what I wanted to check.’
Brix watched Decker pull on yesterday’s socks, and thought about the occasions she’d been at the work tent during Aegeus conversations.
‘I want you to understand that you can call me up whenever, Brix,’ Sam said.
‘Would that be something you’ve heard needs to be done?’ Brix said, phrasing her question oddly to keep the subject matter private from listening ears.
Sam hummed a note, considering the appropriate response. Jess shoved herself out of the tent while Brix waited for an answer. The immediate cursing and anguished ranting which issued from Jess nearly drowned out Sam’s reply. ‘Maybe,’ Sam said to Brix. ‘I might have heard you are having a bit of a tough time, yes.’
Brix and Decker emerged from the tent to find Jess staring, disgusted.
The storm had obliterated all signs of habitation. The dirty, slushy paths they’d tramped around the site had been restored into pristine white anonymity, as had the tyre tracks which led off around the island. The sledges were upholstered into snow-padded tablets, and the quads were half buried. Snow had walled up against the tents to leave abandoned-looking peaks. Their camp appeared as deserted as the Joseph Evelyn, apart from a mobile sprawl of litter.
Nothing was ever left behind to pollute a fieldwork site once an expedition finished. Every physical remnant of their stay would be returned to Aegeus, and Jess had hoarded their garbage with the care of an archivist. She’d save every scrap of waste from their weeks of meals, pouncing on strips of foil and shreds of paper. Empty packets had been folded and meticulously stowed, along with tissues and cans and cellophane wrappers. And now her work was flung across Everland to choke wildlife and taint an unspoiled place with plastic. Scattered packaging wheeled in the breeze like luridly coloured autumn leaves, bearing the brand names Nestlé, Cadbury’s and Heinz. These food-caked bits of trash would need to be trapped and bagged before they could begin digging out the tents and shovelling free the sledges. Then the quads would have to be revved from ditches of snow. And there was still the whole laborious routine of packing to leave camp to be done after that. The blizzard had delayed them by at least three hours.
It was past noon by the time they were organized to drive to the cove and tag more seals. But the energy expended was already more than a day’s worth of work and the mood was fractious. As usual, Decker had the most to do. He inspected the tents for damage and checked to make sure none of the equipment was lost or broken. Moving quickly, he examined the bikes and flung stuff into his bag.
‘Ready?’ Decker looked from Jess to Brix. ‘Yes? You’ve got everything?’
Jess regarded him sternly, insulted that he’d even asked her. She was a hundred per cent prepared, for ever.
Brix’s conversation with Sam had left her feeling uneasy. They never usually set off without Brix asking Decker something, or checking something with him, mostly for assurance. It now seemed unwise. She said she was ready.
As they neared the cove they saw gulls had amassed in huge flocks. Seal pups were all born within days of each other. It was an evolutionary device which improved their chances of survival, since there was safety in numbers for the weak and edible. Gulls were squabbling over grizzled red banners of afterbirth, their white heads stained with blood. The snow was also bloodied from the bulls’ fighting. But the thunderous, neck-gouging battles had been suspended. The seals were agitated, and many were gathered at the tideline.
‘What’s up with them?’ Jess said as they dismounted the quads. In the same breath, she said, ‘Keys,’ to Brix.
Brix chucked the keys over to Jess and said, ‘Good catch.’
The quad keys rule had become like a game which they played, yet both found increasingly dumb. Jess exchanged a wry smile with her. ‘Good throw.’
Decker began hunting through the loaded sledge. Although Brix stood observing the seals, she couldn’t identify the reason for their restlessness. Her eyes were drawn to a narrow alley-sized gap between the cliff edge and a large stone embankment at the far end of the cove.
Everland’s coastline was riddled with channels and hidden bays, only a small percentage of which they’d had the chance to explore. The cove was on the eastern side of the island’s tapering point. Brix assumed the gap would lead through to a beach on the western side, where the glacier was situated. The sand leading through the alley was churned into a mess of ridges.
‘Can you see that?’ Brix said.
Decker kept searching through the gear.
‘They’re seal tracks,’ Brix said to the back of Decker’s head. The speed at which he’d started to work, practically throwing items on to the ground in his haste, implied that unpleasant news was imminent.
Decker stopped. He let out a harsh laugh of exasperation. ‘Perfect. No seal tags.’
Managing scientific apparatus wasn’t the job of the field assistant. First-aid was, food was, all the survival stuff was, all the drudgery. This couldn’t be blamed on Jess. She glanced at Brix, whose expression was that of someone unsure how to react.
‘Well, it’s my stupid fault,’ Decker said. ‘It’s good for me to be reminded that I’m responsible for everything. Otherwise I might forget and start expecting other people to anticipate what equipment is required for the day and then pack it. Which is never going to happen, clearly.’ He tapped his head. ‘Lesson learned, guys.’
Brix’s doubt over whether the forgotten tags were entirely her fault was overruled by Decker’s apparent certainty and the shrivelling heat of guilt. She thought again of Sam’s inferences that she wasn’t coping, but remembered Sam’s voice as meaner, and more accusing, and vaguely evil.
‘How about we all stop acting like the world’s going to end?’ Jess said, taking a flask of coffee from her bag. ‘Yes, returning to the camp to get the equipment is boring, but it’s still way more fun than the time I found a dead man in a ravine while part of the Mountain Rescue. He’d burst into pieces. So bit of perspective here.’
Brix wasn’t able to accept the aluminium mug of coffee Jess offered to her. She needed a moment to hate herself in private. ‘I think I might investigate those seal tracks,’ she said, and broke into a trotting, almost jogging pace.
Jess cocked her head at Decker. Much as she gloated over Brix’s mistakes, she couldn’t recall Decker mentioning the tags to Brix at the camp. And, anyway, this was Brix they were talking about. Hardly the most proactive person. You had to spell it out if you wanted it done.
‘Hey, look, if you say the tag thing is Brix’s fault, then okay,’ Jess said. ‘I’m not going to tell you you’re wrong. But did you need to be such an asshole about it?’
The barely detectable smell of decay which mixed with the salt breeze intensified as Brix approached the alley. One deterrent to proceeding any farther was that she’d be out of sight if she kept walking. Another deterrent was what she strongly suspected she’d find on the other side. Powerful motivation to continue onwards came in the form of being unable to bear the idea of returning to Jess and Decker.
Decker allowed himself to be labelled an asshole. It was interesting, Jess thought, that the facial expression for shame was virtually identical to the one for nasty-tasting food, with the same unhappily pursed mouth, the same creased forehead, the same look of internal debate.
‘Doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy the irony, though,’ she said. ‘And you’ve got to admit it’s kind of ironic, Deck, that you’re getting tetchy with Brix, being as she’s only here because of you and Doctor Angela Pennell.’
‘Mm.’ Decker’s smile was unreadable. ‘So you know about that.’
A favour for a favour was how Angie had put it. So he’d argued hard to convince the Everland selection panel to offer Brix a place on the understanding that the influential Angie would then return the favour by putting in a good word for him. Getting him on the board of directors for a scientific institute, say. A professorship somewhere notable. What a mystery the whole thing was to him now. Those untrustworthy emotions stirred up by his retirement from fieldwork. It had seemed so crucial that he be this big hero who conquered Everland. And if Angie wanted him to take Brix, then sure, he was too busy stoking his ego to worry about the implications of an inexperienced team, or the difficulty it might cause, or, most crucially, whether he really desired to go on the expedition at all.
The smell hit Brix as she emerged on to a small, enclosed beach. Around fifty male fur seal corpses were rotting through the various stages of decomposition. On a few bulls, the hide had torn to show the bald bonnet of a skull. Others were in a state of undress, their skin draped like washing over the bones. Older skeletons had been polished clean of flesh and lay scattered among the ruins of their neighbours in disconnected piles. Sanded hairless by grits of ice, some bodies were as glossy as saddle leather. Corpses were bloated rigid to split, or had split and deflated into atrophied casings. One bull’s physical integrity was intact but for the hollowed eye sockets. Another bull had been raided for its innards, leaving its abdomen as gapingly open and empty as a purse.
At the edge of the beach was a cave, its entrance almost as perfectly arched as a train tunnel. Just within the cave, listlessly staring out at Brix, four dying bulls were panting in a shallow pool. The water eddied in slow circles, foam curling to rift against the seals and spiral into new patterns.
Brix felt it before she heard it. The tremor shuddered up through her feet.
27
March 1913
The primus capsized with a metallic slam. It bashed across the groundsheet to meet loose plates and cutlery. The tent was filled with the sounds of miscellaneous collisions above the deeper tectonic rumble of stone.
‘I don’t . . . ?’ Napps was baffled into silence. ‘Grab it,’ he said to Dinners as the can of water listed to one side.
Dinners wrapped the can in a crushing hug. There would be punishing nights ahead of them if the water can toppled over to soak their clothes and sleeping bags. They’d be forced to wear wet things and lie in wet things, to morbidly stiffen and ache, when generating the warmth to keep body parts alive was already enough of a problem.
There was a chorus of astonished laughter as the quakes dissipated. Napps sat on his heels listening. ‘Good,’ he said, and then hesitated. ‘So, good, that appears to be done with. How are we? Are we fine?’
Millet-Bass pulled a boot out from under him and tossed it somewhere. Reeling off joyful obscenities, he drove a cluttered mass of plates and pans into the corner. The situation seemed to have taken on a life-affirming charm for him.
Dinners’s timid voice spoiled the fun. ‘Could the volcano have caused much damage, do you think?’ he asked. ‘A landslide, perhaps. Should we be worried for the supplies?’
The two other men went quiet. It seemed the dark had grown blacker and more hostile. They were suddenly highly aware of the cold. Dinners saw Napps’s silhouetted head turn to look at him. Millet-Bass’s profile turned a second later.
Dinners said, ‘On top of any damage done by the storm, the—’
‘No point worrying tonight,’ Napps said, although now they were all worried. ‘Let’s not speculate whilst we aren’t in the position to act.’
Whilst Millet-Bass buried himself into his bag, and Napps lay down, pretending to heed his own advice, Dinners did neither. He sat with his arms clasped around his knees.
‘Staying awake won’t achieve anything,’ Napps said. ‘To my knowledge, wishful thinking has never influenced an outcome.’
‘That’s a lesson I wish I’d learnt earlier,’ Dinners said.
Napps stared at him intently. ‘I don’t follow.’
He said it didn’t matter.
28
November 2012
Black smoke poured from the volcano. Snow fell from the cliffs with a voluptuous bang. The ground was jumping beneath them, fractures spreading along the cliff face. Rows of pebbles quivered along the shingle and halted, going on again with the next tremor. Brix’s steps were flung into an irregular line as she ran to Decker and Jess.
‘Brix, stop. Stay there,’ Decker shouted when an explosion from further down the beach caused material to spill out in a thunderous flood of rubble.
Brix dropped into a crouch, shaken off balance by a final heavy vibration. The scene was so undercut with fear she observed it with strangely impersonal interest. The authentic, full-bodied terror was replaced by a sense of idiot surprise. Brix watched herself watching the sand crack in jagged geological webs. She watched herself pawing to remain upright as she was thrown on to her side. Getting up, she went sprinting towards Jess and Decker.
Are you all right?’ Decker asked, his face wild-eyed. He held Brix by the shoulders. ‘Are you hurt?’
When she nodded that she was fine, he let her go and Brix leant on her knees. The adrenaline was incredible and produced a state of hyper-awareness. She was unnaturally conscious of the texture of her gloves, the process of swallowing. Her hand seemed to leave slow-motion trails as she moved it towards her face. She felt that the blood in her head had drained away somewhere.
‘Animals can be sensitive to atmospheric changes,’ Brix said in a voice she didn’t recognize as her own. ‘It’s possible the seals’ earlier restlessness was connected to—’
‘Okay, let’s sit down before we fall down,’ Jess said. She half lowered, half pushed Brix on to the snow. Getting a bar of chocolate out of her pocket, she unwrapped it and handed a piece to Brix. ‘That’s it, you remember how to eat.’
