‘Watch me.’
'I have asthma, Chrissie. I don't have any ventolin.’
'Smoke doesn't cause asthma attacks,' said Chrissie, inhaling again. 'Asthma causes asthma attacks.’
Megan stood beside Glen. 'You can't just start smoking in here, Chrissie. We're all stuck in here. Don't you get it?'
'Let's vote,’ said Chrissie, pointing the cigarette at them.
'Here's my vote.'
Glen slapped the cigarette from her fingers.
Orange embers exploded off the wall.
Before the embers hit the floor, Chrissie reacted.
Slaaaap!
Glen didn't see the attack coming, but he sure felt it. Chrissie's slap had years of practice behind it. Even her fingernails made contact. The last woman to slap Glen was his sister, less than a week ago.
'Keep your filthy hands to yourself!' Chrissie yelled.
Glen snatched her wrist, trying to get the lighter.
Without fire, her smokes are useless.
'Let go!' shrieked Chrissie.
Glen snatched her other wrist. Try slapping me now.
Chrissie kicked.
Straight toward his balls.
Glen twisted his hips. Chrissie's shoe smacked his inside thigh.
Push her. While her leg's in the air.
Glen shoved Chrissie hard, thoroughly satisfied at her panicked expression.
Chrissie collapsed backward, landing awkwardly.
That’s what you get for attacking me, bitch.
Carl dashed between them. 'That's enough!'
The scuffle had taken only seconds.
Victoria rushed to help Chrissie.
'I'm still going to smoke these,' yelled Chrissie from the floor. 'Touch me again and I'll put them out on your FACE!'
Glen's face already stung. He imagined the hand-shaped welt glowing on his cheek. With satisfaction, he stepped on Chrissie's lit cigarette, grinding it under his slipper.
'I was finished with it anyway,' she spat.
'Yes, you were,' said Glen.
'Come on, Glen,' said Alex. 'The vent's replacing the air. We need to start moving. My hands are already numb.’
Glen let Alex draw him away.
Megan hadn't moved, and Glen suddenly wondered: How much of that did she record?
Chapter Ten
Glen was suspicious when Carl called a break.
Walking endless laps sucked, but feeling your body warmth sucked away felt worse. If walking kept them alive, Glen would walk in his sleep.
Even 'stopping' meant shuffling constantly on the spot.
'We can't start fighting with each other,' said Carl.
Glen and Chrissie ignored each other.
‘Let's keep things in perspective,’ said Carl. ‘The smoke hasn't lingered. If Chrissie gives us some warning, maybe it's not a big deal if she smokes.'
Everyone looked at Glen.
'As long as my asthma doesn't start,' he conceded, wanting to get moving again.
'She's only got a few smokes anyway,' said Carl.
Carl waited, perhaps giving Glen and Chrissie a chance to apologize.
Glen felt fine the way things were.
Chrissie apparently felt likewise.
'I'm done walking,' announced Alex, opening his pocket knife. 'I'll dig for a while. This thing looks close to the surface.'
He stabbed into the ice over a dark shape.
I hope it's edible, Glen thought. I'm starving. What's that?
Something moved through his peripheral vision. Something was sliding down the ice. It wasn't as large as the stone calendar, but large enough to give Ericsson some company.
The tallest of them, only Glen had spotted it.
The person underneath it was too preoccupied.
'Watch out!' yelled Glen.
Everyone looked at Glen, then at Alex.
Alex looked up, too late, toward a huge black chunk of death racing for his head.
#
Glen dived at Alex.
It looked too late, but adrenaline disagreed.
Spotting the danger, Alex jerked his head away. His body couldn't react in time. His sternum and vital organs still occupied the object's pulverizing path.
Glen knew this while flying through the air.
He hit Alex stiff-armed in the left shoulder.
Alex jolted sideways.
Adrenaline beat gravity.
The object passed so close that Alex seemed to flow around its deadly path like smoke. His sneakers were barely a hair's breadth clear when the object THUDDED into the floor with life-ending force.
It didn't bounce.
Glen's face landed six inches from the thing. He could almost smell it.
He could smell it.
It smelt like wet batteries and burnt wire.
A padlock. It’s a giant black padlock.
'Holy crap,' yelled Carl, rushing to help Alex. 'That almost crushed you.'
Alex nodded shakily. 'I didn't even see it. Where'd it come from?'
'Right above you,' pointed Megan. 'I think vibrations from your knife made it fall.'
Megan helped Glen to his feet. 'You okay?'
‘I’m fine.'
'Did you hear it coming?' she asked.
'No. I just glimpsed it.'
'Good reactions,' said Megan.
'Or you've got nine lives,' Victoria told Alex.
Alex looked at the lock. 'Then I owe Glen two of them. One for the bomb and one for this.'
Carl pointed from the lock to where Alex was digging. 'What are the chances of that?'
‘The chances of what?' asked Chrissie.
Glen knew what he meant.
'It wasn't an accident,’ said Victoria. ‘It was a trap. I told you not to touch the ice. Do you believe me now?’
‘You think it was meant to hit someone?’ asked Megan.
‘Obviously,’ insisted Victoria.
'Now we're getting paranoid,' said Chrissie. 'We have enough to worry about. We don't need to invent problems.’
Glen felt too cold to argue. He wanted a closer look at the lock.
‘I’m warning you,’ said Victoria. ‘Interfering with that ice is suicide. It will kill you.’
Megan began taking photos.
No one seemed to be listening to Victoria.
'There's writing on the lock,' Megan said. 'But not in English.'
Pure black, the huge square padlock dwarfed Glen’s laptop in size. The shackle alone was thicker than Carl’s wrist. Glen traced the strange lettering.
‘What language is this?’
'Can anyone read that?' asked Carl.
Glen wasn't surprised they couldn't.
'Oh, wait a second,' said Megan. 'I think my phone can.'
She began tapping through apps. 'I downloaded this app on vacation. It interprets foreign road signs. You take a picture of the sign and it translates the words into English.'
'Will it work on this?' asked Alex.
'Why not?' said Megan. 'They're all just words.'
She waved Glen back. 'You're blocking the light.'
Megan leaned close to take the picture.
'It's working,' she said.
'What's it say?' asked Alex.
'Hold on. Okay, here it is.'
Megan looked up suspiciously from her phone. 'I think it made a mistake.'
'Why?' asked Carl.
Megan showed him the phone.
'Shit, Glen, get away from it,' Carl warned. 'Everyone get back.'
How can this be dangerous now? thought Glen. It can't fall any further.
Carl sounded deadly serious, so Glen retreated.
Alex read the phone's screen. 'Holy shit!'
'What's it say?' asked Glen.
'Read for yourself,' pointed Alex.
Glen did. Megan’s phone had translated three words:
CHERNOBYL NUCLEAR FACILITY
#
Megan pointed urgently around the ice. 'What are we supposed to do with that?'
'Is it still radioactive?' asked Chrissie, sounding close to panic.
'We’ll know soon enough,' replied Carl.
Chrissie’s eyes widened. 'You mean radiation sickness?'
Carl nodded gravely.
‘Oh, God no!’ cried Victoria. ‘Not that.’
'What can we do?' asked Megan. 'We must be able to do something. If it’s radioactive, that means it’s poisoning us right now.'
'We bury it,' said Glen. 'At Chernobyl they buried everything in a big cement sarcophagus. We'll do the same. We'll bury it under the ice with Ericsson.'
'With just one knife?' asked Carl.
‘We’ll never do it fast enough,’ said Chrissie. ‘It’s going to kill us! It’s killing us right now!’
Victoria covered her face with both hands. ‘Radiation poisoning is the worst way to die. The bomb would have been better.’
'We need more tools,' said Alex.
Glen scanned the chamber for anything tool-like. 'The tip of Megan's umbrella?'
'Plastic,' said Megan.
'Come on people, think,' said Carl. 'Every minute we're accumulating radiation. Is there anything we can possibly use as a tool?'
'Pieces of the bomb?' suggested Alex. 'Those tailfins could chip ice.'
'Are you insane?' said Victoria. 'Why not just detonate it now and save us the bother?'
'They're welded on,' said Carl.
Megan pointed at Victoria. 'Wait, Victoria. Last night I felt something hard in your apron. It was poking me, remember? What was that?'
Victoria frowned. 'Just my hip.'
Megan shook her head. 'No, it wasn't your hip. Have you checked your apron pocket?'
'Of course.'
‘Well check again!’ Carl yelled. ‘We are all dying right now, Victoria. Hurry!’
'I don't need to,' answered Victoria, suddenly flustered.
She's got something, realized Glen. She's hiding something in her apron.
Carl's voice became threatening. 'Victoria, if you have a tool, we need it.'
The group surrounded Victoria.
'I haven't got anything,' she shrieked, turning like a cornered animal. 'I've checked my pocket a dozen times.'
'Just show us then,' said Megan.
Chrissie reached for Victoria's apron. 'You're lying. Is it food? Have you got food?'
'Get away from me!' Victoria swatted away Chrissie's hand. 'How dare you! What gives you the right?'
'Take off the apron,' ordered Carl.
Screw this, thought Glen. I'm not dying from radiation sickness for anyone. I'll rip that apron right off her if I have to.
From behind Victoria, Glen spotted an easier option.
Slipper quiet, he reached under Victoria's arm and thrust his hand into her apron pocket.
I've got something!
Victoria screamed, jerking away.
Glen lost his grip, but not before he'd turned Victoria's pocket inside-out.
A white sunhat tumbled to the floor.
Nothing more.
But I felt something hard, thought Glen.
Megan kicked the hat.
Victoria's secrets tumbled from the hat and scattered across the floor.
'Gardening shears,' pointed Alex.
'And gloves,' said Megan angrily. 'You had gloves this whole time!'
Chrissie turned the hat inside-out. Empty now, she threw it at Victoria's feet. 'I knew you were lying.'
Victoria spun on Glen. 'How dare you!’
Glen picked up Victoria’s hat. He dangled the hat before her face. 'How dare I?'
Victoria snatched her hat.
Megan stepped between them, holding the gardening gloves. 'I almost got frostbite climbing that ice, Victoria. My fingers were so numb I dropped the phone. Then you made me move Ericsson. A dead body! I asked you for something to cover my hands. You called me disgusting. Disgusting! You’re the disgusting one!’
'Why were you hiding these?' asked Carl.
Victoria exploded in rage.
'To save your lives! The ice is trying to kill us. It killed Ericsson and then dropped a bomb on us. Now it's poisoning us with radiation. Digging into the ice is suicide! I'm trying to protect us!'
Megan shook her head.
'We don't have a choice now. We have to bury that lock before it kills us. We have to dig to live.'
Dig to live, thought Glen. What a motto.
#
Glen stabbed the ice with the shears.
They bounced right off.
Useless.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Megan.
‘They’re not designed for stabbing,’ explained Glen. ‘The handles are too awkward to grip.’
Carl hadn’t had any luck either.
'Lend me your belt,' said Carl quickly. ‘I have an idea.’
Glen handed Carl the shears and his robe’s belt.
Carl wrapped up the shears, ensuring the soft fabric covered the nut.
'I had tools the last time I did this.'
He lifted the shears as though he planned to play them like a flute.
'Holy crap! thought Glen. He's trying to unscrew the nut with his teeth!
'Oh, no, Carl,' cried Megan. 'He's using his teeth! Don't, Carl!'
Carl paused, but didn't lower the shears. 'We're dying right now, Megan. Every moment we're getting more irradiated.'
'Let him do it,' said Chrissie firmly. 'We don't have time.'
Megan covered her mouth and turned away, shivering.
Carl positioned the nut between his teeth.
Glen grimaced as Carl began applying steady pressure. Tendons lifted under the skin on Carl’s neck.
He bit down hard.
Then harder.
Then he started turning.
Or rather, he tried.
Please turn, please turn, please turn....
Nothing happened, except the tendons on Carl's neck tried to break through his skin.
Carl's face turned bright red. His hands shook. His head twisted sideway until —
Crrrruuuunch!
The shears jolted ninety degrees.
The noise sounded wrong. It sounded organic, not metallic.
What has he done to himself?
Carl lowered the shears. He checked his teeth. His fingers came away bloody. Glen saw shards of broken teeth in his palm.
'He's broken his teeth!' exclaimed Alex.
The broken teeth cut his gums, thought Glen. Or he's shattered his teeth below the gum line.
Either way, Carl had caused himself some serious dental damage.
Carl looked vacantly at the broken teeth in his palm. He put them into his UPS shirt pocket.
'Are you all right?' asked Glen.
Carl unwrapped and then carefully rewrapped the gardening tool with Glen's belt.
'He's trying again,' declared Alex.
'No, Carl,' begged Megan. 'Don't be ridiculous. You're going to strip all the teeth from your mouth.'
Carl ignored everyone. He positioned the tool into the other side of his mouth.
He started the process again.
'Wait!' yelled Glen.
I can’t let him grind all his teeth apart.
Glen had an idea.
'Just wait, Carl. This can work. Chrissie, give me your cigarette lighter. Carl, give me the shears.'
Carl hesitated, but handed over the shears.
Chrissie offered her lighter, but jerked it back as Glen reached out. 'If this is a trick to stop me smoking....'
‘It’s not,' said Glen sincerely. 'I promise. This is for Carl.’
Chrissie gave Glen a warning glare and then the lighter.
Glen thumbed the lighter once, twice, three times before the flame appeared. He held the frozen nut precisely over the flame.
'The heat will liquefy any lubricant,' he explained. 'The nut will expand a bit too. It might be enough.'
'Don't use all my gas,' warned Chrissie. 'I still need that.'
Glen ignored her.
'Th
at's enough,' insisted Chrissie, reaching for it.
Glen turned his back on her. 'You ready, Carl? You'll have to be quick.'
'I'm ready.'
Carl's hands waited just inches from the shears.
'There,' said Glen. 'Go.'
Carl snatched the shears.
And dropped them.
He lashed out to catch them, but instead sent them skittering across the floor.
Fuck no, thought Glen. We only had one chance at that.
But Megan stomped on them. Lightning fast she snatched them from under her bright orange sneaker and tossed them straight to Carl.
Carl didn't drop them this time. He wrapped the belt once around the nut and tried again.
We only lost a few seconds, thought Glen. This can still work.
Carl took longer to position the nut this time, perhaps learning from painful experience.
Megan didn't cover her mouth or turn away this time.
Alex said out loud, 'Come on, you good thing. Turn, you little bastard. Turn.'
Glen prayed Carl could do it. He'd learned in school that the jaw muscles were the strongest in the human body. From the intensity in Carl's eyes, either the nut would turn or Carl would bite the shears in half.
With or without his teeth.
Is that turning?
Almost imperceptibly the handles moved. By bare degrees at first, the handles began turning without the sound of Carl's teeth disintegrating.
'He's got it,' yelled Alex. 'He's got it!'
#
'That was frigging awesome!' yelled Alex. 'You want me to finish it off?'
Carl shook his head and unscrewed the nut with his fingers. The bolt slid free. The shears fell apart.
He held them up.
'Two knives,' said Megan.
‘Two icepicks,’ said Glen, accepting one.
'Stronger than a pocket knife,' mumbled Carl. 'Each is a single piece of metal.'
Chrissie shook her lighter. 'It's almost empty, Glen!'
'There's enough for your cigarettes,' Glen replied, tying his belt back on. Carl had bitten holes in it.
Alex tested their new icepicks.
'These work great. Now we have three tools. Three people can dig while three people move ice.’
Megan touched Carl's arm. 'How's your mouth?'
'Never mind that. Let's get digging, get warm, and get that lock buried.'
MELT: A Psychological Thriller Page 9
