Carl pointed at Ericsson. 'Chrissie and Megan. Could you two make a space between Ericsson and the ice for the lock? We'll bury them together. Ericsson’s body will absorb radiation.'
'We haven't enough loose ice,' countered Victoria.
'Not yet,' replied Carl. 'Glen, Alex and I will start digging. You gather our ice chips with your sunhat, Victoria.’
No one argued with the man who'd wrecked his teeth for the group.
Carl turned and began smashing into the ice with a pick.
Glen found Victoria's gloves and tossed one to Alex.
Oh, crap, he realized. I've kept the left hand glove. Alex and I are both right-handed.
'Turn it inside-out,' said Victoria.
‘What?’
'Here, I’ll show you.'
She wanted the glove.
Glen passed it to her. 'I'm right-handed.'
‘I know.’ Victoria turned the glove inside-out. 'Now it's a right hand glove.'
It was. I'd never have thought of that.
'Thanks.'
The glove made a huge difference. Glen was still pounding the ice hard when Megan called out.
'The hole’s ready.'
Carl approached the lock.
'Everyone stay back.'
Doesn’t he want help? thought Glen. That thing weighs a ton.
Carl proved what a UPS delivery driver could do. He grabbed the lock by the shackle and dead-lifted it.
His legs wobbled.
He needs help.
Glen dashed a few steps, but Carl shouted, 'Stay back, Glen! You too, Alex. Only one of us needs to touch it.'
I've already touched it, thought Glen.
Carl shuffled slowly around the ice. 'Watch out!'
Chrissie and Megan scattered.
THUUNNK
Carl heaved the lock into the space behind Ericsson.
Chrissie and Megan had done a good job. Glen could barely see the lock.
'Now cover it,' ordered Carl. ‘Quickly!’
They all shoved ice off Ericsson and onto the lock until the ugly chunk of poisonous steel was concealed.
It's a shallow grave, thought Glen. The radiation must still be reaching us.
'We need more ice chips,' said Carl.
'More than you think,’ said Victoria. ‘Loose ice melts fast. We'll have to keep covering it. We can't stop.'
They didn’t.
They couldn’t. Not just because of the radiation, but also the cold.
Victoria kept carrying ice in her hat. Megan and Chrissie used Megan's bag.
Everyone worked as fast as they could.
'Okay,' announced Alex after thirty minutes. 'Time to swap jobs.'
'Let's keep going,' said Chrissie. 'We've got a good system. We’re working fast.’
'We need to spread out the radiation exposure,' said Glen. 'It's safer digging than carrying.'
'Chrissie’s right,' said Megan. 'It’s more important we get it buried quickly. Let's just keep going.'
Everyone seemed to agree.
Glen's shoulders felt on fire. I wanted a break from digging. I’ll swap hands.
He turned his glove inside-out again. Chipping the ice was damn hard work.
'Hurry up, Glen,' snapped Chrissie. 'You're not keeping up. We need to get that lock covered!'
'You want to swap jobs?' said Glen angrily, offering the icepick.
'Just keep up,' said Chrissie, kicking Glen's small pile of ice toward Megan’s bag.
What am I doing wrong?
Glen watched Alex work. He wasn't digging any faster, but his ice chips were much larger. Some looked fist-sized.
While Glen had been hacking randomly, Alex had developed a technique.
I need to rethink this.
He copied Alex's method, choosing his angles and strike points more carefully. Larger pieces immediately began falling with far less effort.
'Now you've got it,' said Alex, nodding at the big chunks falling around Glen's slippers.
Even Glen's shoulders hurt less.
When Chrissie next bagged his ice, she had nothing to say.
'We've got a good system going,' panted Megan after another thirty minutes. 'Let's stick with it, okay?'
Everyone still agreed.
Glen looked around.
Everyone was working. They were staying ahead of the cold and working together.
'I think that's enough,' declared Chrissie, dropping the bag in exhaustion.
They’d piled so much ice on Ericsson it was sliding off.
Megan wiped icy crystals from her eyelashes. 'Is that enough to block the radiation?'
Carl massaged his digging hand. ‘It's not lead shielding.’
'That's not what I asked,' said Megan.
Glen knew what she meant. He said, 'Without a Geiger counter we won't know until someone gets sick.'
Carl nodded.
'I can already feel it,' said Victoria, scratching her neck. 'My skin feels itchy and flaky all over.'
Carl shook his head. 'It's too early, Victoria.'
Megan started scratching too. 'If that lock is heavily radioactive, how long can we survive?’
‘I don’t know,’ replied Carl. ‘We’ve done the best we can. We've either done enough, or pretty soon we'll all start coughing up blood.'
Chapter Eleven
Glen noticed part of Megan's ear falling off.
Holy Crap! Does she realize her ear is like that?
Megan crouched where she'd emptied her bag. She had a smaller bag, a blue drawstring one. She began packing her belongings into that one.
With the lock under ice, they'd begun burying the bomb. Glen hated it. One trip, one misstep, one dropped bag of heavy ice and it would be the bomb burying them under the ice.
'Need help?' offered Glen, crouching for a better look at Megan's ear.
Oh, that looks awful. An inch-long flap of flesh dangled below the wound. The stone flake had really inflicted some damage.
Or has she got frostbite? Why is the flesh hanging down like that? I have to tell her.
'I'm finished,' said Megan.
'Megan,' began Glen awkwardly. 'Your ear. It's...um...it's dangling a bit.'
Megan reached up and felt it. Glen braced for impact. Will she freak? Scream? What can I do to make it seem okay?
But Megan's reaction staggered Glen.
She yanked the flesh off.
She winced, but a second later the hanging bit of flesh lay in her palm.
'Jesus fucking Christ!' swore Glen. 'You just pulled it right off!'
Megan frowned at the grisly thing in her hand. 'That looks gross. It's full of blood.'
'Shit, Megan,' said Glen, still stunned. 'Didn't that hurt?'
'Yeah, but it's best to do it quick. I should probably push it down the drain.'
Glen looked at her, horrified.
'Put it in some ice!' he said. 'They might be able to stitch it back on.'
Megan studied Glen. 'Why would I want a Band-Aid stitched back on?'
Glen reassessed the object in Megan's hand.
It's a Band-Aid, not flesh.
'Oh, my God. I thought you just yanked part of your own ear off.'
'Ouch. I'm not that far gone,' said Megan. 'How does it look?'
Her ear wasn't infected, but hadn't scabbed over yet either. 'It looks okay. Got any more Band-Aids?'
Megan shook her head, but then clicked her fingers.
She dug out a manicure set and some kids stickers. She had half a roll of stickers.
'What are the stickers for?'
'Work,' replied Megan absently. 'Environmental stuff.'
'Are you a teacher?'
'No. My Dad is.'
Using manicure scissors she snipped some fabric from her shirt. Next she trimmed a sticker.
She's making a Band-Aid, realized Glen.
Megan peeled open the sticker and positioned the fabric. She felt her ear carefully, preparing to apply the makeshift dressing.
'Ca
n I help,' offered Glen.
‘I’m okay.’
Her makeshift Band-Aid covered her wound better than the real one.
And only just in time.
#
BOOOOOOM!
The explosion shook the floor under Glen’s slippers.
Someone shrieked.
'What the hell was that?' yelled Alex.
Not our bomb, realized Glen. Or this chamber would be a giant human slushy.
Everyone stood silently, tools paused, listening.
'It came from that direction,' pointed Megan. 'From our west.'
Chrissie nodded.
'It was a bomb,' said Carl. ‘Like ours.’
'It could be a gas leak,’ said Victoria. ‘Even a landslide.'
Carl scratched his palms. 'I've heard bombs detonate. They sounded just like that.'
'It felt close,' said Megan.
'Quiet!' yelled Alex, listening. 'They've had an accident.'
‘The people who took us?’ asked Chrissie.
Alex nodded. 'Listen.'
Glen moved closer to Alex. I can't hear anything.
'Our fan,' said Victoria. 'Our ventilation fan has stopped.'
‘Exactly,’ confirmed Alex.
Glen looked at the ceiling. No air? That can't be good.
Chrissie pointed at the wall.
'If everyone’s dead outside, they can’t free us. We’ll starve.'
'We'll suffocate first,' said Victoria.
‘What if we’re being rescued?' said Megan. ‘That might cause an explosion.’
Everyone went quiet.
Glen could almost smell their hope.
'Rescue?' asked Victoria.
Alex nodded. 'If our SOS text got out.'
Now Glen smelled cigarette smoke. His irritation spiked. Without ventilation, the smoke wouldn't be drawn away. He turned on Chrissie.
Chrissie wasn't smoking.
'Can anyone smell that?' he asked.
Carl inhaled deeply. 'Smoke. Must be coming through the — HOLY SHIT!'
Carl pointed.
Pitch black smoke spewed from the ceiling vent.
The smoke rolled down the ice like a black avalanche careening down a mountainside.
'Oh, my God!' cried Megan.
The light dimmed.
A second wave of smoke was rolling along the ceiling, consuming their lights like an eclipse.
In that moment, Glen predicted his death.
Years of asthma and bronchitis had damaged his lungs. He couldn't hold his breath well. He remembered learning at school that more people died from smoke inhalation than from actual fires.
'What do we do!' screeched Chrissie.
'Cover your face,' yelled Carl. 'Don’t breathe it in.'
The smoke wave hit the floor.
It flowed like black lava.
Straight toward them.
'Get back!' yelled Alex.
'I haven't got anything to cover my face!' cried Megan.
'Me either,' yelled Chrissie.
Glen yanked off his belt and threw it toward Megan.
Chrissie snatched it from the air before Megan could catch it.
Everyone backed to the wall as the smoke engulfed their feet, their knees, their hips....
'Help!' Victoria spun and pounded her fists on the steel wall. 'Help us in here! HELP US!'
Glen sucked in a deep breath.
The smoke totally engulfed them.
The last thing he saw was Megan dashing through the smoke like a ghost wearing bright orange sneakers.
#
Glen crawled blindly.
He kept his right shoulder to the wall, crawling, crawling, crawling — Whack!
His left forearm smacked into the Mayan calendar.
Almost there.
He heard people coughing and wheezing.
They're choking, he realized. That's what death sounds like.
It had to be close. He couldn't hold his breath much longer.
Shit, I hope I haven't crawled past it.
Glen's hand scooted through some water. At the same time he heard Carl give in to the overwhelming need to breathe. Carl's choking sounds joined the others.
They're dying!
Glen had managed to hold his breath longer than he'd expected, but suddenly his lungs kicked in his chest, demanding to be fed.
His fingers touched the drain. I've found it!
Glen pressed his mouth to the drain.
Fwwwweeeeaahhhhhh!
He inhaled the air from inside the drain pipe, from inside their toilet.
Anything to survive.
It worked. He was breathing smoke free air!
With his arms, he covered the drain as best he could to keep the smoke out.
'Here!' he yelled. 'Come to the drain! Megan! Anyone! Come to the drain!
Glen pressed his face back to the drain.
What should I do? Wait, who's that?
Someone had heard him. Someone came stumbling and choking in his direction. He couldn't tell who. Choking to death, everyone sounded the same. Glen heard the person collapse.
Shit! They didn't make it. I'll have to take the air to them.
Glen sucked in a deep breath and then covered the drain with his slippers. It was the best he could do. He crawled in the direction he'd last heard coughing.
He recognized the feel of Carl’s UPS uniform instantly.
It's Carl. He's fallen over the calendar.
Carl had spent his final moments of consciousness heading toward Glen.
Glen rolled Carl off the calendar and onto his back.
He tipped Carl's head back, pinched his nose, and then filled Carl's lungs with a chest full of clean air.
Now get some more air.
Scrambling back, Glen reached the drain and refilled his lungs. The air tasted smoky. If he left the drain again, it might become uselessly contaminated.
Fuck it. Carl was his friend.
He scrambled back to Carl. The men shared Glen's last breath of cleanish air. Carl jerked and coughed in Glen's face.
He's alive!
Now Glen had to keep them alive. He began yanking off his bathrobe, his only air filter, but at that exact moment his body betrayed him.
His lungs betrayed him.
Without permission, they stole a breath.
A jolting, painful, spasm-like breath.
His sternum jerked. His mouth opened. Smoke went down. Glen tried to cover his mouth, but his bathrobe snared his arms. He coughed and fell sideways, thrashing like a lunatic in a straitjacket.
He coughed until his head stopped spinning. He coughed so much he couldn't even taste the smoke any more.
His coughing slowed. His lungs stopped burning. He rested his temple on the floor.
This isn't such a bad way to die.
He actually felt okay.
Carl had stopped coughing too.
Across the chamber Megan lay in the fetal position, her orange sneakers jerked with each cough. She'd used her big bag like a space helmet.
Clever.
Wait a second: how can I see her?
The smoke is clearing! I'm not dying!
Glen heard the ventilation fan working again. More than working — it positively roared. Their chamber emptied of smoke in seconds.
Pushing himself up, Glen staggered around the ice, finding Alex first.
Alex had zipped his head into his hoodie. He wasn't coughing, but he sucked down clean air as though he'd held his breath the entire time. He hadn't moved at all. He’d just zipped up his hoodie and held his breath.
Glen found Chrissie coughing and vomiting. She wiped her mouth with Glen's belt.
Rounding the last stretch of ice, Glen found Megan resuscitating Victoria.
She didn't make it, thought Glen.
Megan jerked back as Victoria coughed in her mouth.
Victoria coughed herself awake.
Bewildered, she looked around the room.
Glen saw the exact mome
nt she remembered where they were.
Her eyes teared up. She started crying.
'Everyone's alive,' Glen assured her. 'It only lasted a few minutes.'
'It's all right.' Megan rubbed Victoria's back. 'Everyone's all right.'
'It's not all right,' sobbed Victoria. 'I don't want to be here. I was free from this place and you brought me back. You should have let me die!'
#
Megan's eyes reacted badly to the smoke. Red and puffy, the more she rubbed them, the worse they looked.
'How did the smoke clear so fast,’ she asked.
Carl washed his eyes with melt water. 'They fixed the fan, I guess.’
Victoria looked around the group, began to say something, but shook her head.
'The smoke didn't even warm the place up,' complained Chrissie. 'I'm still freezing.'
Chrissie spat something on the floor.
'What are you doing?' Megan asked.
'I can't work with long fingernails.’
Both their voices sounded husky from coughing.
Alex looked down in disgust.
Chrissie’s bitten nails were landing near his shoe. He raised an eyebrow at Glen.
I know, thought Glen. Gross. At least she could pick them up.
'Don't bite them,' said Megan. 'Use my nail scissors.'
'Ow, shit!' said Chrissie, biting one too short.
'You see.' Megan offered the small scissors. 'With these you won't hurt yourself.'
Chrissie frowned at them. 'They're filthy, Megan. What have you been using them for?'
'They're not dirty,' Megan explained. 'They're old.'
'They look old-fashioned,' Glen said.
Megan nodded. 'Mom was a beautician. These were originally my grandmother's.'
Her mother must be dead, Glen realized. She barely mentions her. Only her father.
'Fine,' said Chrissie, accepting the scissors.
Glen felt the cold overwhelming him again, making it hard to think about anything else.
'I have to move,' he declared, picking up an icepick. 'I'll work with Carl.'
'We all need to work,' said Carl. 'But we'll rotate jobs to limit our radiation exposure.’
Victoria burst out, ‘Are you people crazy? Can’t you take a hint! That smoke was punishment. Punishment for touching the ice. That’s why it was sucked away so quickly, Carl. They wanted to punish us, not kill us. Not yet anyway. Isn’t that obvious?’
Glen hadn’t thought of that.
MELT: A Psychological Thriller Page 10
