Below Zero

by Dan Smith

  ‘You see.’ Dima laughed. ‘What I tell you? Bumpy!’

  Yeah, hilarious, Zak thought as the plane dropped once more, juddering in the storm.

  We’re not going to crash, he told himself. We’re NOT going to crash. This isn’t how it happens. I don’t die like this. Please don’t crash.

  A picture flashed in his mind, of him in a hospital bed, eyes closed and at peace. Mum and Dad and May were standing around him. Grandma and Grandad in the background. That was how he was supposed to die.

  Dima’s accented words came over the intercom once more. ‘Don’t worry.’ He shifted in his seat to see back through the open cockpit door. ‘The Reeves family will be safe tonight. I get the Reeves family to Outpost Zero in one piece, OK?’ He was slightly overweight, with a mop of dark hair, greying at the temples. His face was weather-beaten, and his nose was crooked from the many times he had broken it. ‘You not worry. I have landed in much worse than this. Much worse. One time, total white-out on the ground. I see nothing at all. Da, it was a bad landing, plane could not be used again, but everything was horror show.’

  Horror show? And the plane couldn’t be used again? How bad is this going to be? Zak stared at the pilot. The guy is completely nuts.

  ‘I pulling your leg.’ Dima’s face broke into a huge tobacco-stained smile with a tooth missing at the top. ‘It’s a joke. No one can land in total white-out, not even me. Impossible to see.’

  Oh. Great. Zak turned back to the window as lightning crackled in the sky. He caught a glimpse of brooding clouds hanging heavy, but it was what lay below that scared him the most. A swirling mass of ice and snow that hammered against the plane as it descended.

  If that wasn’t a total white-out, Zak didn’t know what was.

  ‘Don’t listen to him, Zak.’ Mum put a reassuring hand on his arm. ‘We’re going to be fine.’ And she did that thing where her expression was so full of concern her face crumpled up like a piece of paper. ‘You feeling OK?’

  ‘Yeah, fine.’ He moved his arm, pretending to rearrange the collar of his thick coat, but really it was just to get Mum’s hand off him. Sometimes, sympathy is the worst thing in the world.

  ‘You see the base now?’ Dima’s voice carried into the cabin once more. ‘The lights. Look.’ He pointed out the front of the cockpit but all Zak could see was Dima’s wonky reflection in the glass, so he shifted his focus to see beyond it, and there it was. An orangey glow filtering through the storm.

  ‘Outpost Zero,’ Dima said. ‘The base. At last we are arriving.’

  The glow became more concentrated as they approached, and before long, Zak could make out individual lights, and he began to think this wasn’t a total white-out after all. One thing was for sure, though – the base was smaller than he had expected.

  In the cockpit, Dima was speaking into his communication system as he took the plane down. ‘Outpost Zero, Twin Otter seven-one-five request advisory.’

  The storm blustered, scooping the plane from side to side as Dima dipped the nose, angling to the left of the main Outpost Zero lights. He lowered his voice so it was impossible to hear what he was saying over the comms, but he was frantically flipping switches, checking read-outs, and tapping dials like something was bothering him.

  Like something was wrong.

  Zak’s stomach cramped when he realized what it was. There weren’t any runway lights. Nothing. No sign of a landing strip at all. Maybe this was how he was going to die. Forget about doctors and drips and treatments. Forget about hospital beds with clean white sheets, fading away, and everyone being sad he was gone. They were all going to die together. They were going to hit the base and die in a blazing fireball, or—

  Lightning flashed outside, bright and white, filling the cabin. There was the sound of shearing metal and the engines screamed.

  ‘It’s OK.’ Dima glanced back. ‘Don’t worry. We be OK. Everything will be horror show.’

  That expression again. Horror show.

  ‘Shouldn’t the landing strip be lit up?’ Dad shouted.

  ‘They . . . there is no answer from the base.’ Dima flicked more switches. ‘Perhaps it is the weather.’

  ‘And the lights?’ Dad asked.

  ‘I have done this many times. I know this runway like I know the back parts of my own hands; we will be A-OK. With Outpost Zero lights on, I know where the landing strip is, so—’

  The base lights went out.

  One moment Outpost Zero was there, glowing like a beacon, and the next it was gone. All the buildings went dark. There was nothing to see through the cockpit window but the swirling whiteness of an Antarctic blizzard.

  ‘Damn it!’ Dima abandoned the switches and concentrated on lifting the nose of the plane. He needed to take them back up again. Fast.

  The twin engines whined in protest and Zak slipped sideways in his seat as the aircraft made a steep and terrifying climb. It rose high through the storm, rattling and shaking like a shopping trolley with a wonky wheel. Zak locked eyes with his sister and gripped his book so hard his fingertips throbbed and his knuckles popped.

  I’m not going to die. Not here. Not like this.

  His mum put an arm around his shoulder, and although his instinct was to shrug it away, like always, he accepted it, let her leave it there.

  ‘We’ll be fine,’ she said, but she was trembling and Zak knew she was as scared as he was. Even more scared, probably. Death was coming for Zak anyway. Every day, every hour, every minute brought it a step closer. Sometimes he thought about nothing else. It was difficult not to when everyone kept reminding him of it. Everyone trying to be so nice all the time.

  ‘What the hell is going on?’ Dad said. ‘Why did they turn the lights out?’

  Dima didn’t reply; he was too focused on controlling the plane, fighting the sudden climb and the angry weather. And as soon as the aircraft began to level out, and the engines stopped protesting, he was on his comms again, trying to contact the base. ‘Outpost Zero, Twin Otter seven-one-five request advisory. Please respond.’ He tapped the right ear cup of his headset and tried again. ‘Outpost Zero, Twin Otter seven-one-five request advisory. Please respond. Respond.’

  ‘Anything?’ Dad asked. ‘Are you getting anything?’

  Dima swore in Russian and tore off the headset, throwing it down beside him. He cursed again and glanced back with an expression Zak didn’t like. Not one bit.

  ‘Well?’ Dad asked.

  ‘I . . . please. Everything is A-OK. I guess they have some kind of power problem.’

  ‘You guess?’

  ‘I mean, that must be what it is. A power problem.’ He took a deep breath and retrieved his headset.

  ‘So what now?’ Mum asked as Dima took the plane into a wide circle. ‘Does this mean we have to go back?’

  ‘Not possible. I have to land here. For fuel.’

  ‘What?’ May’s eyes widened and she leant forward, still crossing her fingers. ‘Are you saying there’s only enough fuel to go one way? We don’t have enough to get back? What kind of stupid plane is this?’

  ‘We refuel at Outpost Zero.’

  ‘Yeah, if you can land. Except you can’t, can you? You can’t see anything. How can you land in this?’ She turned to Mum and Dad. ‘I mean, literally, how can he land in this?’

  Dad shared a look with Mum.

  ‘No, seriously.’ May was becoming more agitated. ‘How can he land when he can’t even see the runway? What are our chances of making it? We’re going to be—’

  ‘May,’ Mum cut her short.

  ‘We can land anywhere,’ Dima said. ‘Here the ground is mostly flat and we have polar camping gear and survival supplies if we need them. I have landed here many times. It is fine. I promise. Whatever happens, we be A-OK.’

  Zak could tell he was trying to sound confident, but he heard the doubt in Dima’s voice and saw the worry in his eyes. The pilot was just as afraid as the rest of them.

  OUTPOST ZERO, ANTARCTICA

 
; 21 HOURS AGO

  The blizzard tore at Sofia’s coat as she staggered across the ice. She fixed her eyes on the metal staircase leading up to Outpost Zero, and prayed she would reach it. She didn’t want to end up like the others.

  Those stairs were her lifeline. The Outpost was the only place for her to go. Everything else was a swirling frenzy of wind and snow and ice, spinning in never-ending clouds. It howled around her, clawing under her hood, sapping her strength.

  Just a bit further. That’s all. A bit further and she would be safe from—

  Tick-tack-tick-tack. Tick-tack-tick-tack.

  Her thoughts blazed white with terror at the sound.

  Tick-tack-tick-tack.

  They were coming for her.

  Sofia forced herself onwards, reaching the stairs and grabbing the handrail to drag herself up. At the top, she lunged for the panel on the wall beside the door. She fumbled her gloved fingers under the handle and yanked it open with a violent tug that unbalanced her.

  ‘Help me.’ Prof Peters’ last words echoed in her ears as she steadied herself and grabbed the emergency lever. She pulled it hard to one side. With a calm hiss, the Outpost door slid open and she was there. She was home free.

  Sofia scrambled to safety and turned to punch the button. She hit it hard, the door immediately beginning to slide shut. As it did so, she backed away, staring at the horror approaching through the blizzard.

  The world was lost in the nightmare of swirling ice and howling wind, but there were shapes out there. Dreadful shapes in the storm.

  The door took an eternity to close. Sofia willed it to move faster, and when it eventually slid shut, she engaged the lock and her legs gave in. Her knees buckled and she sank to the floor, staring at the door. Outpost Zero was silent except for the muffled sound of the storm raging outside. Sofia tried not to think about what she had seen – about what had happened to the others. Prof Peters, Commander Miller, Dr Asan, Lee, Doc Blair . . . all of them.

  But this wasn’t over yet. There was one more thing she had to do.

  She drew on her last reserves of strength and pulled herself to her feet. It wasn’t far to Refuge, and that’s where she needed to go. It was essential she upload the video. When the Exodus Project sent a rescue party, the footage might – just might – save someone’s life.

  OUTPOST ZERO, ANTARCTICA

  NOW

  Engines whined. Alarms screamed. Warnings lights blinked.

  Staring through the cockpit window, Zak couldn’t tear his eyes from the swirling void as they descended into the storm. The plane shuddered and rattled. It dropped and buffeted, lurching to the side. Zak tightened his grip and clenched his teeth as he wished for a miracle. If only Dima could see the landing strip. If only the lights would—

  A sudden intense pain flashed in his head as if a hot spear had pierced his right eye. It exploded in his mind and blossomed like black fire. He’d had pains before – a symptom of his condition – but never anything as awful as this. This wasn’t just a physical pain; it felt alive. His breath faltered, his eyes squeezed shut, and he was the pain. That’s all he was. There was nothing in his mind but a vast black sea of pain.

  And then it let go. The fiery grip relaxed and his thoughts returned to what had been running through his mind before the attack. He had been wishing for a miracle . . . for the lights to come back on.

  ‘Brace!’ Dima was shouting. ‘Everybody brace! The ground is coming up on us. We’re going to—’

  Zak opened his eyes and the lights at Outpost Zero burst into life. In an instant, the main building lit up like a beacon, and bright beams chased along the length of the landing strip as they ignited one by one.

  ‘Thank God!’ Dima said under his breath.

  The storm continued to shake the plane like it was in one of the snow globes Grandma sent May every Christmas from Hong Kong. It reeled from side to side, the wings tilting first one way then the other. Zak’s stomach churned with every sudden movement of the aircraft. His adrenaline spiked with every shudder and rattle, but Dima held it on course as he took them down. There was an awful grinding from beneath the fuselage as the skis lowered into place, and a few seconds later they touched the ice with a heavy crunch.

  As the Russian pilot slowed the engines and brought the plane sliding to a standstill, nobody spoke. Zak supposed they were grateful to be in one piece. May’s crossed fingers must have brought them luck.

  Dima sighed and took off his headset. He rolled his neck from side to side and turned to his passengers. ‘Welcome to Outpost Zero,’ he said. ‘Welcome to the Exodus Project. The outside temperature is minus forty degrees Celsius, your pilot’s name is Dimitri Alekseyevich Milanov, and he is as relieved as you are to be on the ground. I hope you had a pleasant flight and that you will fly Dima Airways again in the future.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ May muttered under her breath.

  ‘Well done, Dima.’ Dad’s voice was shaky and he had to clear his throat. He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose as he collected his thoughts. ‘Let’s get everyone inside, shall we?’

  Zak unclipped his seat belt with trembling hands and turned to the window. He stared through the storm at the orange glow of lights. It looked strange out there; nothing but white and orange and—

  The lights went out across Outpost Zero. The landing lights, the windows, everything. The base plunged into darkness.

  ‘What’s going on now?’ Dad said, but Zak took no notice of him because exactly as everything went out again, he saw something move out there. Something large among the flickers of ice and snow. A black shape passing along the length of the plane.

  ‘What’s that?’ He pressed his face closer to the window, peering left and right.

  ‘What’s what?’ May asked.

  ‘I dunno. Something . . . Hey, you don’t get polar bears here, do you?’

  ‘Polar bears?’ May had recovered from being close to death and was unbuckling her seat belt. ‘That’s the North Pole, doofus. We’re south. In fact, we’re about as far away from the North Pole as you can get, you freak.’

  Yep, she had definitely recovered.

  ‘I know,’ Zak said. ‘But I’m pretty sure I just saw—’

  ‘The only animals out there are penguins.’ She came to stand beside him, pressing her face close to his as she looked out. ‘Nothing else. You know, this is the only place in the world that doesn’t have spiders – unless you count those horrible drones Mum and Dad built.’

  ‘What about all those creepy things we saw online? Sea spiders and worms and things? All those freaky creatures with too many legs.’

  ‘They’re in the sea. Duh.’

  Zak pulled a face at her. ‘I knew there was a reason why you’re my favourite sister.’

  ‘Lucky for you, I’m your only sister.’

  ‘Lucky for you too,’ Zak said. ‘You get me all to yourself.’ She was being moody, but Zak could hardly blame her. They weren’t supposed to be here, in a place that didn’t see daylight for months on end. They were supposed to be in sunny St Lucia, lying on a beach, which was where they had been two days ago. Two weeks of relaxing family time before . . . well, before Zak’s treatment. The doctors said it would be unpleasant – the treatment, that is, not the holiday in St Lucia – but Zak had a feeling it was going to be a whole lot worse than ‘unpleasant’.

  ‘Ugh,’ May complained. ‘Whose stupid idea was it to come here?’ She glared at Zak.

  ‘What? It wasn’t my idea.’

  ‘Yeah it was. When Mum and Dad got that call about their stupid Spider things, they weren’t going to come. Because of your . . . thing.’ She tapped her head. ‘But you persuaded them.’

  ‘They wouldn’t have come if they didn’t want to,’ Zak said. ‘No one ever does what I want. No one ever listens to me.’

  ‘That is so not true. We’re here because you said we should come. And everything is about you.’

  The actual reason for coming to O
utpost Zero was for Mum and Dad to fix a problem with the Spider drones they’d built for the Exodus Project. A couple of years ago, when the Spiders were the only thing Mum and Dad talked about, May used to say they probably wished they had drones at home instead of kids. That was before C-Day, though, the day they found out about Zak’s condition. Since then, everything was about Zak, or rather, it was about ‘what’s best for Zak’.

  When the call came from the Exodus Project, saying the Spiders were malfunctioning, Zak knew Mum and Dad were frustrated. They wanted to give him one awesome, memorable holiday before his treatment began, but they also wanted to take care of their drones. The way Zak saw it, Mum and Dad wanted to fix him, but couldn’t. But they could fix the drones, so he persuaded them to come. He told them it was a chance for him to see the thing everyone was talking about. The first mission to colonize Mars. They wouldn’t be there for longer than a couple of days, he argued, and the base had doctors and equipment, so what harm could it do?

  Oh yeah, and there was another reason why he told them to come; something a bit more selfish. Outpost Zero was the closest base to The Chasm – a huge rift that had opened up in the Antarctic ice. It was two hundred kilometres long, and at least fifteen kilometres deep. Zak thought it would be just about the most amazing thing he could ever see. A bottomless rip in the Earth. Imagine that. He was far more interested in what might be down there than what might be on Mars, and he was hoping he might have the chance to see it. That way, he could have a real, proper adventure at the end of the world.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ May said.

  ‘Hm?’

  ‘About what I just said. That everything’s about you. It was mean.’

  Zak sighed. ‘Don’t worry, I’m used to it.’

  ‘Hey, I’m not mean all the time.’

  ‘No,’ Zak said. ‘Not all the time. Just most of it.’

  May gave him a sarcastic smile and moved away. ‘I still don’t see why Zak and I couldn’t have stayed in St Lucia.’ Saying it loud enough for everyone to hear, she glared at the floor, getting the expression right before turning it on Mum.