by Nick Thacker
As if that wasn’t enough, there was currently no one trying to kill him.
Dr. Amanda Meron and her new fling, Paulinho, returned to Manaus, then Marabá, along with a few of the ‘golden fruits’ they’d snuck out of the valley, to continue the research she’d started. She had some ideas about the fruit, and how it could help ‘unlock’ some of the powerful mechanisms she thought might still be hidden in the human brain. Paulinho had promised to use his connections in the government to provide her the legal protection she would need to start a new firm, away from the watchful gaze of Draconis Industries, or Drache Global, or Drage Medisinsk, or whatever it was called.
Reggie, a man seemingly as mysterious as Ben had always wanted to appear, provided him with a simple answer when Ben had asked him what was next.
He shrugged.
Ben laughed, then repeated the question.
Reggie just gave him the same goofy grin, too wide to be genuine, but with enough authenticity in his eyes that the smile couldn’t have been completely fabricated, and turned around to catch a bus back to his home. His ‘bunker’ had been attacked by the Draconis soldiers, but as he’d explained on the canoe trip back to civilization, ‘if it couldn’t stand up to a few idiot radicals, what’s the point of building a bunker?’
Dr. Archibald Quinones was a little more reserved on the trip back to Manaus, and when Julie had pressed him on it, he’d given a non-response. Ben had let it slide, but Dr. Meron had eventually backed him up against a wall and asked the same thing. He was still reserved, but he did vow to help Amanda in her research, and even mentioned an inheritance he’d been sitting on for some time that would be put to good use by investing in whatever she had in mind.
Finally, he thought about Joshua Jefferson, the son of a man intertwined in the dealings of an organization Ben had vowed to bring to justice. Joshua seemed to be a man of his word, albeit one who had been led astray by his own father, under the guise of doing good in the world. Joshua told Ben and the others that ‘there would be more,’ and left Ben to wonder what exactly that meant. Joshua had given Ben his word that he’d be in touch — he had to find his father first, but he did tell Ben he had plans to go after the company that had double-crossed his family and pitted them against one another. When he was ready, he said, Ben would hear from him.
Their ragtag group of unlikely adventurers had somehow morphed into a band of experienced explorers, and Ben was ever prouder to be named one of them. He needed a break, and he desperately wanted some ‘downtime’ with Julie, but he knew there was more to the Draconis story than he’d discovered in the jungle. They were working on something, and he wanted to know what it was.
The little he knew about the organization told him all he needed to know: they were not interested in altruistic applications for their advanced research. Draconis was cunning, without moral obligation, and interested in expending any amount of resources to achieve their goals. He didn’t know what those goals were, but he knew they wouldn’t lead to good. He had renewed his vow to bring them down, and he knew Joshua would help him see it through, somehow.
For now, though, he would try to enjoy the success they’d had: they had found the mythical lost city of El Dorado, and though its ‘gold’ was not what anyone in history had expected, they had finally uncovered its secret.
As the flight attendant passed by and delivered his rum and Coke, he smiled, closed his eyes while sipping the drink, and tried to talk his mind into believing that the plane wasn’t going to go down in a fiery blaze.
DO ME A FAVOR?
DO ME A FAVOR...
IF you liked this book (or even if you hated it…) write a review or rate it. You might not think it makes a difference, but it does.
Besides actual currency (money), the currency of today’s writing world is reviews. Reviews, good or bad, tell other people that an author is worth reading.
As an “indie” author, I need all the help I can get. I’m hoping that since you made it this far into my book, you have some sort of opinion on it.
Would you mind sharing that opinion? It only takes a second.
Thanks,
Nick Thacker
P.S. You should connect with me on Twitter: @NickThacker or on my websites: www.WriteHacked.com and www.NickThacker.com.
The Ice Chasm
a novel
NICK THACKER
1
ROALD MONTGOMERY FUMBLED WITH THE zipper on his Canada Goose expedition parka, trying to force it the remaining two inches to the bottom of his chin. Even with the five-fingered ski gloves that allowed enhanced maneuverability, it was nearly impossible to grip the small zipper.
He stopped, his boots packing the soft layer of snow down into a compressed block beneath his feet. Roald inhaled, careful to breath in the frigid air slowly through the layers of protection offered by the balaclava and neck gaiter that he wore over his face.
He checked the thermometer on his watch.
-68. Fahrenheit.
His body didn’t need a reminder of how cold it was outside, but seeing the number seemed to give him an extra boost of energy, and Roald finally pulled the zipper up to its topmost position. Satisfied, he started moving forward again.
Trudging was a better word. He’d only walked about 200 yards, and he was already feeling the strain of exertion. Part of the problem was the wind. The damn wind, as the others back at the station said. He’d never thought walking in a straight line could be so complicated, but then again he’d never been to Antarctica.
Until now.
Roald had joined his older brother, Scott, only a month ago at the research station, taking a 6-month assignment that he’d fought tooth and nail to earn. It was difficult to get a job at the bottom of the planet, and it was even more unlikely there would be two siblings stationed there at the same time. It didn’t mean anything, except that Roald felt even more scrutinized because of it — he couldn’t mess up. They’d expect him to do his job exceptionally well.
And he intended to. He’d left the Mars-1 Humvee running, as per protocol, but left it at the center of his 100-yard-radius circular route. His mission was simple: walk around and take notes on anything he saw.
It was, admittedly, one of the more mundane tasks the scientists were required to check off their daily to-do lists, but he’d drawn the short straw today. Choose a location, drive the Humvee to it, then park and walk around the vehicle in a pre-defined radius. Then observe the surroundings — weather, snow drifts, anything that catches the eye — and record the verbal data by talking it into a recording device in his jacket pocket.
He’d already taken measurements on barometric pressure, temperature, wind speed, and snowfall since the prior day, and none of that would change by the time he finished his circle and headed back to the monstrous vehicle. He was already looking forward to the heat of the Humvee’s cabin and his sleeping bunk within. His return trip would be tomorrow, first thing in the morning, as he would need to perform the same circuitous route around the vehicle once again twelve hours from now.
Roald picked up his pace. There was no benefit to dragging this out, and the sooner he returned to the Mars-1 the sooner he could strip down to his under layers and jump into the computer strategy game he’d been consumed with lately.
He focused on the crunching sound of the snow. It was a beautiful day — the sun was out, no clouds in sight, and the wind was relatively stable. Not light, but stable. He found himself walking to the tempo of the game’s soundtrack, all the while listening for the crunch, crunch of each boot as it landed —
Thud.
The sound was different this time. His left boot had landed with a crunch, but there was a deeper sound that came with it. A hollow sound. Roald frowned.
He looked down at his feet, one in front of the other, and lifted his left boot once more. He stepped down, faster this time, and the thud was there, even more noticeable.
“What the —“
The data recording log would have to parse out the spe
ech that wasn’t specific to Antarctic atmospheric conditions, but he didn’t care. How else was he supposed to respond to that type of sound?
He stomped twice more, just to be sure, then bent down and started brushing away the top layer of snow. Within a few seconds he reached the hard-packed snow beneath, and knelt down further to start breaking it away.
He worked silently, his breath and the scraping sounds the only noises in earshot. He’d dug a hold nearly a foot deep when he saw it.
Something dark.
In the ice, just beneath the snow.
Roald stood up again and reached around in his pockets for the knife he was carrying. It was a small blade, but it would have to do. He jammed the point into the ice and continued breaking away the layers. He fell to his knees, fully engaged in the task.
The log will wait.
He would have plenty of time to debrief and record an analysis of what he was doing here, but right now he needed to focus on freeing whatever object lay beneath the ice.
Fifteen minutes passed, then thirty, and Roald found himself staring down at a large, square metal plate. He still hadn’t reached the edge of it, so he continued working for another hour until the sun began to sink further down on the horizon.
He only had an hour left, and it didn’t seem as though he was making any progress. He dug, pried, and broke off chunks of ice and lifted mounds of snow up and off of the plate, and still it felt like the metal scrap was a never-ending section of the ground itself.
He labored in the dwindling light, checking every few minutes to make sure that his Humvee hadn’t inexplicably wandered off on its own. It was a nervous reaction to the isolation and cold, he knew, but he couldn’t help it. Antarctica often brought out the hidden habits and quirks of her inhabitants, for better or worse.
Finally he reached the edge of the square of metal. His knife lifted off a large sheet of ice and revealed a straight, man-made edge, and he stopped for a moment to revel in his work. His fingers were sweating inside the ski gloves, but he thought they could still feel the extreme cold just beyond the fabric as he brushed the metal surface clean. He changed directions, opting to follow the edge of the metal square up and away from him.
A few more minutes passed and he reached a corner. A few more after that, another corner.
He stood and looked down at his work.
It’s a…
He didn’t want to think it, because it made absolutely no sense, but he couldn’t help it.
It’s a door.
2
THERE, LYING IN FRONT OF Roald Montgomery, at the edge of the Antarctic continent at the bottom of the planet, was a metal door.
He saw a massive hinge mechanism strapped to the side of the door, poking out from beneath an area of snow and ice he hadn’t yet uncovered, but it was easy work to free the hinge — and the two others like it — from the frozen ground.
The door was now fully exposed, a full three-by-six foot slab of metal. A small door, compared to a ‘typical’ doorframe, but a door nonetheless. Besides the hinges on one side and edge of the door, there was nothing on the surface of the metal. No markings, descriptions, or anything else that might identify why there was a door here.
He stood at the foot of the door for another two minutes before a strange thought occurred to him:
Doors lead somewhere. This is a door.
He briefly wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before, but this was, without a doubt, a door, and that meant there was something on the other side of it.
He knelt down again and started prying at the sides of the door, knowing that it would, at best, be frozen shut. I spent all this time, might as well at least see if it opens.
He checked the Mars-1 Humvee again with a quick glance behind him. The vehicle was idling nicely, the white trail of steam floating upwards in the dusk light. Turning back to the door, he continued working his fingers around the sides of the heavy slab.
He heard a click. It was louder than the sounds he had making, and — most disturbingly of all — he knew he hadn’t made that sound. Roald stopped working for a few seconds and waited.
The click was replaced by a gentle, soft hissing sound, and he felt the door move.
He knew it moved, but he began second-guessing himself as soon as the thought crossed his mind. The door didn’t move. You must have moved. Maybe you’re —
The internal monologue was cut short by a definite shaking feeling beneath his hands and knees. The hissing increased in volume, then stopped with a loud pop. He held his breath.
Then, against all reason and beyond every logical explanation he could muster, the door opened.
It swung outward and he had to move his hands and lean back to allow the metal sheet to pass by him. The door was automated, a giant gear he could now see just beneath the door’s surface providing the leverage needed to move the huge object. It reached at ninety-degree angle to the ground and stopped.
Roald blinked, not sure what reaction he was supposed to have.
He was looking down into a dark, square shaft. Alone, that fact would have had him retreating back to the Humvee and dutifully recording his findings for the station’s analysis.
But the square shaft wasn’t what had Roald’s attention at the moment.
Instead, his eyes were locked on the barrel of a gun, pointed directly at him, held by a man wearing an all-white parka and pants, his face completely masked by a snow-white balaclava and ski goggles.
“Do not talk,” the man said. The voice was synthesized, as if being run through a processor and out a small speaker. “If you talk, I shoot.”
Roald swallowed, then nodded.
“Now, come with me.”
BOOKS BY NICK THACKER
WANT MORE?
FICTION:
THE GOLDEN Crystal
The Depths
The Enigma Strain
The Atlantis Deception (A.G. Riddle’s The Origins Mystery series)
The Lucid: Episode One (written with Kevin Tumlinson)
The Lucid: Episode Two (written with Kevin Tumlinson)
Relics: The Dawn (Book 1)
Relics: Reckoning (Book 2)
Killer Thrillers (3-Book Box Set)
I, Sergeant (Short Story)
The Gray Picture of Dorian (Short Story)
Uncanny Divide (Short Story Anthology)
Nonfiction:
Welcome Home: The Author's Guide to Building A Marketing Home Base
Expert Blogging: Building A Blog for Readers
The Dead-Simple Guide to Guest Posts
The Dead-Simple Guide to Amazing Headlines
The Dead-Simple Guide to Pillar Content
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
NICK THACKER IS AN AUTHOR from Texas who lives in a cabin on a mountain in Colorado, because Colorado has mountains, microbreweries, and fantastic weather. In his free time, he enjoys reading, brewing beer (and whisky), skiing, golfing, and hanging out with his beautiful wife, tortoise, and three dogs.
In addition to his fiction work, Nick is the author of several nonfiction books on marketing, publishing, writing, and building online platforms.
If you are interested in learning more about the fiction writing process and time-management for writers, be sure to check out The Fiction Writer’s Guide to Writing Fiction (www.writehacked.com/course), a completely FREE 20-week e-course!
Visit Nick’s website at www.nickthacker.com to find updates about upcoming releases!
Table of Contents
Copyright
Free Books!
Acknowledgments
Prologue 1
2
3
Act 1 4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
Act 2 24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
Act 3 46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
Act 4 59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
Do Me A Favor?
The Ice Chasm 1
2
Books By Nick Thacker
About the Author
