by Laura Quimby
“Can I stay, please?” Kyle said.
Karen pulled Kyle’s neck muffler up high around his face. “You’ll have plenty of time to see the discovery later.”
Dad turned to me. “Karen’s right. Time to get you two settled in for the night.”
As we were walking out, we met up with Justice, who had come to take Ivan back to the station. Dad paused at the mouth of the tent. “I forgot my pack,” he said.
“I’ll go get it,” I said. “It’ll just take me a second.”
Once through the crevice again, I saw my dad’s pack on the ground. Randal and Jake were over by the discovery. Jake was talking a mile a minute. “Think about it, Uncle Randal! Think about the prestige, the notoriety. You’ll be famous. Famous!”
“Famous…” Randal’s gaze drifted as if he were focusing on something far away.
“It’s a game changer,” Jake said.
“The project has all been worth it,” Randal said. “Years of work for this one moment.”
“I never doubted you, Uncle Randal,” Jake said with pride.
“We’ve finally found our Icarus,” Randal said.
I grabbed the pack and snuck back down the tight, icy chamber. It was clear that the boy in the ice, their Icarus, was not as big a surprise to Randal as it was to the rest of us.
I was glad to be back at the station the next day. Spending time at the dig site felt like being on an island in the middle of a sea of snow. It was fun, but the place was too cut off from the rest of the world. I didn’t know how Randal lived up here all year round without the rest of us around. The snow and cold were starting to get to me. I was always bundled up, wearing three pairs of socks and big boots, and Karen had lent me a pair of her fingerless gloves to wear when I was inside. It was a bad sign when you needed to wear gloves indoors.
The following morning, Randal decided that the discovery should be moved back to the station. It took the guys all day to move the block of ice back to the lab. They built a sled that could distribute and carry the ice slab’s weight and then pulled it with snowmobiles across the snow. Kyle said they had to go really slow, so as not to tip over or drive the nose of the sled into the ground.
Back at the lab, we decided to call the winged boy Charlie, instead of referring to him as “the ancient thing” or “the ice angel” or “the humanoid being with prehistoric avian-like appendages.” (That’s what Dad kept calling it, and it didn’t exactly roll off the tongue.) Kyle wanted to call the creature Thor, but that idea got voted down. Somehow no one was buying that the creature was a Viking.
One of the labs had a walk-in freezer, and Charlie was kept inside like a slab of frozen meat. I had my hat, gloves, and coat on with the hood up as I peered into the ice block, trying to get a good look at Charlie in his lozenge of ice. I couldn’t wait for them to thaw him out so that we would know for sure what he really was.
Karen thought Charlie was an ancient life-form, so old that no one knew it ever existed, like a first-generation Inuit, or even more ancient, due to the wings. She was even willing to admit that it might be a cross-species.
Dad thought Charlie was some kind of hybrid human-bird creature, a missing link, similar to how the birds descended from dinosaurs. Why not have a half-man, half-bird creature?
Kyle was going with alien. Maybe he was right and Charlie was shrink-wrapped in starlight, and had been left behind by his mother ship or fallen from the sky.
Ivan was convinced Charlie was an angel, an icon that should be left untouched. Katsu, on the other hand, was just glad to have a specimen to study.
I wasn’t sure what Charlie was, but I knew there was something very special about him, and it wasn’t just the wings. He shouldn’t look as good as he did.
While everyone had a different opinion about what it was that lay frozen in the ice, no one could deny that we were on the verge of making an amazing discovery.
Over the next few days, the scientists conducted endless tests on Charlie—at least the tests that could be done through the block of ice. Katsu wanted to drill down through the ice and take samples from Charlie’s skin, but Dad was adamant about not thawing him out until he could be moved to a proper facility that could handle the body once it hit the air. Remains were fragile. But I think Dad was just trying to hold on to the moment. For now, Charlie was perfect, lying in his cold glass coffin like a prince. He was what we imagined and had hoped for, and if we breached the ice, we might lose him forever.
Sometimes when no one was around, I would brave the freezer and talk to Charlie like he could hear me. It was hard to explain the feeling I got, standing next to the ice. The only way I could describe it was warmth, which sounded crazy. How could something so cold and frozen make me feel warm inside? All I knew was that my heart welled up when I was around him.
Perched on a stool, I talked. I hoped he could hear me. I told him all about Mom and about the Amazon. I figured talking about a warm place kept my mind off the fact that my breath plumed out in smoky whirls. I described how the rain forest was always damp and hot and how the air was filled with moisture.
The Arctic was the opposite. Even with all the snow, the Arctic had the rainfall average of a desert, so it was very dry and cold. We were in a frozen desert. I liked the contrast of the snowy landscape to that of the sandy desert. They were both treacherous, but for different reasons. Nature was heartless, and Charlie was proof. Somehow he had perished just like the mammoths.
The lights in the freezer lab flickered over my head. The genny was acting up again. That’s what West and Justice called the generator that powered the station. Ever since we had brought Charlie back to the lab, the genny wasn’t happy.
Then the lights went out completely, plunging the ice-cold room into darkness. My heart leaped. I wasn’t afraid of the dark, but this was really dark: not one flicker of light. The room was sealed tight and was pitch-black—starless-space black—and I was alone with a frozen body.
I reached out and touched the block of ice, trying to feel around it, so that I could make my way to the door and get out of the room. No panicking, just slow and steady. I ran my gloved hand down the side of the ice.
“Charlie, it’s time for me to go. The generator just went out and there aren’t any backup lights in here.” Talking to him soothed me.
I breathed deeply, but the freezing air chilled my throat. The darkness made the room seem colder. I could feel the cold air rise up off the surface of the table and the block of ice itself. The chill wrapped around me. My eyes were wide. I searched the darkness for the door. For a brief second, I thought I saw something glimmer inside the block of ice, a greenish-blue flame that danced across the night sky.
At first I thought I was seeing things, until the light grew, like a tiny flame or a little green lightning bug, glowing from the center of the block of ice. The warm glow seemed to be coming from inside Charlie. I pressed my face closer to the surface of the ice. The light swirled and bloomed like a star twinkling in a far-off galaxy. It was beautiful. A warm sensation spread through my body. The flame grew and grew.
But as I looked closer, the generator kicked back on and the overhead lights blinded me with brightness. I blinked furiously and rubbed my eyes. When I looked again, the glowing light inside the ice was gone. I sucked in a lungful of cold air and almost choked. Fear of what was happening overtook me, and I ran for the door and out of the freezer.
I raced into the main lab, knocking over a tray of metal instruments. I gathered them up as fast as I could, but before I left the lab, I looked up. The freezer door was ajar. I dove to close it but not before peering inside. I was unable not to look. But Charlie was as still as stone.
I hurried back to my room. Maybe I was getting sick. I felt my forehead, almost hoping to feel the flush of a burning fever, but my skin was cool. As I was walked down the corridor that led to the bunk area, I noticed a thread on the floor, and I knelt down and picked it up. I ran the woolly thread between my fingers and recognized it
as yarn. I followed the length of yarn down the hall and around two corners as if I were being led by a trail of bread crumbs to something or somewhere special. When I looked up, I realized the yarn had led me to my own room.
Tentatively, I stepped inside. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Karen was sitting on her bed surrounded by a giant web of yarn, strung around the room from wall to wall, woven into a matrix of colorful threads. She had hooked the yarn to the dresser and doorknobs, bedposts, and lamp stand. It looked like a giant knit star.
“What are you doing?” I asked, my gaze gliding over the yarn maze.
“I made it,” she said proudly. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
“Well, yes,” I acknowledged, tentatively stepping into the matrix.
It must have taken Karen hours to make. She looked pale. A line of sweat ringed her hairline. The room felt warm and smelled slightly of damp sheep. Her fingers nervously tied tiny knots in a tangle of orange yarn balled up in her lap.
“What is it?” I asked.
“It’s a pattern I saw in a dream, or a vision, maybe.”
“What kind of dream?” This was getting more interesting by the second. Was Karen seeing strange things, too?
“I’ve been working really hard. Reading a lot.” She rubbed her eyes. “I think I must have dozed off at the computer. I saw this pattern outlined in light, against a black sky. Crazy, huh?” She smiled tiredly.
“No, I don’t think that’s crazy at all.” I stepped over the lines of yarn and made my way over to sit on the bed next to her. “Are you feeling OK?” I asked, half joking, and felt her forehead, which felt fine to me.
“I don’t think I have a fever,” she said. “Unless it’s some new Arctic fever that plays strange tricks with your mind.”
“You seem all right to me. The matrix really brightens up the room,” I said, trying to be positive.
“You know the weirdest part?” she asked.
“No, what?”
“I think Charlie was in my dream. I could have sworn I saw him.” Karen tossed the ball of yarn into her bag.
“Really?” I said, remembering the glowing light inside of the ice.
“I guess I should clean this up. Unless we’ve both turned into spiders, a web of yarn makes it hard to move around.” Karen stood and fingered a strand.
“Let me get a couple of pictures first.” I said, grabbing my bag and digging for my camera. “It really is beautiful.”
Perhaps it should have been scary to see such strange things, but I didn’t feel afraid. I looked up at Karen and was glad that I wasn’t the only one seeing strange yet magical things.
Most scientists didn’t believe in curses. A curse tended to get in the way of valuable research time.
Many ancient civilizations did believe in curses, probably because the people took death seriously. (Who wouldn’t?)
When I was seven, my hamster, Lady Snuffles, died. (Don’t be sad. She lived a good life. Carefree, lots of treats, and endless wallowing in shredded newspaper.) My parents and I had a little ceremony and buried her in a shoe box in the backyard. I wrapped her tiny body in an old pink washcloth and put a small troll doll in the box, so she wouldn’t be lonely. I also dropped in some hamster treats, so she wouldn’t get hungry, and a jingle bell that she liked to play with, so she would have fun. I did this for me, really, because Lady Snuffles was not going to wake up and get the munchies or need a little entertainment. She was gone.
This was something I had in common with the Egyptians. Dad used the tragic death of my hamster as a teaching moment. (That type of thing was what professor parents lived for.) The Egyptians buried their kings with everything they might need in the afterlife. They also sealed the tomb with a curse. Anyone who disturbed the tomb, or at least touched the sarcophagus, would be cursed: Horrific things would happen to him or her. The Egyptians didn’t want people digging up their kings, their ancestors, or their pets. They had a point. I would not like it if someone dug up my hamster to inspect her bones. Creepy!
What was an ancient civilization supposed to do but invent curses to keep grave robbers and scientists out of their ancestors’ tombs? And it wasn’t just ancient civilizations that believed remains should be left alone; there were many people who believed a curse would follow anyone who removed fossils or bones from their resting place.
It was getting harder and harder to deny the strange things going on in the station. The lights were the most noticeable. First, they just flickered. Then, they went to what West called a “sustained flicker,” meaning they went off, came back on, and went out again, all in an interval of a few seconds—which was what had happened when I was in the freezer with Charlie. Next, the lights went out for an hour, which triggered the backup generator. This freaked out everyone because, if the power kept shorting out, Charlie could be put in jeopardy. This kind of didn’t make sense to me at first, since he was frozen and it was freezing outside. I told Dad that we could just put Charlie outside and he would be fine, but Dad said that keeping Charlie at a constant temperature was crucial. Any thawing and refreezing would damage him.
West was working double-time on the genny. It was a top-of-the-line model, he said, and he couldn’t find anything wrong with it. But something was wrong with it. I was in the rec room with Kyle when the lights went out again. The backup generator came on, and the room glowed with murky auxiliary lighting. We decided to head down to the end of the hall where the generator was located. That’s when we heard yelling coming from the maintenance room. I could hear both Ivan’s and West’s voices sparring back and forth.
When we got there, sparks were flying from the doorway. Kyle shielded me with his arm as we peered inside. The generator hissed and sizzled. A popping sound, followed by a series of sparks, filled the dim room. West’s sleeves were rolled up, and he was covered in grease. A side panel of the generator was open, exposing metal guts.
“Shut it down! Shut it down!” West yelled, and Ivan turned the power off.
“What are you doing in here?” West asked Ivan. He wiped his greasy hands on a rag. “The mechanical room is for maintenance personnel only.”
Ivan mopped sweat from his brow. “I smelled smoke. I got worried, so I came to check it out.”
“Smoke? Is that right?” Clearly, West wasn’t buying it. “You smelled smoke from all the way in your room? I think that’s unlikely. The bunks are nowhere near here.”
“I’m telling the truth. I was lying on my bed and I had the strangest dream about fire and ice.” Ivan shoved his hands in his pockets. “When I woke up, I had this overwhelming feeling that something was happening. I couldn’t sit still, so I decided to look around.”
So Ivan was having strange dreams and feelings, too. Interesting.
A thin wisp of black smoke rose from the generator.
“That doesn’t look good,” Kyle whispered to me.
West glared at Ivan and said, “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that you just happened to be here when the generator gave out.” He tossed the rag into the trash and stared at the broken genny. “It’s a good thing we have a backup.”
Ivan looked from West to me and Kyle, hovering in the doorway, and then back to West again. “What are you suggesting? Are you implying I sabotaged the generator? Because that is an outrage. I would never hurt the mission.”
“‘The mission,’” West said dismissively. “This isn’t about continuing the mission, it’s about you returning home and ending the expedition. I’ve known guys like you. Tough on the outside but weak on the inside.”
“Don’t you see what’s happening?” Ivan’s voice cracked, and he threaded his thick fingers through his hair. “Don’t you feel it? The expedition is cursed.”
“Cursed?” West snorted. “Superstition doesn’t fly with me. This generator was sabotaged—and by a man, not a curse. We all know that you want to get out of here. And if the generator fails, we’ll have to abandon the station.” West shrugged. “Sounds like a strategy to me.”
“Stop it!” I shouted, and I tried to wedge myself between them. Ivan’s elbow accidentally hit me in the shoulder, throwing me backward to the floor. His eyes went wide.
“Hey! Watch it!” Kyle knelt beside me. “Are you OK?”
“Look what you did!” West yelled. “Hurting a kid.” His face was twisted with anger, and he shoved Ivan against the wall.
I winced. I wanted to stop the fight, not make it worse.
“I’m not hurt. I’m fine,” I said, stumbling to my feet. We needed to focus on what was going on, not argue with one another. “Enough yelling,” I said.
“Stop fighting!” Kyle shouted. He stepped forward and held up his hands. Suddenly, a stream of white light erupted from one of his fingertips.
“What is that?” I said.
Kyle reached out his hand, and the thread of light coursed out of his finger, traveled across West’s arm, and hit the far wall, dancing across the surface.
We all pulled back, amazed.
“Hey, look! I can make it move!” With a twitch of his finger, Kyle sent the energy swirling around the room like a glowing ribbon of light.
“It’s got to be coming from the generator,” West said.
“The generator’s shut down,” Ivan said, a look of panic in his eyes.
“Do you feel that?” I asked, pressing my chest. A sensation of calm and peace filled me.
“Stop this!” West grabbed Kyle’s arm and shook him. The light zapped out.
Kyle yanked his arm out of West’s hand. “You broke it,” he cried.
