Polar Meltdown

by J. Burchett

  “Let’s look for another ridge,” suggested Ben. “The den has to be somewhere on this spur of ice.”

  They trudged across the snow until a high bank came into view.

  “Look!” gasped Zoe, pointing at a small hole. “Can you see it? My goggles have picked up something living in there.”

  “The image is about the right size for a cub,” said Ben in excitement.

  “Wait,” Zoe warned him. “That’s not a very big entrance. I don’t think a polar bear would fit…”

  Too late. Ben had stuck his hand in.

  There was a snarl and he leapt back.

  “Yow!” he gasped. “I nearly got bitten.”

  A small white snout appeared at the opening. Sharp teeth and bright eyes gleamed in their lamps.

  “It’s an Arctic fox,” said Zoe, as the terrified animal shot into the darkness. “This is hopeless.” She sighed. “How are we going to find the ridges to search without our BUGs?”

  “Let’s be methodical,” said Ben. “We can see where we’ve been from our footprints.

  Let’s keep the moon behind us and move forwards up the spur. But it’s going to take a while.”

  They seemed to trudge for ages, getting colder by the minute. No matter where they looked, nothing showed on their thermogoggles.

  Zoe stopped to stamp her feet and clap her hands to warm herself. “Why is there a purple glow ahead on the horizon?” she called to Ben. “It can’t possibly be dawn – that’s the wrong direction.”

  Before their astonished eyes, the glow grew brighter and an arc of vivid green light streaked across the sky.

  CHAPTER

  NINE

  Ben and Zoe watched, mesmerised, as long shimmering curtains of light wove their way through the dark sky. The colours swirled and flashed above their heads.

  Zoe clutched Ben’s arm. “What’s happening?” she breathed. “It’s so weird!”

  To her surprise he was grinning from ear to ear. “Don’t be scared. It’s the aurora borealis.”

  “The northern lights!” cried Zoe. “Of course! This is awesome! I’ve always wanted to see them – but I never thought they’d be like this.”

  They gazed up as luminous yellow ribbons danced across the sky, followed by waving beams of red and green. At times the children could almost see giant faces and shapes in the billowing colours.

  “Now I can see why there are stories about them being gods in the sky,” murmured Zoe.

  “They’re actually caused by particles from the sun colliding with the oxygen and nitrogen atoms in the atmosphere,” Ben told her.

  “Thanks, Mr Walking Encyclopaedia,” joked Zoe. Then she caught her breath. “I think I know why our BUGs stopped working,” she said thoughtfully. “It must be all this electrical activity.” She scanned the area. “But look how well it’s lighting up the terrain.”

  “You’re right,” said Ben, pointing eagerly. “I didn’t see that tall bank of snow ahead.”

  Zoe nodded. “Could be the very place for a polar bear den.”

  They jumped on to their RATs and set off for the snow bank, which shimmered with the reflected glow from above.

  “Thank you, northern lights,” Zoe yelled up at the sky. “We can see really well now. It could be day. Sorry we haven’t got time to watch the whole show.”

  They skidded to a stop where the bank began, sending up a shower of snow.

  “It’s much bigger than I thought,” said Ben. He looked up and down the long ridge through his thermogoggles. “It’ll take hours to search this lot.”

  “Got an idea,” said Zoe. “If it’s the weird electricity of the aurora borealis that’s interfering with the BUGs then it might only be their satellite function that’s affected.” She held her BUG out in triumph. “I was right,” she said. “Look, the scent disperser’s OK and the animal cry analysis.”

  “Great, then we can set that to pick up the cubs’ call,” said Ben. “It has a much wider range than the thermogoggles.”

  “The lights are getting fainter,” said Zoe, looking up to see a fading red glow in the distance. “It’ll be dark again soon. We must search as quickly as we can while there’s still some extra light.”

  They moved along the bank, scanning every centimetre of snow with the goggles and checking their BUGs for an indication that the cubs were nearby. But the glow in the sky was fast disappearing, and soon they were relying on their headlamps and the pale moonlight to find their way.

  Zoe stopped and held up her BUG. It was flashing. “Polar bear cub cry,” she read excitedly.

  “Where’s it coming from?” said Ben.

  “That’s strange,” said Zoe, frowning. “It can’t be coming from a den. The cry’s well away from the bank.” She spun round and pointed at a jagged point of ice that rose up from the snow. “Behind there, I think.”

  Ben set off quickly, his boots sending up sprays of snow as he ran.

  “Slow down,” warned Zoe. “You don’t want to scare it.”

  As they rounded the point of ice, Zoe saw something in the beam from her headlamp.

  It was a tiny bear cub.

  CHAPTER

  TEN

  The little white bundle of fur lay curled up in the snow.

  “The poor little thing,” gasped Zoe. “It must be one of our orphans. It’s left the den looking for its mum.”

  “Is it still alive?” asked Ben anxiously.

  Zoe peered closely. “I can see its chest moving,” she said with relief.

  She quickly pulled the fleecy sling out of her backpack. “Help me get it in, Ben.” She bent over the cub. “We’ve got to warm you up, haven’t we,” she told it in a gooey voice.

  “You’d be better off growling at it,” said Ben, unfolding the sling. “We’ve got to be like its mum, remember.”

  Zoe lifted the little cub up. As Uncle Stephen had said, it was about the size of a large cat, with dark eyes that blinked at Zoe. “It’s a girl,” she said. She laid the cub on to the fleece and gently wrapped it around her. The cub gave a small mewing sound and nuzzled into the fur.

  Ben helped Zoe fix the sling on so that the bear was secure against her chest.

  All of a sudden, Zoe felt something tug at her glove.

  The little cub was sucking noisily at the end of one of the fingers.

  “We’ll get you some food as soon as we can,” she said. “But first we’re going to check your den to see if you’ve got any brothers or sisters.”

  “Pass me your BUG,” said Ben. “I’ll set it to give off a female polar bear scent so that Junior here thinks you’re her mum.”

  Zoe handed it over and as she did so, she caught sight of something in the snow. Tiny prints with five claws were clearly visible, leading away across the snow towards the far end of the bank. “Look, here are her tracks,” she said. “The long ones are the front paws. Five pads and claws on each.

  She must have come out after the storm.”

  They started to follow the trail. The prints led towards the ridge in a wobbly line.

  The little cub began to wriggle and grunt. “I think she’s warming up,” said Zoe. “And that’s made her realise she’s hungry. We’ll have to feed her soon.”

  After a few minutes they came across a dip in the bank. Looking through the thermal part of their goggles, they could see a faint orangey-purple glow, deep inside the snow.

  “I think we’ve found another one!” exclaimed Zoe.

  “There’s a tunnel here,” said Ben, brushing away the snow. “I’m going to explore.”

  “Don’t get stuck,” said Zoe.

  “No chance,” grinned Ben. “It must be wide enough for a polar bear, remember. They’re a lot fatter than me.”

  He got down on his belly and shuffled into the hole until Zoe could only see the soles of his boots. Then his feet disappeared inside. Zoe watched anxiously at the entrance. Eventually, Ben’s beaming face appeared.

  “Got it,” he cried. “It’s very weak, but it
still tried to bite me just like the fox.” He examined his glove. “Good old Uncle Stephen. Not only are these gloves ultra-thin, they’re fang-proof as well.”

  He began to go back down the tunnel, feet first. “It’s warmer in here than out there,” he called. “Just the place for feeding time.”

  Zoe crawled quickly after him. There was room for her to go on her hands and knees so she didn’t have to undo the sling. The tunnel gave way to a small chamber. Ben was putting the new cub into its fleece.

  “It’s another girl,” he told Zoe. “She’s smaller than her sister and not as strong.”

  “But we’ve got them!” squealed Zoe in delight. “I was beginning to think this was one Wild mission that was going to be impossible.”

  “It’s not over till we’ve got them back,” replied Ben.

  “And they’ll need food before we set off,” said his sister. She unpacked the bottles and dried milk. Stuffing snow into a bottle, she melted it with a small battery-operated element.

  When it was warm, she added a portion of dried milk. The cubs got the scent and began to squeal and wriggle. Zoe quickly attached teats and handed one of the bottles to Ben.

  “Better give it to them slowly,” she warned, as her cub sucked frantically.

  “It will be a shock to their empty tummies.”

  “I’m going to call this one Guzzle,” said Ben, as he tried to release the teat from his cub’s mouth. “She slurps every time she sucks. She may be small and weak, but she’s determined to survive.”

  “My one won’t stop poking its nose into everything I do,” said Zoe, scratching her furry head. “Nosy is the name for you.”

  She looked around the den. The walls were smooth with a claw mark here and there where the mother had dug. “This is quite roomy,” said Zoe.

  “Luxury accommodation,” grinned Ben, “compared to our little snow hole anyway.”

  As soon as the cubs had finished, Zoe crawled along the tunnel, shivering as the freezing outside air hit her face. “Time for the homeward journey,” she said.

  Standing outside the den, she checked the satellite function on her BUG. “Hey!” she called to Ben as he emerged. “It’s working properly now. We’ll be able to find our way back to the kayaks using the trackers.”

  “I reckon your theory about the interference was right,” said Ben. “Now the northern lights have gone everything’s fine.”

  Zoe stepped on to her RAT. “Shame in a way,” she sighed. “It was such a fantastic show.”

  Checking that their charges were comfortable, the children set off on their snowboards back along the spur of ice towards the main floe.

  “It’s a lot harder to balance with a polar bear cub on board!” Zoe shouted to her brother, as she sped along in front of him.

  Ben didn’t reply. She turned to see what the matter was. Her brother had stopped way back and was looking around.

  “I can hear a boat,” he called.

  Zoe could hear it too. The deep throbbing hum of an engine. Then she saw it in the distance. It was a cruise ship, casting out a glow of golden light from every window, and it seemed to be heading very close to the floe. Behind thick glass windows, they could see people dancing at a late night party.

  “Hide!” she yelled, ducking down behind the ridge. “We mustn’t be seen.” She quickly turned off her headlamp. Ben found a jagged ice formation and squatted in its shadow.

  The throbbing noise grew louder and the ice beneath them began to vibrate.

  Just how close is this ship going to come? thought Ben. If it ploughs through the ice we don’t stand a chance.

  Now the ship towered above them, gliding slowly past the ice floe. The rumbling of its engines was deafening and the children could feel it shaking their bodies. The cubs whimpered in fear. There was a terrible crash and a fierce judder ran along the ice!

  “It’s hit the end of the spur,” yelled Zoe.

  A dark jagged line zigzagged over the snow in front of Ben. The spur of ice was breaking away from the main floe, leaving Zoe on one side and him on the other.

  Ben was stranded.

  CHAPTER

  ELEVEN

  Ben and Zoe stared horrified at the widening channel of freezing Arctic water between them. The ship carried smoothly on past.

  “Stay there,” shouted Zoe. “I’ll go and fetch a kayak.”

  “No,” Ben shouted back. “By the time you get back I could have drifted miles away. Don’t worry. I’ve got a plan.”

  “You’re not to do anything stupid,” called Zoe.

  Ben didn’t reply. Instead he turned his RAT and steered away from the broken edge of the spur.

  “Where are you going?” cried Zoe in alarm.

  “Stand back,” Ben shouted. He brought the RAT to a halt and swivelled it round in the snow. Now he was facing Zoe again. With a look of grim determination on his face he revved up the motor. Then he set off, accelerating until he was racing along at top speed towards the water.

  With a stab of horror, Zoe suddenly realised what her daredevil brother was about to do. He was going to jump the gap.

  “No!” she shrieked. “You’ll never make it!”

  But she knew it was too late. Ben was already crouching on his board, both arms stretched out for balance. She hardly dared watch as he sprang up into the air towards her, the whirring RAT at his feet. It was a huge jump – and made even more difficult with the weight of the cub in its sling. And every second the channel of deadly water was widening. For a moment it looked as if Ben was going to plunge straight into the freezing depths.

  Now he was almost at the bank – but surely he couldn’t make it! Zoe let out a scream as her brother landed on the very edge of the ice. A loud cracking noise ripped through the air as the ice began to fall away into the water.

  Desperately, Ben waved his arms to get his balance, then flung himself forwards. Boy, cub and RAT toppled on to the ice. But they were safe. Zoe darted over to him. Ben got to his knees, checked he hadn’t squashed Guzzle and raised his hand for a high five.

  “OK,” said his sister, pulling him to his feet. “You get the Olympic gold this time.”

  “It was nothing.” Ben grinned. “You can have my autograph later.”

  Ben wasn’t going to admit that he’d felt as scared as Zoe looked. It had been a big risk, and he didn’t like to think of what would have happened if he hadn’t made it.

  Ben stroked Guzzle’s head, and the little cub popped her head up. She began to wriggle about, trying to get out of the sling.

  “I don’t blame you, Guzzle!” said Ben. “That was a bit of a hairy moment.”

  The children checked the kayak tracker and whizzed off across the ice floe, their headlamps lighting the way as they went. The storm had blown the snow into frozen ripples. There were occasional animal tracks trailing across it. Zoe cut a figure of eight and came up alongside Ben, spraying up an arc of powdery snow.

  “Couldn’t resist,” she called. “If we got snow like this at home, we’d be out all day making snowmen and having snowball fights and sledging...What’s the matter?” Ben was frowning.

  “I’m a bit worried about Guzzle,” he said.

  “Doesn’t she look good?” asked Zoe.

  “Just the opposite,” groaned Ben. “She wants to get out. Her wriggling’s putting me off balance!”

  “Not long now.” Zoe laughed. “Look, there are our kayaks. We’ll soon get her to someone who can look after her.” In the moonlight, the snowy outlines were just visible in the distance.

  “Top speed then,” yelled Ben.

  But Zoe had stopped. “There’s something further along the edge of the floe.” She pointed to a large, dark shape in the snow.

  “Nothing to worry about,” called Ben. “It’s just a lump of ice, isn’t it?”

  Zoe gulped. “Lumps of ice can’t walk,” she said slowly. “It’s coming towards us, Ben. It’s a polar bear.”

  “You’re right,” said Ben fearfully. H
e brought his RAT to a halt. “Wave your arms and make yourself as tall as possible. We mustn’t look scared.”

  Zoe did as he said although she could feel her heart thumping with fright. The huge polar bear raised its head to the sky and gave a ferocious growl.

  “Hope it’s not hungry,” she whispered. “We must show it we’re human – and dominant,” Ben told her quickly. “Go away!” he yelled in his deepest voice. Zoe joined in. But the bear began to pad towards them.

  “It’s not working,” said Zoe, trying to keep the wobble out of her voice as the bear picked up speed.

  Now it was galloping towards them, strong legs pounding away at the snow, sharp teeth gleaming. It was covering the gap between them quickly – too quickly.

  It wasn’t only the cubs that needed saving now.

  CHAPTER

  TWELVE

  All at once Zoe’s brain clicked into gear. She had a mad notion but it just might work.

  “Go!” she yelled to Ben. “Use your RAT and escape!” She turned so that her board was facing away from their advancing attacker.

  “Even on these we can’t go faster than a bear,” cried Ben desperately.

  “Trust me!” she screamed. “I’ll be right behind, I promise.”

  Ben knew better than to argue. “You’d better be.” He jumped on his RAT, clutched Guzzle tightly to stop her moving, and sped away.

  Trying to keep calm, Zoe kicked her RAT into action. The bear was almost upon her. It reared up, massive front paws raised ready to crush her. Zoe tipped the back of the RAT into the snow and revved hard just as Ben had done earlier when he’d given her an icy shower. At once the motor caught on the soft snow and sent up a thick spray straight into the face of the bear. With a frightened growl it recoiled.

  Zoe didn’t waste a second. She moved her weight forwards and chased after her brother. Every now and then she shifted her back foot to keep up the thick mist. When she dared to peek over her shoulder, she couldn’t see the bear. The air was thick with flying snow.