Last night they’d rationed heat to the Ice Castles. One day, would they ration heat to the whole city? The country? The world?
Mr. Fiske paused this time, as though he were reluctant to answer. “I’m afraid we still don’t know.”
A hush followed, and then a moment later the students’ voices swelled to a murmur.
“But . . . ,” Mr. Fiske said loudly, waving his index finger at the ceiling, “we have something no other species in the history of the planet has ever had.” He brought the index finger down and laid it against his temple. “Our brain. The human mind is an ingenious thing, and we will find a way to survive in an age when so many other animals go extinct. Companies like the G.E.T. have put the smartest men and women in the world to work”—Eleanor tuned in more intently at the mention of the G.E.T.—“and their mission is to make sure we have the energy we need.”
He paused again with a slight frown. “Of course, they’re also one of the largest corporations on the planet, and because of that, there are those who mistrust them. In today’s economy, some believe energy to be a basic human right. They do not believe any company should profit from it.”
Eleanor’s mother had come to that conclusion a long time ago, which was why she took a smaller salary and worked for a nonprofit.
Mr. Fiske continued. “Others would argue the G.E.T. have earned financial compensation for their innovation and investment in our future.” He spread his hands wide. “Consider all they’ve done—”
“Then why don’t they disclose their earnings?” some kid asked from the front.
“Well,” Mr. Fiske said, “they have an agreement with the UN Security Council that—”
“I know that,” the kid said, “but why?”
Eleanor’s mother had wondered the same thing.
“Mr. Fiske,” the kid said, “have you ever heard of the Preservation Protocol?”
Eleanor had heard of it, in a boogeyman kind of way. It was supposedly a plan the UN had come up with to decide which countries would get energy, and which wouldn’t, if the ice sheet never stopped.
“I’ve heard of it.” Mr. Fiske just stood there a moment, looking at the kid. “But like most rational people, I regard it as the unfounded conspiracy theory it is. The G.E.T. is a company, not some secret society. And this is a science class. The politics of global energy are outside our purview. Let’s get back on track.”
Eleanor slumped down lower onto the bleacher. Mr. Fiske had moved on, lecturing on prehistoric ice ages, but something about his exchange with that student bothered her. Her mom was up in the Arctic, risking her life, going out onto the ice sheet and who knows what else, because of what she believed in, and Eleanor had to believe her work wasn’t in vain.
She got through the rest of the school day, checking her Sync several times in case she’d missed the chime. No messages. She walked home with Claire and Jenna and said good-bye to them at the Ice Castles, telling them she hoped the city wouldn’t be rationing energy again that night.
At home, she helped Uncle Jack cook a mushroom risotto for dinner and couldn’t help feeling a little guilty with each delicious bite. Afterward, they got out the chessboard, but her head wasn’t really in the game.
“Admit it,” Uncle Jack said. “You’re letting me win.”
He knew what was on her mind and was trying to lighten the mood. “It’s the only way you can win,” she said with mock sincerity. “And I just feel so bad for you.”
“How sportsmanlike.”
She closed her eyes. “I know. You’re welcome.”
“Eleanor, I—”
The chime of the Sync cut him off.
CHAPTER
4
THE MESSAGE MADE NO SENSE. IT WASN’T EVEN REALLY A message, it was just a batch of files. Eleanor opened them, one by one, hoping to find something to help her make sense of what her mom was sending her. But all she found were diagrams that she recognized from her science class as star charts, with lines and equations drawn across them in sweeping arcs. There were maps of the world with crisscrossing lines connecting far-flung locations, wrapping the globe in a spiderweb. There were pages and pages of mathematical equations.
“What is this?” Eleanor asked out loud, sitting alone in her room on her bed.
The images all had a watermark in the bottom-right corner.
G.E.T.
Never mind what the files were—what was her mom doing with them?
The Sync chimed again, and a new batch of files came in, as incomprehensible as the first. One of them appeared to be an Arctic map showing the city of Barrow, Alaska, as well as the research station where her mom must be currently stationed, inside the National Petroleum Reserve. More pages of equations, charts, and graphs. This batch didn’t have the G.E.T. watermark.
The Sync chimed a third time, and a text came through.
Eleanor typed quickly.
. . .
. . .
. . .
Eleanor waited. No reply came through. She didn’t know what all these files meant, but she intended to do with them exactly what her mother asked her to do.
Uncle Jack knocked on the door and came in. “Everything okay, Ell Bell?”
When her mom said “secret,” Eleanor didn’t think she meant from Uncle Jack. “Mom sent me a bunch of files. Maps and stuff.” She then read the text to him.
“That’s weird,” Uncle Jack said.
“Yeah.” All this only fed Eleanor’s earlier worries. “I knew there was something going on she wasn’t telling me.”
“She mentioned her company had partnered with the G.E.T. on an energy project.”
“She did?”
“Before she left on this trip.”
Eleanor looked at the blank screen of her Sync. “But she hates the G.E.T.”
“She doesn’t hate them, Ellie, she just doesn’t agree with them. Her team discovered something they didn’t have the resources to pursue. Some kind of massive oil deposit or something. The G.E.T. came in to help.”
“She’s working for them?”
“Working with them. Temporarily.”
“So why is she sending me this stuff?”
Uncle Jack palmed his head with his thick hand and rubbed his hair. “I don’t know.”
“It’s not all G.E.T. stuff. Only the first batch was. This other stuff is hers.” Eleanor looked up at the ceiling, at the Spackle where she used to see animals and faces. “It sounds like she’s in some kind of trouble.”
“I’m sure she’s fine, Ell Bell.” Uncle Jack sat down next to her, and the bed squealed. “It sounds like things are really tense for her right now. Super busy. But I’m sure she’s fine.”
Eleanor wasn’t sure.
“Try to put it out of your mind for now, okay? Maybe get to bed?” He rubbed her back. “Hopefully, she’ll be in touch tomorrow and you can find out what all this means.”
Eleanor didn’t know how she’d get to sleep, but she nodded. Uncle Jack leaned over, kissed the top of her head, and left the room. She dressed for bed and brushed her teeth, and as she closed her bedroom door, she called downstairs, “Good night, Uncle Jack. Love you.”
“Love you, Ell Bell. Night.”
Eleanor climbed into bed. She tried to fall asleep but couldn’t stop the thoughts barreling toward her. Her mom was working with the G.E.T., and she hadn’t said anything about it. Eleanor felt a bit betrayed. But her disappointment at that was overshadowed by her fear. She imagined her mom, lost and alone at the top of the world, stumbling away from her across a wasteland of ice, a desolate emptiness beating at her from all sides. A fierce wind tore at her, dissolving her in the distance, swallowing her up into the white void.
Eleanor clamped her eyes shut and shook her head. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be. Her mom
was fine, just like Uncle Jack said. But she pulled up her Sync.
. . .
She waited.
. . .
. . .
She fought back tears.
. . .
. . .
Something rang in the middle of the night. Eleanor shot awake and grabbed her Sync but realized, staring at the blank screen, it’d been the sound of a phone. Uncle Jack’s phone down in the living room. He always slept on the couch, refusing to use Eleanor’s mother’s room. Eleanor crept from her bed and opened her door just a crack, wide enough to listen. In the silence of the house, she could hear his hushed voice murmuring up the stairs.
“Yes, this is him. . . . Okay. . . . Oh no. . . . Is she—I see. . . . So when was the last time—? . . . Uh-huh.”
It was about her mom. Eleanor knew it. She bolted from her room, down the stairs, into the living room.
Uncle Jack looked up as she came in but held his index finger to his lips. “So what’s the next step?” he said.
“What is it?” Eleanor whispered.
Uncle Jack ignored her. “Yes, she’s here with me now. I can tell her.”
Eleanor leaned in, her whole body trembling. “Tell me what?”
Uncle Jack held up the palm of his hand to silence her. “Yes, she has it. . . . Okay. Okay, that sounds good. Thank you for the call. Please keep me updated the minute you know more. . . . Thank you.”
The second he hung up, Eleanor raised her voice. “Uncle Jack, what—?”
“Eleanor, I will explain, but I need you to—”
“Just tell me!”
“I’m trying, but you need to stay calm. You need to listen carefully. Okay?”
She backed up from him and settled her shaking as best she could. “Okay.”
“Okay.” He took a deep breath. “Now. The expedition your mother took onto the ice sheet has not returned.”
“She’s LOST?”
“No, listen. They’ve lost contact is all. She’s probably fine, but they wanted to keep us informed.”
“She’s lost on the ice sheet!” Eleanor couldn’t stop the shaking now. Her breathing and her voice turned frantic. “How can she be fine?”
“She texted you, didn’t she? She and her partner have food and equipment. They know how to survive on the ice. The G.E.T. is searching for them. They’ll find her, but they need your help.”
“What, what can I— We can go up there! We can help search!”
“We’re not going to the Arctic,” he said. “They just need your Sync. They can use it to help locate your mom. The G.E.T. is sending someone to pick it up in the morning.”
Eleanor stopped shaking. Her body went cold. “They want my Sync?”
“Yes.”
An alarm blared at the back of her mind. “They can’t take my Sync.”
“Eleanor, if it will help find her—”
“No. It’s the only way I have to contact her. Or for her to contact me.” She wasn’t giving that up to anyone.
“Eleanor, this isn’t a choice. Now go get it for me.”
Eleanor shook her head. “I won’t.” And then she remembered the files and the message her mother had sent. Her mom had entrusted all that to Eleanor, and Eleanor had to keep it safe, even from the G.E.T. Maybe even especially from the G.E.T. No matter what happened, Eleanor knew she wasn’t giving up her Sync until she heard from her mom. She folded her arms. “I won’t give it to them,” she said.
“Eleanor, please. Please don’t do this.” Uncle Jack let out a sigh that carried the weight of everything Eleanor had put him through. “Please. You don’t— I can’t— Just bring me the Sync, okay?”
“No, Uncle Jack, I—”
“PLEASE!” he shouted.
Eleanor flinched. She’d never heard him raise his voice before. Most other parents would have lost it after the police station, or well before, but not Uncle Jack. The outburst stunned her protests into silence.
“I’m sorry.” He held up both hands. “Eleanor, listen to me carefully. I know this is hard for you. It’s hard for me, too. The world is a hard place, and it keeps getting harder. It’s not what any of us wanted. But we need to do whatever we can to bring your mom home.”
Eleanor kept her voice calm. She didn’t want to upset Uncle Jack any further. She didn’t want to be the one who made him yell. He had been so kind to her, and she knew how scared he must be. He was responsible for Eleanor if something happened to her mom.
“I’m sorry, Uncle Jack.” She took hold of both his hands. “But my mom sent me that stuff for a reason. Don’t you think it’s weird that as soon as she sent it, the G.E.T. wants to come and take my Sync?”
“Eleanor, sweetie,” Uncle Jack began. “Think about it. It also makes sense that the G.E.T. could use it to find her.”
“Is there anyone else you could call to find out what’s going on? Someone Mom trusts?”
Uncle Jack wrinkled his lips into a sideways frown. “The research station used to have a satellite phone. Before they started using the Syncs. They may still have it.”
“Could you call it?”
“I can try.”
Eleanor watched as he scrolled through the contacts on his phone and dialed. She waited as he held the phone to his ear, head bowed.
“Good, it’s ringing,” he said. A moment later, he looked up. Eleanor could hear that someone had answered. “Yes, hello,” he said. “This is Jack Perry, Dr. Perry’s brother. Who is this? . . . Dr. Grant, hi. . . . Yes, that’s why I’m calling. Do you—?”
This time, Eleanor forced herself to wait until he’d finished the conversation before she asked him any questions.
“I see,” Uncle Jack said. “Yes, that’s what we were told. . . . Uh-huh. Okay, I would really appreciate that. You have my number now. Thanks, Dr. Grant.” He hung up.
“Who was that?” Eleanor asked. “What did he say?”
“That was an old colleague of your mom’s. I’ve met him—he’s a nice guy. He said the same thing. They’ve lost contact with your mom and they’re searching for her.”
Eleanor realized she’d let herself hope that the first call was somehow a mistake, but she couldn’t deny anymore that her mom was in serious danger. Nothing could live on the Arctic ice sheet, where temperatures could drop a hundred degrees below zero and colder. That was enough to kill most living things within minutes unless they had serious protection. To think of her mom lost out there overwhelmed Eleanor to the point of tears.
“We have to do something,” she said.
“We can, Ell Bell. They need your Sync.”
Maybe he was right. After all, what was more important? Those files, or her mother’s life? She nodded. “I’ll go get it for you.”
She turned to go upstairs, but he reached out and pulled her into one of his huge, protective hugs. She hugged him back and felt him trembling, so slightly she almost couldn’t detect it. But it was there.
“Tell you what,” he said. “You keep it until tomorrow morning, okay? Keep it safe until the G.E.T. arrives.”
She squeezed him more tightly. “Thanks.”
He let her go and turned away, wiping his eyes. Eleanor left him and went upstairs. She climbed back into bed with the Sync and clutched it to her chest. The earlier, nameless fears had become very real, which meant that she could argue with them now. She reminded herself that her mom had extensive training in how to stay alive out on the ice. She had equipment and supplies. She could survive. She had to survive.
As the night passed without sleep, time stretched and bounced back, minutes and hours seeming to change places, throwing Eleanor into a hazy disorientation. Her eyes closed and fluttered open, again and again. Never quite awake, never quite asleep. She didn’t know how long she lay there. Morning had not yet begun to enter the room, but she felt it on the horizon. She couldn’t go to school that day. Not with—<
br />
The Sync chimed against her chest, muffled.
Eleanor jolted upright, fumbling it into view.
<70 56 28 24 156 53 27 80 SHOW NO ONE. I will c>
Eleanor typed as quickly as she could.
. . .
. . .
. . .
Why didn’t her mom answer? She had just sent a text. Was she hurt? Freezing to death? Then it occurred to Eleanor.
The battery.
If her mom was stranded out on the ice sheet, she might be trying to conserve the power left in her Sync. Maybe that was why her last message seemed cut off. Maybe the battery had finally died.
There wasn’t any way for Eleanor to know, but what she did know was that her mom had just sent her another warning. Show no one. There wasn’t any way she would let the G.E.T. take her Sync. Not now.
She had no idea what the numbers in the message could mean. Were they some kind of code? A password, maybe? Eleanor needed more information, but she didn’t need to know what the numbers meant to know her mom was in serious trouble. Maybe she was trapped, or injured. Eleanor got out of bed and went for the door. She had to show Uncle Jack—
She stopped.
The first messages had demanded secrecy, too, but Uncle Jack hadn’t cared about that. Even if Eleanor showed him this message, he would still turn the Sync and the numbers over to the G.E.T., which Eleanor knew was exactly what her mother didn’t want. The numbers were intended for Eleanor, and it was up to Eleanor to find out what they meant. It was up to her to go and find her mom. The G.E.T. would arrive in a matter of hours for the Sync.
Eleanor knew she had to be gone well before then.
CHAPTER
5
THERE WERE NO PASSENGER FLIGHTS HEADING NORTH. The only people who flew north were oil company workers, oil prospectors, and the cargo planes that supplied them, and not all those flights were exactly legal. If she was going to go searching for her mom, Eleanor knew she’d have to buy or bribe her way onto one of the cargo planes. Her mom kept emergency money rolled up in a quart-size mason jar at the back of her closet. Most people kept money on hand these days, as a precaution—banks and economies in other countries had been collapsing—and her mom had stashed away about two thousand dollars. Eleanor took all that money, and as quietly as she could, she packed everything she thought she might need, pillaging her mom’s supply of spare equipment and gear. Thermal underwear with nanoheaters woven into the fabric. Coats, gloves, and goggles. Boots and the metal-toothed crampons to strap onto their soles if she needed them. A hermetic sleeping bag. A face mask that warmed up the air before it hit your lungs—
The Arctic Code Page 3
