Thirst

by L. A. Larkin

  At first Luke couldn’t answer. He shook his head. ‘Someone on a ledge, six metres down, not moving.’

  ‘I’ll get kitted up and go down,’ Blue shouted, quickly standing. ‘He might be badly injured.’

  Luke left the lip and raced towards them. ‘No, I need you helping Craig with the pulley. It’ll be tough work lifting him out.’

  ‘I’m the doctor. It makes sense. I’ll get geared up.’

  ‘No!’ Luke shouted. ‘I mean, I’m stronger,’ he said, seeing Blue’s startled face. ‘I can help from within the crevasse. He’ll need you once we get him up. Okay?’ Luke tapped Blue on the arm but didn’t wait for him to agree. ‘Craig, let’s get a Z-system set up.’ This was named after the Z shape formed by the rope between the pulleys. As a result, it would feel like they were only hauling one third of the victim’s actual weight.

  Craig nodded.

  ‘Mate, I can tell you’re angry but this is not your fault,’ said Blue. ‘So calm down a bit.’

  Luke tested their handiwork and ignored Blue. ‘Craig, you’re heavier,’ he said. ‘Tie the rope end to your harness. It’ll help you bear the weight. Blue, get yourself hooked to the anchors. I need you at the lip, relaying signs.’

  ‘Luke—’ It was too late. His leader was already heading for the Wal.

  Blue hastily attached his harness by rope to the anchor and joined Luke.

  ‘The lip looks pretty solid, so we shouldn’t get much rope burn,’ said Luke as he swung his legs over the edge and lay on his stomach.

  ‘Ready, Craig?’ Luke called.

  ‘Ready!’

  Blue watched Luke expertly manoeuvre himself down to the same ledge as the man in orange. He bent over the body and, in the semi-darkness, shone his torch at the lopsided head. It was Dave, his blond hair stained by a pool of frozen blood. His head had landed on a sharp, protruding piece of ice, and the point had split his skull open.

  Luke wanted to retch but he wouldn’t allow himself. He removed both layers of gloves on his right hand and touched the man’s neck. It was a useless action. There would be no pulse.

  ‘Luke?’ Blue called out. ‘Are you all right down there?’

  ‘It’s Dave.’ His choked words were absorbed by the ice walls. Luke remembered his survival training. If you fall into a narrow crevasse like this one, it’s hard to be heard from the outside. He went to use his radio and then remembered it didn’t work. He tried shouting but his voice was a hoarse whisper, his throat dry, as if he had laryngitis. ‘Found Dave.’

  ‘Alive?’ asked Blue.

  ‘No.’

  Silence, except for the creak of his rope.

  ‘Can you get him out of there?’ called Blue.

  ‘Yes,’ said Luke. But I can’t save him, he thought.

  ‘Need the stretcher?’ asked Blue.

  ‘No,’ Luke said. Stretchers were for the living. ‘Lower another line.’

  Another rope came down. Luke tied it under Dave’s legs and then around his chest. Checking that all the knots were secure, he indicated for them to start lifting the body. As the rope tightened, the body twitched as if still alive. Dave’s torso lifted a few centimetres but his head hung back.

  ‘Stop!’ yelled Luke. ‘He’s stuck. Lower him back down.’

  The blood had glued what was left of Dave’s head to the frozen ledge. Using the pointy end of his ice axe Luke carefully chipped away at the blood, red splinters bursting out into oblivion, the noise reverberating through the chamber. All the time Dave’s blank eyes stared at him. Luke kept chipping away but Dave’s split head remained stuck to the ledge.

  ‘Shit. I can’t move him,’ Luke called.

  Luke could just make out a muffled conversation between Blue and Craig at the surface.

  ‘Luke, Craig says you know what to do, so just do it, mate,’ shouted Blue. ‘Dave would forgive you.’

  Luke looked up to see Blue’s bird’s nest of a face looking down at him. ‘No way. I’m not pissing on the poor bastard. Jesus fucking Christ!’

  ‘You can’t leave him there. Just do it, Luke.’

  ‘No way.’ Luke used two Prusik loops to climb up and out of the crevasse. He was panting. ‘I’ll boil some water and use that.’

  ‘Stay there, I’ll get water,’ said Blue. He scuttled to the pod, where Luke knew he’d have some snow melted on the little cooker within a few minutes. The doctor returned with a sealed thermos of hot water, handing it to a pale and silent Luke, who lay back on his stomach and dropped down into the crevasse again.

  Luke carefully poured the water around Dave’s head and then tenderly moved the skull away from the ice. A pink stream trickled over the ledge and down the walls.

  ‘Okay. You can pull him up now. Nice and slow.’

  The dangling rope above gradually tightened until it pulled taut with Dave’s weight. Slowly, Dave began to rise, as if he were standing of his own volition. But his head hung to the right at an odd angle and his blue eyes bulged. Luke held out his hands to stop the body swinging too much. If it did, it might knock Luke off the ledge. Luke watched as the dead man rose above him and disappeared over the lip of the crevasse.

  ‘I have him,’ said Blue. Luke heard a muted, ‘My God!’

  ‘Throw down the rope. I’m searching for Mac,’ Luke shouted.

  ‘Mate, we’re losing light. Too dangerous. In the morning,’ said Blue.

  ‘Throw down the rope,’ Luke repeated slowly, trying to maintain his calm. He stared up but couldn’t see what was happening at the surface. He hoped Blue was removing Dave from the bonds.

  ‘Will do,’ said Blue. Luke could hear the reluctance in his voice.

  It took a few minutes for the rope to reach Luke. He used the torch to look deeper into the crevasse. Below him, the ice became like black onyx, glinting in the torchlight as if winking mockingly at him. He was shivering now, his sweat cold on his skin.

  ‘Blue, I’m going deeper. You may not be able to hear me.’

  ‘Not a good idea!’ screamed Blue, as Luke lowered himself further into the V-shaped crevasse.

  The walls closed in so much that Luke could touch both sides. Then he saw Mac. He appeared to be looking up, his mouth slightly open.

  ‘Mac, mate, I’m coming for you. Hang on!’

  Luke sped up his descent. Now the walls were only as wide as his shoulders, and a sharp protrusion tore his parka. At last, he hung directly above his friend. Mac was wedged between the pitch-black ice walls, with only his upper torso visible. He was trapped like a cork in a bottle. Luke stretched out his hand to grab Mac’s parka.

  ‘Mac? Mac? Come on, talk to me.’

  Mac’s eyes stared upwards, empty of life, bloodshot. At the side of his mouth, a ruby-hard capsule of frozen blood glinted in the torchlight. His skin was a greyish blue. Removing his gloves, Luke took his friend’s limp wrist and checked for a pulse, knowing it was useless. The skin was cold.

  Luke dropped the arm in shock. The realisation hit him that somehow Mac’s broken body had survived the fall. He had suffocated to death, unable to move his chest to take a breath. A terrifying and lonely way to die. Luke covered his eyes for a moment, and for the first time since his son’s birth they became watery.

  He rubbed them roughly. A rage was building up inside him. He wanted to yell out but he couldn’t. This was all his fault.

  T MINUS 4 DAYS, 18 HOURS, 42 MINUTES

  5 March, 5:18 pm (UTC-07)

  The slate sky lay like a heavy burden on the silvery station. Carefully, Luke and Craig each towed a body. Blue followed at a respectful distance, like a funeral attendant following a coffin. Not a word was spoken. They were on autopilot, each man dealing with his own grief. The wind had subsided, and not even the surface ice blew around. It was as if Antarctica itself was grieving with them, making their journey home as easy as possible.

  With the communications blackout, Maddie, Tubs and Sue had kept watch for their colleagues’ return, unaware of the situation. Maddie was the first
to race down one of the two retractable exterior staircases, closely trailed by the others. They ran to the stretchers, their steps determined and hopeful. But when Maddie saw that both men’s faces were covered, her hand shot up to her mouth and she bent forward and cried a muffled, ‘No!’ Seeing her so full of anguish, it was all Luke could do not to bawl like a baby.

  Blue and Craig carried Mac inside on the stretcher. Exhausted and shivering, Luke took Dave in his arms. He laid his friend’s body gently on the operating table so that Blue could officially pronounce death, with Maddie acting as coroner. She was refusing even to look at Luke. He went straight to his room and shut the door.

  After a hot shower, he paced the room, asking himself the same two questions over and over: if he had been at the field site, would Mac and Dave still be alive? If he’d made that second call to Mac, would it have made a difference?

  There was a knock on the door. Luke ignored it, unable to face anyone.

  ‘Luke, it’s Sue,’ a voice called. ‘Can I come in?’

  ‘I …’

  Sue continued to speak through the door. ‘Luke, I’m so sorry. But I need your help. It can’t wait.’

  Luke opened the door. He was as pale as the insipid wall paint. ‘What’s up?’ he asked, filling the frame and denying her entry.

  ‘All comms are down and we can’t fix it. And with Mac gone …’ Her voice faded away.

  Luke’s mind only half-engaged with her words. He couldn’t stop thinking about Mac’s forlorn stare. ‘I thought it was just the radios,’ he said eventually.

  ‘No, nothing’s working. No phone, email, internet, nothing. It’s like the ANARESAT link is down.’ Each Australian station had a satellite terminal, which together formed the ANARESAT system, providing telephone and internet access.

  ‘Have you done the obvious – rebooted everything?’ asked Luke.

  Sue nodded.

  ‘Checked the antenna? Any storm damage?’

  ‘Did that, but Craig’s taking another look.’

  ‘It’s not possible,’ said Luke, ‘unless the satellite has gone down or something, and then all our stations will be offline.’

  ‘Can you take a look? You used to build radios, right?’

  ‘Yes, but that won’t help if it’s an ANARESAT or IT problem.’ Luke realised he needed a distraction. ‘I’ll take a look.’

  ‘Um, have you checked your phone messages?’

  Luke glanced at the phone by his bed. He was lucky to have one in his room complete with voicemail.

  Sue tugged at her baby-pink fleece awkwardly. ‘Yours was the last communication.’ She spoke in a rush. ‘I logged it but didn’t listen to it.’

  Luke dived for the phone and listened to his message.

  A few seconds of silence. ‘Daddy?’ It was Jason’s voice, whispering. ‘I want to tell you a big secret.’ Another pause. Breathing. ‘Mummy is getting married. His name is Gary. I’m going to have a baby brother.’ He sounded excited. ‘Don’t tell Mummy. Daddy?’ Luke heard his son’s breath and then nothing as Jason ended the call.

  Already fatigued, Luke shut his eyes and shook his head.

  ‘Luke? You okay?’

  He could just imagine Jessica’s sneering voice saying, ‘Jase gets a proper dad now.’ Jason meant everything to him. Now he was about to lose his son to this bloody Gary. And who the hell was he? Luke needed to talk to his son, but he knew he couldn’t. He slammed his palms onto his desk, the noise like a whip cracking. His laptop jumped and his headphones fell to the floor.

  Sue stepped closer. ‘What’s happened?’

  Luke shook his head. ‘It’s personal.’ He never spoke about his dysfunctional relationship with Jessica, or his long-distance relationship with his son.

  Sue chewed her lip. ‘When you feel up to it, can you check in with Maddie? She’s already tried rebooting, so you two need to talk.’

  Luke was sure he was the last person Maddie wanted to see. ‘Is she in comms?’

  ‘Garage.’ Sue beat a hasty retreat.

  Luke’s head was spinning. He had lost two friends today, and now he was going to lose his son too. In a daze, he pulled on his fleece and headed for the industrial lift that linked the living quarters to the garage.

  He arrived at the garage level, and from the weldmesh lift cage he could hear voices. Luke peered into the vast expanse of the garage. All the tools were hanging in their place, and the rotary snowplough and snowmobiles were parked neatly. His eyes opened wider when he glanced at the bench he used to repair equipment: two white body bags were lying there side by side.

  At first he was appalled at Blue’s insensitivity. Then he shook his head. Of course the bodies couldn’t stay in the surgery; it was too warm and decomposition would set in, whereas the garage wasn’t heated.

  ‘You know, I’m almost glad that comms are down,’ Luke heard Maddie say, her voice a croaky whisper. ‘I just don’t know what to say to their families.’ She moved to the feet of the dead men and Luke saw her profile: it was as if her freckles had been washed away. She looked totally drained.

  Blue shook his head slowly, his back to Luke. ‘It’s hard, I know, Maddie. It’s the worst thing about being a doctor. All you can do is tell them the truth: it was a tragic accident, and while we’re not sure who was trying to save who, they died heroically.’

  She hugged herself and nodded. ‘You know, all these years I’ve wanted to be station leader, I never thought I’d have to report a death, let alone two. My God, Blue, that’s a quarter of my team. How did I manage to lose two people?’ Luke heard her voice crack, then her head dropped further forward and her hair fell over her face.

  Blue stepped forward and took her into a fatherly hug. ‘It’s not your fault. It’s nobody’s fault,’ he said soothingly.

  Maddie pulled away, wiping away her tears with the flats of her hands. ‘Mac should never have been there. God, how am I going to explain this to his poor wife? And they’ve just had a baby.’

  ‘Mac chose to be there, Maddie.’

  ‘Luke should never have agreed,’ she said, her voice rich in sudden fury. ‘Mac wasn’t experienced enough.’

  Luke pulled open the lift doors and stepped forward. ‘You’re right.’

  She strode over to him, her chin jutted forward. ‘Jesus, Luke! It was your fucking research. You should’ve been doing it. Dave was your assistant.’ A bitter tear escaped her left eye and trickled down her cheek. She wiped it away fiercely. ‘And when we get the fucking comms working, I’m the one who has to tell their loved ones they’re dead. I have to hear their agony.While you just hide away in your room as you always do and let it all pass by. God, you make me sick!’ she seethed, her sodden face red and blotchy.

  ‘Come on, Maddie,’ interrupted Blue. ‘You don’t mean this. It’s your grief talking.’ He tried to grab her arm and she pulled it away.

  ‘They were beautiful guys, Luke …’ Her voice trailed off and she ran from the garage.

  Silence. Luke stayed rooted to the spot, staring at the body bags. ‘You know she doesn’t mean it, mate,’ said Blue.

  ‘The problem is, Blue, she’s right.’

  ‘Don’t do this to yourself, Luke.’ Blue put a pudgy hand on the taller man’s shoulder.

  ‘We’ve got to get them home, Blue. I’ll call the Professor Basov. She’s leaving tonight …’ Luke roughly ran his hands through his dark hair and then tugged at it in frustration. ‘Shit! I can’t make the call, can I?’

  ‘We need to get comms working as a matter of urgency.’

  ‘If we miss the Basov, we’re stuffed. There won’t be another ship till October.’

  ‘The Aurora Australis? Or is she already in Hobart?’

  ‘Hobart,’ said Luke. ‘She could make it back here, if only we could contact AARO. But who knows how thick the ice will be by then? The bay gets clogged easily.’ Pine Island Bay was U-shaped and so was prone to thick sea ice. Luke paused, thinking. ‘If I leave now, I might catch the Basov before it weig
hs anchor.’

  Blue stepped closer. ‘Don’t be a fool. It’s getting dark out there.’

  Luke glanced at the closed garage doors.

  ‘Stop this, Luke. You’ll kill yourself. It’s probably minus forty out there and you won’t be able to see a bloody thing.’

  ‘Oh, Christ,’ Luke said. ‘It could be seven months before their families see them.’

  ‘Maybe. If it’s going to be months, you also need to face the fact that we are going to have to preserve their bodies. That means building an ice shroud or placing them … well, it means the freezer, I’m afraid.’

  Luke’s head shot up and he opened his mouth to object, then shut it again. When he spoke, he tried to control his emotions. ‘No way. I’ll build an ice shroud. We can’t put them in the freezer. It’s … it’s like they’re pieces of meat.’

  ‘Let’s see if we can raise the Basov, shall we?’

  Blue patted Luke’s shoulder again, squeezed it reassuringly, and left. Luke went to the heads of the body bags and tenderly unzipped the longer one. Thankfully, Blue had closed Mac’s eyes. When Luke had seen the look of helpless desperation in them, it had cut him to the quick. Now he looked at peace. Luke stood there for a long time, staring at his friend’s face. An image of Mac’s wife, Marie, popped into his head. God, he wouldn’t swap places with Maddie for anything.

  ‘I’m sorry, mate,’ he said softly. ‘If I’d known …’ Luke focused on the small cross around Mac’s neck. ‘We’ll do you a ceremony in the morning. Blue can say a few words from the Bible and we’ll play that bit of music you like – you know, that song “Yellow”. You always said you’d want that played at …’ He stopped again, remembering the times he’d shared with Mac at his artist’s retreat – a tiny hut they’d built together. Luke would take photos while Mac painted, each enjoying the other’s taciturn company.

  From his pocket, Luke took the lucky pig Tubs had given him and placed it next to Mac’s head. ‘There you go, mate. You’re not alone now.’ Luke then carefully zipped up the body bag; the little pig rolled close to Mac’s ear.

  Luke turned and headed for the comms room. He had to find a way to reach the Professor Basov.