by L. A. Larkin
Maddie wriggled up to a sitting position and stared at her bandaged leg. ‘Well, at least I still have a leg,’ she grinned. ‘Thank you.’
‘I checked it while you were sleeping. The bleeding’s stopped but you’re going to need to keep it still for a few days.’
The steaks sizzled in the pan on top of the stove, and the smell lifted their spirits. For a brief moment they could pretend their lives were normal.
‘I had the weirdest dream. Probably the drugs. It was as if all the ice in Antarctica had gone. It was just a barren rocky landscape, and I was the only one in it. Horrible.’
‘Just give it time,’ Luke said. ‘If we carry on pumping out carbon, Antarctica’s ice will melt away, just like the Arctic.’
She looked up at him, startled by his comment.
‘Okay, I exaggerate,’ he said. ‘It’s already too late to stop the planet’s warming. It’s all about how much and how quickly. Slowing it is going to mean fundamental changes in the way we live, which the world isn’t ready for.’
‘So you think we’re too late?’
Luke turned the steaks.
‘No, not quite. We seem to have an uncanny knack of digging ourselves out of big holes. But atmospheric CO2 is already over four hundred parts per million, and it’s a big ask to get it back down below three hundred and fifty. Ice cover in the Arctic summer is almost gone, and Antarctica is already melting faster than we thought possible.’ He paused and glanced at her. ‘You’ve heard this all before, I know.’
‘Not really. We used to avoid each other, remember? I only ever got the tail end of your conversations.’
‘Okay. We’re in a feedback loop. Less ice reflects the sun, which accelerates warming. So we get longer, harsher droughts, increased desertification and food shortages. Water scarcity is already a problem at home, and it’s huge in places like China, Africa and the United States. Jordan, Palestine and Israel are at war over the Jordan River. Large swathes of Europe, from Portugal to Ukraine, are at risk of becoming semi-desert. But people only react when there’s a crisis and it’s just around the corner.’
‘Fear can be crippling,’ said Maddie. ‘People don’t want to face it.’
‘I understand that, but I worry about this place.’ He nodded at the window. ‘On top of everything else, with the race to drill the Arctic, now people are talking about exploration here. Once somebody finds a way to mine this place, everyone will want to get their snout in the trough.’
Maddie watched him, eyebrows raised. This was the longest speech she’d ever heard him make.
‘Sorry, I get carried away sometimes.’ Luke turned away, slightly embarrassed. He strained the vegetables, careful to keep the precious warm water. With his sleeve he wiped away the dust from two tin plates and started serving.
‘You know, you should run for office,’ Maddie said.
‘Nah, politicians are gasbags.’
‘Not all of them. Some see how important this is.’
‘Some. Most don’t want to risk their careers on such an unpopular subject,’ he replied. ‘And powerful people – those who don’t want climate change taken seriously – pump millions into creating doubt and confusion. Just like the cigarette companies did. If you create enough doubt, people won’t change their behaviour.’
‘But speaking out is important.’
‘Yeah, but I’m crap with words. I’m a backroom guy.’
‘You’re selling yourself short,’ Maddie said.
‘Nah. I’m happy to talk about glacier mass balance calculations or flow velocities, but I’m not so good at persuading people. I provide the evidence, like my paper.’ He looked at her quizzically. ‘You thought I was exaggerating, didn’t you? That comparing the PIG to Larsen B was over the top?’
He saw Maddie blush. ‘Yeah, well,’ she replied, ‘for someone who’d barely speak to me, you had plenty to say to everyone else about it. I guess I felt left out. Petty, I know.’
He handed her a plate.
‘This smells amazing,’ Maddie said.
‘You should try my coq au vin and saucisson de Lyons. I learned to cook from my French dad.’
‘But your surname sounds English.’
‘My dad’s name is Philippe Seul, spelled S–E–U–L. It means—’
‘Alone. Yes, I know. How fitting,’ she said, rolling her eyes.
Luke ignored the teasing and tucked into the hot food. ‘He’s a chef in Lyons, the French capital of gastronomy – or so he used to keep telling me.’
‘How did your parents meet, then?’ Maddie asked.
‘You really want to know?’
‘I do.’
‘Mum was backpacking through Europe. She ended up waitressing at his restaurant, and one thing led to another. Mum wanted me born in Australia so she went back to Melbourne and, to her surprise Dad followed. But it was a disaster. Anyway, when I was seven Dad left for France and took me with him.’ Luke cut a piece of the steak and held it up, admiring its brown exterior and light-pink interior. ‘Dad had caught Mum in the kitchen fucking his Melbourne business partner. Some pans went flying that night, I can tell you!’
‘I’m sorry, Luke. That sounds terrible.’
‘It happens.’ He shrugged, concentrating on his meal, not wanting her to see his hurt.
‘So why is your name not spelled the French way?’ Maddie asked.
‘That happened when I was enrolled at boarding school back in Australia. Dad sent me back when I was eleven and the school registered me as Searle. Mum didn’t give a shit and I didn’t want to sound French, so that’s how it stayed. I made it official at eighteen.’
‘So what happened in France?’
‘Oh, Dad was really busy with the restaurant, my French was crap, I was lonely and I hated it. He put me on a plane and told Mum that he’d pay for the school but that he didn’t want to have anything more to do with me. I don’t blame him. I was a little shit.’
‘Geez, Luke, I do. You can’t just dump your son because it’s inconvenient.’
Maddie baulked when she realised the implication of her words.
The meat stuck in Luke’s throat. He swallowed. ‘You think I want to be away from Jason?’
‘I don’t know what to think because you won’t tell me anything about him.’
Luke stared at the fogged-up window while Maddie finished her meal. She sighed. ‘Don’t worry about it, Luke. Another time. Just eat.’
Finally, he spoke. ‘I’m ashamed.’
He looked down at his cooling meal, then put the plate on the floor.
‘Of what?’ she asked.
‘I’ve failed him.’ Maddie waited. ‘I’d only known Jessica a few months when she fell pregnant. She lied … Argh, it doesn’t matter.’
‘Please, go on.’
‘I found out later that she’d lied about taking the pill. I overheard her boasting to a friend about “snaring” me. Anyway, I cancelled my Antarctic trip and stayed in Melbourne so I could be there for the birth. I didn’t move in, though; our relationship was really just the sex. We had nothing in common. I promised to support her and be a father to Jase, but I couldn’t marry her.’
He paused. ‘Despite everything, Jase was the best thing that had ever happened to me. But when Jessica finally grasped that I loved Jase and not her, she started finding ways to stop me seeing him. It was her way of punishing me. Two years later, I realised there was no point in being in Melbourne if I couldn’t see my boy, so I moved to Tasmania to work at AARO’s headquarters.’ He looked at her. ‘I’m a crap father.’
‘Did you fight for access? Get a lawyer?’
‘It was meant to be every other weekend, but Jessica would cancel at the last minute or say he was sick or some other excuse. I should have gone back to court but I’m not good at confrontation. Jessica knows that.’ He paused again, ‘I was weak. I gave up. I decided that if I couldn’t be with Jase, I might as well do something worthwhile and earn some decent money for his education. That’s why I
’ve over-wintered four times. And the prize money will go to Jase too.’
He sighed. ‘But I feel bad every day I’m away from him. Daily calls on Skype just don’t cut it.’
‘I didn’t know you spoke every day,’ Maddie said. ‘Sounds like you’re making the best of a difficult situation.’ Lost in her own thoughts, she pulled her hair into a bun and then let it fall over her shoulders. ‘Are you sure you can’t make a go of it with Jessica?’
Luke stood and opened the stove door to add some more wood. He needed to do something.
‘No chance,’ he said. ‘Think me a bastard, if you like, but I couldn’t do to Jason what my parents did to me, arguing all the time. Hating each other. I didn’t want to be the mirror image of mon père.’ He spat out the last two words as if they were orange pips. ‘Ironically, that’s exactly what I’ve become.’
Luke turned to look at Maddie, his face wan. ‘Anyway, she’s marrying someone else.’
‘How do you feel about that?’
‘I’m pleased for her but I want to know who this bloke is. That he’ll be good to my boy.’
‘Yes, I’d want to know that. Have you spoken to Jason about it?’
‘No, the comms blackout prevented me. I really can’t get my head around Jase having a new dad.’
‘You know, Luke, only you are his father,’ Maddie said softly. ‘But when we get out of here, maybe you should let Jason know you will always be his daddy. Find a way to spend more time with him.’
Neither spoke for several minutes.
‘I’m sorry, Luke,’ Maddie said, finally. ‘I misjudged you. I thought you were neglecting him. You never talked about him or showed photos – you know, the normal stuff. I guess I was … well, jealous. You have what I can’t have.’
‘You can have another kid one day,’ he said. ‘How old are you? Early thirties?’
‘Yeah, same as you. But no, I can’t have any more children. There were complications at Becky’s birth.’
They lapsed into silence again.
‘So all that anger on the ship when we were coming to Antarctica and since, was about me as a father?’
She nodded. ‘Mainly that. Oh, and the fact that you’re a pain in the arse.’
They laughed together.
T MINUS 2 DAYS, 23 HOURS, 43 MINUTES
7 March, 12:17 pm (UTC-07)
After lunch, Luke checked for any signs of activity outside. Satisfied, he did some more exploring. Inside a wall cabinet, he discovered coagulated medicines and, tucked behind the bottles, a solitary bar of soap. He raced the soap back to the kitchen.
‘Would you believe it!’ he said. He held out the soap, still intact after all those years. A faded mauve colour. He offered it to Maddie, who sniffed it tentatively at first and then beamed.
‘It still smells of lavender. My God, we can wash! How incredibly civilised,’ she said.
In a few minutes, he had two pans of snow warming on the stove. When the water was hot, he carried one pan to the table and placed it next to Maddie, then he took down one of the curtain rails and handed the curtain to her. She was still cradling the soap as if it were a baby bird.
Luke saw, perhaps for the first time, how stained with grime her face was. He had no doubt his was the same. Her tears had left streaks on her skin. ‘I’ll leave you to it, then.’
He decided to create a mental inventory of everything they could use at Bettingtons. His focus was on finding a power supply, as well as anything to cobble together to build a communication device. The tools room looked promising; he was amazed at how well stocked it was.
‘Hey, Luke,’ Maddie called. ‘Your turn.’
Her face shone, her freckles like the decorative pattern on an ancient vase now revealed through polishing. She smelled of lavender, and he couldn’t help closing his eyes and remembering his mother’s garden.
‘I never thought washing could feel so good,’ Maddie said.
Luke took the second pan of hot water from the stove and set it down on the sideboard.
‘Here – catch!’ Maddie tossed the slippery soap at him and Luke fumbled. Maddie laughed.
With his back to her, he stripped down to his waist. As he washed his hands and arms, his chilled skin tingled. The sensation was so good that he sighed. He was aware of her watching him. Station life was never a private affair, but somehow her gaze now felt different.
‘You’ve got a bad bruise on your back and shoulder,’ she said.
‘I’ll live.’
‘Nice back, by the way.’
Luke splashed his face, leaning over the pan. He wiped it dry with the curtain and glanced round at her. ‘Pervert,’ he joked.
She had her arms folded across her chest and wore a mischievous grin. ‘I can’t move, remember? So you’re safe.’ She threw her head back and laughed.
He smiled, enjoying her teasing, and pulled on his now dry thermal top.
‘We’re going to make it, aren’t we?’ she said. It was more of an affirmation than a question.
He perched on the table next to her. For the first time since the fire he felt genuinely optimistic. ‘Yes, I think we are. There’s so much stuff here. We can survive the winter if we have to.’
Maddie placed a hand on his, and he stared at it. ‘Thanks, Luke. Thanks for everything.’ She let go and immediately Luke wanted her hand back on his.
‘My pleasure.’
She touched her nose and cheeks with the back of her hand. ‘It feels like my skin is burning.’ She looked flushed.
‘It is getting warm in here. But it could be mild frost-nip.’ He placed the back of his hand on her cheek. He nodded. ‘It’ll be fine. Nothing to worry about.’
He felt his body lean towards her, as if he wasn’t controlling it. To his surprise she bent towards him, her eyes peering straight into his. They hovered for a moment, then he felt her pull back, closing in on herself like a flower shutting its petals at night.
‘That wouldn’t be a good idea.’ She looked down.
Luke went to place his hand on her face again and she shied away.
‘No, Luke.’ She looked around the room, keen to avoid his concerned gaze. ‘I need to rest.’
She wanted him gone. It was his turn to look away, as he didn’t want her to see his disappointment. ‘I’ll go see if I can find a radio.’
T MINUS 2 DAYS, 23 HOURS, 22 MINUTES
7 March, 12:38 pm (UTC-07)
At the very end of the corridor, Luke discovered a cupboard-sized room with a tiny desk and a chunky 1950s two-way radio, complete with headphones and a horn-shaped bakelite mouthpiece. The transmitter and receiver were encased in a black rectangular box with a grey face covered in dials. He cautiously pulled off the back cover and checked the six glass valves. They weren’t smashed, but the chances that they were all working were very slim. He gave the rest of the radio’s interior a cursory once-over; it looked in surprisingly decent condition. But a radio was no good without power.
He went searching for the station’s generator. He expected it to be separated from the main living quarters, due to the noise and stench of diesel it would create, but he found it in the tools room next to the dormitory. He ran his hands over the generator’s rusty exterior and then opened it up. His optimism waned. The pistons looked seized up and rusty, and he had no doubt the diesel inside would be a useless wax-like sludge.
He went back to the kitchen to collect the camping stove. Maddie’s eyes were closed. He touched her shoulder to wake her but she didn’t stir.
‘Mads, wake up. I’ve found an old radio and a generator. I need you to keep an eye out while I try to get them working. Mads?’
‘Sure,’ Maddie replied drowsily, then she frowned as his words sunk in. ‘Really? Are they repairable?’
‘It’s a long shot. If I can get them working, I might be able to send an SOS.’
‘You know Morse code?’ She rubbed her eyes.
‘My boarding school caretaker was a ham radio fanatic. Lovely old gu
y. He taught me Morse code too.’
‘And how to rebuild radios?’
‘Yes. Murray was his name. I was such a misfit and he took pity on me. I was twelve. I’d sit on an upside down bucket and watch and listen in silence. Sometimes I’d help rebuild a radio, the old man indicating which part went where with a point of his finger. I remember the bucket clearly. It was blue.’
She crossed her arms and grinned. ‘You certainly are a man of many hidden talents.’ Luke watched as her expression became more serious. ‘Do people still use Morse code?’
‘Oh, yes. You’d be surprised. Especially radio operators on ships. They don’t have to listen into the distress frequency anymore, but most do – out of sheer boredom, if nothing else.’
‘Luke?’
‘Yes?’
‘Stick with calling me Mads. I like it.’
‘Okay, I will.’ Luke hesitated. ‘There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. Do you think Tubs betrayed us?’
‘I’ve been wondering that too. I guess he knew he was dying.’ The words seemed to catch in her throat. ‘So, yeah, I do. Much as it saddens me.’
‘I don’t want to believe it. He was a good friend.’ Luke perched on the edge of the table and tapped his finger on his lower lip. ‘This must have been planned for ages. It takes serious money and power to get soldiers down here. It’s the sort of thing only governments can do.’ He left the thought hanging and gave a loud sigh. ‘This is going to end badly. For all of us.’
‘Can you send a warning along with the SOS?’ Maddie asked.
‘If I have enough power, but I’ll have to focus on our location.’
‘It might not be mining. What if they’re here to test weapons? We don’t know. But they have to be stopped. Promise me you’ll try to raise the alarm.’
‘Of course, if I can.’
Back in the tools room he shook the generator and heard a slurp as the diesel sludge moved. It was almost empty but there might be enough to run for a couple of minutes. He turned the camping stove on and held the flame underneath the sump to loosen the gloopy diesel. He hoped he wasn’t wasting their precious shellite on a dud generator. He toyed with the idea of using some of the paraffin dumped outside. It would probably destroy the bearings, but it might power up the generator for long enough to send an SOS.
