by L. A. Larkin
Thankfully, the leopard seal was gone. Had it been enough to convince the soldiers they were dead? Luke turfed out the soaked pillows from inside the suit and carried it back to the rocky beach, where he collected his bag. He couldn’t climb back up the cliff so he had to follow the fast ice along the coastline until the rock face dropped low enough for him to climb.
The effort drained him. His balance was getting worse and he was shivering. He slipped into the shallow water but recovered himself. After scrambling back over ice and boulders, he collapsed onto his knees not far from the hut’s entrance. Doubled over and breathless, his eyes clenched shut, he gasped.
‘Are you all right?’ he called out. ‘Maddie? It’s Luke.’
No answer.
He opened his eyes and his heart almost stopped. The crates and canisters he had used to conceal Maddie were strewn around him. He wrenched his arms out of the backpack straps and clambered under the hut. It was as if a mini tornado had cleared a path through the debris, taking Maddie with it. Luke felt crushed with fear.
He wriggled back out and, still on all fours, shouted her name over and over. But it was hopeless. All that remained was the blanket she had been wrapped in. He stretched his hand out and touched the fabric, somehow expecting it to be warm – which, of course, it wasn’t. Luke sat back on his haunches, his despair paralysing. Dotted around him were cigarette butts discarded by the soldiers. Their stink brought him out of his stupor.
Illogically, he wondered if Maddie might be inside the hut. He leaped through the open door and ran into every room, calling her name. Nothing. With a sickening feeling, he wondered if her body might be outside somewhere, discarded after they had killed her. Reluctantly, he left the hut.
He peered up at the mountains and watched as the snowmobiles became little more than moving red dots.
The first snowmobile was towing something, and he now realised it was a Kalkis sled and that Maddie was on it. But why take her? They’d killed all the others, and they must’ve believed him dead too. A dark, ugly thought crossed his mind. She was an attractive woman.
Luke’s despair morphed into fury. There and then, he decided he must find Maddie. Yet it felt very little like a choice, more an instinctive reaction. If he had calculated his odds of success, he would never have considered it. But he wasn’t thinking like a scientist. He refused to acknowledge that he would probably get killed. He had made a promise to Maddie – ‘I won’t let you down’. Then he’d run away and left her. He had to make it right. He would keep his promise.
‘I’m coming after you,’ he said aloud.
Luke was thinking more clearly now, and his breathing was calmer. It was then he noticed Maddie’s tube of zinc cream lying next to the blanket. Had she lost it in the struggle? Or was she trying to leave him a message?
Luke crawled under the hut on his stomach and craned his neck, looking around. There was nothing but junk. He moved to the spot where Maddie had been lying. Rolling over to position himself as she had been, he instantly saw lettering on the underside of the hut’s floorboards. It was so close to his face that, at first, it was unintelligible.
He touched the letter F: it was sticky and waxy. Zinc sunblock. It read ‘FITZY GEN ZHAO’.
The first word was easy. Their camp must be near the Fitzgerald Fissure. That was a start, but the Fitzy was twenty kilometres long. And what of ‘GEN’ and ‘ZHAO’? Maddie was obviously trying to tell him something she had overheard, but it made no sense. A military general in Antarctica?
Back inside the hut, Luke stripped off his soaked coat and hung his sodden boots and the freezer suit above the stove, which he loaded up with more wood. Both items would remain damp as they wouldn’t hang there long, but damp was better than soaked. He couldn’t survive the cold without his freezer suit. He assembled what he would need to take with him: food, what was left of their medical supplies, the camping stove, knife, ice axe, rope, binoculars and shovel. There was no tent but he took the blanket. He would be spending a night on the mountain and to survive it he would have to dig a snow cave to protect himself from the wind and cold. He knew all too well that his chances of living through such a night were slim, but ‘slim’ would have to do.
He eventually found a small box containing seven cartridges for the Lee-Enfield rifle in a kitchen drawer, and cursed himself for not finding them earlier. But would the old rifle even fire, or would it blow up in his face? His last action was to leave a message, in case someone had picked up his SOS and come looking for him. Which he doubted. He was alone.
Thirty minutes later, Luke was on his way. He was now the hunter.
T MINUS 2 DAYS, 19 HOURS, 56 MINUTES
7 March, 4:04 pm (UTC-07)
Luke kept up a good pace: not so fast that he would sweat too much, but fast enough to reach the nearest end of the Fitzgerald Fissure by mid-morning the following day. Once night fell, he could do nothing but build a snow cave and wait for dawn. At least he had a few more hours of daylight left, the sky was a dazzling blue and the mountain air still. As long as there was no wind – a rarity, he had to admit – he could follow the snowmobile tracks all the way to their camp. Following their exact path would also virtually eliminate the chance of falling into hidden crevasses.
The regularity of his breathing, the swish of his clothes and the crunch of his boots was all he could hear. He had always found solo treks exhilarating but now he craved company. He started talking to himself as he worked through a plan for Maddie’s rescue. Could he capture the leader and threaten to kill him unless Maddie was released? Could he enter the camp unseen, find her and leave before the alarm was raised? The mountain peaks, which he had always regarded with joy, now seemed ominous and threatening. Would he even make it through the night?
Luke began to sing, the power of his voice sucked away by the vast emptiness. It was a French children’s ditty, one his father had taught him, ‘Frère Jacques’. It was simple and repetitive but gave him a good walking rhythm. Then he progressed to something less childish, ‘Hymne à l’Amour’, which his father used to sing amongst the clatter of pans and shouting in the kitchen.
Luke’s voice trailed away as he thought of Jason. How would Jase remember him if he perished? Luke stumbled as his leg disappeared up to his knee in the loose ice. He yanked it free and continued. It was two days since he’d heard the news about Jessica’s engagement, and he hadn’t been able to speak with his son since. He imagined Jason, crestfallen at his daddy’s silence. Would he always associate his father with disappointment and absence? Luke was determined to change that. He should never have left Melbourne, never allowed himself to be manipulated by Jessica. Maddie was right: there was still time to make amends.
Luke was determined to live. To make things right with Jason. To keep his promise to Maddie.
He took some comfort from the ice axe in his hand and the Lee-Enfield strapped to his pack. It wasn’t much against modern weapons, but he’d have surprise on his side. Maddie had once called him a maverick. Being impetuous usually got him into hot water and this rescue mission would undoubtedly lead to trouble. He imagined Maddie tutting at him, and smiled.
He started to sing again, unwilling to think of the odds stacked against him.
***
Robert sat a safe distance from the test site, leaning back into his chair like a cricket enthusiast in a private box at the final day of The Ashes. His reluctant guest, Madeline Wildman, sat next to him. She was in fresh clothing, her wound seen to by his doctor. It was clean and would heal well. She had already tried to escape twice, leaving him no choice but to tie her arms behind the chair. She refused to look at him or speak, but this was better than the tirade of abuse she had hurled at him upon arriving at the camp – and the bite she had inflicted on one of his men.
He admired the contours of her profile, and Maddie held her head up disdainfully, aware that he was looking at her. The creamy pale skin of her throat, her bright round eyes and long golden hair reminded him of Bottic
elli’s Venus. She was a rare, if only temporary trophy. A pity about the temper.
‘Stop staring at me, you creep,’ she said, her eyes fixed straight ahead.
Even when she was furious, the movement of her soft lips was an open invitation. How many women had floated in and out of Robert’s life, all disappointing, all drawn to him by his power and wealth? All were insipid creatures with perfect proportions who only lasted a few weeks before he deleted their numbers from his smartphone. This woman, however, had guts as well as an unusual, earthy kind of beauty. What a shame she would have to freeze to death somewhere on the mountains, desperate to escape the murderous Luke Searle.
‘ “They look like rose-buds fill’d with snow”,’ quoted Robert, looking at her lips. She blinked several times in confusion. ‘That beautiful line is from Thomas Campion’s “Cherry Ripe”. You see, we Chinese are not the uneducated peasants you think we are.’
‘I don’t think that,’ she said, turning her head, her eyes scanning his face. ‘I ask again: who are you, and what are you doing here?’
‘You’re a bright woman. I’m sure you’ll work it out.’
‘Are you General Zhao?’
Robert threw his head back in laughter, revealing two rows of pristine white teeth. He’d never before been mistaken for his father. ‘Why do you think I am the General?’ he asked, still chuckling.
‘My mistake,’ she mumbled. ‘What did you mean when you said Luke can’t hurt me anymore?’
‘A private joke.’ He sipped at his glass of champagne.
‘So what do you want?’
‘I want to save my people.’
Maddie raised an eyebrow and sneered. ‘Sure you do. If this was a mercy mission you wouldn’t be slaughtering people. And why the soldiers? Are you drilling for oil? Mining? Testing weapons? Dumping waste? What could possibly be worth all this bloodshed?’
Robert looked down as he experienced something akin to remorse. He had never intended to kill anyone. But he had to succeed, no matter the cost. He felt a sting of anger. ‘How dare you judge me. What I am doing here is more important than you or your friends.’
‘Then what do you want from me?’ she asked.
‘My men are idiots and lack refinement. I want to share my moment of glory with someone intelligent enough to appreciate its true significance. But don’t flatter yourself. I had considered Searle for this role, but he’s dead now. At least you, my dear, have a beauty he never possessed.’
Maddie tried to lunge at him. ‘What did you do?’
‘Don’t shout at me,’ he yelled back, standing and slapping her hard across the face. Despite her bindings, she managed to headbutt his stomach. He stumbled back, shocked and winded. ‘Guards!’ he croaked. Two men rushed over.
‘You murdering bastard!’ Maddie screamed. ‘What have you done?’
As his men roped her chest to the back of the chair and bound her feet, Robert recovered his composure. ‘I did nothing. He was dead when we found him. A leopard seal was enjoying his carcass.’
Robert delighted in the way Maddie’s face crumpled, almost curling in on itself with despair. Then she looked at him, her eyes begging him to tell her it wasn’t true – that Searle was still alive.
‘I don’t believe you. He knows the seals,’ she said, but her words lacked conviction.
‘Oh, dear. This man was more to you than just a member of your team, wasn’t he? Yes, I’ve heard that happens at remote stations. Desperate sex with people you’d never normally find attractive. Lying to loved ones afterwards, claiming fidelity. But isolation and loneliness can do that to you. Tut, tut. Not the kind of behaviour I’d expect from a station leader.’
‘Go to hell, you fucking nutcase!’ She spat out the words through a tear-stained face.
Ignoring her insult, Robert reached for his champagne flute. ‘To Antarctica’s forgotten riches.’
T MINUS 2 DAYS, 19 HOURS, 15 MINUTES
7 March, 4:45 pm (UTC-07)
Robert fully intended to enjoy this landmark moment. As he waited for the countdown, he surveyed the view. His camp was positioned perfectly: it had easy access to the glacier but was far enough back to avoid detection by any passing ships. It was reassuring to know that even though he was sitting on thick ice, somewhere beneath him lay solid bedrock. The Pine Island Glacier’s ice tongue – the focus of his attention – sat on nothing more substantial than seawater. Further inland, he could make out the long gash of the Fitzgerald Fissure.
Tang, his explosives expert, was monitoring the countdown. Li sat next to him. Their equipment was spread out on a table outside Robert’s tent. Maddie watched their every move.
Captain Wei marched over. ‘Ready, sir. Lieutenant Tang will start the countdown.’
Robert nodded and Wei stood to attention to his right. Every now and again Wei glanced up the length of the glacier, inland, when he should have been looking seaward towards the point of detonation.
‘What’s so interesting out there?’ Robert asked.
‘Nothing, sir. Just low sun in my eyes.’
Tang began counting down from ten, and Robert’s foot tapped out each second.
The explosion felt like an earthquake, except it wasn’t earth shaking but ice. The boom was followed by a low rumble. Robert’s director’s chair shuddered and he had to lean forward to prevent it from tipping over. Maddie stared in horror at the spray of ice that shot skyward at the tip of the glacier’s tongue.
Li and Tang huddled over their trembling monitors, which gradually stopped moving as the aftershock died away. An unnerving silence followed. Li shook his head, his eyes darting from the monitor to the mountains and back.
‘Did everything function as it should?’ asked Robert.
Tang saluted. ‘Sir, the test is complete. The explosives worked well. The pentolite has not been impacted by the sub-zero temperatures or the wet, and the signal has gone the distance. We will be victorious.’
Robert stood and slapped Tang on the back. Wei again looked inland to where the glacier met the Hudson Mountains, and seemed to smile as he saw a cloud of snow in the air. Robert was too focused on the success of the test to notice. Li’s lower lip was trapped between his teeth, and despite the cold, he was sweating. He remained glued to the monitors.
‘Good work, men,’ Robert said. ‘I’ll report our success to General Zhao and our backers. The tenth of March will be truly spectacular.’
Suddenly there was a crack so loud that Robert’s hands shot to his ears. It was hard to tell where it came from. Li nervously started rocking back and forth. Another thunderous crack. It was behind them. Everyone except Maddie turned to face the Hudson Mountains. She struggled to peer around.
A gaping fissure was zigzagging across a section of deep snow covering the mountain, like a bolt of lightning. It continued for at least a kilometre. Li pointed, agog. Then the area of loose ice directly below the crack broke away and began to tumble down the lower slopes onto the glacier. Avalanche. Fortunately, the direction of descent was nowhere near their camp.
Robert was unaware he was holding his gloved hand over his heart until Maddie spoke.
‘What have you done? Don’t you know how unstable this glacier is?’
‘I know that, Wildman, but my project won’t harm your precious glacier.’ She was beginning to annoy him. Perhaps he should dispose of her now?
Li was rocking more violently. ‘No, no, no …’ His seismometer was picking up another, more powerful tremor, this time in the direction of Cranton Bay.
‘Stop that, will you?’ Robert snapped.
‘Sir, this is bad.’ Li looked at Wei for guidance, his eyes fearful. Wei subtly shook his head and the glaciologist took the hint. ‘Sir,’ he said, ‘I … I need time to work out what caused the avalanche.’
Tang spoke up. ‘The aftershocks are a minor issue, sir.
‘No, they …’ Li began. Wei glared at him to stop.
‘Make sure this doesn’t happen on the tenth,’ Robert s
aid. ‘We could have been killed!’
Maddie leaned as far forward as her bindings would allow. ‘Why are you blowing off bits of the glacier?’
‘More than just bits, Madeline,’ Robert replied. Why not tell her? She would be dead soon. ‘We will blow away a perfect one hundred and twenty-five thousand cubic metre tabular iceberg and then another, and another.’
‘But why?’ she gasped. ‘Why destroy the glacier?’
‘Sir,’ interrupted Wei. ‘Permission to check the point of detonation before you report in?’
‘Yes, go,’ he said, flicking his wrist. ‘And take Tang.’
The glaciologist would stay where Robert could keep an eye on him. Was he having some kind of breakdown? ‘Li, I need you to model aftershock activity, based on the volume of explosives we’re using on the tenth.’
The man stared at his screen like a rabbit transfixed by a car’s headlights.
‘Bring her inside,’ Robert ordered another soldier. Maddie was released so she could walk but her hands were still tied. ‘After you,’ Robert said in mock gallantry. A captive audience, he thought smiling to himself.
T MINUS 2 DAYS, 19 HOURS
7 March, 5:00 pm (UTC-07)
The ice beneath Luke’s feet shuddered. He looked up into the mountains and heard a roar that grew in volume. It sounded like thousands of wild horses galloping down the slope. Luke fell forwards as the ice beneath his feet shifted downhill. He scrambled to stand, whipping around on his unstable legs and trying to work out what was happening.
Then he heard a rolling, roiling, cracking sound, as higher up the mountain a deep gash tore across the ice. It seemed to resonate as the crack drove deeper and deeper towards the bedrock beneath. Snow was hurled into the air, forming a thick cloud. Simultaneously, the surface ice began to slide towards Luke – a tumbling, roaring mass, unified in one powerful motion. It gathered momentum and grew in height, like a tsunami.
