by JC Ryan
At least they knew they could all make it. JR was taller than Robert, but Robert, aside from the traitorous Roosky, was easily the brawniest. The girls would fit easily, as would Summers. With Robert leading and JR bringing up the rear, he was certain they’d get the whole team through. But what if Summers really did have a heart attack? If so, it would be best if it killed him. They wouldn’t have the resources to carry him out, nor would JR risk Rebecca’s life to stay with him while they went for help, knowing that a return trip to base and back would certainly put them in polar vortex season. Summers would just have to man up; there was no other choice.
While JR was chasing his thoughts in circles around this dilemma, Angela returned alone. JR jumped to his feet, alarmed, but immediately saw that Angela’s face was alight with the biggest smile he’d ever seen.
“You’ve found a way out?” His heart was pounding again. At that moment, JR realized that he’d expected success. He didn’t know why, because he had been preparing for the worst. But somehow, he’d not been able to conceive of his own death in this place, even while speaking of it.
“Not exactly, or not yet. I mean... Well, you just have to see it, there’s no way to describe it!” They could get no more out of the excited girl, who was babbling and possibly hallucinating. Something about a waterfall? Not likely. There was nothing to do but follow her. It was all they could do to keep up with her as Angela fairly flew across the main room. When she dropped to her hands and knees just a few feet into the passageway, Summers balked.
“I…I can’t.”
“You can, and you will. If I have to knock you out and drag you through, you’re coming,” JR threatened.
“Maybe you’d better go first,” Summers quailed.
“Nope, you’re not getting away with that. Cyn, follow Angela, and take this.” With a deft move, JR looped the rope into Summers’ climbing harness and handed the other end to Cyndi. “If he doesn’t come through in a few minutes, get Robert and drag him,” he directed. “I’ll be trapped here until he’s cleared the squeeze, got it?”
Cyndi, wide-eyed, took the rope as directed. She then turned and crawled into the passageway herself, following Angela. JR spoke quietly to Summers.
“I know what it’s like, dude,” he said. “I’ve never been more terrified in my life than when we were under enemy fire. I was almost shitting myself, and I saw plenty of men who did. This is nothing compared to that. But, you have to get through it. It’s the only way out, and I’m not leaving you here to die. You go or I stay. What’s it going to be?”
Summers gulped and nodded, unable to trust his voice to speak.
“Okay, good man. Listen, Cyndi and I are going to help you, but you have to help us, too. Cyn will help pull you through, and I’m right here to push if you need me. What’s your favorite song?”
The seeming non sequitur jarred Summers’ mind away from the coming ordeal. “I don’t know.”
“Any song, man, come on.”
“O, Susanna?”
“That’s fine. I want you to sing that while you’re going through. If Cyndi can’t hear you, she stops pulling, got it?”
Summers nodded again. On hands and knees, he crawled into the opening, a thin and badly off-tune melody accompanying him. JR decided to wait before crawling in behind him. If it took them too long to get Summers clear of the squeeze, he might get a little claustrophobic himself, waiting his turn.
“Summers, you sing like a starving puppy,” he called. “Louder!”
The song grew in volume, and Cyndi, catching JR’s intent, called, “Now he sounds like a donkey!” At that, Summers faltered as he laughed weakly, but hastily began again.
An eternity passed for JR before Cyndi’s voice echoed down the narrow opening. “JR, where are you?”
“Is Summers clear?” he called back.
“All clear, come on! You won’t believe it,” she called. What the hell? Had the rest gone on without him, or was the surprise right there at the end of the squeeze? Without another thought about what he’d do if he became stuck, JR dived in, crawling until he saw the opening that Robert had told him about. Six feet of solid rock, with an opening barely wide enough to inch through, pushing with his toes. JR wondered how Summers had done it. It was daunting to him, and he’d never had claustrophobia. Maybe he would after this, though. He took a deep breath, put his arms out in front of him, and pushed.
It seemed like half an hour before JR felt someone seize his hands and pull, popping him out of the tunnel all at once. When he’d got his bearings, Robert was sitting on the ground with him, grinning like a maniac. “Welcome to Shangri-La,” he said. JR rolled over and sat up, then pushed himself to a standing position, hauling Robert up with him.
“Shangri-La, what are you talking about?” He could see nothing but cave walls with the familiar stone decorations hanging from the ceiling and growing from the floor. Robert gestured, a sweeping motion that invited JR to step forward and there, beyond a particularly large stalagmite, was an opening that led…to Paradise? JR couldn’t believe his eyes.
He stumbled forward, Robert at his heels, through an opening large enough to drive a Jeep through, and into a dream. Before him opened a verdant valley, with grass, vines, trees; so much green he could hardly bear to look at it. After months of nothing but white ice, gray buildings and brown rocks, he was seeing something so impossible that he literally had to pinch himself to make sure he was awake. He stripped off a glove to do it, and heard Robert laughing behind him.
“It’s real, mate, though I don’t have any idea how it could be.”
“What, how?” was all JR could manage. His brain jittered as he remembered an old movie from illicit midnight TV watching as a kid, until the reference came to mind. ‘The Land that Time Forgot.’ What was next, dinosaurs?
“My best guess is geothermal activity, but we haven’t had much of a chance to explore. We were waiting for you.”
“Where are the others?”
“They’re at the pool at the foot of the waterfall.”
“Waterfall. Unbelievable,” JR said, with wonder.
“Indeed,” returned Robert.
Chapter 20 - Yes, Comrade, All Dead
In the Sno-Cat, Bart was napping when the thunderous noise brought him to attention with an oath of surprise. He quickly pulled on his cold weather gear and jumped down to assess the situation. Seeing nothing that could have accounted for the noise, he set off against orders to follow the tracks of the others further into the canyon. When he’d walked for about forty-five minutes, he spotted a plume of ice crystals in the air near the canyon wall, and veered toward it.
The closer he got, the more he was put in mind of avalanches he’d seen on TV news reports. A great spill of whiter snow overlaid the ice on which he walked, with the plume of crystals hanging in the air directly over it. Looking around, he saw no sign of a cave or even an overhang such as Robert and JR had described to the others.
“Sacré bleu! There has been a cave-in! Where is Roosky?” he said, unaware he was speaking aloud. Before he could turn again to look around for Roosky, a pair of massive hands enveloped both sides of his head.
“Wha…” was his last word. The hands twisted savagely, and Bart died instantly.
“Too bad,” rumbled Roosky. “He was good cook for Cajun.” His companion with the big hands shrugged. It was nothing to him. He had meant to kill the cook when he went to dispose of the Sno-Cat, but the man had been missing. After sending it into a convenient crevasse not far from the canyon entrance, he’d followed the tracks until he met up with Roosky, who pointed out the lone hiker. Now the job was done, and they could get out of here.
Together, the two started for a spot outside the canyon, where a Kamov-KA60 helicopter awaited, rotors slowly turning. When they got in, the aircraft took off and swung over the top of the escarpment, into a permanent cloud cover and on over the east side of the mountain, toward the Russian base on the coast, setting down from time to time to
refuel from huge, tough plastic bags scattered strategically across the ice. Clever idea, he thought. It solved the range dilemma, and without sacrificing weight capacity to carry their fuel with them. He had no reason to know that the idea had originated with the Americans, who dragged similar bags from McMurdo to Amundsen-Scott, for a much more efficient way to deliver fuel to the Polar base.
Roosky made his report from the Russian base. “Yes, comrade, all dead. The way is clear.”
At the other end of the conversation, Septentrio seethed at the man’s familiarity. ‘Comrade’ indeed. He was no friend to the Russian, the man was merely a tool. He considered whether it would be enjoyable to gut the man when his usefulness was at an end. Perhaps not. As he understood it, the Russian was a giant, potentially able to overcome Septentrio and harm him. Even if not, the mess would be massive. As much as Septentrio enjoyed watching the death throes, he hated the resultant mess. Perhaps he’d just shoot the pawn and be done with it.
Septentrio picked up the videophone and called Auster.
“How are you, my dear?”
The deceptively mild greeting put Auster on instant alert. What was Septentrio up to? He never called her by an endearment.
“I’m fine, as usual,” she answered cautiously.
“I wanted you to know I’ve cleaned up your little problem, Auster. Don’t make me do it again.”
Fear made a brief appearance, only to be replaced by anger. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Your spy, of course. I trust she will take the necessary steps?”
“Septentrio, please speak plainly. I have no time for guessing games,” Auster snapped, though she was afraid she knew to which spy Septentrio referred.
“All right. You sent a spy to seduce the brother of Daniel Rossler. She was discovered a few days ago. She must not live to be questioned. Is that plain enough?”
“Go on.”
“I have taken care of the rest of the team. My operative will terminate your spy when he returns, if she has not already done it.”
“She will. She probably already has. Won’t your operative be suspect, though, as the only survivor?”
“Perhaps. He will have to be sacrificed as well. Stay out of my way, Auster. I don’t need your help.”
Septentrio disconnected with a sense of savage glee. So far, he was ahead in this game. He would look forward to the time he could strike the fatal blow. Literally.
~~~
As soon as Roosky had made his report, the helicopter took off again, this time toward the South Pole, using a similar hop and skip method to reach the an area nearby the base. Coming in low so as to avoid radar, the last landing was within five miles of the base; too far to hear, but not too far to walk for the tough Russian. He pulled on the dirty cold gear he’d worn at the cave canyon and exited the aircraft.
“Dosvedanya,” he called to the pilot, who raised a hand in acknowledgment of the farewell and then took off. Roosky trudged toward the Pole, using the journey to get himself into character as the sole survivor of a doomed expedition.
A few hours later, he arrived at the base and practically fell into the airlock as he acted out his part.
“Avalanche,” he gasped. “Buried them in the cave.” The soldier who heard that dire sentence sent for Andersen immediately, and helped Roosky to the sick bay, where he was treated for exposure and dehydration. Andersen arrived as the IV was being placed.
“Welcome back, Mikhail Stefanovich,” Andersen said.
Roosky, surprised to hear the base commander address him in the Russian manner, only gaped at him.
“Can you tell me what happened?” Andersen pressed.
Roosky cleared his throat, and began to tell the lie he’d practiced.
“Everyone was in cave when avalanche buried opening. I blast, but no good. When I run out of explosive, take Sno-Cat and return.” He shrugged, as if that explained everything.
“Where’s the Sno-Cat?”
“She fall into crevasse, I walk rest of way.”
“How far?”
“I do not know. I walk two days.”
“How’d you get out of the crevasse?” Andersen asked.
“She fall in only part way, I climb out. Then she disappear.”
Roosky’s story was implausible, but not impossible. Still, Andersen was suspicious. He continued to question Roosky until he was satisfied that there would be no way to shake the story. However, on the off chance that there were survivors of the expedition out there, he needed to send a search and rescue mission, and it needed to be fast. Winter winds called the Polar Vortex would begin within the next several days, and then there would be no more travel for six months, minimum.
With Roosky’s description of the canyon and the bearing they’d taken, Andersen sent for help from McMurdo. They needed a helicopter to get to the canyon. McMurdo had two Sikorsky MH-53 Pave Low birds, retired now in the rest of the world. One was dispatched immediately to the area where Roosky indicated the mishap had occurred. Andersen would have liked to check out his story by sending out a fixed-wing plane to locate the Sno-Cat that supposedly had disappeared into a crevasse, but the operation wasn’t critical to save lives, and was therefore too expensive to mount just to satisfy his suspicious nature.
Hours later, communications from the Pave Low indicated they’d located the site of the avalanche, and that it bore the characteristics that Roosky had reported. There was no sign of survivors, and the crew was turning back, unprepared to dig for them. The Rossler Foundation Expedition was officially declared missing and all members presumed dead.
Chapter 21 - What Have I Done?
Expedition Members Missing and Feared Dead In Tragic Antarctic Mishap
Exclusive to The Daily Camera, Boulder, CO
Reports from the United States joint military base at the South Pole today indicate that the Rossler Foundation expedition has met with a fatal catastrophe, killing all remaining members of the expedition save two. See sidebar for information on presumed spy Misty Rivers.
The expedition was conceived by University of Colorado Boulder archaeology professor Charles Summers and funded by the Rossler Foundation and most Antarctica Treaty nations after Dr. Summers discovered an anomaly in the sixteenth century maps he was studying. On one map, he located a land mass that clearly indicated the mapmaker knew of Antarctica, though in fact there is no other record of its discovery for the next three centuries. Dr. Summers then corroborated his theory that the 10th Cyclers knew of it and perhaps passed down maps that survived the 10th Cycle catastrophe into the early centuries of our cycle. Dr. Summers and his team members hoped to find a 9th Cycle city mentioned in the 10th Cycle library owned by the Rossler Foundation.
Among the dead are Summers (45), expedition director Paul LeClerc (42), expedition chef, Bartholome Deveau (38), Dr. Rebecca Mendenhall (25), Australian geologist Robert Cartwright (32), Chilean microbiologist Carmen Hernandez (age unknown), electronics engineer Cyndi Self (23), cartographer Angela Brown (34), and Joshua ‘JR’ Rossler (26), brother of Rossler Foundation director and CEO, Daniel Rossler.
Several members of the expedition had been sent home earlier, thus escaping the fate of the nine who were killed when an avalanche buried the entrance to the cave they were exploring, according to the sole survivor of the last expedition mission, Mikhail S. Maxhulin. Maxhulin had been tasked to stay outside the cave in order to assist if the shelf of ice that overhung the entrance were to give way. Unfortunately, according to Maxhulin, it was not just ice and snow that gave way, but a layer of the native sandstone that broke with the weight of the ice shelf. Maxhulin said that Cartwright had been concerned about it, but certain that they had brought enough explosives to clear the entrance if the unstable formation did give way. However, after exhausting his supply of explosives, Maxhulin was unable to clear the entrance.
Maxhulin barely escaped with his own life when the team’s Sno-Cat became stranded in a crevasse. He was able to extricate hi
mself from the conveyance and walk to Amundsen-Scott base at the South Pole, where he was treated for exposure and dehydration and released.
The expedition had not been without mishap prior to the one that took the remaining lives. Two of the original expedition members, mining experts Donald Jensen and Michael Walker, were killed in a bizarre incident that no one witnessed. The first was apparently trapped in a blazing tent during a vicious wind storm and burned to death. His tent-mate was never found, and was presumed to have been swept away by the winds, which can reach hurricane strength and cause white-outs by blowing loose snow from the surface into the air.
In a final bizarre twist, one of the expedition’s research assistants, Misty Rivers, was discovered sending sensitive information to an unknown accomplice and incarcerated at the base while the final mission took place. Ms. Rivers was found dead in her cell shortly after the report of the tragedy that befell the remaining members. Cause of death is unknown, pending an autopsy when Ms. Rivers’ body is returned to Colorado.
The Rossler Foundation has announced that a memorial service for their fallen colleagues will be held on Friday, February 28, in the Foundation auditorium. In lieu of flowers, the families request that donations to the University of Colorado, Boulder Archaeology department be made in the names of the dedicated expedition members, who fell in the name of science. A fellowship will be endowed in honor of Dr. Summers and his expedition.
~~~
Sarah had never seen Daniel in such a state. She’d heard how he was when she’d been kidnapped by OS operatives during their search for the Pyramid code, but she hadn’t witnessed it. The family gathered in Boulder as soon as the news came through, and she appreciated the support of her parents as well as Uncle Luke and Aunt Sally, Sinclair, and Martha, who flew out from Providence as soon as she heard. Sarah was grief-stricken herself, feeling it all the more because she was so near her delivery date. However, her main concern was for Daniel, who was wild with grief and guilt. It didn’t matter that even his parents and other brother, Aaron, told him that he’d had no choice but to send JR with the expedition. He took all the blame, and the burden threatened to crush him.
