by Logan Keys
The Long
Fall
The Long Fall Series
Book 1
By
Logan Keys & Mike Kraus
© 2018 Muonic Press, Inc.
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No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, or by any electronic, mechanical or other means, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Table of Contents
Preface
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Authors’ Notes
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Coming Soon:
The Long Fall: Book 2
Winter’s Refuge
Special Thanks
Many thanks to the awesome beta reading team, including Christine, Claudia, Glenda, James, Julie, Marlys, Mayer, Randy, Ray, Shari and Teresa. You all rock. :)
Preface
Antarctica
Vostok Lake
“Test. Testing. Test.”
“We hear you loud and clear, Luckman,” the team’s leader replied. “She’s still stuck."
Luckman shook his head in derision but there was humor in his tone. “Russia already dug three thousand meters, and you all can’t get a probe beyond five hundred feet? Sounds like we just drilled a very expensive fishing hole, boys. And girl. Sorry, Sara.”
The team’s laughter could easily be heard over the comm even though they were deep beneath the surface of Lake Vostok, pocketed at the heart of the Antarctic Glacial Basin. Temperatures were swiftly dropping as night approached and Luckman kept a weather eye on the numbers. The team had been given permission to re-drill the Russian’s “clean” hole, but time was quickly running out and their chances of getting samples would be slim to none if they didn’t finish soon. Instead of having the entire team go down, Luckman had hung back as the task master. Cybercorp was cutting it close putting them in so late in the season, but their environmental division wanted to join the hunt in finding life deep below the ice and the race for new exploration was on.
“We are a movin’ and a groovin’,” Dirk called up, and Luckman swapped over to video so he could see the team with the bot some one hundred and fifty meters below him. He turned on some music and sipped his coffee while watching the silent feed of his coworkers pushing hard to keep things moving while they fought the cold. The headlamps on their helmets created a strange glow that reflected off the surrounding walls of ice and exposed icicles as large as small houses. The color outlining the team was almost supernatural.
Although the drilling should have been easy since it had been done once before, the ice was thicker than they had estimated, and they were dealing with a chill factor that had caused a few extra feet of ice to form. It made it safe for the team to get as close to entry as possible, and they didn’t have to worry about thin ice emergencies or avalanches. That didn’t mean it was completely without peril; ice had a mind of its own and would crack off without warning.
Luckman watched happily as the meters were now starting to fly by on the scanner. The drill was making its way to their goal depth at Lake Vostok, some ten thousand feet below the ice where they’d hopefully drop off their bot into the water for its first explorative dive. Now that they had the technology to do more than collect pristine untouched samples from the subglacial lake, they’d be able to observe new discoveries through the eyes of Wally and see what was hidden by an Ice Age some fifteen million years ago.
“We’re dropping to the next level.” The team began their descent further to follow the bit down in the first of three stages. The area on the lift that they worked on was just wide enough for the three, Sara, Dirk and Bowen with Wally to fit snugly together.
“Roger,” Luckman answered, checking his watch. They were looking pretty good timewise as long as the drill kept on at that speed, but nothing was ever guaranteed on the shelf. No taking for granted precious minutes of a team deep beneath the surface of the earth surrounded by one of the most unforgiving climates. Their company, Cybercorp, was expecting results, too, now that they were the head of all global “Earth Sheltering” projects. France had been in charge for so long, and their idea of using a dome and shelter around the entire world had been a good one in theory until it failed tremendously during application. Cybercorp stepped in as the golden boy and launched their satellites—thousands of them—into space to protect the earth from the sun. The “umbrella” shaded the planet from the harsh rays, essentially cooling the areas that were supposed to be cool like Antarctica, while leaving moderate climates alone. Genius, and effective. The perfect invention, it seemed.
Before joining these expeditions, Luckman had spent a few years after his divorce gambling away an early retirement. Down on his luck, he’d jumped at the chance to work for Cybercorp in their heyday when everyone wanted a piece of the environmental up and comer. Their bonus to him for joining was paying his debts off, and all he had to do was find proof that the main shelf and glaciers had indeed returned to their natural state since the shade was put in place. But he quickly tired of measuring ice that everyone knew would thicken underneath the umbrella, and soon the “Atta boys” given by his new employer, the planet saving “hero,” became less and less gratifying. Luckman was tired of being a ploy to settle the conscience of tax payers about the rising cost of the new program that was increasingly becoming a financial burden.
It didn’t take long for Luckman to be picked up for other expeditions the company wanted money for. After all, his delivery to the media was impeccable. If the journalists wanted to know about the polar bear population, but there had been no increase, he’d say something like, “We’ve seen positive effects of the shade on the inhabitants of both poles,” which could mean anything from him actually observing the growth of a species, to him seeing an extra weed in his camp site. Luckman was good at deflecting when the “Hero Company” wasn’t getting the answers they needed for their costly inventions. Deflecting was like a sport for Luckman nowadays; his ex-wife would vouch for that. The higher-ups were quite pleased nevertheless, and they quickly promoted him to project manager of all environmental special teams. His first order of business was to stop having to measure their success by standing around and waiting for glaciers to get bigger or polar bears to get frisky. His second was to get back into the field. The latter had been the easiest.
“Luckman, the drill is stuck again. What time do you got?” Dirk sounded cold. His voice was forced through his lips as if his jaw was clenched tightly.
Luckman checked his watch and cursed when he saw they didn’t have a minute to spare. “Let’s wrap it up guys. In about a half hour the drill turns back into a pumpkin.”
He checked his thermometer and then did a double take. That can’t be right. “Uh, you guys seeing anything strange down there? My temperature gauge must be broken.”
He could see on the video feed
there was some talking, and Sara in particular seemed rather animated. Luckman watched as she grabbed something from Dirk. “We’ve got a problem,” she said. “The temperature’s dropped five degrees in one minute. Lucky, can you see this?” Sara asked, using his nickname without thinking. He didn’t have time to think about the ramifications of the team finding out they’d been dating. “Can you see this?” she asked again. “It’s still falling.” Panic punctuated the words along with teeth chattering. “On our way up.”
No one argued with Sara when she made a decision, and that’s what Luckman liked about her. She did what she said, said what she did, and brooked no argument from her male counterparts. “Roger,” he answered but was distracted by the gauges’ steady trickle downward.
“Impossible.” He said the word to no one, but now, glancing out of his window of the temporary shelter, he saw that something strange was indeed occurring. Snowflakes fell, but they weren’t normal tiny pieces of snow—no, they were long, flat things like sheets of paper. They fluttered downward like doves landing in the snow. He’d never seen anything like it in all of his years on the ice. It was as if the moisture in the air was freezing so fast that it was locking together, but laterally. It reminded Luckman of when his children cut out snowflakes when they were younger at Christmas to decorate the house. But real snowflakes weren’t that big. Or not normally.
“Sara, you guys moving up yet?” He tried not to sound worried. Luckman checked the video feed and the team seemed to be struggling with the lift. The comm cut some of their words out. “Can’t get…damned thing…frozen solid.”
“Come again? Dirk?”
Luckman could see Sara talking, motioning into the camera, but he couldn’t hear her. The temperature was still dropping. Luckman rushed outside but was caught short by the cold. He’d started to run towards the truck to get to the site, help his team and do his job, but as the cold stole into his lungs it was like breathing in acid. The burning was enough to have him gasping for air. It forced him back inside the shelter, clutching his chest as if he could somehow claw the pain out from within.
He rushed to the video feed and watched the team standing there, their faces turned toward the camera, their expressions fearful. Their mouths moved trying to tell him something, and they lifted their hands pointing. Luckman pressed the button, hoping they could at least hear him if he could not get their reply. “Can you use the blowtorch to heat up the lifts mechanism?” It was most likely frozen solid by now. He tried not to think about how even if they got out, they’d have to make the trip back to camp without freezing to death. One problem at a time was enough.
Dirk was already grabbing the torch, but when he tried several times to light it, Luckman could see that hope was lost. They put it back down and huddled together, obviously freezing. The temperature dropped another five degrees in the time he’d been outside until now. A cracking sound had begun that he’d been unable to investigate. Luckman went to the window, trying to see outside.
Deep beneath the ice, the giant lake was freezing. Luckman could hear it shifting and moving as ice swiftly formed, far faster than normal. He couldn’t believe what was happening; it was unheard of. More shifting of the ice made his heart race and palms sweat. Ice expanded, and it was expanding on either side of the team. They’d be crushed between the two walls of ice if they didn’t get free.
Luckman moved back to his seat, and the video feed was now flickering. He had to try one last time. “Sara,” he said into the comm. “You have to get out of there. The ice is expanding.” Then he watched the team glance wildly around as the walls of their hole shrunk inward. “You have to climb! Forget the lift!” he yelled, knowing it would never be fast enough.
Dirk started up first, but he was only a few feet before his hands slid on the iced-over lines of the lift. “Keep trying!” he shouted, and Sara tried next. Everyone gave a hand at it several times until it was obvious that they couldn’t get out. Meanwhile the ice had been slowly closing in. It had seemed to move an inch at a time at first, but now it was a foot with each loud crack and shift. The temperature was still on a downward spiral, and Luckman wasn’t sure if he would make it if it didn’t let up. He was rubbing his hands together, stomping his feet, feeling helpless to his team.
The walls of ice were only several feet apart now. The metal of the lift had been bent into a narrow space, and the team stood in a line with Sara’s face closest to the camera. She had a brave expression, but there was a hint of sadness as she stared into what she knew was Luckman’s eyes on the other end. The ground shook and the ice shifted one last time. The camera went out the same time the walls collided together in one giant snap of pressure.
Luckman felt the tears on his cheeks freeze before they fell.
Introduction
Notes from the desk of Michelle Wilson, assistant to the assistant to the assistant, to the head editor of the New York Times.
Entry 109
Today they introduced the idea of shading the planet via a thermal umbrella, which is actually thousands of satellites sent to block out the sun. Block out is not exactly the right term. It introduces some control of the more direct rays, but having no way of testing this without actually doing it, the scientists are claiming their models are accurate and they are pressuring their political connections to make a move before it’s ready. Some places that are cold will remain cold if not colder, and anything else near the equator will remain at its current temperature. Some say the global warming scare is just that, a scare. Others claim this will save the world. I have asked Lisa, my boss, why we don’t interview the real wizard behind the curtain, Reese Leeward. That’s the one name no one is mentioning, and I want to know why.
Entry 157
The project has been approved and was quietly pushed through testing. Certain scientists removed from the project have gone silent. When we did get one of their favorite reps to give us something, anything, besides how perfect the project is, Luckman merely smiled his good-old-boy grin and said, “Would we do anything to hurt the earth we’ve been fighting to protect for so many years?” If someone said yes, they were a jerk. If someone said no, then they had no further questions. The country is well divided on the subject. People are afraid of tampering with something as important as sunlight, and I tend to agree. But the fact of the matter is, we’ve been heading in this direction for some time. It’s more than weather, survival or anything else at this stage. This has become political; the epitome of our very existence these days. Pick a side. It’s more important than air.
Entry 206
Cybercorp launched the satellites. The world didn’t implode. I guess that’s a good sign. They claim we won’t see immediate temperature change, which is a good thing, I suppose. They expect the full effect to show next year.
Entry 273
Cybercorp’s Reese Leeward has been given a Nobel Peace Prize for heading the operation that has diverted certain disaster. She was gracious when she accepted, thanking everyone, including her family, but most of all Cybercorp for giving her the opportunity as a woman to head the company in such important times. She also told a story about how her daughter will grow up in a different, safer world because of the thermal umbrella. She spoke about it like it was a sentient being who cared for us all. Her scientists all agree that the shade has given the world a fresh start as far as climate goes. There are still skeptics out there…I hope.
Entry 289
I am making a note here at the one-year mark. Everything is perfect. Too perfect, I might add. Is this the calm before the storm?
Chapter 1
The Leeward’s Residence
Base Housing, Fort Riley, Kansas
It wasn’t unusual for the Midwest to get snow before winter officially began. After all, the locals called the weather in Kansas “Bi-polar.” It could be thirty degrees in the morning before rising into the seventies by the afternoon. People kept snow jackets and flip flops in their car, just in case. But the weather had put a dam
per on all the costume festivities with a frozen wind that seemed to bite deep into the soul. Decorations were being blown away by unusually high gusts that notched above forty miles per hour or more, and it was a constant blustering wind. It wasn’t completely out of the norm for pumpkins to sit frozen on the porch in the morning, but it felt wrong to Brittany Tanner, nevertheless.
Born and raised in California, she had come to live with her mother in Kansas while she finished her degree online because the cost of living was so much cheaper than before with her father. At twenty-two, she was pushing her luck trying to stay in a full house with her “new” family, as she often thought of them. Her mother had remarried late in life and her sisters, two babies aged two and three, were close in age because nature waited for no woman in her early forties. So, Brittany felt that she was the remnants of a past her mother would rather soon forget.
When Mr. Leeward—Captain Leeward that is—offered to hire her as a full time live-in nanny for his two young children while he deployed to Poland for nine months, she’d leapt at the chance. Benton, ten, and Lily, six, were good kids and were easy to manage. Even though “mothering” wasn’t quite her forte, they had started school last month, and she had most days to herself for her own school work in a quiet, four-bedroom house. What more could she want? Mr. Leeward had every cable channel known to man, and they had a spa in the backyard free for her use. With the recent cold, she’d turned up the heat on the spa and friends were already planning to stop by after the kids went to bed.
She was flipping through the channels lazily until she realized the same local stations were covering an identical story, and it wasn’t that her connection was down from the wind…again. She turned up the sound to watch them interview a man in a straw hat. At the bottom of the screen scrolled: Owner Greg Buckings of Buckings’ Farm loses herd. “All of them,” Greg said, voice cracking. “Every single one of my cows are dead. Frozen solid late last night. It’s the damn—sorry.” He glanced at the camera with embarrassment. “And the crops, too. Ruined. Every acre.”
