Ice Rift - Salvage: An Action Adventure Sci-Fi Horror in Antarctica

by Ben Hammott

  “If we head for the back of the iceberg where the Americans are working at the tunnel, we should be able to attract someone's attention to come rescue us.”

  “Then we fly back to New Zealand and never come back.”

  Jack looked her skeptically. “Whatever you're offered?”

  Jane nodded. “Nothing's worth the risk of facing these alien monsters again. Greed brought me back, but it won't a second time.”

  Jack glanced behind for any sign the Hunter was in pursuit, but the weather had quickly grown worst, impeding his vision after a few yards. He looked ahead. They had a long way to go before they could hope to be rescued, but the worsening weather, for once, might actually help them. If they couldn't see, neither could the Hunter. He glanced at Jane running beside him. Though they had only recently met, he already knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. He was almost certain she felt the same towards him. In a few months, if he could wait that long, he would ask her to marry him.

  As if sensing his eyes upon her, Jane turned her head to look at Jack. She wondered the reason for the thoughtful expression he wore, which quickly changed to a smile.

  Jane screamed when she fell.

  When Jane disappeared, Jack skidded to a halt.

  A piercing shriek answered the scream. The Hunter was on their trail and now it knew roughly where they were.

  Jack gazed in horror at the hole in the ice that had swallowed Jane. The claw marks covering the sides of the sloping shaft identified who had dug it―the Hunters. This was how they escaped from the spaceship. He fell to his knees and peered into its dark depths. “Jane!” he shouted.

  Jane's surprised scream uttered when she fell, turned to a painful groan when her back jarred against the ice. The roof of the ice tunnel speeding by filled her vision. She dug her heels into the ice, marginally slowing her rapid descent and regretted the lack of an ice axe that might have halted her slide. The flashlight she aimed past her legs revealed nothing helpful; the tunnel seemed to go on forever. After a few moments and a long uncomfortable ride, thankfully cushioned by the padding of her extreme weather clothing, the beam picked out the tunnel's end twenty feet away and the nothingness beyond. Something glinted in the light―a piece of metal protruded past the entrance. When she reached the end of the tunnel her hands grabbed at the object and gripped it tightly, swinging her out over a dark void. The flashlight swaying from her wrist highlighted the tree canopy below.

  The thing Jane hung from, and that had prevented her from plummeting to the ground, bent slightly with a metallic groan. Though reluctant to do so, Jane released her hold with one hand, grabbed the flashlight hanging from her wrist and shone it above her. She immediately recognized what the light picked out―the transparent roof of Hell's Garden. She hooked a thumb under the plastic handle of the flashlight, re-established her hold on the metal bar, and moved along it until she could grab one of the metal window sections that seemed more firmly attached. She swung her legs up, hooked them over the frame and was thankful for the pressure released from her arms.

  “Jane!”

  Jane tilted her head back and gazed up the tunnel on hearing Jack's worried voice. “I'm okay. A little battered, but nothing broken,” she shouted back. “You need to find a rope so I can climb out.”

  Though Jack was relieved Jane had survived the fall and wasn't injured, there was still the problem of rescuing her. Where the hell am I going to find a rope? Jack fretted. The helicopter was his only hope. If not, he didn't know what he would do.

  “There might be a rope in the crashed helicopter.” Jack rushed off to find out.

  Jane glanced below. She couldn't believe she was aboard the spaceship and in Hell's Garden again. Her ears strained to hear any sounds of creatures that might be moving through the undergrowth. Apart from a slight rustle of vegetation caused by the chill draft funneled down the tunnel, all was still. The lack of movement inspired no confidence in her that there weren't any monsters below.

  “Be as quick as you can,” she shouted up the tunnel.

  The Hunter headed towards the voices. When it arrived at the hole and saw no sign of the humans, it glanced around. It was about to chase after the dark form moving swiftly away before the swirling snow concealed its presence when a voice drifted from the hole.

  “Be as quick as you can.”

  The Hunter's lips formed into a cruel snarl when it climbed into the hole and dug its claws into the ice to prevent it sliding down the chute.

  Wary of the one-eyed Hunter prowling the iceberg, Jack constantly scanned his surroundings for any sign of it, but the snow and ice borne by the increasing wind hampered his vision. The Hunter would probably be upon him before he realized it was there. While he ran he checked the weapon in the hope he would discover why it didn't work. He pressed, prodded and slapped various parts of the rifle until something clicked into place. Hoping he had fixed whatever had caused it to fail before, he held it ready to fire.

  When he arrived back at the crack in the ice, he followed it until he arrived at a place where the edges were close enough for him to leap across. No sooner had his feet touched the ice when the iceberg trembled. Though it only lasted a few seconds, Jack knew it didn’t bode well for the iceberg’s stability. A short distance later he spied the dark shape of the mangled helicopter. He approached cautiously with the weapon raised to fire, but when he had circumnavigated the wreck without spying any sign of the Hunter, he moved closer.

  Avoiding more than a brief look at Northwood's gruesome remains surrounded by bloodstained snow, Jack peered through the broken windscreen into the cockpit. The pilot’s headless corpse, still strapped upright in the seat, showed signs of having being feasted upon. Jack averted his gaze and examined the space behind the pilot seats. The Hunter wasn't inside. The helicopter was so crushed, Jack didn’t waste time trying to open the other door now facing the heavens; it would most likely be jammed shut, he entered through the broken canopy. Metal groaned when his weight rocked the helicopter. A tapping, like that of a ticking clock's pendulum, turned Jack towards the sound. He snatched up the radio mic swinging from the console and pressed the talk button.

  Even though the lack of static indicated it probably wasn't working, Jack nevertheless, tried. “This is Jack speaking from the iceberg. Can anyone hear me? Over.”

  Jack released his finger from the talk button. There was no reply. He tried twice more before giving up.

  A search of the seating area and storage cupboards in the back produced a coil of rope, a flare gun, a first-aid kit and a rucksack to store them in. He added the bottle of water he glimpsed under a seat before returning outside. The flare he fired into the sky was their only chance of help if someone on the ship noticed it; however, the worsening weather made it unlikely. Jack turned to leave. A man's voice brought him to a halt after only a few steps.

  “Lieutenant Northwood, this is Starlight Control. Report your situation. We have lost all contact with your helicopter.”

  Jack turned. The voice had come from Northwood's bloody corpse. Realizing he must have a radio, Jack rushed over and grimaced at the horrific sight of the man's ripped-open chest. Though Jack had no medical experience, it was obvious by the broken ribs and empty cavity that the Hunter had feasted on the man's internal organs.

  “Lieutenant Northwood, I repeat. Report your situation.”

  Jack knelt beside the body and searched through the man's pockets. He found the radio and ignoring the blood that covered it, pressed the talk button. “This is Jack, can you hear me? Over.”

  “Jack, where is Lieutenant Northwood?”

  “He's dead and so is the pilot. The helicopter crashed…”

  Back in the control room aboard the container ship, Admiral Thomson snatched the radio from Norton. “Crashed! How? Was it the Russians?” It sounded like he half-hoped it was.

  “No. A Hunter monster boarded the helicopter when it took off and killed the pilot,” was Jack's crackled reply.

&n
bsp; Thomson glanced at Norton in disbelief. “The aliens are on the iceberg?”

  “Yes. They dug a tunnel through the ice to escape from the spaceship. Jane has fallen into their tunnel. I have some rope and will try to rescue her, but I could do with some help. The hole is about two-hundred yards from the crash site, direction northeast.” Jack stared at the radio.

  There was a slight delay before Thomson spoke again. “Help is on its way, Jack. Over.”

  “One other thing, Admiral, the crack in the ice is serious so you might need to think about getting everyone off the spaceship as it could break apart at any moment and might cause the iceberg to roll over.”

  “Okay, Jack, thanks for the heads up. Help will be with you shortly.”

  Jack slipped the radio into his pocket and gazed around the wreckage. He needed an anchor for the rope. He picked up a piece of metal that should do the job and hurried off to rescue Jane.

  Norton took the radio from Thomson. “Shall I notify the team on the ice to start the evacuation, Admiral?”

  “What for? The iceberg is still stable. No, they stay there until I'm certain we've salvaged as much of the alien technology as possible.”

  “Yes Admiral.” Norton placed the radio back on the console.

  Jane glanced over at the small pieces of ice rolling from the end of the tunnel a few moments after Jack had gone to fetch a rope. The scraping sounds indicated someone was climbing down. She wondered where Jack had found a rope so quickly.

  “Jack, there's no need to come down. Throw down a rope end and I’ll climb out.”

  When Jack failed to reply, anxiety washed over her. She moved position slightly and aimed the flashlight up the tunnel.

  “Jack, is that you?”

  The Hunter entered the beam and snarled at her.

  Though panic threatened to overwhelm her, Jane forced it to keep its distance and directed the light over the ceiling. The large domed roof was her only hope. The buckled frame wobbled precariously as she climbed over to the lump of ice protruding through the dome. If she could get behind it and hide, the Hunter might think she had fallen and go look for her. She stretched her right arm around the ice and grabbed a twisted part of the frame that stuck out. She picked out her next handhold, let the torch dangle from her wrist, unlatched her legs so she hung and released her left hand. When she swung, her left hand reached for the handhold she visualized in the darkness and her fingers wrapped around it. The sound of the Hunter's movements, louder now, indicated it would soon reach the end of the shaft. Hand over hand, Jane moved behind the ice and swung her legs over the frame. With her right arm hooked over the metal, she switched off the flashlight and waited.

  The Hunter paused at the end of the ice tunnel and stared in the direction the human had gone. When it didn't see her, it looked down and explored the foliage with its eyes for signs the human had fallen. When it detected none, it stared at the ice that jutted through the ceiling, but focused on the metal that moved slightly. Its lips curled into an evil smile and as it climbed onto the frame a lump of ice at the edge of the opening broke free and dropped below.

  An almost silent sigh of relief escaped Jane's lips on hearing something crash though the foliage. Her ploy had worked; the Hunter had gone. Now all she had to do was wait for Jack to return and rescue her, as she was confident he would.

  When the frame Jane clung to swayed, she knew there could be only one cause. She switched on the flashlight, poked her head around the ice and lit up the menace. The Hunter, a creature of claws, fangs and unending malice, hung upside-down from the frame and climbed towards her.

  Jane had nowhere to go.

  When Jack arrived at the hole without catching a glimpse of the Hunter, its absence brought him some comfort. Perhaps the worsening weather conditions had driven it to seek shelter, or the best scenario, it had fallen off the iceberg into the freezing ocean.

  As Jack hammered the two-foot long piece of metal into the ice with the butt of the rifle, the iceberg trembled again. He paused and glanced around until the ice grew still. He ignored the bad omen; he wasn't leaving without Jane. Once he was satisfied the anchor was secure, he attached the rope and crossed to the hole. He gazed down the shaft and called out, “Jane! The rope's coming down.”

  The coil of rope unfurled as it slid down the steep chute.

  Concerned that Jane hadn't answered, he called out again, “Jane, are you okay? Can you see the rope?”

  His brow remained creased when he again received no reply. Something was wrong. He snatched up the rope and backed down the tunnel.

  Jack glanced up at the entrance now far above, an eye gazing out at the dark clouds skidding across the sky through gaps in the windborne snow and ice. The storm had arrived. He switched on the light attached to the weapon slung across his back and continued his descent.

  The Hunter ignored the voice from the tunnel and continued its hunt for the much closer prey.

  Jane also ignored Jack's voice, but for a different reason. If she told him she was in danger, she knew that―damn hero that he was―would make him rush down without thinking in an attempt to try and save her. If he fell to the ground they'd likely both end up dead. She climbed across the frame away from the ice until the frosted transparent panels still attached to the frame halted her. She aimed the flashlight behind her. The Hunter's arm that groped around the ice and grabbed at the frame was followed by its vicious, evil head.

  The frame that shook and swayed with its movements made the Hunter's progress slow and cautious, but it had no need to hurry; its prey couldn't go anywhere.

  Adamant she wasn't going to give up without a fight, Jane turned away from the approaching threat and kicked at a cracked window. If she could break it she could move a little farther and prolong the onslaught of pain and her death and perhaps buy her enough time until Jack arrived. If he still had the weapon and had managed to get it working, he could shoot the Hunter and they could climb out. Each forceful kick shook the frame violently. The loud crack that rang out was a harbinger of danger. The frame dropped with a screech of tortured metal. Jane clung on tightly, the monster likewise. Glass cracked and splintered, showering the jungle below with sharp, transparent shards. One edge of the frame, its only remaining support, bent but refused to snap, pivoting its unwelcome passengers through the air.

  Worried she would be cast to the ground, Jane gripped the metal tighter with her legs and hands. The squeal of metal faded as the swinging frame settled to a gentle sway. Upside down now, she looked up the length of her body at the Hunter moving nearer. Jane righted herself and glanced below. The ground was still too far away to risk jumping, but a thick tree limb, though not directly below her, was much nearer. She climbed to the edge of the frame and maneuvered around to its other side. The sway of her body swung the frame back and forth and metal squealed with each swing.

  The Hunter paused when the human moved. Though it had noticed none of the deadly weapons that killed from afar on this human, their layers of strange, thick, blood-less skin, contained places where things could be hidden. When the human didn't produce such a weapon and started swinging the frame, the Hunter decided it was time to end the hunt.

  Jane glanced at the thick bough below. Each complete swing brought her a little nearer. One more and she would be right above it. Dropping into the tree to escape the Hunter was as far as her plan went. She would work out the next part if she survived the fall uninjured. As the frame swung out above the branch, Jane prepared to jump.

  Metal snapped with barely a whimper. The frame dropped, taking Jane and the Hunter along for the ride. The edge of the frame struck a branch, almost dislodging its terrified passengers, and tipped ninety-degrees until it crashed into the branches of the tree opposite, forming a bridge between the two. When Jane's tired grip failed her, she hung upside-down from legs hooked over the frame.

  The Hunter slammed into the frame when it came to a jarring halt and looked through the metal bars at the human hanging below.<
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  Terror gripped Jane as she gazed at the one-eyed monster running its foul tongue over wicked teeth eager to taste her flesh. She contemplated letting go. Breaking her neck on impact with the ground had to be a quicker and hopefully a far less painful death than ripped apart by foul thing creeping towards her, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She glanced up at the ice tunnel opening. Now would be the perfect moment for Jack to heroically appear and save her. The dark tunnel mouth remained empty of her saviour.

  When Jack reached the end of the rope, he realized he had a serious problem; it was too short. He wound the end around his wrist, fumbled the weapon into his hands and pointed the light down the dark passage. He thought he could make out the end about fifty feet away, but there was no sign of Jane.

  He tried to make out what lay past the tunnel's end, but it was too far away. If he released his grip on the rope and slid down into the unknown there was a good chance he would be killed and Jane would be left down here alone. He gazed back up the passage and contemplated the merits of climbing back up. Maybe help had arrived or soon would. If they had, they would surely have another rope. It was the safest course of action. Just in case Jane could hear him but for some reason couldn't reply, Jack voiced his plan.

  “Jane, the rope is too short. I'm going back up to get another.” Jack began to climb up the tunnel. He hadn't gone very far when a voice echoed down to him.

  “Jack. Are you down there?”

  *****

  The three British soldiers in the helicopter hovered over the wreck of the downed helicopter and gazed at Northwood's gruesome corpse and Devonport's decapitated head.

  Sergeant Fredrick Hopkins tore his gaze away and looked at the pilot. “Head northwest, we need to find the others.”

  The pilot headed across the iceberg and the dark opening in the ice appeared a few moments later. Buffeted by the increasing wind, the helicopter landed a short distance away.