The Last Hunter: Collected Edition (Antarktos Saga #1-5)

I’m dazzled by the sight for a moment. Until my fears return. Then I feel like I’m going to puke. I feel the same way when I go to the dentist. I sit in the chair, eyeing the room for any signs of drills or needles. If I see them, well, the physical reaction is severe.

Thankfully, I’m distracted by Mira, who has just stretched herself awake and in doing so has wrapped her arms around me. She pulls me down, bringing my face just inches from hers. My heart is pounding. Is she going to kiss me? I’ve never kissed a girl! Dr. Clark is probably watching! But...her eyes are closed. Then they’re open, looking into mine, growing wide.

“Hello,” she says, sounding confused and embarrassed. Then she notices her arms around me. She lets go and looks positively panic stricken.

“Hi,” I say.

“What...happened?”

“I was looking out the window,” I say. I’ve managed to pull my face away from hers, but am still too frozen to move away. “I think you grabbed me when you stretched.”

“Mmm,” she says, looking at the window.

I can tell she doesn’t want to talk about it anymore so I change the subject. “We’re almost there. Look for yourself.”

She moves to the window and I force myself to sit back in my seat. As I’m sitting, I glance back at Dr. Clark expecting to see a father’s glare. Instead he’s still staring out his own window. This eases my anxiety some, but the adrenaline flowing through my body as a result of almost being kissed will take some time to dissipate. I look at Mira, noticing her very full lips. Perhaps a long time to dissipate.

The “Fasten Your Seatbelts” sign glows red and the captain’s voice booms from the intercom. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are making our final approach to Williams Field, Antarctica. Please return your seats to their upright position and fasten your seatbelts. If you were smart enough to unpack your winter gear, put it on now. You’re going to want it when we open the doors.”

Everyone is awake now. Putting up their seats. Buckling their seatbelts. Rubbing their eyes. But no one is putting on any snow gear. I wonder if the captain knew this and was trying to be funny.

I feel the plane bank and then descend. I look past Mira. Through the window I see flat, white ice. The stars are just barely visible in the now navy blue sky. Morning on Antarctica.

The landing is smooth despite the runway being nothing more than densely packed snow. I wonder if the whole runway will break free and float away when I step on it. Even if it did, that wouldn’t matter much. The whole runway sits atop a sheet of ice that moves inexorably over and into eighteen hundred feet of ocean. Just a few years ago, in 1985, they had to relocate the entire airfield to its current location. As long as the frozen conveyor belt continues to slide away from the continent, they’ll have to move the airfield every fifteen years or so.

The plane comes to a stop and the captain enters the cabin. He’s dressed in snow pants and a white parka. “Listen up folks. It’s cold out there. Colder than many of you will have felt in your entire lives. There’s a transport waiting for you outside. They’ll take you to Willy Town while we unload your equipment. Gear up at Willy Town and visit the galley for your first taste of Antarctican cuisine. Any questions?”

No one has any.

The captain turns to the outer hatch and looks back at us. “Just do me a favor and don’t stand around in the cold. No one likes cutting off fingers, but we have to do it occasionally.”

The door clanks open. A burst of air and snow slams into the cabin but then quickly abates. A lot of people make loud “brrr” sounds and start rubbing their arms. I head for the door.

The captain gives me a once over. I’m dressed in black pants and a black turtleneck. As I realize my hair is floating around my head thanks to a buildup of head-rest static, I expect the captain to make an Andy Warhol joke, but this man is sinister. He aims below the belt.

“This isn’t a beatnik poetry session,” he says. “Get in the heated cab and bring a coat next time.”

What he doesn’t know is that I have a coat. I’m sure my mother is fishing it out right now. But I can’t wait. And I want to do this on my own. If something happens, I don’t want anyone to see it. I don’t want anyone to be in striking distance, either.

I nod to the captain and head outside. A burst of Antarctican air hits me before I’m halfway down the steps. I breathe it in. I let it out. My muscles relax. A smile creeps onto my face.

I stop at the last step, looking at the packed ice just ten inches away. I move to step on it slowly, as I would ice that was a half inch thick, but am bumped from behind by one of the other passengers I did not meet.

“Are you nuts?” the woman says as she rushes past me, headed for the Sno-Cat transport waiting ten feet away.

I lose my balance and fall forward, landing hard on my feet.

Nothing happens.

I wait.

Still nothing.

More people are rushing past now.