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

“I also saw you fall at my house. I’d never seen a more clumsy kid.”


This turns my eyes to the ground. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want you to be embarrassed, but if I have to embarrass you now to keep you alive, I will.”

I nod, convinced.

But too late. I sense movement to the side. I suck in a panicked breath and turn. But Dr. Clark has sensed it too. He steps closer, obscuring my body with his. He pulls open the door and shoves me inside. The door slams shut as I fall to the floor. I land in a heap, still holding my clothes and the coat Dr. Clark gave me. I look up into the eyes of my mother, father, Aimee and Mira. The way they’re looking at me, like I’ve just stepped out of a flying saucer, tells me everything Dr. Clark said is true.

I start shaking like I’m freezing. “I—I forgot where I was,” I say. “Went outside.”

My father shakes his head and pulls me to my feet. “That’s our Schwartz.”

Not any more, I think.





9



The ride to Clark Station Two is long. Nearly two hundred miles. We’re traveling at a steady twenty miles per hour. If we don’t stop we’ll make it there in ten hours, and that’s assuming there are no mountains or fissures in the way. That’s a full day’s drive in a cramped Sno-Cat cabin. There are four cats in our train, each carrying people and supplies. Each is driven by a member of Clark’s research team, who arrived a month earlier to oversee the construction of Clark Station Two. Dr. Clark said, “They’re the brawn to our brains.” I like that—our brains. The woman behind the wheel of my Cat is named Collette. She has the same hourglass figure as my mom, but is twice as thick and nearly a foot taller. She’s also twice as loud and likes to tell jokes I’m certain my parents wouldn’t appreciate.

But my parents aren’t here. They’re in one of the other Cats catching up with an old friend named Steve Wright. Seems he was part of the original expedition too, but like my parents and the Clarks, had a child—a son named for his father—and hasn’t been back since. Steve said he didn’t invite his son along because he felt the trip would be too dangerous but then quickly explained that his son was something of a risk taker. “He’d get himself killed on this continent,” the man said.

My thoughts drift to the real reason behind our visit to Antarctica, revealed to me just before our Sno-Cat journey began. Clark Station Two was built for the express purpose of an anthropological excavation not far from Clark Station One.

Before being forced to abandon Clark Station One, Dr. Clark had found what he believed was the remnants of an ancient wall protruding from the ice. It could turn out to be a random pile of stones, but Dr. Clark felt certain there was more to it. And if he was right...if he was right it would redefine the way we think about the world. A human civilization would have lived on Antarctica before it was frozen over, perhaps before the continent was located at the South Pole. What excited me most about this idea was that it would mean I really did have some kind of geographic ancestry—that I wasn’t the first and only Antarctican. The idea fascinated me, and I hoped Dr. Clark would make the discovery during the month my family would be part of the team. A month is hardly enough time, I think. I’d prefer to stay here for much longer, maybe forever, continuing Dr. Clark’s work.

A loud laugh from Collette snaps me out of my reverie.

Sitting next to the jovial woman is Mira. She’s in the front seat, so there won’t be any toe touching going on, but I now find her to be a calming presence. In fact, I’m looking forward to exploring and documenting our discoveries together.

Actually, the closer we get to Clark Station Two, the calmer I get. My eyes close a few times, but I don’t want to miss the views. I force myself up into a sitting position. Collette has finished her newest joke, something about a horse, and it must have been especially rude because Mira is just smiling uncomfortably.

This seems like a good time to change the subject, so I ask, “How far is the new Clark Station from the first one?”

Collette gives a quick half turn of her head, looking back at me like she forgot I was here. “The boy speaks!”

Now that she mentions it, I realize I haven’t really said much of anything in the past three hours. Not that she’s given anyone a chance to speak. But I don’t recall laughing at her jokes, either.

When she realizes I’m not going to take the bait and offer myself up for teasing, she asks, “What’s your interest in the first Clark Station? It’s nothing but a sheet of white, just like the rest of this frozen desert.”