The Winter Over

“It was pure anarchy. Doc Ayres rallied whoever was left after the fracas and made for the Lifeboat. I think he hoped our radio silence had triggered some kind of alarm at McMurdo and that all they had to do was wait out the crisis. They should send help sometime, right?”


“You’d think so.” Cass moved quickly down the line of clothing, folded and organized by size. She found a set that fit and began slipping the parka and expedition pants on over her clothes, shivering at the change in temperature. Bunny boots followed. Armed with the kind of gear meant for eighty below zero, her body finally began to warm itself.

“What happened to them?” Biddi’s voice rang hollow in the empty space.

Cass cinched the parka’s hood down tight, then turned to the non-clothing gear. Rucksacks and web belts were mounded in piles, while axes and testing poles leaned in a corner of the cage. Cass helped herself to one of the axes. The heft of it in her hand felt good. “Someone had braced the doors shut. They . . . froze to death.”

Biddi stared at her, silent.

Cass felt her throat tighten. “Biddi, they were . . . huddled together. Trying to stay warm. They died that way.” She took a deep breath, fighting to get her emotions under control. “I am just so glad you weren’t with them. How did you not get trapped there, too?”

Biddi shook her head. “I know the good doctor meant well, but . . . huddle together with everyone else in a single room so we could all die a slow death on some lunatic’s timetable? No thank you.”

Cass shuddered. “You made the right decision. It was . . . terrible.”

“I can’t imagine what seeing that was like. How are you holding up, dear?”

“I don’t know if I am.” Cass put her hands to her face. “It’s hitting me, but the pain is coming from a thousand miles away. I think I’ve suffered as much shock as I can at this point. Something inside me is saying, get out of here first, then deal with the madness.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Biddi said, then paused. “How do we do that?”

“You don’t have a plan?”

Biddi flapped her arms like a giant stuffed bird. “You’re looking at it. I thought maybe I could set fire to the powdered milk and live off dried jerky until the cavalry came.”

“We’d probably kill ourselves if we tried to set a fire. Assuming whoever did this doesn’t come for us first.”

Biddi hefted the ice axe. “Let him try, dearie. But I get your point. Can you think of anything better?”

Cass paused. “Orlova.”

Biddi looked at her blankly. “What about it?”

“We head for it.”

“On foot?”

“Yes.” Cass explained herself in a rush. “It’s far, but with good gear, the right supplies, and two of us checking for crevasses, we have a chance.”

“A chance is right. You didn’t happen to grab a GPS before you stumbled in here, did you?”

Cass shook her head. “But the SPoT highway passes within a few hundred meters of the Russian base. If we keep an eye on our watches and keep track of the stars, we should come close using dead reckoning. Then we’ll just have to look for Orlova when we think we’re near.”

Biddi stared at her. “Dead reckoning? You want us to re-create Ernie Shackleton’s bloody fucking journey, is that what you’re after?”

“No, he did it in a boat,” Cass said calmly, and with more confidence than she felt. “We’ll be walking.”

“So, you’re saying at least we won’t drown? Fantastic.”

“It’s either that or stay here and freeze to death. Or be killed.”

“My God,” Biddi said in a whisper, looking at the supply racks. After a moment, she said, “I suppose there’s nothing for it. Is there anything of use here?”

“Grab a few MREs to eat, but not too many. More than a couple will weigh us down and if it takes any longer than a few days to reach Orlova, well, more food won’t really make a difference.”

“Well, you’re a cheerful one, aren’t you? Where does it come from?”

“Some deeper inner reservoir of strength,” Cass said. “Also, I’m scared shitless.”

They grabbed rucksacks, threw a few dried meals in each, then shouldered them and headed out of the ECW cage. Biddi turned to face her in the aisle. “How do you want to get outside?”

“I remember the engineering schematic showed an old station tunnel leading east for a hundred meters or so before it exits out a stub-up on the surface. It’s going generally toward Orlova. If we use it, we’ll be out of the wind the whole time.”

“With just over forty-nine and a half kilometers to go.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“No,” she sighed. “Let’s go.”

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