"I'm not staying here," she said. "If I'm going to die, I'll die in daylight."
The actual climb up the crevasse wall was not so bad, once Sarah got used to the way she had to kick her boots with the crampons, and how hard she had to swing the axe to make it bite into the ice. It took her only seven or eight minutes to cover the distance, and clamber onto the surface.
The surface looked exactly the same as before. The same dim sunlight, the same gray horizon that blended with the ground. The same gray, featureless world.
She helped Evans up. His cut was bleeding again, and his mask was red, frozen stiff against his face.
"Shit it's cold," he said. "Which way, do you think?"
Sarah was looking at the sun. It was low on the horizon, but was it sinking, or rising? And which direction did the sun indicate, anyway, when you were at the South Pole? She frowned: She couldn't work it out, and she didn't dare make a mistake.
"We'll follow the tracks," she said at last. She took off her crampons and started walking.
She had to admit, Peter was right about one thing: It was much colder here on the surface. After half an hour, the wind came up, blowing strongly; they had to lean into it as they trudged forward. Worse, the snow began to blow across the ground beneath their feet. Which meant--
"We're losing the tracks," Evans said.
"I know."
"They're getting blown away."
"Iknow. " Sometimes he was such a baby. What did he expect her to do about the wind?
"What do we do?" he said.
"I don'tknow, Peter. I've never been lost in Antarctica before."
"Well, me neither."
They trudged onward.
"But it was your idea to come up here."
"Peter. Pull yourself together."
"Pull myself together? It's fucking freezing, Sarah. I can't feel my nose or my ears or my fingers or my toes or--"
"Peter." She grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him."Shut up!"
He was silent. Through slots in his facemask, he stared out at her. His eyelashes were white with ice.
"I can't feel my nose either," Sarah said. "We have to keep a grip."
She looked around, turning a full circle, trying to conceal her own growing desperation. The wind was blowing more snow now. It was becoming harder to see. The world was flatter and grayer, with almost no sense of depth. If this weather continued, they would soon not be able to see the ground well enough to avoid the crevasses.
Then they would have to stop where they were.
In the middle of nowhere.
He said, "You're beautiful when you're angry, you know that?"
"Peter, for Christ's sake."
"Well, you are."
She started walking, looking down at the ground, trying to see the tread marks. "Come on, Peter." Perhaps the tracks would return soon to the road. If they did, the road would be easier to follow in a storm. And safer for walking.
"I think I'm falling in love, Sarah."
"Peter..."
"I had to tell you. This may be my last chance." He started coughing again.
"Save your breath, Peter."
"Fucking freezing."
They stumbled on, no longer speaking. The wind howled. Sarah's parka was pressed flat against her body. It became harder and harder to move forward. But she pressed on. She did not know how much longer she continued in that way before she raised a hand, and stopped. Evans must not have been able to see her, because he walked into her back, grunted, and stopped.
They had to put their heads together and shout to hear each other above the wind.
"We have to stop!" she yelled.
"I know!"
And then, because she didn't know what else to do, she sat down on the ground and pulled her legs up and lowered her head to her knees, and tried not to cry. The wind grew louder and louder. Now it was shrieking. The air was thick with flying snow.
Evans sat down beside her. "We're going to fucking die," he said.
SHEAR ZONE
WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 6
5:02 P. M.
She started shivering, little tremulous bursts at first, and then almost continuously. She felt as if she were having a seizure. From skiing, she knew what that meant. Her core temperature had dropped dangerously, and the shivering was an automatic physiological attempt to warm her body up.
Her teeth chattered. It was hard to speak. But her mind was still working, still looking for a way out. "Isn't there a way to build a snow house?"
Evans said something. The wind whipped his words away.
"Do you know how?" she said.
He didn't answer her.
But it was too late, anyway, she thought. She was losing control of her body. She could hardly even keep her arms wrapped around her knees, the shaking was so bad.
And she was starting to feel sleepy.
She looked over at Evans. He was lying on his side on the ice.
She nudged him to get up. She kicked him. He didn't move. She wanted to yell at him but she couldn't, because her teeth were chattering so badly.