Authors: Michael Bray
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Genre Fiction, #Horror, #Sea Stories
CHAPTER 60
The mid-morning sun continued to shine from pale blue skies. Rainwater, Clara and Mackay looked out over the field of ice and the shelf beyond.
“We can’t do this,” Mackay said, pulling his hat over his ears. “Ice is melting all over the place. It’s too dangerous.”
“We have no choice.” Rainwater said, glancing at his bruised and beaten friend. “You sure you don’t want to stay here? You don’t have to come.”
“Screw that, I’m not staying here. I’d rather take my chances on the ice. Besides, Morrison is out there, and I still have unfinished business with him.”
Rainwater nodded as he shrugged into his backpack.
Andrews joined them on deck, his face a mixture of admiration and concern.
“You sure there isn’t anything I can do to talk you out of this?”
“Just make sure you let this containment team of yours know what the situation is when they arrive.” Rainwater said as he peered over the bow of the boat.
“I will.”
“And be ready for us.”
“How will I know when it’s done?”
“Trust me, you’ll know.”
The foursome stood awkwardly for a moment, unsure of how to proceed.
“Well,” Andrews said, squinting at the sun. “You better make a move. This ice is melting fast.”
“Agreed,” Rainwater replied, trying to ignore the tightness in his stomach and the thundering tempo of his heart. “Okay, let’s get to it.”
He hooked his leg over the bow and carefully started to lower himself over the edge by the same ropes Russo and his men had used. Carefully, he distributed his weight onto the ice, ready to scramble back up the rope if it broke beneath him.
“Okay, come on.” He said to Clara, who with much more grace than he managed, slid down the rope and stood beside him.
Mackay followed, and the three of them looked out over the white landscape in between them and the ice shelf.
“Watch out for those,” Clara said, pointing at the cracks in the ice. “It will be weak in those areas. If we fall through, there’s a chance we won’t make it back out again.”
“Great,” Mackay said, his cheeks already flushed from the cold.
“Well, let’s get to it. Sooner we reach the shelf the better.”
Andrews watched them walk for a while, then retreated into the deserted vessel and poured himself a large whisky. Not for the first time, he couldn’t wait for this hellish mission to be over.
They didn’t speak as they traversed the frozen ice field. Words hardly seemed appropriate anyway. The only sound was the crunch of snow underfoot and the occasional frightening crack or groan of the ice as it struggled to take their weight. As they left the
Victorious
behind, it was plain to see the ground on which they walked would soon be reclaimed by the black depths of the Antarctic Ocean, which waited for them to falter. Now, in a place far beyond fear, Rainwater led them on, knowing there was no going back. He focussed on putting one foot in front of the other, and aiming for the climbing ropes Russo and his team had left behind on the face of the ice shelf.
“This is insane,” Mackay muttered as they moved into the shadow of the ice shelf. “We’ve no business out here.”
“Let’s just keep moving.” Rainwater replied, unable to fault Mackay’s assessment of the situation.
“You really think we can climb that?” he asked between ragged breaths.
Rainwater glanced at the imposing shelf, then over his shoulder at the ice that they had just crossed.
“We have to.”
“At least in the shadow of the ice shelf, the ground should be more stable underfoot.” Clara cut in.
“I’ll take that. We need all the help we can get.” Rainwater muttered as they reached the sheer face of ice.
Mackay whistled through his teeth. “Damn, that’s… pretty high.”
“At least they left the ropes behind.” Rainwater said, tugging on them to test their strength.
Clara stepped forward, checking the ropes and craning her neck to the summit.
“You see where they went up before us?” She said, pointing at the face of the ice shelf, which was pocked with gouges from the pick axes used by Russo’s team. “If we follow their route, we should be fine.”
“I uh… I’m not too good with heights.” Mackay muttered.
“You’ll be harnessed in to these support ropes. Believe me, this would have been a hell of a lot more frightening if we had to free climb.”
“You’re sure you know what you’re doing?” Rainwater asked as she clipped herself to the rope.
“I know enough, although I’m only really a hobbyist climber. It’s how I relax. This is unlike anything I’ve ever done before.”
Rainwater looked back towards the stricken
Victorious
and the ever thawing ice field on which they stood.
“It looks like going back isn’t an option now anyway. What‘s the best way to approach this?”
“First, you need to take off those rucksacks. You won’t be able to climb whilst wearing them. We can tie them with rope and feed it out as we climb. Once we hit the top, we can haul them up after us.”
“Got it,” Rainwater said, shrugging the heavy rucksack off his back. “Anything else?”
“Don’t be tempted to rush. Take it slowly. Make sure each handhold is strong. If you get tired, let the rope take your weight. We need to communicate with each other at all times.”
Rainwater nodded. He was impressed at the way in which she had taken control of the situation, and even though he was way beyond the conventional level of fear, he was confident in her ability to see them safely to the top.
“Okay, let’s go,” she said, pulling out her pickaxe and slamming it into the face of the ice shelf. With agility, Rainwater could only ever dream to have, she started to ascend; making the initial few feet look easy as she waited for them to follow. Mackay glanced at Rainwater, who shrugged his shoulders.
“Next time you try to talk me out of something, remind me to listen to you.” Rainwater muttered.
Mackay chuckled and swung his own pickaxe at the face of the ice shelf. “Aye, I’ll do that,” he said with a wink.
Rainwater managed a smile, and he too started to climb, knowing certain death now surrounded them on all sides, and the worse was potentially to come.
Like a huge, deep scar cutting through the top of the ice shelf, the crevasse had smooth, glass like walls interjected with razor sharp jutting shards of ice. Curving at a forty five degree angle, the crevasse narrowed into a near vertical shaft beyond which Russo’s thermal readings suggested it opened again and should be traversable on foot. As he had looked into the inky depths, he had almost given in to his urge to quit, and only carried on because success would mean he would be able to return to the real world and get a fresh supply of his beloved medication.
Morrison stood beside him, checking his harness as he prepared to abseil into the abyss. Even he was now showing the strain of their predicament, his face taught and frightened as he licked his cracked lips.
“I don’t like this,” he said to Russo as he peered over his shoulder into the darkness.
“It will be fine. Once we get to the fifty foot mark, it should be walkable.”
“Should be?” Morrison snapped back with a strained grin. “You don’t sound too confident. Maybe I should have asked for an extra hundred grand instead.”
“The readings suggested it was walkable.”
“Did the readings also tell you exactly what risks are involved with doing this?”
“I’m sure you can’t wait to tell us.”
“Believe me, I don’t enjoy it, but you need to know the facts.”
“Then tell us all quickly so we can move on. The transport vessel will be close now.”
“Well in that case, I’ll be brief. This isn’t like abseiling off a roof or down a mountain side. These walls are smooth as glass. There’s no way to keep a foothold. In places, water will have gouged holes, narrow, inescapable shafts that lead nowhere. The slightest slip, the tiniest mistake could see any one of us fall down one of these voids.”
“All the more reason to be careful. I’m sure none of us want to die.”
“If you fell in one, you would. Or at least, I know I would. Better to go quickly than suffer a slow and agonising death. The irony is even if we survive and make our way to this chamber, none of us really win. Not when this creature is down there.”
“And as I told you that aspect is completely under control. Do you think I would drag us out here if I didn’t have a plan?”
Morrison sneered. “A few days ago I would have said no. Now I’m not so sure.”
“Oh, and why might that be?”
“You’ve become a victim of your own success. There are no limits for you, not anymore.”
“It sounds like you’re ready to desert me in our time of need.”
“Don’t worry,” Morrison replied, leaning back and taking the strain on the rope. “You don’t need to start thinking about pushing me into one of those death holes. As long as I get paid, I’ll do whatever you say.”
“Let’s get moving then. We don’t have much time.”
He nodded and started to inch into the crevasse, his feet struggling for purchase against the slippery surface.
“Careful as you come,” he muttered, letting out a little more line. “It’s a bastard to stay upright on.”
Russo followed suit, and along with Mito and the rest of his team, began to lower themselves down the slope. As they edged below ground level, claustrophobia enveloped him, and the need for his medication became a living entity – a thrashing, enraged thing in his stomach that demanded his constant attention. Counting back from ten, he dismissed it, concentrating his efforts on keeping his footing.
“There was a guy once,” Morrison said, his voice reverberating off the walls that surrounded them on all sides. “A guide on Mount Everest. He knew it well and made his living from taking people up and down the mountain. Anyway, he falls into this crevasse. Maybe he didn’t see it, maybe it was covered with a snow bridge. He—”
“Snow bridge?” Russo asked, the story already repulsing and fascinating him as they inched away from the comforting glare of the sun.
“Yeah. Dangerous things. Looks like solid ground, but in reality, it’s just a few inches worth of barely frozen snow. You step on that, it ain’t holding you up. Anyway, this guy, he falls into this crevasse. Falls maybe a hundred and fifty feet.”
“Holy shit,” Russo muttered as Morrison went on.
“He probably died instantly. At that depth, bones would shatter on impact. Ice here is as hard as rock. Even if he survived the initial fall, he wouldn’t have lasted long. Hypothermia would set in soon enough. Can you imagine how it would be? Lying broken and in agony and just waiting to die?”
Russo kept his eyes on his feet as he inched down the incline. He could feel Morrison looking at him and the smile etched on his lips.
“You could have picked a better time for this story. Why now?”
“Because I need you all to respect this place for how dangerous it is. Make no mistake. Death could snatch any and all of us in an instant and there wouldn’t be anything we could do about it. Just… Keep it in mind.”