In the Arctic (4 page)

“Listen, sir, we’ve done a deep background check on you and your family, and we know you’re an ex-Marine like me. We both love our country, and our country needs your sons’ help right now. While I can’t give you any of the classified details that your boys will be privy to if you sign the releases and let them serve on the ETF, I can tell you that the mission
involves recent contact with what we believe to be an extraterrestrial.”

Archibald thought the odds of him ever joining the ETF decreased markedly when his mother pressed Quade, asking, “Tell me again why you need my sons involved in any of this.”

“Trust me on this, ma’am,” Quade replied. “If we didn’t need them, Lynch and I wouldn’t be here. The fact of the matter is that they, along with the one-armed man and the girl, are uniquely qualified for this mission. All four have successfully dealt with an alien creature. They’ve demonstrated their resourcefulness, and the four of them know and trust each other. Finally, the mainframe computer analysis we conducted back at Langley picked them out of the hundreds of files that were analyzed.”

Then the boys’ mother asked the question that was foremost on her mind. “If my husband and I sign these forms and my sons agree to join your task force, how can you ensure their safety?”

When Lynch spoke his first and only words that night, his steel-gray eyes didn’t blink. “That’s where the Navy SEALs and I come in. Trust me, ma’am, not one hair on the heads of your two boys will be harmed. On that you have my word.”

“When would we have to leave?” Archibald asked in an anxious voice.

Responding to the question he’d already anticipated, Quade replied, “Tonight. I have a driver outside
who’ll take us to a plane waiting at a private airfield not far from here. If we leave in the next half hour, there shouldn’t be a problem getting airborne before the storm moves in. Too much beyond that, well, let’s just say that it could get dicey.

“Don’t worry about packing. We have plenty of clothes at Langley. You’ll need special cold weather gear where you’re headed, which we’ll also supply. All I ask is that you and your parents make up your minds soon.”

After Archibald and Jockabeb said they wanted to go, in fact pleaded with their parents to let them go, their mother and father got up and headed toward the kitchen, saying they wanted to confer in private before making a decision.

When the boys’ parents returned five minutes later, their father said the words his sons had been hoping to hear. “Alright, my wife and I have talked it over, and we’ve agreed they can go.” Then looking Lynch square in the eyes, he added, “You and Special Agent Quade both asked us to trust you. Well, you better keep your word, mister. If you don’t, you should know that this ex-Marine is coming after you. You got that?”

An almost imperceptible nod from Lynch signaled his understanding.

Ten minutes later, Archibald and Jockabeb kissed their parents and sister good-bye before following Quade and Lynch out the front door.

The boys’ third limousine ride of their lives was much, much shorter than the two previous ones they took while visiting Aunt Claire in Manhattan. Twenty minutes after leaving their home, the driver pulled his black Lincoln up to the side of a private plane that was parked on the tarmac.

The plane’s two turboprop engines were running. The pilot looked a bit anxious when he gave a thumbs-up sign through the cockpit window. Seeing that the plane was ready to go, Quade announced, “Let’s get on board and in the air before that storm rolls in.”

On the way to the airport, Lynch had been seated in front next the driver. The mean-looking man from the unnamed government agency hadn’t spoken a word since his one statement back at the house, and he didn’t break his streak of silence during the three-hour flight that followed.

Once the boys were on the eight-passenger King Air propjet and had buckled their seat belts, they were each handed a thick manila envelope. The envelopes were sealed and stamped with red block letters spelling out the two words they’d heard earlier that evening: “TOP SECRET.”

Standing slightly hunched over so his head wouldn’t hit the low ceiling, Quade issued his orders regarding the envelopes. “I want you to open these once we’re airborne. After you’ve signed the statements inside
swearing that you’ll never divulge anything that happens during this mission, you will need to read and finish the briefing papers contained in your packets before we land at Langley. There’s some background information on the Arctic Circle and the North Pole, together with a brief description of Thule Air Base.

“First thing tomorrow morning, you’ll get a formal briefing with the other members of the ETF. That’s when you’ll hear about what happened up in that frozen wasteland to warrant the actions we’re about to take. By the way, I understand your two friends from New York are being driven down to Langley as we speak.”

As soon as Quade finished his last sentence, Jockabeb’s thoughts were drawn back to the night they’d hunted the Ratweil and how quickly Meatloaf had moved when he hurled his Bowie knife into Shabazz’s forehead. It was a good thing, too, because the gangbanger was just about to return the favor. Not surprisingly, Archibald’s thoughts were on another person being driven to Langley that night—the beautiful girl who’d saved his life and stolen his heart.

Both brothers were jolted back to the present when the pilot shouted from the cockpit, “Quade, take your seat, we’re rolling.”

Seconds later, the King Air began taxiing onto the runway for takeoff. It was a bumpy ascent as the small plane flew directly into the teeth of accelerating northeast winds and a mountain of snow-laden clouds that would soon shut down operations at the airport they’d just left.

Seeing the worried expression on Jockabeb’s face as the propjet was buffeted by successive windblasts and rocked by a strong down draft, Quade leaned over and made a prediction. “My guess is that this will seem like a day at the beach compared to the weather you’ll experience at Thule.”

“Thanks,” Jockabeb replied, shaking his head and hoping that Special Agent Quade’s forecasting of Arctic weather would be just as accurate as when he called the Ratweil an extraterrestrial.

During the flight to Langley, the boys learned a lot about the desolate polar region at the northernmost part of the Earth. They were surprised to find out that the frozen tundra covering most of the Arctic was actually ice-covered ocean. When Jockabeb read that average winter temperatures dropped to around forty degrees below zero, he was glad that the PSA was supplying cold weather clothing because he didn’t own anything that could stand up to that kind of cold.

After reading about the Arctic’s polar night in winter and midnight sun in summer, Jockabeb kicked his brother’s foot and said, “Hey, it’s going to be dark the whole time we’re there.” Then he laughed and added, “That won’t bother your girlfriend since she sees pretty well in the dark.”

“Lighten up with the girlfriend stuff.” Archibald snapped. “I’ve spent less than six hours with Willow, and I haven’t seen her in five months, so she can’t be my girlfriend.”

Although the facts he’d just quoted were technically correct, Archibald silently hoped his conclusion was dead wrong. Either way, he’d find out the truth in a matter of hours.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were so sensitive about Willow,” Jockabeb apologized halfheartedly. Then, shifting the subject back to the Arctic, he asked, “Do you think we’ll see any polar bears?”

“I don’t know,” Archibald answered. “These briefing papers say there are lots of other animals that live up there. Some are small like Arctic hares, ground squirrels, lemmings, and ermines, but others are pretty big. Look on page seventeen, there’s a really cool picture of a herd of musk-oxen.”

Flipping a few pages forward, Jockabeb said, “Neat. Look at the picture of the caribou right below it. I read that those are just some of the animals that the roaming packs of wild wolves hunt.”

The moment his brother mentioned wolves, Archibald’s thoughts were drawn back to the wolves around Camp Bear Claw. He remembered the story of how Champ had been attacked by a pack of wild wolves, and how a group of hunters would have left the mangled dog to die if Mr. McClusky hadn’t come to the rescue. Then thinking of Ghost Rider, the white wolf that had been with them when they’d finally destroyed the devil cat, he said, “Yeah, it would be really neat if we saw some wolves while we’re up there.”

“But only from the air,” Jockabeb replied with a smile on his face.

As Jockabeb read on, he was particularly interested in the indigenous populations who had inhabited the Arctic down through the ages. When he learned that the present day inhabitants, the Inuit, were descendants of the Thule people, he looked up and said, “Well, I guess I know where Thule Air Base got its name.”

Both the boys had finished reading their briefing papers by the time the plane started its descent into Langley Air Force Base. The landing was much smoother than the takeoff had been. Fifteen minutes after touchdown, the two brothers were escorted to the barracks where they’d spend the night.

Before saying good night, Quade issued orders for the following morning. “In your room you’ll each find a large duffel bag containing toiletries, clothing, and other supplies you’ll need for the trip. We knew your height and weight, so everything will fit. Make sure you set the alarm clock. I want you dressed and ready to go when I show up at zero six hundred, and that’s six o’clock in the morning for you civilians.

“There’ll be a continental breakfast in the briefing room. After you meet the other members assigned to the ETF, you’ll get a classified briefing on the mission. By noon you should be back in the air heading for Thule. Oh, I forgot to mention that the shower room and head are just down the hall. If either of you have questions, let me hear them now.”

“Only one,” Jockabeb said, almost too embarrassed to ask. “What did you mean when you said there was a head down the hall?”

“It’s a toilet, airhead,” Archibald blurted out before Quade could say a word. “Haven’t you heard Dad use that term before?”

“No, I haven’t,” Jockabeb answered defensively. “Okay, so now I know. Anyway, that’s the only question I had.”

Quade’s final bit of advice before he turned on his heels and marched down the deserted hallway was, “Get some sleep. You’ll need it where you’re headed.”

When Archibald set the alarm clock for five o’clock, he turned to his brother and mimicked Special Agent Quade’s voice, saying, “I set the alarm for zero five hundred, and that’s five o’clock in the morning, you dumb civilian, you!”

“Yes, sir,” Jockabeb barked back, saluting and clicking his heels together. “And if you have to use the head in the middle of the night, be quiet. Remember, I need to get some sleep because I’ll need it where I’m headed.”

Within a minute of the alarm going off the next morning, the boys were out of bed and headed down the hall to take their showers. Both of them were taken aback when they walked into the shower room and saw Meatloaf standing at the sink brushing his teeth.

Wearing only a towel that barely fit around his bulging midriff, Meatloaf looked like a beached whale with enough blubber to supply an Inuit village for a good long while. When he saw the reflection of their faces in the mirror, he turned and bellowed out, “Well, well, you two topsiders don’t look any worse for wear.”

After shaking hands, the one-armed man patted Archibald’s shoulder and said words that were music to the teenager’s ears. “You know, I didn’t want to have anything to do with this PSA deal, but Willow talked me into it. She said I owed it to her because it was her arrows that saved me from being the Ratweil’s third victim that night.

“If you ask me, Willow’s got a thing for you, but then again, you didn’t ask me, did you? By the way, she’s staying over at the women officers’ quarters, but you’ll see her when we all meet for the briefing in an hour.”

When Archibald looked down and politely replied, “It’ll be nice to see her again,” Meatloaf and Jockabeb exchanged knowing looks.

“Well, I guess we’ll just leave it at that,” Meatloaf said, nodding at Jockabeb and then swiping a finger across his lips as if zipping them shut.

The boys returned to their room after taking their showers. Not wanting to be late, they quickly donned the jumpsuits and baseball caps they’d wear to the briefing. A patch with the PSA letters and the agency’s insignia, which had a telescope encased in a ring of stars, was sewn onto the jumpsuits’ and caps’ dark blue fabric.
Jockabeb thought he looked pretty cool as he looked in the mirror, saying, “I kind of look like a member of an emergency task force, don’t you think?”

“Why you’re the spitting image of Special Agent Quade, if I do say so myself.” Archibald answered with more than a trace of sarcasm in his voice.

It was precisely zero six hundred when the real Special Agent Quade knocked on the door of the boys’ room. Ten minutes later, they walked into a crowded PSA briefing room situated three floors below ground. All but two of the people in the room were male, and many of the men wore military uniforms.

When Archibald saw Willow standing in the corner with her back to him, he began to worry as question after question popped into his mind. What should he say? How should he act? How did she really feel about him after all this time? Would they ever get any time alone together?

Willow had been talking with Meatloaf. The moment the one-armed man looked over and saw the two boys, he tapped her on the shoulder and nodded his head in Archibald’s direction. When Willow turned and their eyes met, she smiled. Then she mouthed the word “Hi” and began to cross the room.

Willow had only taken a few steps when her progress was halted by an older gray-haired man who, in a forceful voice, said, “Good morning everyone. For those of you I haven’t met, I’m Director Blair of the PSA. If everyone will take a seat, we can get started. I’d like the
members of the emergency task force to come up to front of the room with me so I can make introductions.”

Quade told the boys he’d bring them some orange juice and a few Danish pastries. Then he added, “You should get up there right now. The Director doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”