Surviving Antarctica (9 page)

“If you say so,” Steve said hesitantly.

“Let’s double delete the scene from the official records but save it in a separate file.”

Steve pushed the
TRANSFER
button.

Chad leaned over his shoulder.

The computer asked Steve to name the file. “What’s the file’s name?”

“‘P.B.’?” Chad said.

“What does that stand for?” Steve asked.

“Possible blackmail.” Chad laughed.

Steve froze. Blackmail?

Chad clapped Steve on the back. “But we’re very careful.”

The
swish, swish, swish
of the broom competed with the thumping of Steve’s heart as he nodded.

Jacob Petrello walked in and joined them at the screens. Jacob was a sandy-haired man around thirty-five years of age. When Steve had first met Jacob, he had liked him instinctively.

On the screens, the kids were all working silently at their different jobs.

“Hey!” Jacob pointed at Andrew’s screen. “He’s talking.”

Chad turned the volume up.

Andrew was alone with the ponies. “You know, guys,” he said to the animals, “I have a confession to make. I’ve never been this close to a pony before. But if you help me, I’ll help you.” He held up a round contraption. “This is a horseshoe.” He paused. “I mean a pony shoe. I need to put this on you.” He looked into the eyes of one of the ponies. “So?”

“How long do you think it’s going to take for Andrew to get that thing on?” Chad asked.

“I guess about two hours,” Jacob said.

“I’ll put it at three,” Chad said.

“He’ll figure it out,” Steve said confidently.

Two hours and fifty minutes later, Steve had to admit that Chad was right. Andrew still hadn’t been able to get the pony to raise its hoof long enough for him to secure the shoe.

Andrew looked as discouraged as Steve felt.

“You’d help him if you could, wouldn’t you?” Jacob said to Steve.

What an odd question! How could he, a production editor, help any of the kids? But Steve didn’t hesitate before answering. “Sure.”

The pony kept still for an instant. Andrew jammed the shoe on.

Yeah, Andrew! It’s a shame, Steve thought, that he can’t hear our cheers.

IT WAS THE END
of a long day, and Polly felt exhausted. The ship rolled in the impossibly vast sea. To calm herself, she clutched the sides of the deck chair and stared at the moons. The natural moon was pearl-colored. The second moon, which had been installed by advertisers years ago, was light green and shone with the Gap company logo.

Andrew plopped down in the deck chair next to her. He noticed the book in her lap. “Maybe you could write a book about polar exploration.”

“Someone already did.” Polly held up her book so he could read the title:
The Worst Journey in the World
. “Apsley Cherry-Garrard, one of Scott’s men, wrote this in 1922.”

“Our trip’s not that bad so far, is it?”

Polly snorted. Hadn’t he noticed the huge waves? The bottomless sea? But then again, the ocean was the least of their problems. “Do you think we’re going to make it?” she asked.

“Yes.” Andrew’s voice sounded more confident than he felt.

“The camera crew is our only hope,” Polly said.

“Why?”

“I can’t believe that adults would watch us die.”

“Kids starve all the time.”

“I know, but no one has to watch them.”

Andrew looked around the deck for the cameras. “Do you feel better or worse knowing someone is watching us?”

“It makes me feel better to think that God is watching, or my father in heaven, but it makes me feel worse to think that millions of people are watching”—Polly struggled to find the words—“our tragedy.”

“I used to be one of those people,” Andrew said. “I used to sit on my couch night and day and watch.”

“Me, too. We all did. It’s not like we had a choice.”

“No. I mean, I used to like watching more than being a part of anything.”

“And that’s not true anymore?” Polly asked.

“Well, there’s no TV here. I don’t have anything to watch.”

“I guess you’re right. When I’ve finished my books, then I won’t have anything to read.”

“I hope we make it,” Andrew said.

“We will,” Polly promised, although she didn’t quite believe it.

Billy and Robert appeared. Billy was holding a notepad.

“Have you checked the lifeboats for paddles?” Robert asked Billy.

“No,” Billy said. He helped Robert turn a lifeboat over. Two paddles were hooked to the side.

Robert picked up each one and examined it. “They’re in good shape.”

Billy put a check on the inventory list.

Polly watched Billy and Robert pass by.

They’re very diligent, Polly thought. I just wish they were nicer. “Andrew,” she said slowly when she was sure that the two other boys couldn’t hear her, “I’ve enjoyed talking to you.”

“Sure,” Andrew said.

“Have you talked to any of the others?” Polly adjusted the blanket on her shoulders.

“Like this?”

She nodded.

“No.”

“Billy’s mean and Robert’s bossy,” she said.

“They’re okay.” Robert and Billy were like all the boys he had ever known.

“Grace is nice. She just seems so removed.”

“I know what you mean,” Andrew said.

“Thanks for listening,” Polly said.

“Sure.”

She stared again at the ocean.

“It’s a nice night,” he said quietly.

For some reason, the big waves didn’t seem quite as frightening as before. “It is,” she agreed.

“
WE’RE GOING TO
cross the equator in twenty minutes!” Billy called out over the loudspeaker.

“Billy’s sure good with maps,” Steve said to Chad. The two of them were staring at the five screens. It was the second full day of the kids’ ocean voyage. The compucraft had passed uneventfully through the Panama Canal. All five contestants were busy doing chores.

“He is,” Chad answered.

“The ratings for today’s episode.” Jacob came in and handed Chad the familiar blue ratings sheet.

Steve read over Chad’s shoulder. “Seventy-three percent.”

“Hot Sauce must be furious,” Chad said.

“But these ratings are good. Most people are watching,” Steve said.

“You don’t understand. Last year, eighty percent of America watched
D-Day Historical Survivor
. This year’s
Alamo Historical Survivor
pulled only seventy-five percent. The ratings are steadily declining,” Chad explained.

“The viewers aren’t hooked on this series yet,” Jacob commented.

“The Secretary needs to create one of her calamities,” Chad said.

Steve laughed.

“You laugh.” Chad pointed at the ratings sheet. “But she will.”

“Oh, come on,” Steve said.

“Our government depends on good ratings,” Chad said.

“Of course. Good ratings mean that the crime rate stays low,” Steve said.

“That’s what they say,” Chad agreed with a sly smile.

Steve was certain that Chad knew more than he was telling. “What’s the real reason?”

“Did you know that less than ten percent of the public votes in elections?” Chad said.

“No.” Steve wasn’t old enough to vote yet. But he knew his mom and dad had never
bothered to register.

“Well, the more TV people watch, the less likely they are to vote,” Chad said. “Do you understand yet?”

Steve shook his head.

“We’re still called a democracy,” Jacob broke in. “But only the politicians vote. They control who’s in office.”

“There’s a lot of pressure on the Secretary to keep the ratings up,” Chad said.

“The stakes are high. She’s got to be always on the lookout for a new gimmick,” Jacob added.

The series made more sense now. “So that’s why she’s using innocent kids,” Steve murmured.

Andrew had gone almost two whole days without watching television. He was surprised that he hadn’t been bored, but when he thought about his routine, he realized that he had been too busy.

All of them had settled into their jobs. Robert and Billy sorted and inventoried the gear. Polly read her books. Grace trained the dogs. Andrew worked with the ponies and did the odd jobs that Robert and Grace requested. At night, he talked with Polly.

“We’re crossing the equator in one minute!” Billy called out.

Andrew put down a sack that he had been packing. “I’m going on deck.” He knew there wasn’t a line in the ocean marking the equator, but he wanted to see for himself.

Robert nodded. “Break time.” He turned off the camp stove—or
PRIMUS,
as the vocabulary note had labeled it. The instructions said that an outer ring was used to melt snow for tea or cocoa while the inner pot was used to melt the snow to be mixed with pemmican. After playing with the Primus for twenty minutes, he felt he had learned how to work it in eighty-degree temperatures. The trick would be lighting it in subzero weather. He’d practice again this afternoon before training the others on how to use it.

Andrew walked up the stairs to the deck. It was late afternoon, but the sun was still shining. The water was bluer than Andrew had ever imagined it could be.

Grace was leaning over the rail, enjoying the feel of the wind.

Wearing a tank top, Polly was sitting on a deck chair, her hair blowing in the breeze.

A hit song was playing over the speaker system. Billy must have turned the radio on.
“I’ve got the hologram blues. Just when I think I know you, you fade away like some poor hologram that don’t know how to play.”

Robert stood next to Andrew near the rail. “I’d really like a swim.”

“A swim would be great,” Andrew said. He took off his T-shirt. The late-afternoon sun felt good on his chest.

“Of course, this ship is going so fast, by the time I took a stroke it’d be out of sight.”

“Yeah,” Andrew said. He balled his T-shirt up in his hand and tossed it in the air.

“Andrew!” Polly yelled. “Throw me your T-shirt.”

Andrew tied his T-shirt into a knot before tossing it to Polly.

Polly caught it and tossed it back.

Billy walked out onto the deck. He intercepted the toss. “It’s a beach party,” he said. “Robert!”

While still turned away from Billy, Robert caught the T-shirt ball in one hand. He called out, “Grace!”

Grace caught it and tossed it to Polly. Polly tossed the T-shirt to Andrew, but it was high. Andrew jumped to catch it. The sun was shining so brightly that for a moment he was dazed. But his fingers closed around the soft ball, and he landed back squarely on the deck.

Polly clapped.

Grace laughed.
“Good catch!” Robert called.

“He’s a football player!” Billy shouted.

“Hardly,” Andrew said, but he was pleased.

“The beach party was fun. When we start editing, I think we should leave in the whole scene. Don’t you agree?” Chad said.

“Sure,” Steve said. He hated to think about the reason the Secretary loved playful scenes. He guessed that they made the audience sadder when something bad happened.

All five kids were leaning against the rail. The wind was blowing through their hair. They looked as if they were on vacation.

“Steve,” Chad said, “why don’t you let Jacob take over? I need you to begin reviewing the e-mails from our viewers.”

Jacob seemed to notice Steve’s reluctance to leave the monitors. “Steve thinks he’s the kids’ baby-sitter.”

Jacob was right. Steve didn’t like leaving the kids; he wanted to see the rest of their day. But he couldn’t disobey his manager’s request.

Slowly Steve turned away.

ON THE THIRD
day, the dogs licked Grace as if they could read her mind and knew that she was thinking about the journey they would soon face. She wished there was a way to see how the dogs handled themselves in ice and snow.

Even so, Grace had begun to sort out the dogs’ personalities. Brontosaurus, the dog with his nose under her arm, was a troublemaker and a malcontent, but he also seemed very smart. Triceratops, the dog licking the back of her neck, had a sweet disposition but short legs. For different reasons, she expected to have trouble with both on the trail.

T-Rex stood next to her, looking dignified.
He was a strong dog whose hazel eyes seemed human. He didn’t let much bother him. He wasn’t quite as smart as Brontosaurus, but he was steadier. The other dogs deferred to him; he was the leader.

In the tiny space of the compucraft, Pterodactyl almost flew, he was so fast, but he didn’t seem to like Grace. Right now he was the only dog who wasn’t waiting his turn to be petted. She sensed that he wasn’t going to be loyal.

Dryosaurus, the dog with his paw on Grace’s stomach, was the second fastest, and he was sensitive. When Grace scolded any dog, she saw Dryosaurus tuck his tail between his legs and pin his ears back in total submission. Like T-Rex, he came when Grace called.

Brachiosaurus, Apatosaurus, Diplodocus, and Ichthyosaurus, the biggest dogs, would provide the muscle to pull the sled. Iguanodon, so named because he was the ugliest of the dogs, was also the slowest. Polacanthus was the least playful of the dogs and perhaps the oldest. Ankylosaurus’s massive tail, almost as big as a club, had impressed her, but this dog was easily frightened and during conflicts spent much of the time crouching on the ground.

She called T-Rex to her and stared into his knowing eyes. He looked at her as if to say,
“Whatever you want, I’ll try to do it.”

There wasn’t enough room to hook the dogs up to the sled, but tonight she planned to try to put them in formation. She slipped the harness over T-Rex’s neck. “I’m counting on you,” she whispered as she pressed her face into his fur.

“Andrew!” Grace called. He was in the pen with the ponies.

Andrew had worked hard all day, but he was eager to help Grace.

Grace held three big huskies on a leash. She patted the head of one dog. “T-Rex is the leader.”

“You named them after dinosaurs?” Andrew said.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“They found the bones of a dinosaur on our reservation a few years ago. Scientists came. They talked to us about dinosaurs. I liked the names.”