“Till the fuel runs out. First fifty miles or so.”
“Then we’ll only have two hundred fifty miles to ski.” She glanced at him, blank behind all his outdoor gear, and forced a laugh. “Piece of cake.” Her eyes landed on the sleds. “Where are the tubes?”
“Tubes?”
“Your ice thingies. Why aren’t they on the sleds?”
“We’re leaving them.”
“What do you mean we’re leaving them?”
“Too heavy.”
“Then take them out of the casings.”
He shook his head. “Can’t risk contamination.”
His nonchalant act was good. Really good, since it was pretty much his schtick to begin with, but something about it was off. The careful way he watched her, maybe? The slight tick in his jaw? Whatever it was, she didn’t believe it for a second.
“You’re suggesting we just hand them over? After everything those evil jerks did?” She yanked the ski mask back up and pulled her neck gaiter down. “Look, Mr. Ice Man, I didn’t go through hell to give the bad guys their damnedpayloadback, okay?” When he didn’t respond, she went on. “I’ll dump the damned butter if I have to.”
He opened his mouth to say something, then narrowed his eyes and kept quiet.
Good response.
Without a word, he set to work rearranging the sled contents to make way for the tubes.
With everything once again packed up and secure, she took one last look at the station, her throat working convulsively. This had been home for the past few months. The only safe place for miles around.
But then it wasn’t all that safe in the end, was it?
Tears blurred her vision. Which they pretty much always did out on the ice. The only difference was that these tears hurt from the inside out, not the other way around.
“I’ll miss it.”
“Hm?”
She shook her head and accepted his hand up onto the massive hunk of machinery. “Nothing.” She had to yell to be heard above the engine until the door slammed.
“Heat’ll kick in soon,” he said as he pointed the plow away from the base, shifted into gear, and rolled forward, into white so big, so powerful and pure in its nothingness that it felt almost like…God.
She cleared her throat, a little embarrassed at the crap her mind was feeding her. “How do you know where we’re headed?”
“GPS.”
“It works?” She brightened.
“For now. Gotta keep it warm so the batteries don’t die.” He patted a pocket. “Brought extras.”
“Could someone track us on that? The GPS?”
“No.” He glanced at her, unreadable behind his goggles, though the grim set of his mouth was visible since he’d pushed his neck gaiter down.
“Okay.” She closed her eyes, halfway relieved that she’d wound up with a guy who knew apparently everything there was to know about this place. Her other half was stuck in a spiral of hopelessness, spurred on by the enormity of what they were doing. “What if it breaks?”
“Got a backup,” he said as if it was only natural. As if you’d be crazy not to have a backup.
“Of course you do.”
