Behind her, the engines grew steadily louder. She refused to look, took a step, and—holy shit. She leaned over her ski pole and threw up onto the pristine ice, the pain like nothing she’d experienced.
She pushed herself back up, though she had no idea how she’d walk.
And then he was there, arm around her waist.
One hopping step at a time, he helped her perch at the top of the sastrugi, lowered himself, then dropped the few feet to the ground, where he held his arms open. “I’ll catch you. Jump!”
She glanced back to see several white-clad figures crouched over their snowmobiles, headed unerringly toward them. The horsemen of the apocalypse. And if she could see their pursuers, they could see her.
If he missed her and she landed on her right leg, the pain would be unbearable.
Eyes fixed on Ford, she scooted to the edge and let go.
Oooomph.Not even a second passed, not even a breath, before he plucked her out of the air and held her tightly in his arms. The contact shoved the breath from her lungs and knocked her leg, turning the edges of her vision black.
“Your knee?” he asked, clearly reading on her face at least a fraction of the pain she was feeling.
It took a great deal of effort to answer. “Yeah.”
“How fucked?”
“Capital F.”
He gave her a quick nod. “They see you?”
“I could see them. And they’re moving fast.”
Another nod. Grim, she thought, although possibly just matter-of-fact, coming from Ford.
“What do we do?”
“You see those lines?” He pointed at a textured area maybe twenty yards ahead.
She nodded. “More sastrugi.”
“No. It’s a crevasse field.”
Crevasse. The word dropped from his lips like an omen. “You’re kidding.”
He grabbed her hand in response and squeezed it, telling her everything she didn’t want to know. Showing her exactly how things would pan out. As she scrolled through the possibilities in her mind, there weren’t many outcomes that involved them getting through this alive.
They could hide here, like sitting ducks, or…
Staring at the lumps and ridges and patterns in the ice, she squeezed him back. Then, nodding once, she grabbed his arm with one hand and her ski pole with her other before setting off for the crevasse field at his side.
And just like that, their mission changed from survival to something much more chilling.
* * *
Day 15—Harper Research and Testing Facility, East Antarctic Ice Sheet
“Who is this?” The voice was deep and authoritative. Decidedly not the director.
“Who isthis?” Clive used hisworld-renowned researcher talking to a minionvoice.
“This is Chief Petty Officer Eric Cooper. I’m wondering what the hell an American’s doing answering the phone in an unoccupied Russian research station?”
I could be Canadianwas the only thing Clive’s brain provided, but he knew not to say that. It took a few frantic seconds for him to fall on an adequate response.
