Colder Than Ice (23 page)

“Are
you sure you know what you’re doing?”

Michela
gave Allison’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll be okay. I do quite a bit
of rappelling back home when I have the time. Besides, I don’t intend to lose
anyone on this expedition, not if I have anything to do with it.”

Michela
carefully stepped off the vehicle and gingerly made her way toward the
crevasse, scanning the ground as she went.

So
far, so good.
As she eased closer,
she clearly saw the crevasse and the direction in which it went. This would be
valuable information when the three of them later negotiated their way out of
the field.
God, let there be three of us finding our way out of this,
please.

Michela
eased herself onto the snow, leopard-crawling the final yard to the chasm’s
edge. She flicked the switch on the headlamp, allowing the xenon beam to
illuminate the view. She systematically swept the hole with the light and
paused at a ledge about twenty yards below. Scattered on the frozen landing
were the unmistakable remains of something mechanical.
Damn it. Given we’re
the only show on this block, it looks a hell of a lot like the ski-demon I rode
in on.

She
eased herself back from the edge, stood, and turned to Allison. “I’m going
down.” After checking her harness and equipment again, she took the
climbing rope and threw it into the crevasse. She faced Allison and slowly
leant back till she was forty-five degrees to the ledge. She cautiously began
her descent over the edge, at the same time using her crampons to take a bite
out of the ice wall.

The
silence around Michela was almost complete, with only the occasional whistle of
wind as it reverberated off the edges of the icy ravine. Her headlamp lit the
way, its glow eerily reflecting off the cool blue walls. She shuffled across to
the ledge she’d seen only moments ago from above and then eased upright before
checking the metal and fiberglass wreckage.

Any
doubts to its origin were quickly dispelled. Sitting in its carry pouch, on the
side of a piece of fiberglass casing, was an EPIRB. A piece of white tape was
stuck to the transponder’s side, the words “FINLAYSON EXPEDITION”
written in bold letters. Michela bowed her head.
So you’ve found wreckage.
That doesn’t mean the worst, not yet anyway. He may have fallen off and is
somewhere below you.
Even so, this would mean evacuating an injured person,
and that’s going to be a hell of a lot more difficult, not to mention we’re
not completely equipped for such an evacuation.
Leaning over, she strained
her eyes, searching for another ledge below her without success.
It looks as
if I’m going down again.

Using
her foot, she pushed the wreckage toward the ice wall, allowing her a firm
step-off point for the next part of her descent. She stepped off the ledge and
rappelled, scanning her surroundings with the high-powered beam for any
evidence of the rest of the snow mobile or Ewan.

As
she strained to see further down the chasm’s length, her frigid brake hand
slipped from the iced rope and the rope raced through the karabiner at a
frightening pace. For what seemed like an eternity she fell, as she struggled
to regain control. Experience finally overcame fear and she managed to grip the
rope, performing an emergency lockout to halt her fall.

She
hit the ice wall with a muffled thud, winding herself in the process. As she
fought to force air back into her lungs she swung and twirled like a yo-yo
parallel to the crevasse’s walls. Waiting for her momentum to slow, she watched
the light’s strobing effect off the smooth surfaces.
What’s that?
She
squinted and finally stopped moving.

Slightly
below her and to the left, the opposite wall was splattered with red, like a
single-colored abstract expressionist painting. She struggled to keep down
dinner, swallowing the bile that rose in her throat. The impact had been
tremendous, causing blood to be spattered as far as she could see. Looking
above her, she could just make out the ledge she’d been on only moments before.
Obviously the snow mobile had plummeted through the lightly packed snow, its
first impact being the icy outcrop above her. From there, the force of the
impact must have dislodged Ewan, before he free fell and hit the opposite wall.

Bowing
her head, she fought back tears.
Focus, Michela, focus! You can’t afford to
lose it now. First things first. See if you can see any trace of his body.
She
locked out her rope with a prusik knot and pulled one of the cylindrical glow
sticks from her pouch. She bent it in half, in turn breaking the gas vial in
the cylinder and releasing a light from the plastic container. She hooked one
end of the plastic light to the small spool and lowered it into the darkness.

Lower
and lower it went, the light casting an unnatural glow off the icy walls.
Swinging the small light like a pendulum, Michela strained to see any evidence
of either Ewan or the additional remains of his ski-demon. At one hundred yards
the light reached the maximum length of its cord, with still no evidence of man
or machine.
If he survived the fall, the elements and loss of blood would
have certainly killed him.

Michela,
on autopilot, wound in the glow light and contemplated how to break the news to
the others.
More importantly, how can I get Rick out of the camp before
someone, possibly Rob, does him bodily harm?
She knew that Rob and Ewan had
formed a steady friendship, relying on one another for support when they felt
they were being “overwhelmed by women,” as both jokingly put it.

Maybe
it wouldn’t be so bad if Rick had the living crap kicked out of him.
Michela stopped herself.
No. No matter what Rick’s
involvement is in this, at the end of the day Ewan made his own decision to
come out here.
As far as she was concerned, the indirect responsibility for
his death would always rest with Rick, but any coroner would rightly see Ewan’s
death as no more than death by misadventure.
And the bastard gets away with
it. I hope you don’t sleep well at night once you find out what you’ve done,
you damn low life.

Michela
returned the spool and glow light to her pouch. She then pulled out her left
and right mechanical ascenders and another length of rope. The mechanical
ascenders small teeth gripped the rope, allowing her to ascend using one for
each hand. As an added precaution she belayed the ascenders to her climbing
rope, and attached loops for her feet, allowing her to climb, much like a caterpillar
would move up the stem of a plant.

Michela’s
ascent was slow and labored. Halting at the ledge where she’d found remnants of
the snow mobile, she took a ragged breath. The free fall had been physically
draining and the shock of Ewan’s death had emotionally shaken her. She closed
her eyes for a minute and leant against the wall with her crampons locked into
the ledge.
You may reach the top, Michela, but we’re not out of this yet.
You’ve got to find a safe way out of this field. Then we’ve got to get back to
camp and break the news.
Forcing herself to relax, Michela focused on her
breathing, disciplining it into slow and deep breaths. She relaxed her clenched
jaw and rotated her neck, attempting to remove the stress in her shoulders. She
shook out her aching arms, centered herself, and resumed her climb.

Finally,
she broke over the crevasse’s ledge, sprawled over the snow, and tiredly pulled
up her rope. Avoiding Allison’s gaze, she looped her rope before making her way
to the ski-demon.

Allison
looked expectantly behind Michela. “Did you find him?”

Michela
disengaged the anchor and the other end of the rope and stowed the equipment.
She then took Allison’s hands in her own. “He didn’t make it. He’s
dead.”

Allison
blinked and shook her head. “He can’t be. This morning he was helping me
on the dig. Are you sure? How did it happen?”

Michela
rubbed Allison’s hands, as much to warm Allison as herself. “I’m sorry,
honey, but he’s dead and for the moment you’re going to have to trust me on
that one.” She held up her hand. “Please, don’t ask me about it now.
I suggest we give Sarah a quick report and then get out of this field.”

Allison
nodded, seeing the barely concealed anguish in Michela’s eyes.

Michela
picked up the short-range radio and depressed the prezzle switch.
“Finlayson Base, this is Michela. Do you read, over?”

After
a short delay the call was answered. “Michela, this is Sarah.”

“Sarah,
are you alone at the moment?”

“Yes,
I am. Rick and Di have gone to their hut and Rob’s busying himself with the solar
generator.”

Michela
frowned. “Is there something wrong with it?”

“No,
but there’s a big storm bearing down on us here. It’s due to reach us in the
next thirty minutes or so. I asked him to check the anchor ropes on the solar
generator, just to make sure it didn’t blow away. He’s checking those and the
blizzard ropes. Did you find Ewan?”

“Sarah,
he’s gone. By the looks of it he fell into a crevasse and kept on falling. I
had visual to about one hundred and seventy yards and couldn’t see the bottom
of the crevasse.” Allison gasped. Michela rubbed Allison’s hand.

“The
storm’s heading your way. You need to find cover where you are.”

Frustrated,
Michela shook her head.
Can this day get any worse?
“You say it’s
due to hit you in thirty minutes, which gives us about an hour or so. Sarah,
we’re on a crevasse field.”

“Shit!
Can you track your way back again?”

“I
don’t know if we can safely do that. I really don’t know how long we traveled
onto the field before we actually realized where we were.”

“Have
you got your GPS handy?”

Michela
turned to Allison who was busy removing the instrument from its docking port.
Michela read the figures on the compact screen back to Sarah.

“I’m
checking the map.” There was a slight pause before Sarah’s voice was again
heard. “You’re right. You’re on top of a glacier. But by your coordinates
you’re close to the edge. Unfortunately, that’s the furthest edge.”

Michela
closed her eyes. “Do you have any good news for me?”

“Yes
I do. If you take a westerly heading for about two hundred and twenty yards or
so, you should find yourself out of the field. But one of you is going to have
to go ahead of the ski-demon and check the ground as you go. Have you got your
map?”

Allison
handed the map to Michela. “I have now.”

“Right.
Look at grid reference 8099 4050.”

Michela
located the relevant easting and northing. “Got it.”

“Once
you get to the edge, if you plot a bound in that direction, in about three
miles you’ll come across one of the emergency huts. You’ll have to wait out the
storm there.”

“Hang
on a minute.” Michela plotted the small westerly move into the GPS before
plotting the longer northerly move. Double-checking her numbers, she then
placed the GPS in its docking port and activated the button that allowed both
GPS and ski-demon to work together to get them to the emergency hut. She
depressed the prezzle switch. “Do you have any suggestions once the storm
passes us?”

“Yes.
The snow and ice should be a lot more stable to cross from higher up the
glacier. Once you can leave the hut, plot a bearing to grid reference 9595
4050. This will give you a safe path across the glacier. Once you’re on the
other side, take a reading and plot a bearing back home. Do you
understand?”

“Yes
I do. We’d better start before we run out of time. If we lose communications
with you, I’ll use the following code. Two bursts of static will mean we’re off
the glacier and three will mean we’ve reached the hut.”

“Roger
that. Michela, you and Allison be careful. I hope to see you soon.”

“We
hope to see you soon also. Can you radio the information about Ewan to Wills
Station? I’ll give a full report when we return.”

“Roger
that, Michela. Now get going, out.”

She
handed the radio to Allison and eased herself off the snow mobile. “We
better get out of here, before the storm hits.”

My
Darling Charlotte,

The
last few weeks have been somber to say the least. The tragic loss of our team
members gravely affected the group. As for me, I still feel as if I’ve failed
as the expedition leader. I should have watched my team more closely; this
continent and its seductive nature are not to be trusted. We held a service for
our comrades who did not return and then we were forced to continue on with
life. To do nothing other than to dwell on their passing would not be productive,
either emotionally or physically.

We
have finished the main hut, marking its completion with a small celebration out
of our meager rations. The loss of the others and the food they took with them
has meant that I have been forced to ration some of our provisions, aware that
not to do so may see us run short before our ship returns.

We
have a little wood left and it is my intent to use this to construct a small
building, for the purpose of developing a photographic record of our
expedition. My photographer Ian Ross is an enthusiastic man, however his
equipment is taking up far too much of the internal space of our working and
living area, not to mention the awful smell of developing photographs.
Hopefully this will keep him happy and the other members of the crew as well.
All my love,