Authors: James Rollins
Ice Hunt (63 page)
“Crap,” he swore. “Why am I the one always getting soaked?”
Matt climbed the ladder to the top of the boat’s sail, cracking the upper hatch of the conning tower. He threw it open with a clang. Cold air swept over him. He had never felt anything more wonderful.
He climbed out to the flying bridge to make room for the others below. As he stood, he gaped at the sight beyond the submarine.
The storm had broken. Moonlight turned the world silver.
But it wasn’t
solid
silver.
The submarine lolled in a sea of slush. Ripples spread out from the rocking boat. A hundred yards away, the gentle waves lapped against a shore of solid ice. It marked the boundary between two worlds—one of regular ice and one of decomposed slush.
Matt stared out. A huge black hole separated these two worlds.
Jenny joined him, slipping her hand back into his. “What happened?”
“The Polaris Array did what it was supposed to do,” he said, waving a hand over the vast sea of slush and broken ice. “But it was only half a success. It looks like the other half of the array didn’t blow.”
“Was it the
Polar Sentinel
?”
Matt shrugged. “Who else could it be?”
Kowalski echoed Jenny’s words. “The
Polar Sentinel
.”
Matt glanced to him. He was pointing out into the slushy sea. A black bulk shoved upward, shedding ice as it rose. The submarine’s large eye, aglow from the lights inside, stared back at them, as if surprised to see them alive.
Matt pulled Jenny under his arm, recognizing how well she fit against him, two becoming one once again.
He had to admit, he was surprised, too.
ONE YEAR LATER, MAY 14, 6:34 A.M.
BROOKS RANGE, ALASKA
It was too damn early.
Matt burrowed under the worn quilt comforter, refusing to forsake the warmth beneath the thick down. Though it was already spring, mornings in the Alaskan high country were as cold as any Midwestern winter. He sought the warmest spot in the bed, next to his wife’s naked body.
He spread his length next to Jenny, spooning against her, skin to skin, nuzzling her neck, legs entwining.
“We already had your honeymoon last night,” she murmured into her pillow.
He grumbled but was unable to squash his smile. He had not stopped grinning like a love-addled teenager since he had spoken his vows beside the river yesterday afternoon. It had been a small ceremony. A few friends and family.
Amanda and Greg had flown in, newly married themselves. Captain Perry had been decorated for his heroics up north. Though half the polar ice cap had been destroyed by the Polaris Array, the other half had been preserved through his efforts and Amanda’s timely use of the DeepEye sonar.
As for the cap’s actual damage, it was significant but not irreparable. Each year, over the course of a summer, the cap normally melted in half anyway, yet recovered in winter, proving the earth’s remarkable resilience. The same proved true again. Over the past winter, the cap had re-formed, spreading intact over the northern seas once again.
However, the healing of the two governments—Russia and the United States—was neither as easy, nor as quick. Throughout the halls of power in Washington and Moscow, repercussions and punishments still rattled. Daily hearings, judicial inquiries, and military court-martials continued. But even this turmoil would eventually subside, freeze over.
Matt only hoped that something better came of it all.
As to what happened in the north, there was no sign. The schematics for the Polaris Array were never found, destroyed by Admiral Petkov before he ever left port. And the grendels were gone, too, wiped out in the nuclear blast.
In the end, the war had no lasting result.
Well,
almost
no result…
Laughter again echoed out from the main room of the family cabin. It was the pure delight that only a child could call forth. It was this merriment that had awakened Matt from his short sleep.
Jenny stirred this time. “It sounds like Maki’s up.”
The clank of pots and pans sounded from the neighboring room, too. Matt pulled the cover back, ready to shout for another couple hours of sleep. Then the aromas reached him. He inhaled deeply, sighing.
“Coffee…that’s not playing fair.”
Jenny rolled against him, sitting. “I guess we should be getting up.”
Matt shifted to one elbow. He stared at his new wife, sunlight streaming through the window, bathing her. He was the luckiest man in the whole damn world.
Childish giggles again drifted to them.
Jenny smiled at the sound. There was not even a hint of old sorrow. Like her, he knew how good it was to hear laughter again in the cabin, if even for only a short time.
Together, they slipped into pajamas and robes, then crossed to the bedroom door. Matt opened the way for her, then followed her out.
Maki was in the middle of the room, playing with Bane. The large wolf mix lay sprawled on his back, his belly exposed to be petted. The boy would scratch it, but when he reached the sweet spot, Bane’s back leg would twitch and scratch reflexively. This triggered another peal of laughter.
Matt smiled at the simple pleasure. A boy and a dog.
“You’re up!” a voice spoke from the kitchen. It was Belinda Haydon.
“Where’s your husband?” he asked.
“Bennie and Jen’s dad headed out with their poles an hour ago.”
Maki climbed to his feet. He crossed to the kitchen. “Mama,” he said in Inuit. “Can I have a Pop-Tart?” This last was in English. He was learning the language quickly.
“After you have your cereal, honey,” Belinda answered firmly.
Maki stuck out his lower lip and headed back to Bane.
Matt followed him with his eyes. After the ordeal a year ago, he and Jenny had considered adopting the boy, but they had too much to heal between themselves first. It was not a time for them to raise such a traumatized child.
Instead, the perfect family had been found for the boy: Bennie and Belinda. Jenny had told Matt about the couple’s miscarriage and infertility. The pair had enough love for ten children. If any two people could help the boy recover and grow, this was the couple.
Matt found himself staring at Jenny. And they could always have more children themselves. It was something they had already tentatively discussed, whispered in the night, sharing their hopes under the covers.
There was still time for all of them.
“Uncle Matt,” Maki called over to him, “Bane wants a Pop-Tart, too.”
Matt laughed.
Jenny smiled at him, at both of them.
He met her bright eyes.
He truly was the luckiest man in the world.
6:55 A.M.
UNDER THE ICE…
The tank rested on the ocean floor, full of water, crushed and cracked. The lone occupant was a frozen lump of bone and hardened tissue. There was no light. No sound.
None could hear the screaming inside the man’s head.
The cryoprotectant had worked, preserving and protecting him. But there was a side effect he had not anticipated. A horrible, monstrous side effect. The figure now understood the years the Russian scientists had spent researching sedatives and soporifics.
Sleep drugs
. The research was not ancillary, but critical to the suspended animation.
For the state created by the elixir was
not
sleep.
Consciousness remained—frozen, too, but intact.
Sleep was denied him.
He screamed and screamed, but even he heard nothing.
Deaf, dumb, blind.
Yet his body remained, preserved for all time. Deep in the black depths of the Arctic Ocean, one thought persisted as madness ate at what was left of him.
How long? How long is eternity?
Over the past years, I have been asked many times about where the line lies between truth and fiction in my stories. So here at the end of
Ice Hunt,
I thought it might be interesting to share some of those details.
Let’s start at the beginning. The novel opens with a fictitious newspaper article detailing the disappearance of an Inuit village on Lake Anjikuni. The details of the tribe’s sudden and mysterious disappearance are based on fact. The fate of the poor people is, of course, of my own imagining. The same could be said for the story and fate of the unfortunate sailors aboard the
Jeannette
back in 1881. The tragedy was real; the fate of the crew of the lone missing lifeboat is pure fiction.
As to the threat posed by the Polaris Array, this scenario is based on scientific theory, but the practical application of the star-shaped harmonic device was my own invention. The stated effect of such an annihilation of the northern polar cap—the creation of a new ice age—is also based on projections by leading Arctic researchers.
Now, as to the derivation of the “grendels,” the species is a blend of fact and fiction, too. The species
Ambulocetus natans,
known as the walking whale, has been documented in the fossil record. Additionally, the biological oddity of the Arctic wood frog is factual. These strange frogs do indeed freeze solid for months at a time, then revive upon thawing. Ken Storey of Carleton University has been researching the mechanism for this miraculous adaptation. The role of simple sugar in this “suspended animation” process is also factual, as is the singular and surprising fact about its genetic mechanism: that all vertebrate species carry these genes. I then mixed these facts and species to create the grendels.
Lastly, a comment on the one detail I thought would be the hardest for folks to believe: Could the United States, along with Russia, be involved with something as heinous as secret human experimentation? In the novel, Admiral Petkov states his case based on historical facts, but even he barely scratches the surface of the truth. So, as a cautionary note, let me end this book by documenting a partial list of historical abuses collated and copyrighted by the Health News Network (www.healthnewsnet.com):
1932
The Tuskegee Syphilis Study begins. Two hundred black men diagnosed with syphilis are never told of their illness, are denied treatment, and instead are used as human guinea pigs. They all subsequently die from syphilis.
1935
The Pellagra Incident. After millions of individuals die from pellagra over a span of two decades, the U.S. Public Health Service finally acts to stem the disease. The director of the agency admits it had known for at least twenty years that pellagra is caused by a niacin deficiency but failed to act since most of the deaths occurred within poverty-stricken black populations.
1940
Four hundred prisoners in Chicago are infected with malaria in order to study the effects of new and experimental drugs to combat the disease. Nazi doctors later on trial at Nuremberg cite this American study to defend themselves.
1945
Project Paperclip is initiated. The U.S. State Department, Army intelligence, and the CIA recruit Nazi scientists and offer them immunity and secret identities in exchange for work on top-secret government projects.
1947
The CIA begins its study of LSD as a potential weapon. Human subjects (both civilian and military) are used with and without their knowledge.
1950
In an experiment to determine how susceptible an American city would be to biological attack, the U.S. Navy sprays a cloud of bacteria from ships over San Francisco. Many residents become ill with pneumonialike symptoms.
1956
The U.S. military releases mosquitoes infected with yellow fever over Savannah, Georgia, and Avon Park, Florida. Following each test, Army agents posing as public health officials test victims for effects.
1965
Prisoners at the Holmesburg State Prison in Philadelphia are subjected to dioxin, the highly toxic chemical component of Agent Orange used in Vietnam. The men are later studied for development of cancer.
1966
U.S. Army dispenses
Bacillus subtilis
variant
niger
throughout the New York City subway system. More than a million civilians are exposed when Army scientists drop lightbulbs filled with the bacteria onto ventilation grates.
1990
More than 1,500 six-month-old black and Hispanic babies in Los Angeles are given an “experimental” measles vaccine that had never been licensed for use in the United States. CDC later admits that parents were never informed that the vaccine being injected into their children was experimental.
1994
Senator John D. Rockefeller issues a report revealing that for at least fifty years the Department of Defense has used hundreds of thousands of military personnel in human experiments and for intentional exposure to dangerous substances.
1995
The U.S. government admits that it had offered Japanese war criminals and scientists who had performed human medical experiments salaries and immunity from prosecution in exchange for data on biological warfare research.
1995
Dr. Garth Nicolson uncovers evidence that the biological agents used during the Gulf War had been manufactured in Houston, Texas, and Boca Raton, Florida, and tested on prisoners in the Texas Department of Corrections.
1996
The Department of Defense admits that Desert Storm soldiers were exposed to chemical agents.
1997
Eighty-eight members of Congress sign a letter demanding an investigation into bioweapons use and Gulf War syndrome.
A book is seldom the work of the author alone, but usually the collaborative effort of many folks. This novel is no exception. First, Steve Prey must be mentioned as the chief engineer and draftsman for this novel, whose painstaking work on constructing the station schematics both inspired and changed the story. Then I had a posse of language experts who helped with countless details. Carolyn Williams, Vasily Derebenskiy, and William Czajkowski helped with the Russian translations, while Kim Crockatt and Nunavut.com were integral to finding my Inuit translator: Emily Angulalik. I also must thank John Overton of the Health News Network for his assistance in collating historical information used in this novel.