Surviving Antarctica (23 page)

Robert felt his temper rise. “I haven’t seen any harnesses in our supplies. Have you?”

Polly shook her head. “But the dogs wear harnesses. We could let them go first. If the snow bridge collapses, the sled that the dogs are pulling would serve as an anchor, and the dogs would hang in their harnesses.”

Robert considered this for a minute. He wished he could avoid taking Polly’s advice, but it couldn’t be helped. “Okay. Let’s try that. Grace, are you willing?”

Grace nodded.

“You cross with the dogs,” Robert said.

“What happens if the bridge collapses after
Grace is on the other side?” Polly said.

“I don’t know.” Robert had to admit that Polly had asked a good question.

Polly thought out loud. “We’d have to unhook the pony sled. It’s the longest one. We’d lay it over the crevasse. Then everyone could crawl over to the other side. We’d lose the cycles and the pony.”

“You’re right.” Andrew looked at Polly in admiration.

“We don’t have many choices. If we don’t get to that first depot, we’ll starve,” Robert said. “Let’s go.”

The bridge was wide enough for the team and appeared solid.

“Okay, Grace,” Robert said. “You ready?”

An Eskimo doesn’t fear what she must accept, Grace thought. She stood behind her sled and flicked her whip at the dogs.

Together they rushed across the snow bridge. On the other side, Grace quieted her team: “Good dogs.”

“You guys go next,” Robert said to Andrew, Billy, and Polly.

“What about you, Robert?” Polly said.

“If you all cross, I’m going to try to take the pony.”

“I want to take the pony,” Andrew protested. Then he watched Polly take a few steps toward the bridge and stop.

Instead of remembering the details of how Scott and his men had handled crevasses, Polly was paralyzed by another quotation:
The light rippled snow bridge gives no hint or sign of the hidden danger, its position unguessable till man or beast is floundering, clawing, and struggling for foothold on the brink.

Andrew had wanted to be last so he could cross with Cookie, but he could tell that Polly was scared. He made up his mind to help her. “Watch me,” he said. He started confidently across the bridge. “It’s easy, Polly!” he called back. He didn’t feel like a bumbler at all.

Polly’s heart thumped loudly as she shadowed him.

Billy crossed next, his body tense with fear. That crevasse had looked as deep as an ocean.

Robert pulled at Cookie’s reins, but she refused to budge. He pulled again.

“Let me try!” Andrew yelled from the other side of the crevasse.

“I guess you’re going to have to!” Robert shouted.

Andrew walked back across the bridge and took Cookie’s reins. Cookie followed him over,
but the sled that she was pulling caught on a rough patch of ice. The sled landed on the far side of the crevasse with a jerk, but heaps of snow fell off the bridge. Andrew tried not to notice that he hadn’t heard the snow hit bottom.

Polly cheered and hugged Cookie. Her mane was freckled with bits of ice.

“Who said ponies weren’t good on polar trips?” Andrew whispered into Cookie’s ear. “You’re doing great.” He bent over and adjusted one of the pony’s snowshoes.

“Now for the cycles,” Robert said. Billy’s was closest. Robert climbed on and turned the key.

The key twisted, but the engine made no sound.

“Come on, baby. Come on,” Robert said. The ignition still didn’t catch.

“Try to pump it!” Billy called. He wanted to try it himself, but not badly enough to cross that snow bridge. Quite a bit of snow had fallen off.

Robert turned the throttle again. The engine was dead. “Did you have any trouble with it this morning?” he yelled to Billy.

“No!” Billy replied. He was almost sure that if he was sitting on the cycle, it would start for him. But what could he do? It wasn’t worth risking the crossing.

Robert turned the key again and again. He
felt betrayed. It couldn’t do this! It was the same old beautiful snowcycle that Billy had ridden that morning. His frustration made him feel hot and sweaty.

“Try the other one!” Polly called.

Robert reluctantly climbed off Billy’s snowcycle and climbed onto his own. His good old engine started right away. As Robert roared over the snow bridge without incident, he wondered what he should do.

More snow dropped from the sides of the bridge. Safely across, Robert cut the motor.

Polly interrupted his thoughts. “Let’s forget about the other snowcycle.”

At that moment Polly’s voice irritated Robert so much that he wanted to shout “Shut up!” But he took a deep breath.

“We can’t just leave it. That would mean leaving gear behind.” Even as he spoke, Robert reviewed the items on Billy’s sled: skis, a plank to form the door of an igloo, a few extra blankets, and some additional tools. Billy’s sled held nothing critical except the rifle.

“That last trip over knocked off more snow. Don’t risk it, Robert,” Polly warned him.

If Polly hadn’t made him nervous, Robert would be tempted to man-haul the sled and gear across. But he warned himself to be cautious.

Robert walked over to the snow bridge. He put one foot on it. The bridge still felt solid. He put his other foot on it so that it was bearing his full weight. Still the bridge held. It still felt solid. He crossed the snow bridge and climbed onto Billy’s silver-and-blue snowcycle.

“Wait a minute before trying it! The engine might be flooded!” Billy shouted. He would have sworn that the motor had been sound earlier that morning.

Robert decided to give it ten minutes.

Polly watched Robert tinkering with the motor. “What are you doing?” she called. “Why aren’t you trying it?”

“He’s just giving it a little time,” Billy chided her. The cycle would start. It had to.

Robert thought he could hear Polly sigh from the other side of the bridge.

“Robert, at the beginning of the trip you warned Grace that she couldn’t get too attached to the dogs! You’re too attached to the snowcycle!” Polly shouted.

“One more try!” Robert called back. If it didn’t start, he would walk back over the snow bridge and they’d get going. He turned the key. Nothing.

Billy groaned.

Robert couldn’t just leave the cycle here. He
flipped it on its side and stared at the motor.

“Robert, you promised!” Polly cried. “We’ve got to go!”

“Maybe the carburetor’s frozen! If you warm it with a blanket for a few minutes … !” Billy suggested.

Robert studied the engine.

Polly interrupted his thoughts. “I don’t like the look of the sky!”

Robert looked up. Darn, she was right! He had been so absorbed that he had failed to notice the weather. Gray clouds now hid the sun. He slowly stood up. “Billy, after we make camp, let’s hike back and see if we can get it started!”

“Okay,” Billy replied. “Do you have a blanket?”

“Good idea!” Robert pulled a blanket out of a gear bag on the sled and threw it over the snowcycle. He grabbed the rifle from the back of the sled and turned to cross the snow bridge. He had taken only a few steps when he heard a crack. He lost his footing right before he began falling through an avalanche of ice and snow.

Polly’s scream followed him as he smashed into the bottom of the crevasse. Only it wasn’t the bottom, because his feet and legs crashed through it, and he was falling again, this time
alongside another avalanche of ice and snow. His fingers lost their grip on the rifle. When he stopped, he couldn’t breathe. The fall had knocked the air out of him. Icy debris pinned his upper body against a wall but left his legs dangling. He gasped to regain his breath and tried to take stock of his surroundings.

He kicked his legs but found that they didn’t touch solid ground. Unbelievably, they swung in empty air. Luck had kept him from falling much deeper. The remains of the icy bridge wedged him against the crevasse wall.

He turned his face upward and saw Polly and Billy leaning over the edge. It was hard to judge the distance, but he guessed he had fallen about twenty or thirty feet. He looked down. To his right, the ice ledge below his arm extended for some distance, but to his left, the little ledge ended. He stared at the depths below.

“Can you hear me?” Polly called, but the crevasse seemed to stretch her words into a long thin wail.

“Yeah!” Robert shouted back.

“Are you hurt?” Polly asked.

“My shoulder,” Robert said.

“Which one?”

“My left shoulder.”

Polly turned to Billy. “Billy, what should we do?”

The crevasse was wide at the top but narrowed as it got deeper. Billy saw Robert’s blue wool cap surrounded by ice. It appeared that Robert had fallen onto a ledge twenty or more feet below them. Over to his left, the crevasse revealed its true depth. Perhaps a hundred feet. It was an impossible situation. “Robert, can you move?”

“No,” Robert said.

One hundred feet. Billy gulped. If Robert hadn’t gotten lucky, he would be lying on an icy bottom one hundred feet below them. They didn’t have a rope that would reach that far.

“How are we going to get him out?” Polly asked.

“We’ll rope him up,” Billy said.

“I’ll find some ropes.” Andrew turned back toward the sleds, glad to be of use.

“But if he’s wedged in?” Polly asked.

“Can you use the ice pick?” Billy asked.

“No!” Robert called.

“If we threw you a rope, could you pull it over your head?” Polly said.

“Yeah,” Robert answered.

Grace could feel the wind rising. She looked
over at the dogs. They appeared restless. She sensed a storm on its way.

Andrew returned with two ropes.

Billy took one and tied one end into a slipknot. He moved back to tie the other around Robert’s snowcycle. He climbed on the snowcycle and turned the ignition. It didn’t start.

“They were programmed,” Polly said quietly.

Billy kicked the machine again and again as hard as he could. He wanted to punish it, just as he’d wanted to punish those dogs last night for eating his food.

Polly waited as patiently as she could. Didn’t he understand Robert was trapped down there?

Finally Billy stopped. “We’re in subzero weather in the middle of nowhere, and Hot Sauce has to make it harder for us!”

“It’s a simulation. Scott’s motors failed. Ours had to fail, too,” Polly said.

Grace heard her grandfather sigh and say, “In the ice and snow, life goes quickly from terrible to worse.” She looked up at the darkening sky.

“I can’t believe how mean she is,” Billy said.

“I know,” said Polly.

Billy felt the anger boil inside him. He didn’t know where the camera was, but he glared at it anyway. Secretary of Entertainment. Secretary
of Torture. If she were here in Antarctica, he would kill her.

“Billy, come on,” Polly said.

“I’ll get Cookie,” Andrew said.

Grace turned to unload the tent from the sled just in case the weather turned bad.

Andrew led Cookie to the crevasse. He fastened one end of the rope to her.

“Robert, we’re going to drop the rope!” Billy called.

Billy dropped the knotted end of the rope, watching it bounce against the crevasse wall as it fell.

“You got it?” Billy said.

“Yeah, I’ve got it.”

“Pull it over your head, slip it under your arms, and tug it until it’s good and tight!” Polly called.

“I will.”

“Let us know when you’re ready,” Polly said.

In the few minutes that passed, Polly watched absentmindedly as Grace set up the tent. She knew that she should help Grace, but she couldn’t. All she was able to do was stare at the gray sky and crunch her finneskoe in the snow. She tried to think about anything but the crevasse. Or what would happen if they
couldn’t pull Robert out.

“Ready!” Robert finally called.

Polly turned and nodded at Andrew.

Andrew held the pony’s lead and started walking her away from the crevasse. One step, two steps. Robert’s life depended on her.

The slack rope dangling down the side of the crevasse tightened.

“Stop!” Robert screamed. “It’s tearing me in two!”

“Back her up, Andrew!” Polly called. “He’s crammed in there too tight,” she said to Billy.

Andrew backed the pony toward the crevasse.

“One of us will have to go down,” Polly said.

Billy felt cold fear constrict his throat. “That’s really dangerous.”

“What else can we do?” Polly said.

Billy shrugged.

“If we lowered you, you could hack at the ice around him,” Polly suggested.

“You want to lower me down into that crevasse?” Billy shook his head. “No way.”

“Well, then climb down.”

“No way.”

“Then what do you want to do, Billy?” Polly’s voice rose.

Billy had only one idea: He wasn’t going
down there. “You need to loosen the ice that’s got you packed in,” he called to Robert.

“I can’t!” Robert called back.

“What’s pinning you?” Billy called.

“A solid block.”

Polly looked at Billy. “You’re the ice climber.”

“I’ve done a little climbing,” Billy explained. “Never anything like this.”

“We don’t have time to discuss this.” Polly looked him in the eye.

For a moment before he looked away, Polly’s face, with her wide, staring eyes, reminded Billy of a camera. He had wanted to be MVP, but what good was money if he didn’t survive?

Billy was clearly terrified. “Andrew!” Polly called. “Do you think if we lowered you down the crevasse, you could chop away at enough ice to free Robert? I’d do it, but I wonder if I’m strong enough to hack the ice.”

“Sure.” Andrew grinned. He didn’t know if he could do it, but he’d try.

Billy suddenly hated Andrew more than he had hated any other person in his whole life. More than Grace and the dogs. More than Tom Jenkins, his next-door neighbor, who had won the Toss and was going to college. Still, Andrew needed help managing the ropes, and Billy turned to help him.

“Here,” Billy said. “You do it like this.”

Andrew slipped the knotted rope over his head and under his arms.

Billy examined it. “That’ll hold,” he said. He reached for Cookie’s halter.