Surviving Antarctica (27 page)

Steve sighed. Some nights the sound of Pearl’s sweeping was reassuring, but now its clocklike regularity was eerie, and Steve wanted to yell at her to stop.

“What you’ve done is a crime,” Chad reminded him. “Do you want to get us all on
Court TV
?”

Steve didn’t say anything. They stared at each other. Chad’s face was white, his mouth tight. Steve knew his father would not have
wanted him to repay Chad’s kindness with disobedience.

Chad leaned close to Steve. “I trust you.” He gestured toward the empty basement. “We all trust you. I just don’t want us all to become Pearls.” Chad’s eyes were big and dark. Steve had never seen a grown man so scared.

“Okay.” Steve turned to Andrew’s screen. “Andrew, buddy, this is Birdie.”

“Yeah,” Andrew answered groggily.

Andrew might not be alive when Steve returned.

“I’ve got to go for a while.” Steve struggled to think of an explanation. “I’ve got duties in heaven.”

“Okay.”

“You’ve got to promise me something,” Steve said.

“Yeah.”

“Hang on till I get back.”

Andrew moaned.

“I mean it. I’ll be back.”

“Soon?”

“Yeah. You’ll be fine,” Steve said, and wished that he believed it. He turned away from the screen.

“You did what you could.” Chad clapped Steve on the back.

“That’s supposed to make me feel better?” Steve muttered.

“Yeah. It is,” Chad said. He walked over to the corner of the room. “Let’s go, Pearl.” He took her broom.

The three of them were walking out the door just as Blair Provenzano and a few of the day-shift guys burst in.

“I’ve skimmed your summary,” Blair said. “So we’ve had a great night.”

Chad nodded sadly.

Steve turned away. He couldn’t bear to watch the day shift’s excitement.

Steve hurried home and turned on the television.

Except for a white slit, the screen was black. Andrew’s eyes must be almost closed. He imagined Andrew huddled in that tiny crevasse, his small store of hope dwindling.

Steve stood up. He couldn’t watch television anymore. He didn’t know how or when he had changed, but he had. In his heart, he knew that he was no longer a viewer.

The Secretary appeared on the screen. “History exam day. We have now covered the land …” A photo of Antarctica appeared on the screen, captioned
LAND
.

Steve barely paid attention as the Secretary reviewed the other topics: the explorers, the journey, the diaries, and the weather. How could the Secretary interrupt the program to give an exam? Andrew was in the crevasse. Polly was still stuck in the tent.

“I quit!” Steve yelled at the image of the Secretary on the screen. “Not only that …”

Steve’s heart was racing from his daring decision. But he would go back to the DOE and do what he could, regardless of the consequences.

His father would probably have said that he had lost his temper again, but the decision to act made him feel calmer than he had felt since Andrew had fallen into the crevasse.

But what could he do?

He started thinking through his options. It was unlikely that he could get past Security and talk to the Secretary. Even if he did and she agreed to help—a highly unlikely proposition—what could she do at this point? Dropping food supplies wouldn’t save Andrew’s life.

In fact, the more he thought about it, the clearer the solution became.

The only person who could save Andrew was Polly.

He had to go to the production room and get hold of the mikes.

With a little luck, the weather would have cleared. Then all he would need was ten minutes or so to guide Polly to Andrew.

He felt excited until he remembered that he still needed to figure out how to take over the mikes.

Steve looked around the apartment for something that resembled a gun—or better, a bomb. He pulled a piece of string out of his drawer. That could be his fuse. His bowling ball was under his bed, but he couldn’t risk trying to get anything that big through Security. A pizza crust, a bag of chips, and an empty box of Fried Flying Shrimp, the Crispiest Grasshoppers Around, lay on his kitchen counter. Think, he commanded himself.

Steve poured the crumbs out of the box, punched a hole in the bottom, and pushed the string through the hole.

He held up his amateur bomb and examined it. The string hung out of the bottom of the pink box like a droopy tail. The bomb looked pitiful, and not at all scary. This wouldn’t work.

He paced around the small hut. There was no point in getting frustrated with himself. It wasn’t as if he knew how to be a terrorist.

Wait a minute.

Steve knew something that the Secretary
was afraid of. She didn’t want anyone to know about the corneal implants. If he cleared everyone out of the production room, he could threaten to broadcast some footage about the corneal implants. He wasn’t sure what Chad had saved in the P.B. (possible blackmail) file, but at least he could broadcast the scene on the ship when the kids had discussed the operation.

I still need a bomb to clear the room, Steve reasoned. He forced himself to think. A dangerous-looking bomb. Not a bomb with a picture of a grasshopper on the front.

What kind of bombs were there?

Atomic bombs.

Nuclear bombs.

Pipe bombs …

A pipe bomb!

“Questions for ages eight through ten. First: Scott liked ponies better than dogs. True or false?” The television was still blaring as Steve rushed out the door.

Steve headed for the DOE. His stomach was churning, but his goal was clear. Polly needed to save Andrew, and Steve was going to help her.

Although it was almost winter, the air outside was hot and muggy. The weather was totally unlike a polar day.

How was Andrew holding up in the cold? Steve wondered.

Steve didn’t have to imagine how Andrew was feeling, because he knew.

Andrew felt all alone.

As Steve rounded the corner of K Street, he heard shouts and cries. He quickened his pace. A mob was demonstrating in front of the Department of Entertainment.

Steve scanned the signs:
“SAVE ANDREW” “SURVIVAL ISN’T A GAME” “SECRETARY OF ENTER-TROCITIES” “GET ANDREW OUT OF THE FREEZER.”
One man held an effigy of the Secretary. Her body dangled at the end of a rope. Her neck was bent. Fake blood oozed out of her mouth.

Steve elbowed his way to the DOE. This crowd was huge, and angry. All around him, men, women, and children were chanting, “Child murderer! Child murderer! The Secretary is a child murderer!”

Steve was glad that this crowd was here, but demonstrations wouldn’t save Andrew. He followed the path to the employee entrance at the back and flashed his credentials. The guard glanced at Steve’s ID before waving him through.

Steve put his package on a bench, collected his gear from his locker on the back wall, and
sat down. He dutifully tied his heavy shoes, but he slipped the tooth mike into his pocket. He passed through the metal detector without a problem. His weapon was waiting for him inside the DOE.

At the entrance to the production corridor, he stepped on the foot pad and pressed his thumb on the fingerprint detector. He waited for the computer to recognize his weight and thumbprint.

Come on. Come on.

The door opened, and Steve started down the familiar hall. He was breaking all the rules, but the Secretary had left him no alternative.

The production room was packed. He snaked his way through the crowd toward the entrance to the basement.

“Hey,” Toby Kyle, his old friend on the day shift, exclaimed. “You’re not supposed to be here!”

Steve pushed past him. He didn’t have time to argue. He popped the tile in the floor, only vaguely aware that he had just given away one of the night shift’s biggest secrets, and rushed down the dark stairway. He didn’t have time to worry about what the night shift or Chad would think. He had run out of time even to be afraid for himself.

There were a bunch of old cans of liquid ice, a few flashlights, and a card game set up in the middle of the room. He picked up a piece of loose pipe in each hand. After he began beating the pipes on the walls and the ceiling, the room above him grew quiet.

He ran up the narrow stairs and stuck his head into the production room.

Blair Provenzano stared at him. “What are
you
doing here?”

Steve squeezed the piece of pipe in his hand. Could he really go through with this?

“What’s happening with Andrew?”

“On behalf of the Secretary, I’m ordering you to explain yourself,” Blair said. His tone was clipped. His mustache twitched.

To hell with the Secretary’s orders! “What’s happening with Andrew?” Steve repeated.

“He’s taking off his clothes, saying he’s hot,” Blair said, in a tone that let Steve know that Blair didn’t consider Andrew’s impending death to be his problem.

God. He was going to get hypothermia.

It was only an empty piece of pipe, but Steve lifted it over his head. “I have a bomb!” he shouted. “Get out of here, or I’m going to blow us all up!”

He heard Blair’s quick intake of breath.

Someone screamed and ran out the door. Several other crew members slipped out, too.

“He’s bluffing,” a voice muttered.

“Let’s not take any risks,” Blair counseled the others in a soft voice. He turned and faced Steve. “We’ll leave, but you’re making a huge mistake.”

Steve watched the day shift start to shuffle out. Some were wide-eyed. All his former colleagues moved in a stiff, unnatural way that meant they were scared.

Blair was taking too long to get to the door.

Steve brandished his bomb at Blair. “Leave, or I promise you I’ll use this!” he shouted.

The last day-shift crew member walked out.

Blair stood in the open doorway. “This is outrageous.”

Steve forced himself to use his toughest voice. “Shut the door.”

The door slammed shut. Steve ran over to the door and locked it. He had just a few minutes before the security guards arrived. He doubted whether they would buy his bluff about the bomb for long. He only hoped that he had enough time. He hurried to the screens.

Steve reached under Andrew’s screen for the
mike. He twisted it up and turned it on. “Andrew! Andrew!” he shouted. “This is Birdie. Do you hear me?”

“I thought you’d never come back,” Andrew said.

“Put on your parka. Your mind is tricking you.”

“But I’m so hot,” Andrew moaned.

“Put your parka back on,” Steve insisted.

On Grace’s screen, he found Polly, who was staring out the tent at a scene of gusting snow.

Steve dropped Andrew’s mike and found the one to Polly’s receiver. He spoke quickly into it. “Polly, this is Birdie Bowers, Andrew’s distant uncle. I’m going to lead you to Andrew.”

“What?” Polly heard a voice in her head. She looked wildly around the tent.

“I didn’t say anything,” Grace said.

“No time for questions now,” Steve interrupted. “Andrew’s not that far away. Carry a rope, because he’s in a crevasse.”

“Grace, I’m going to look for Andrew,” Polly said.

Robert sat up and rubbed his eyes. “It’s not going to do us any good to have two people dead.”

“Don’t argue. Help,” Polly said. “Grace, get me the big rope.”

“Polly, you can barely carry that rope. Let
me
go,” Robert said.

“No, I’m going,” Polly said. She threw the guide rope over her head. She didn’t have time to explain.

Grace handed her the heavy coiled rope needed to pull Andrew up.

Polly pushed open the flap of the tent and crawled outside.

Billy sat quietly, hoping that no one would notice him.

Steve heard the sound of men outside the production-room door. Security had arrived. He flicked the mike off. “I’ve got a bomb!” he shouted at the door. “But if you give me ten more minutes, I’ll give myself up.”

“Son, we don’t think that you have a bomb,” a woman’s voice said. “But we’ll know for sure in just a minute.”

It was almost time to put into effect his backup plan, Steve thought.

“Birdie! Birdie!” Polly called to Steve. “Am I headed the right way?”

Steve picked up her screen’s mike and spoke into it. “Yes. Keep crawling with your eyes on the ground. You should be able to see the crevasse soon.”

Polly’s screen was a blur of snow. She was a
brave girl, all right. She crawled a few more steps, dragging the rope, and Steve could make out the sleds. “He’s just past the sleds.”

Steve heard the crackle of a walkie-talkie. “Negative,” a stern voice said.

“Let me talk to him.” Steve recognized Blair’s voice. “Stephen Michael. Be reasonable. Give yourself up.”

“I will. Give me a few more minutes,” Steve pleaded. Polly was so close!

“Okay,” he said into Polly’s mike. “Start looking very carefully on the ground.” He couldn’t ignore the muffled sound of a conversation behind the door.

“Oh,” Polly said. “I think I see something dark.”

Steve squinted at her screen. “That’s it.” He glanced at Andrew’s screen. Andrew’s eyes were barely open. Steve picked up Andrew’s mike. “Polly’s here. Don’t give up. She’s going to drop the rope in a minute.

“You got there just in time,” Steve said into Polly’s mike. “Now crawl along the crevasse until you see him.”

“We’ve X-rayed the room! We know you don’t have a bomb!” a man shouted.

Security had called Steve’s first bluff. “I have something worse!” he yelled. “I have the footage
of the kids in the clinic!” he lied. “The footage that shows the corneal implant operation. If you don’t give me another ten minutes alone with the kids, I’ll broadcast that.”

“Steve, you’re crazy!” Blair shouted at him.

The walkie-talkie crackled again. Given the secrecy surrounding the corneal implants, Steve guessed that security wouldn’t dare break into the room without checking first with the Secretary. He wouldn’t let himself worry about the fact that he was running out of time.

Steve turned to Andrew’s screen. “Andrew, do you hear me?”

“Yes.” Andrew’s voice was faint.

“I need you to try to stand up. Polly’s looking for you.”