Trial by Ice (7 page)

* * *

The morning came quickly. The containers of melted snow were soon topped with ration bars which sunk into the thawing soup. Each man scooped out his share in a carbon fiber ration cup.

Vito sipped his breakfast. William sat down and drank deeply.

“And how did you sleep?” Vito asked.

“I’m not sure I did. It felt like I closed my eyes and opened them again eight hours later,” replied William.

Men around them nodded in agreement.

“I dreamed I was on a boat.”

“A boat?”

“It was nice, it was warm, but a shark kept poking me.”

William smiled slightly.

“Then I realized the shark was Sergeant Crow jabbing his elbows into me.”

Crow snorted. “He snores!”

William was the first to venture out of the tent. The sky was a dim orange with a tinted fog basking above them. Crystals of ice had settled onto the tents. He stood in silence. The silence was so complete that he had to hold his breath, just for a second, to truly feel it.

They broke camp as they had before. Kerry walked slowly to William and stood by his side. William could sense his guilt.

“Could I get your help please Mr. Kerry?” William asked through chattering teeth.

“Sir?”

“My knee aches like you’d not believe. Would you help me pull on the sled with Sebastien?” asked William.

Kerry turned and looked to Sebastien who was kicking the heavy sled free of the morning ice. “With him?”

William smiled. “Yes, with him.”

Kerry watched Sebastien slide the sled forward and helped Eduardo hook up the leads. “He doesn’t need my help.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. Think he can do it all on his own? He’s not invincible, just tough.”

Kerry looked back to William and nodded. “I’ll help.”

“Good man! Go and give him a hand moving the wounded, we’ll start soon.”

Vito walked over and stood next to William. “I see what you did there.”

“Oh?”

“Pair the weak with the strong without ruining his morale.”

“Maybe.” William smiled back.

The shelters were bound once more to the makeshift sleds. The men stood shivering as the final bindings were crossed and began moving south.

The anticipation of arriving somewhere closer was tempered by the great unknown of what exactly awaited. Heads were kept low, arms tucked in close, feet tromped step by step. At every rise eyes looked upwards as the hissing of the sleds followed behind. Every rise brought the same unending field of occasional debris punctuated by a wind sculpted rock.

The moment the sun peaked they stopped and stood in a huddled mass. They were coated in a light mist like a herd of yak. A quarter of a bar of rations were handed out to each man. They stood in silence with the frozen chunk thawing in their mouthes. The silence was only broken by a shifting foot in the crusty snow.

As suddenly as the storm had raged a few days before the air began to warm. They turned and faced south where the slightest breath of air slid along the snow. Warm air. Men took out the frozen ration bars and smiled at each other. Gloves came off, just for a moment, and men held out hands in the strangely warm breeze.

“What exactly is this?” William asked to no one in particular.

“I’d gather that as the weather shifted a warm front followed behind that storm,” Vito said before popping the ration bar back in.

The crust of the snow slowly began to soften. It was a short lived victory. The misery of sliding a sled on warm snow is unmatched. The upper crust changes into something closer to mashed potatoes. The snow grew sticky, it clumped, it packed into dense balls. Sleds had to be lifted and heaved regularly. Now they were wet.

The most devious thing about it, though, was beneath that upper layer of soft wetness was granular, hard, cold snow. Every step would punch through the soft wetness and slide into a granular zone that would stick to the wet pants and boots. The fatigue mounted and tempers flared.

Grue slapped down the electrical cord and slapped his arms against his hips. “Fuck this! Fuck it!” He kicked, screaming at nothing, at everything.

William’s legs ached, burned, and were cold and stiff all at once. He knew if they stopped, even for a short while, they’d have to set up camp and fast. “Move! Grab that rope and pull!” he shouted at Grue.

“Fuck you!” Grue stabbed a finger in William’s direction. “Just fuck! You!”

William leveled his eyes. “Everyone start moving.” He pulled the cord taut. The sled moved as everyone else pulled with it. He turned and watched as Grue tantrumed in the wake. He tugged angrily. If they stood, they died.

William looked behind him. The sled was moving, Grue was hunched over like the rest with his lips fluttering silently as he heaved and grunted. He caught Berry’s eye who peered coldly. William tightened his grip and continued to pull. He had made a mistake—the wedge was growing.

* * *

Berry’s leg ached and throbbed as the wet snow froze against his soaked pants. The fool Grue stood beside him and acted like toddler. He stopped and waited and watched as the sleds around him moved. The ration bars were like gold resting against his heart.

“Shut up,” he snapped.

“My hands,” Grue said as he flexed his fingers back and forth.

The sleds moved forward and he was left with Nur and Grue. “Turn around,” he said to Grue.

Grue turned slowly and faced him. “Why?”

Berry slapped him in the face with his sopping wet glove. “You fucking pull. This world of shit is going to end, but you need to work with me, you need to trust me.”

Grue slipped down onto his knees and looked with a blank face into the crust.

“Stand up,” Berry said. “I said
stand up
.”

Grue looked up with broken eyes and stood slowly.

Berry stuck his clammy cold fingers into his jacket and withdrew one of the ration bars. “Eat.” He handed it to Grue.

Grue looked down at the bar and stuffed it into his mouth. He snatched a glance at the others and wolfed it down.

Berry nodded to Nur and handed him a bar. “Eat. I said I’d take care of you, right?”

“Where?” Nur asked.

“Never let a catastrophe go to waste.”

* * *

The final rise of the day brought a surprise as the dropcap containing the striders came into view. The crumpled shell looked like the rest except for the metallic skeletons locked onto the outside. During a drop they would be released by explosive bolts and scatter around the capsule. Now they hung limp and wrecked like broken marionettes.

The capsule had some damage from the VTOL. Cratered holes pockmarked one edge. Blasts on the inside were far more destructive. The entire mass was a shrapnel cut mess of sharp edges and bent steel.

They set camp within sight of the capsule but not nearby. They were fearful that the VTOL would return. Men could barely stand as the hypothermia slowly crept in. Feet acted as radiators, slowly seeping warmth through wet boots and pants back into the cold. Everyone not setting up the tent sat, or tried to lean, on the heated sled.

William found Eduardo sitting on a lone sled looking at the wreck of the capsule. Snow had drifted on the leeside—it looked sad and forlorn. He stood in silence next to Eduardo for a moment.

“Is anything left?” asked William.

Eduardo was silent.

William waited an uncomfortable few seconds. He looked over to make sure Eduardo was awake. His eyes were closed but his lips moved slightly in the dimming light. Eduardo prayed.

Behind him the tents grew and the men entered. The reactor was disconnected and hauled inside by Sebastien. O’Toole, Eduardo’s assistant, followed closely behind with a heating fin cradled in his arms. The men streamed in behind as if following the crucifix to mass.

“Maybe,” said Eduardo. He stood slowly and brushed off his pants.

William looked over at Eduardo. He never noticed how small he seemed, even in the heavy clothing.

“The first time I saw snow was with my papa, on the edge of the Pyrenees. I said to him, ‘Papa, why do the hills have hair like Grandpa?’” He tucked his hands under his arms. “It seemed so magical, that the hills had white hair. I wanted to touch it to see, but it was too far.”

William smiled. The wind began to bloom as the dying light crossed the horizon. “We’ll go look in the morning.”

Eduardo was silent. His eyes stared at the cold capsule.

The two turned and walked in silence back to the tents. The night passed with the same routine. The heating coil pinged and twanged with men barely able to sleep. Wet clothes thawed in the tent, but never warmed enough to dry.

* * *

Sleep came in fits. One man would stir in a coughing fit. Everyone else would would toss and turn and be reminded that they were not only cold and tired, but wet as well. The only thing that burned was the ache in their legs and backs. Though the cold still gnawed at empty stomachs.

The word whispered in the tent was two days. Two more days. Only two more. Two more days of wet slop filling boots. Two more days of ice building on toes. Two more days of soggy pants. Two more days of hunger that sat like a cold rock.

The next day they scoured the strider capsule but found nothing of use. The VTOL had paid a visit and given the same welcome as the other capsules had received. The striders themselves were wrecks, mangled shadows of what they once were. Von Hess stood in silence, ignoring his wounds, and looked lost.

The weather firmed the snow in the morning. The top turned into a raspy crust with a frigid core. Every step was painful as the crust scraped the leg. Each step brought them closer to the sea, but each step dropped the essential core temperature a fraction. Hypothermia was coming.

William stressed through the sticky snow, the electrical cord numb in his hands and burning on his shoulder. The pull went in spurts as each man took a step and the others had to bear down harder. It was harder than before. They were growing weaker.

He looked down to see a jacket laying in the footprints before him. The day had warmed, but not nearly enough to warrant stripping a jacket. His eyes followed the trail and saw a shirt beyond it. He squinted. Kwesi stood off to his right. Shirtless, no gloves, no hat, and he was working at his belt.

“What’s he doing?” William said.

“Shit,” Vito said. He dropped the cord and trudged forward as quickly as he could.

William called out to the others and sprinted behind Vito. His legs felt light and free, other than the burning patch on his knee. The snow crunched and cracked. He stumbled as he broke through the crust.

Vito reached Kwesi first. The man’s skin, ebony and smooth, almost had a blue gloss to it. His eyes were dull and glassy. Vito grasped his arm and pulled it away from his trousers. Kwesi was trying to remove his pants.

“Warm. Burning up,” Kwesi called out in a stupor. He pushed Vito back into the snow and fumbled with his hands.

“Kwesi, stop it man, you’ll freeze to death.” William pushed forward and grabbed onto Kwesi’s arm. Even through the mittens he could sense the cold.

Kwesi bumbled and spun his body, slamming William back into the snow. Vito was on his feet and had his arms wrapped around Kwesi’s torso. Kwesi thrashed forward and back, knocking Vito to the ground. William pounced forward and tackled Kwesi. Before he could get a grip, Kwesi had crawled away.

Aleksandr and Crow rushed into the fray and pinned him onto the ground. Xan followed behind, clutching a sleeping bag. Kwesi thrashed and howled. The men grasped arms that flailed and legs that quaked. A thin white spittle stuck to his lips and his eyes rolled back into his head.

Xan ran forward and draped the sleeping bag over Kwesi. Arms gripped him tight and wrangled him into the center of the sleeping bag. His head snapped back and connected with Crow.

Crow stumbled backwards clutching his nose. Blood shot out onto the glare white beneath him. He tossed a curse in a language none spoke.

William pushed into him again and gripped Kwesi’s head tightly. “Lay him down!” The group slowly lowered the rigid Kwesi down. Kwesi’s legs found purchase and thrust upwards but his energy was running low. He moaned in the sleeping bag.

“Get a tent up!” William called over his shoulder.

“Eduardo! Come! Bring the heated sled,” Vito yelled to the rest of the group. He began to strip his jacket off.

“What are you doing?” William asked.

“We need to warm him. Now,” said Vito.

William turned and saw the remaining men stumble forward and pull the heated sled. The sled with Berry and his crew stood and watched.

Vito knelt down and slid himself against Kwesi. He sucked in the air through clenched teeth. “Hooo! He’s cold.”

Eduardo helped Von Hess off of the sled and the group cradled Kwesi in his place. Vito crawled in next to him. They heaped sleeping bags on top of the pair. The only sound was the clicking of the steel. A slight breeze, barely warm and tinged with humidity, slid against them.