Chapter 13
Sometime in his mid-twenties, Kurt had been caught in a blizzard while cross-country skiing in the backwoods of Colorado. A storm that was supposed to whip by, dropping a couple inches of snow, stalled over the area, becoming a three-day storm that dropped several feet of powder onto the Rockies.
Walking, even in the ski boots, became impossible.
Cross-country skis were useless because of the depth of the powder.
Facing the choice between a superhuman hike back to civilization that was all but impossible and staying put, Kurt decided to settle down and wait for the spring thaw.
He trudged to a flatter section of the pass, where an avalanche was less likely to crush him in his sleep, and built a cave in the snow.
His memories of time in that cave were mostly boredom, listening to the wind, listening to the shortwave, rationing his food.
The one thing that stood out was the surprising level of heat.
After several hours in the igloo-like cavern, he had to start shedding layers.
Despite the snowstorm outside and temperatures in the single digits it was simply too warm in the cave for all his winter clothing.
Now, out on the polar ice pack, north of the Arctic Circle, Kurt had found a similar hiding place.
After driving the Otter up onto the ice, he managed to get out, close the cockpit, and run across the frozen surface.
He made his way to the nearest ridge, found a section of ice that had been thrust upward and toppled over, and ducked underneath it.
The large slab acted as a natural lean-to of sorts, propping itself up against a neighbor.
Kurt had found and wedged smaller chunks into the gaps on either side, scraping snow together and using it to seal the gaps to the best extent possible.
It wasn’t exactly the Ritz, and it didn’t even live up to the performance of the snow cave in Colorado, but it kept some of the chill off and hid him from view.
From the outside, his hiding spot looked no different than a thousand other jumbled spots formed by the pressure ridges.
The Chinese would have to walk right up to it and kick the smaller ice chunks out of the way to see that it was hollow.
There, Kurt waited. Watching through a tiny gap in the opening and wishing he’d taken Joe’s advice and brought the heavy parka with him.
He saw the darkness fall; watched the oncoming lights as the Chinese crewmen walked the ice looking for him; heard their excited shouts when they discovered the Otter. He saw the Otter towed away and endured a growing tension as the men spread out across the ice to search for him once again.
Only after they passed him by, their voices growing more distant and the dim glow of their lights fading, did Kurt relax.
Human nature would soon take over. While he was sheltered and somewhat insulated from the cold, they were out in it and had been for hours.
Where he had no choice but to stay put, they had a warm ship and a comfortable mess hall waiting for them.
Soon enough, even the leaders would suggest there was no point in searching any further.
The bitter night dragged on. Kurt glanced at his watch. The time ticked by. Eventually it was one hour till midnight, when the goblin sharks surfaced.