Chapter 27.
Antarctica
They should have died out there.
Wyatt is sure of it now, sitting in the rescue Zodiac with his arms wrapped around Hannah like he can hug the cold out of her. The four of them—Reg, Wyatt, Alek, Hannah—stare back at the black water they came from.
Against all odds, the two orca whales have almost acted as patrol boats for them. They moved with them. Around them. Almost like they were clearing a path, sliding through the chaos and keeping the other whales from slamming down right on top of them.
Hannah is conscious. Shivering hard enough that her teeth click. Alert enough to be aware of what’s happening on either side of them. Reg, Wyatt, and Alek are still talking about what the whales did for them. It felt like a miracle.
“Did you see that?” Reg says, breath still ragged. “Like they . . . escorted us.” He thinks. “Maybe nature thought it owed us one.”
Alek doesn’t answer. She’s still looking for the thing she felt in the water—the low pulse that didn’t belong to any animal she’s ever heard.
Hannah, several blankets wrapped around her and held down by Wyatt’s arms, providing as much warmth as he can, isn’t surprised at all.
“They’re not what people think,” she says finally. Her voice is thin, but it’s Hannah’s—steady under strain. “People think of them as only apex predators and orcas can be dangerous, sure, but they’re not . . . mindless. They’re social. Curious. Sometimes protective.”
Wyatt shakes his head. “Protective of us?”
Hannah swallows. “There are documented cases. They’ll intervene with sharks.
They’ll push people toward boats. Sometimes toward shore.
” She looks out at the water again, and her eyes narrow like she’s solving an equation.
“But what I don’t understand is why they were behaving like they had . . . instructions.”
Less than half an hour later, the four of them are in what is known as Shackleton’s Hut at Cape Royds. A doctor checks Hannah, listens to her lungs, checks her hands, her feet, her pupils.
“You are very lucky,” he tells her. “You were close.”
“Lucky,” Alek repeats softly.
They change into dry gear that’s already waiting for them—parkas, gloves, cleats. Neatly stacked. Sized correctly. As if The Host had known, ahead of time, exactly how wet and cold they were going to get.
Wyatt watches Hannah’s hands shake as she pulls on fresh gloves.
“You should press the red button,” Wyatt says. “Some of the other people already did when our boat went flying. Punched their tickets right out of here.”
Hannah’s chin lifts. “I’m not leaving.”
“You don’t have to prove anything,” Alek says, sounding gentler in her own head.
“I just proved how hard I am to kill,” Hannah says and meets their eyes. “We all did. If none of you are quitting, neither am I.”
Outside, the world has turned into a showroom for survival. An orange Delta transport vehicle sits in front of two dozen snowmobiles—snowcats lined up in perfect rows. A huge speaker is mounted on the Delta’s roof.
They’re just waiting for their instructions now, along with the other contestants who didn’t quit.
And right on cue, The Host is back.
“I’m so relieved that you all made it across the water, though some of you must have felt you’d ended up on a smaller version of the Titanic,” he says. “I can assure you that the visit from the whales was not planned in advance.”
Reg’s head turns slowly toward the hut behind them. Toward the dry gear. Toward the medical team.
Not planned, huh.
He then looks over his other shoulder and sees the players who pushed their red buttons climbing back into Zodiacs. Next to Reg, there is a woman from India, Anjali Gupta, player #92, who had ended up in the water, too.
She seems to be deciding whether or not to stay or go.
Settling some interior debate, she says, “Nearly dying once today was quite enough.” Then she runs toward the boat, waving and yelling for the pilot to wait for her.
As the boat pulls away, The Host continues, smooth as ever. “Fifty of you set out for Ross Island today. Now eight have decided to leave before your first real test is about to begin. Their loss, your gain.”
Nobody cheers.
They all wait, staring at the speaker on top of the Delta.
“You will all find maps in the snowmobiles,” The Host continues.
“The maps show the location of various ice caves between where you’re standing and what is effectively your finish line at McMurdo Station.
A few of you will be asked to travel the length of the glacier known as the Erebus Ice Tongue to one particularly spectacular ice cave.
Some will be directed to caves closer to the volcano.
Your journey will be monitored by the drones you will surely see in the sky, just as a way of knowing you have, well, touched all your bases.
Consider it . . . verification. Then, if you have hit your marks successfully, you will get back into your vehicles and proceed down the coast to McMurdo Station. ”
Reg Drummond speaks up.
“I’ve done some reading on the Ice Tongue,” he says, talking directly to The Host. “It’s incredibly unstable.”
“We are aware,” The Host replies.
Then he adds: “The easiest jobs don’t pay very well, Mr. Drummond. Nor, in this case, do the safest ones.”
Reg’s jaw tightens. “Understood.”
“Just make sure to pay close attention to the red flags marking your routes, wherever on Ross Island they take you,” The Host continues.
“They are there to prevent you from falling through a crevasse and into the water underneath. Oh, and one more thing: Take extra care in the caves to tread carefully, so that one of the many ice bridges in there does not collapse while you’re standing on it. ”
Reg takes another look behind him, sees the Zodiac disappearing in the distance with people like Anjali who decided one near-death experience today was enough.
Knowing by now The Host can hear everything they’re saying, Reg says, “How do you decide who wins today?”
“The speed with which you make the trip, the resourcefulness you show, and, as need be, even the courage. If required,” The Host says. “That’s if you all live.”
“You said no one’s supposed to die.”
“And if you are truly worthy of having been invited to these games, if you continue to exhibit the worthiness you just showed in the water, no one will,” The Host concludes.
Reg looks at Wyatt and says it quietly, where only they can hear it.
“He’s lying.”
Not the first time, not the last.
Patrick Arrasmith