Chapter 12
twelve
The ice field stretched endlessly in every direction, a white canvas so pristine it hurt Rue’s eyes even through her polarized goggles.
She breathed in the sharp, thin air and felt her pulse quicken—not from exertion, but from pure exhilaration.
This was what she lived for: standing at the edge of the known world with nothing but skill and determination between her team and the hostile beauty of Antarctica.
“The site is just ahead,” she called over her shoulder after checking the GPS unit clipped to her pack. The landscape matched perfectly with the survey data—a flat section of ice field roughly fifteen miles from Thwaites Station, marked for their first core sampling expedition.
Behind her, the team moved in a loose formation across the snow, their breath forming small clouds in the frigid air.
Mia moved carefully, testing each step before committing her full weight.
Smart girl. The ice could be deceptive, appearing solid but hiding deadly crevasses or unstable formations.
Tyler, on the other hand, bounded across the snow like an overeager puppy, his enthusiasm outweighing his caution by a dangerous margin.
He paused every few meters to snap photos with a camera that dangled precariously from his wrist.
Noah Braddock brought up the rear, hauling the heavy equipment with the ease of a man accustomed to physical exertion. No geologist she knew of carried himself like Noah. The man definitely had military or paramilitary training.
And then there was Elliot, keeping pace at her side, his breathing steady despite the thin air.
He hadn’t said more than ten words to her since last night’s interrupted kiss, but his presence was a constant weight in her awareness.
She’d caught him watching her twice during breakfast, his expression unreadable.
“Temperature’s dropping,” he observed, checking the digital readout on his wrist. “Minus twenty and falling.”
“Still practically tropical.” She grinned even though he couldn’t see it under her face covering. “Wait until we get a real storm. Keep within visual range,” she called to the rest of the group, her voice carrying over the vast emptiness. “And stay on the flagged path.”
Even as she said the words, Tyler veered toward a section of ice that looked slightly darker than the rest, with subtle ripples in the surface.
“Tyler!” she shouted. “Stay on the path!”
“Oh!” Thankfully, he took a step backward before putting his weight on the suspicious ice. “Sorry, Rue!”
“You will be sorry if you don’t start paying attention.” Ugh, she was starting to sound like her dad. “The ice doesn’t forgive.”
She waited until Tyler had rejoined the group before continuing forward.
The GPS unit beeped softly, confirming they’d reached the designated coordinates. The area had been selected for its stable ice sheet and proximity to what Dr. Keene had called “promising research zones.” Whatever that meant.
“Alright, team,” Rue called out, dropping her pack. “Set up starts now. Mia, Tyler, set up the grid. Noah, get the drill components unpacked.”
As Rue crouched to anchor a ground flag, Mia and Tyler sprang into motion.
From one of the sleds, they unrolled a spool of neon-orange marking tape and began placing flags in a precise 5x5 meter grid.
The pattern would allow for multiple sample cores while avoiding overlap or structural weakness in the ice.
Mia measured each distance with a laser rangefinder, calling out numbers to Tyler, who placed the flags with slightly more care now.
Noah knelt beside one of the sleds and popped the latches on a heavy-duty equipment case.
Inside, the core drill sat in neatly packed sections—power head, auger bits, extension rods, and the thermal collar designed to help melt through surface frost. Unlike older manual systems, this was a powered electromechanical drill rig designed for rapid deployment and up to 30 meters of penetration.
He assembled the drill housing on a collapsible aluminum frame. Checked seals, battery charge levels, and pressure calibrations, all while shielding the delicate parts from direct exposure to the wind with thermal blankets.
Rue watched them work, nodding with satisfaction. “Once the frame is secured, we’ll anchor the tent around it,” she said, motioning toward the insulated pop-up shelter still strapped to Noah’s sled. “We need to keep the drill cavity thermally isolated so we don’t contaminate the samples.”
Elliot moved to help Noah with the shelter, unfolding the dome and staking the reinforced corners into the ice. He worked in silence, focused and efficient, but Rue caught him glancing her way once as he tightened a guyline. She looked away before he could catch her watching back.
Inside the now-raised shelter, Noah connected the drill to the portable, solar-charged power unit. Once everything was stable and the wind-shielding confirmed, he gave a thumbs-up.
“Drill’s ready.”
Rue stepped inside the shelter and checked the alignment through the laser sight, ensuring they were drilling true vertical. She braced one gloved hand against the tripod as the bit bit into the ice with a grinding hum.
Tyler and Mia clustered near the transparent window panel, wide-eyed as the auger descended, shavings spiraling up through the core barrel like pale blue confetti.
“Alright,” Rue announced, checking her watch. “We’ve got three hours before we have to head back to beat the next forecasted storm.”
“Wind’s picking up,” Elliot said. “Might want to expedite.”
She smiled at that—Elliot Wilde, always so cautious—and turned to address the group. “Remember, no one works alone. Stay in pairs, stay alert.”
Tyler bounced on his toes, camera already in hand. “I want to get some shots of the drill in action. For documentation.”
“Fine, but stay within the marked area,” Rue warned, pointing to the orange flags. “The grid is there for a reason.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Tyler said, already backing away to find a better angle.
“I mean it, Tyler,” she called after him. “The ice sheet looks stable, but appearances can be deceiving out here.”
He waved acknowledgment without turning around, his attention focused on framing his shot. Rue felt a familiar prickle of frustration—the kind that came from dealing with enthusiastic amateurs who thought adventure was all thrill and no discipline.
“He’s going to be trouble,” Elliot murmured beside her.
“He already is,” she replied, watching as Tyler circled the perimeter, straying dangerously close to the edge of their marked safe zone. “Mia! Keep an eye on your partner, please.”
Mia looked up from where she was checking equipment readings, her expression shifting to alarm when she spotted Tyler. “Tyler! Get back inside the flags!”
But Tyler had spotted something that caught his interest, a natural formation in the ice that cast strange shadows in the sunlight. He edged further away from the group, camera raised.
“Damn it,” Rue muttered, striding toward him. “Tyler! Back inside the perimeter now.”
“Just one more shot,” he called back, not bothering to look at her. “This angle is perfect for showing the drilling site in context with the glacier behind it.”
Rue quickened her pace, snow crunching under her boots. “Tyler, that’s an order! The ice hasn’t been checked beyond the markers.”
She watched in growing alarm as he set up his camera’s tripod just outside the safety line, positioning it for what he clearly thought would be a dramatic photo of the drilling process.
“Look, I’m just a few feet outside the grid,” he said when she reached him, his tone dismissive. “The ice is solid. See?” He stomped his boot for emphasis.
“That proves nothing.” She grabbed his arm, intending to haul him back to safety. “Ice formations can be hollow underneath. There could be crevasses masked by surface snow. This isn’t a game.”
“I’m not playing,” Tyler protested, pulling away from her grip. “I’m documenting. It’s literally my job.”
“Your job is to follow safety protocols,” she countered. “And right now, you’re risking not just your life but potentially the entire team’s if we have to perform a rescue.”
Behind them, the others had paused their work, watching the confrontation with varying degrees of concern. Elliot had moved closer, ready to intervene if needed. Noah and Mia remained by the equipment.
“Fine.” Tyler sighed dramatically, but made no move to return to the safety zone. Instead, he knelt beside the tripod, adjusting its position. “Just let me set this up for one shot, then I’ll come back.”
Rue’s patience had evaporated. “No. Now.”
But Tyler ignored her, fussing with the focus ring on his camera to capture the untouched ice in all its glory. He ducked behind the lens, the soft click of the shutter breaking the Antarctic silence as he snapped the first shot.
For a moment, everything seemed fine…
The ice groaned—a beast waking from a long slumber—before splintering in a chorus of crackles and pops. There was really no other sound like it on earth, and it made her blood run cold.
“Tyler!”
The ice gave way.
One moment, he was standing there with his camera; the next, he was gone, his surprised yelp cut short as he dropped into the sudden darkness below.
Rue lunged forward, dropping to her stomach at the edge of the newly formed hole, her heart hammering against her ribs.
“Tyler!” she shouted into the narrow crevasse. “Can you hear me?”
A pained groan echoed up from the darkness. “I’m—I’m okay,” came his shaky voice. “I think. I can’t—my leg is wedged.”
Rue heard the others rushing toward her and held up a warning hand without looking back. “Stay there! The ice is compromised. Noah, stop the drill. Elliot, I need rope and a harness.”
“You’re not climbing down there,” he said, but she ignored him and fumbled her headlamp out of her pocket.
“Mia, have the first aid kit ready. I don’t know what shape he’ll be in when we pull him up.”