Chapter 12 #2
She inched forward carefully, distributing her weight on the fractured surface.
A beam of light cut through the eerie blue darkness as she aimed her headlamp into the crevasse.
Tyler was about fifteen feet down, wedged awkwardly between narrowing ice walls.
The tripod had landed nearby, its legs bent and broken, and the camera’s lens had cracked.
Tyler’s face was ghostly pale in the harsh light, his eyes wide with shock.
“Don’t move,” she instructed, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins. “You’re okay, but the more you struggle, the more likely you’ll slip deeper.”
“I don’t think I could move if I wanted to.” He squinted up at her, naked fear on his face. He wasn’t the cocky, reckless man-boy anymore, but a kid who just realized he was in serious danger.
Elliot appeared on his stomach at her side. She was about to chew him out for taking the risk, but then saw the climbing harness he wore. He passed her another.
“I’ve anchored into the stable ice,” he said quietly, laying out the rescue equipment. “Put the harness on.”
Noah threw them a rope. “How stable is he?”
“Wedged between narrowing walls about fifteen feet down,” Rue reported. “Conscious and responsive, but his leg is trapped. We’ll need to lower someone.”
“I’ll go,” Elliot said immediately.
Rue shook her head. “I’m lighter and I’ve done more crevasse rescues. You and Noah anchor, I descend.”
For a moment, Elliot looked like he might argue, but then gave a nod.
She turned back to the hole. “Tyler, I’m coming down to you. Stay calm and don’t move.”
“Not going anywhere,” he called back, his laugh turning into a pained cough.
Rue quickly strapped into the harness while Elliot secured more anchors in the solid ice several feet back from the edge. She checked each carabiner, each knot. Noah positioned himself as the primary belayer, his strong hands gripping the rope with confidence that spoke of experience.
“Communication check,” she said into her radio. “Tyler, can you hear me?”
“Loud and clear,” came his strained reply.
“Elliot?”
“Copy,” he confirmed, testing the anchors one final time.
“Noah?”
“Ready when you are.”
Rue took a deep breath, centering herself. This was the part of her job that required absolute focus, where a single mistake could mean the difference between life and death. She backed carefully toward the edge of the crevasse.
“Beginning descent,” she announced, then stepped backward into empty air.
The world narrowed to the feel of the rope in her hands, the creak of ice around her, and the steady control of her descent. The crevasse walls glittered in the beam of her headlamp, eerily beautiful despite the danger. She rappelled down with practiced ease, her movements slow and deliberate.
“Talk to me, Tyler,” she called as she neared his position. “How’s the pain level?”
“Five out of ten,” he replied through gritted teeth. “My pride is definitely at eleven, though.”
Despite everything, Rue’s lips quirked. The kid had spirit, she’d give him that. “Well, maybe next time you’ll listen when I tell you to stay in the safe zone.”
“If I get out of here, I promise to be your most obedient team member ever.”
“When, not if,” she corrected, reaching his level. “And I’ll hold you to that.”
Up close, she could see his predicament clearly. His right leg was wedged at an awkward angle where the crevasse narrowed, trapped not by ice but by the awkward positioning. His face was scratched, a thin line of blood trailing from his temple, but his eyes were clear—no signs of concussion.
“Here’s the plan,” she said, securing herself in position. “We’re going to harness you up, then I’ll help you shift your weight so you can free your leg. Then the team pulls us both out. Simple.”
“Yeah, super simple,” he muttered, then winced as he tried to move.
“Easy. Let’s get this harness on you. I’m about to get personal with you for a moment while I put this on.”
“Well, I don’t mind as long as you don’t tell your fiancé,” Tyler quipped through gritted teeth as she worked the harness around his legs. “Elliot seems like the jealous type.”
Rue heard a short, dry laugh from above.
“I can still hear you, Tyler,” Elliot called down, his voice echoing off the ice walls. “And I’m currently holding your life in my hands, so maybe don’t hit on my woman, yeah?”
My woman. Her belly fluttered at the possessiveness in Elliot’s voice, and she had to remind herself, again, it was just a show.
“Keep it professional,” she muttered under her breath as she finished securing the harness around Tyler’s hips. His body trembled beneath her hands, either from cold or fear or both.
“Sorry,” Tyler whispered. “I joke when I’m terrified.”
“I know. Let’s focus on getting you out of here.” Rue tugged on the harness straps one last time, ensuring they were tight enough to hold but not so tight they’d cut off circulation. “How’s that feel?”
“Like a very uncomfortable hug.”
“Perfect.” She clipped him to a line with a carabiner. “On my count, we’re going to shift your hips to the right while pulling your knee toward your chest. Ready? One, two, three?—”
Tyler gasped as they executed the maneuver, but his leg came free with a jerk.
“Pull him up,” she called into her radio.
“Copy that,” Elliot’s voice crackled back.
He rose slowly, awkwardly, his back scraping against the ice walls as Noah and Elliot hauled him upward.
Rue kept one hand on him as long as she could, guiding his ascent until he was beyond her reach.
Then she waited, listening to the sounds of his rescue above—the grunts of exertion, Mia’s concerned voice, the scrape of the rope against ice.
Finally, Elliot’s voice came through her radio. “Tyler’s secure. Preparing for your extraction.”
“Copy that,” she replied, adjusting her own harness. “Ready when you are.”
Her journey back to the surface was smoother than Tyler’s had been. She kicked gently away from the ice walls, rising steadily until hands reached down to help her over the edge. Elliot’s grip was firm as he pulled her the final distance to solid ground.
She rolled onto her back, taking a moment to catch her breath before pushing herself up to check on Tyler. Mia was already examining him, her first aid kit open beside her.
“Some bruises and cuts, possible sprain to the right ankle,” Mia reported efficiently. “We should get him back to the station so Dr. Volkova can check him over.”
Tyler looked sheepish, his earlier bravado replaced by genuine contrition. “I’m really sorry, Rue. You were right.”
“Save it for when we’re back at base,” Rue replied, though there was no real anger in her voice. She’d led enough expeditions to know that sometimes people needed to learn lessons the hard way. The important thing was that they lived to apply those lessons.
As she helped Mia bandage a cut on Tyler’s arm, she noticed a dark smear on his coat near the gash. It wasn’t blood; the texture was wrong, more viscous.
“What’s that?” she asked, pointing to the stain.
Tyler looked down, confused. “I don’t know. Must have picked it up when I fell.”
She frowned, taking his wrist to examine the substance more closely. It was almost black, with a faint iridescent sheen when it caught the light.
Oil? Was that what Preatorian wanted here?
But drilling in Antarctica was forbidden by international law, at least until the treaty fell through.
“Did you feel anything wet down there? Any water?”
“No, just ice and snow,” he said, then pointed back toward the crevasse. “But there was something weird about the ice where the drill hit. It looked... different.”
Curious despite the urgency of their situation, Rue moved back to the edge of the crevasse.
Elliot followed, catching her arm as she peered over the edge of the crevasse. “Jesus, Rue. What are you doing?”
“I’m still strapped into my harness. Relax.” She aimed her headlamp down into the eerie blue.
The beam illuminated a gouge in the ice wall where the tripod had penetrated as it fell. A dark substance seeped slowly from the fracture—the same oily black material that stained Tyler’s coat. As she watched, a drop formed and fell into the depths of the crevasse.
“What the hell is that?” Elliot asked, kneeling beside her.
“Probably just mineral runoff,” Rue said automatically, though uncertainty gnawed at her. She’d seen glacier ice with embedded sediment before, but never anything that looked quite like this. “They call this glacier the doomsday glacier because of how fast it’s melting.”
“Well, that’s comforting,” he muttered, then nodded toward the hole. “Should we take a sample of the black stuff?”
Rue hesitated, then shook her head. “The ice isn’t going anywhere right this minute, and our priority has to be getting Tyler back to base. We can come back for samples later.” She stood, brushing snow from her knees. “Let’s pack up and head home.”
As they helped Tyler to his feet and began the careful process of breaking down their equipment, Rue couldn’t shake the image of that black substance seeping from the ancient ice. She’d dismissed it as mineral runoff because that was the rational explanation, the scientific one.
But a chill that had nothing to do with the Antarctic cold crept down her spine, a primal warning that whispered: something about this isn’t right.