Chapter 28
twenty-eight
The sun hung at the horizon, casting the world in an eerie purple twilight as the snowcat crested the final ridge and came to a halt, the two now-empty fuel drums rattling hollowly in the cargo hold.
Elliot should have been relieved at the sight of Thwaites Station after eight straight hours of driving through a frozen wasteland. Instead, dread coiled low in his stomach.
Something was wrong.
Dark figures moved around the perimeter—a dozen that he could count even from this distance, their movements crisp, coordinated, disciplined.
“Shit,” Rue whispered beside him, her breath fogging in the cold air. The cab’s heater had been unreliable at best for the entire ride and had completely fizzled out a few miles back. “That’s a full tactical team. Is it Praetorian?”
He killed the engine and grabbed the binoculars he’d taken from Takahe Station.
The men wore black parkas with no insignia and black masks—classic Praetorian operational procedure.
They carried modified M4s with thermal scopes, the kind of hardware you didn’t get from standard military suppliers.
Two men at the main entrance wore sidearms in shoulder holsters over their jackets—officers, probably.
The setup was familiar from the briefings his cousin Griffin had shared about Praetorian’s field protocols.
“Yeah, it’s them,” he confirmed. “Looks like they’ve locked down all the obvious entry points.”
“We’re too late.” She slammed her palm against the dashboard. “Dammit! They’re going to do the same thing they did at Takahe, aren’t they? Lock everyone inside until whatever that... thing is spreads.”
Elliot lowered the binoculars, his mind racing through scenarios, calculating odds, plotting vectors.
The strategy part of his brain was working overtime, but so was the part that registered how Rue’s hands trembled slightly, how she kept her injured ankle carefully positioned to minimize pain.
Her face was drawn with exhaustion, the bruise on her cheek darkening to a deep purple that matched the Antarctic twilight.
“We have options,” he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt.
Rue gave him a sideways look. “Do we, though? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like we’re screwed six ways from Sunday.”
“We could try to make it back to Takahe and keep trying to contact my family,” he offered, knowing it was a weak suggestion even as he said it.
She shook her head. “We’ve got less than a quarter tank, and we used the last of the fuel in those drums last time we stopped. We’d never make it.”
Yeah, he knew that, but the only other option he saw required them to walk into the lion’s den, and he hated the thought of it. He didn’t want to put Rue in any more danger than she was already in.
But they couldn’t stay outside all night, either. They’d freeze. Rue was already shivering, even wrapped up in a sleeping bag, and he was so cold, he was afraid to see what his hands looked like under his gloves.
He set the binoculars down and studied the station layout, remembering the schematic he’d memorized before they’d left New York. “There’s a maintenance access on the east side. It’s how they bring in equipment too large for the main doors. Might not be as heavily guarded.”
Rue leaned forward, squinting through the windshield. “Can you see it from here?”
“No, it’s on the far side.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, weighing risks against necessities. “If we take the snowcat any closer, they’ll spot us for sure.”
She shrugged the sleeping bag off her shoulders. “So we go on foot.”
Elliot caught her wrist. “Rue, your ankle?—”
“Is fine.” She yanked her hand away. “Besides, do you see another option? We can’t go back, can’t stay here, and I’m not leaving those people in there to die. They’re my responsibility.”
The stubborn set of her jaw told him arguing would be pointless. And she was right. There was no real choice here.
“Okay,” he conceded. “But we take it slow and careful. I don’t care how many mountains you’ve climbed on a broken ankle—you stay close to me.”
To his surprise, she didn’t argue. She just nodded once, her eyes meeting his with the kind of silent agreement that went beyond words. They were in this together, whatever “this” was.
They abandoned the snowcat in the lee of a large ice formation, close enough to return to if needed but far enough from the station to avoid immediate detection.
The temperature had dropped with the sun, and the wind cut through their layers as they moved across the exposed terrain.
Elliot kept them to the shadows where possible, using rises in the landscape for cover, all too aware of how exposed they were against the white backdrop.
Rue moved with surprising grace despite her injury. She stumbled only once, and he caught her elbow, steadying her without comment. She didn’t pull away.
“This is where we’d be rappelling in if we were in an action movie,” she murmured as they paused behind a snow drift to survey the terrain ahead.
Despite everything, his lips quirked upward. “Sorry to disappoint. No dramatic helicopter rescue, either.”
“I’ll settle for not getting shot.” She shifted her weight off her bad ankle, her breath hitching slightly.
They waited for a patrol to pass before continuing their approach.
As they drew closer, the massive bulk of Thwaites Station loomed against the twilight sky.
Lights glowed from within, casting rectangular yellow bars across the snow through uncovered windows.
Through one, Elliot caught a glimpse of movement, someone pacing back and forth.
“C’mon,” he whispered, guiding Rue around the perimeter, keeping to the blind spots he’d identified during one of his many recons of the station during their days here.
He normally felt like a complete freak for his near-obsessive need to plan for every contingency, but now he felt vindicated. You could never be too prepared.
They pressed themselves flat against the outer wall, the metal siding cold enough to burn through their gloves. Twenty yards ahead, the maintenance access waited—a large rolling door with a smaller personnel entrance built into it.
“Two guards,” Rue breathed, nodding toward the figures standing on either side of the door. Both held rifles at the ready, their breath creating small clouds in the frigid air.
Elliot scanned the area, looking for alternatives. Ten yards to their left, a ventilation duct protruded from the wall—large enough for a person, but likely too noisy to open without alerting the guards.
“Wait,” Rue whispered, pointing. “Look.”
Behind the guards, a third figure had emerged from the personnel door—Koos, carrying what looked like trash bags. The crazy man wore only a T-shirt and overalls, like the cold was nothing more than a spring breeze instead of the razor that had been sawing through Elliot’s bones all day.
One of the guards turned to speak to him, momentarily distracted. The other kept his eyes on the horizon, scanning for threats from the opposite direction.
“Now,” Elliot mouthed, and they slipped from shadow to shadow, timing their movements with the howl of the wind. They reached the far side of the building just as Koos finished his task and turned back toward the door, the guards still facing away.
“Hey!” Rue called softly, just loud enough for Koos to hear.
He startled, eyes widening as he spotted them.
Elliot tensed, ready to move if the man called out to the guards.
But after a moment of stunned silence, Koos gave the barest nod and propped the door open, then walked over to the guards.
Their weapons came up in unison, and he raised his hands, saying something that made them both laugh and lower their weapons slightly.
The guards seemed relaxed around him, treating him like a harmless eccentric rather than a potential threat.
Smart man.
Elliot didn’t waste the opportunity. He grabbed Rue’s hand, and they slipped through the door while Koos kept the guards talking.
The hallway smelled of machine oil and the peculiar antiseptic cleanliness that seemed to permeate all Antarctic stations. They stood still for a moment, letting their eyes adjust to the dimness.
“Thank God for Koos,” Rue whispered.
“Yeah, the crazy bastard,” Elliot muttered and pulled her into an alcove.
“Well, at least we know he isn’t with Praetorian.” Her voice was so full of hope that he hated to dash her optimism.
“Do we? They’re letting him wander around freely while they have the station on lockdown.”
Rue’s face fell slightly. “But I like him.”
“Me, too, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t playing both sides.
We need to move.” He led the way deeper into the building, his hand hovering near the knife sheathed at his hip—the only weapon he had.
The corridors were eerily quiet compared to the bustling activity they’d left days ago.
The sense of wrongness prickled at the back of his neck.
“Where would they keep everyone?” Rue asked softly.
“Common areas, maybe. Or the labs. Somewhere they could control access and—” He stopped abruptly, raising a hand in warning. Footsteps sounded from around the corner ahead, light, quick, and coming their way.
And there was nowhere to hide.
Elliot drew his knife and stepped in front of Rue, muscles coiled to spring?—
Jess appeared, her short green hair unmistakable even in the dim light. She froze when she saw them, eyes widening comically.
“Holy shit,” she gasped. “You’re alive! Noah said you fell into a crevasse, and it collapsed. How did you escape that?”
“We’re stubborn,” Elliot said, deadpan.
“Jess,” Rue breathed and stepped out from behind the shield of his body. “What’s happening here?”