The Voyage

by Douglas Falk

  “I’ve been ready all my life,” he lied, and Seydoux grinned.

  “Excellent, my friends. Excellent.”

  He unveiled a bottle of Bollinger in his jacket and uncorked it with a popping sound and poured the liquid in five glasses on the table by the bow. They all took one glass each and raised it to eye level.

  “An exquisite champagne for an exquisite expedition. Something for the road, as the English say. Santé!”

  The quintet took a gentle sip of the drink, all but John. He downed his entire glass and went for the bottle to have another crack at it.

  If there’s ever been a day in my life when I’ve deserved to get a little bit hammered, it’s today. I’ve earned it.

  15

  “Our plan is simple but most effective,” said Jacques Seydoux as he watched the hull of Savannah slowly shrink before his eyes and disappear into the misty horizon. He stood by the shoreline, and his brown fur coat flapped in the wind.

  “We will walk the entire day. We walk for as long as the Sun is up, and then more. If we keep a stiff upper lip and a steady pace, we will reach the road that connects McMurdo to the Amundsen-Scott before night has fallen. It’s about twenty, twenty-five miles as the crow flies, which will take us anywhere between eight and twelve hours…in normal conditions.”

  He stroked his beard and observed his motley crew with doubt in his eyes, and he began to wonder if this endeavour was really worth taking…enticing paychecks be damned.

  “We will go the distance today, mes amis. We are no sloths, eh? We will see it through. All it takes is for you lot to follow my instructions and fight the good fight, and we’ll get there before the morning comes.”

  He unveiled a golden compass from his right-hand pocket and reached for another object in his fur coat. He pulled up a white scroll and rolled it out on the ground. It was a detailed map of Antarctica, and the five of them kneeled in order to get a better view.

  Seydoux put his index finger on the red spot at Mount Erebus.

  “This is where we are right now, whereabouts. About ten miles west of that landmark. Once we’ve reached the main road, all that remains is for us to follow it all the way to the South Pole. Our job for today is to reach the main road without straying too close to McMurdo and their military encampments. We have to make sure that we stay on the right path. And I will make sure of that, copains et copines. I will.”

  John felt compelled to intrude on the Canadian’s monologue. “So, finding the main road will be easy?”

  Seydoux scoffed. “No, it won’t be. But it will be easier than the later stages of our expedition, for sure. The most cumbersome element in this expedition is simply weathering the entire journey. That is your test. You might think that it is easy enough to stay alive here on the shoreline basking in sunlight at minus twenty…well, just wait. Just wait. Just wait until we make camp at nightfall, when not even a dozen blankets will keep you warm. All you are left with at that point is finding your inner mental and physical strength. If you don’t…well, then you are doomed, I’m afraid. If you just find the inner spark within, we will all reach Amundsen-Scott safe and sound. Aside from our own stores, we will share the load equally when it comes to the duty of pulling the sled carrying the additional equipment and supplies. The sled is made of carbon fibre, a gift from Oscar Milton himself via Lockheed Martin…for our eyes only.”

  Seydoux gave William a nod, and the latter nodded back.

  “The sled is unusually light and does not weigh much at all, but we should still take turns so that the workload is shared brotherly. If all goes well, we reach Amundsen-Scott Base within three to four weeks. Once we’ve arrived, we shall spend a couple of days there and rest until we head home the same route from which we arrived. Your father assures us that the people at Amundsen-Scott will welcome us with open arms, as we are travelling under the guise of being correspondents for Lockheed Martin.”

  William once again felt compelled to nod in approval for everything the man said. While he had no intention whatsoever in following the Canadian’s plan of returning home after reaching Amundsen-Scott, he knew that appearances are important.

  “Once we’ve arrived at the base, I will make contact with our people in Perth and ask them to have the Savannah loaded and ready to depart for us when we’ve come back. When we’ve come back to where we stand right now! That is the plan, copains et copines. I have never, despite my rather advanced age, failed with an expedition. When I decide to achieve something, I always do. So be calm, and unless any of you have any last-minute grievances to air…let us march!”

  Dear God. When we thought this through back home and evaluated all the different outcomes, neither William or I counted with the inclusion of a hot-headed Canadian in the mix. He’s like the joker card someone throws in the deck of cards just before a game of poker without telling the other players.

  As nobody spoke up with any objections, Jacques Seydoux marched onwards, and the rest followed in line. Nathan had the honour of being the first man-at-arms helming the sled detail, and he was second in line after Seydoux. Jamie walked behind and came in at third, while John and William purposefully dragged behind a few meters and came in last with a landslide.

  “What do you think our folks back home are doing at this moment? Probably something sane, like watching the television, streaming the latest Black Mirror episode on Netflix, walking their dog, probably anything but this. If they could see us now…”

  John’s only reply was a grunt. While he had been expecting the cold, it was the wind that did it for him right now. As the Sun was setting, almost immediately were they pummelled with icy gusts as some sort of cosmic response.

  Why can’t the wind come from behind and not straight at us? With this pace, we will reach Amundsen-Scott by Christmas. Our Creator is putting us to the test, for sure.

  “Do you think our food supply will last for the return journey? I mean, we are going further than any of them think we are. They planned for Amundsen-Scott and then the way back. Surely, we are going to need more than what we have here. Our pemmican snack bars we’ve got in all their glory; they won’t last forever. I mean, they’re not going to last for as long as the Elvish bread Frodo and Sam brought with them in The Lord of the Rings. Damn, what were they called? This is your genre after a—”

  “Lembas. They were called lembas. Given to them by Lady Galadriel herself.”

  “Oh, right.”

  “I’m afraid you’re right, John. They’re not going to last for as long as the lembas bread did. I guess we’ll have to go out and club some penguins to death if hunger gets the better of us.”

  John laughed. “But seriously. How are we going to handle that issue?”

  “By crossing our fingers. When we proceed onwards after Amundsen-Scott, all bets are off. We will have to grab as much food and water we can carry. I’m working on this, John.”

  A working plan that now consists of clubbing defenceless penguins to death. You’ve allayed my fears completely. How does penguin meat taste like any ways?

  They waded through the snow without pauses, and to the relief of all, the wind had died off just a little. Seydoux made use of this and made sure the walking pace was constant and rapid. It was five o’clock in the afternoon, and the Sun had nearly set completely.

  “Just for a while longer, my friends! A while longer!” he heard their leader scream at the top of his lungs in the front.

  “We have to reach the main road before the night falls. We may have GPS that can lead us right, but it isn’t exactly pleasant to wade through the snows, stumbling around with flashlights in our hands. I don’t think there’s going to be a Moon out tonight either, so you can count that off the list when it comes to any other source of light helping us. And we’ll be freezing out here to death in this desolation in but a few hours. Allez!”

  When the clock turned six, the dreaded Antarctic wind came back.

  It’s as if we are being haunted by a ghoul. A ghoul with divine
powers. He’s telling us to go away.

  John stumbled and fell hard to the ground. William reached for him with a helping hand and got him to his feet.

  “Jack Frost is out to get us!” he said jokingly and brushed the snow off his jacket and donned the rucksack again.

  “We are nearly at the main road. Just hold on for a little longer,” William assured him.

  After many hours of trudging through treacherous, meter-high snows, hope was kindled for the quintet. They strode up a steep hill with snow so deep that John thought he’d be swallowed whole by it, like being sucked through a sinkhole.

  How Nathan managed to make his way up with the sled, I do not understand…despite seeing him pull it off. It had to be a miracle. He’s earned his weight in gold already. And a good night’s sleep.

  As they stood on the hill and looked around them, Jamie shouted from the left, “I can see the path! The main road, I think it might be there!”

  She looked once more into her pair of binoculars to make sure. After a while, she put her Steiner Safari Ultrasharp binoculars down on the ground and pointed at something. “There’s clearly a road of some sort down there. There are tire tracks in the snow, might be from some scooter or Snowcat…or something even bigger. I also see red poles lined up on the side of the road, around twenty meters between each pole. This is definitely what we’ve been searching for.”

  Nathan Barnaby sighed a breath of relief. “Thank God. I don’t think I could have mustered on for any longer today. There’s literally no gas in the engine left, I’m afraid.” He put the cart down on the hill and kneeled.

  Seydoux looked at his watch. “A quarter past nine. In the ballpark of what I had planned…only quicker,” he proclaimed in a self-admiring manner.

  “We’ll pitch our tents here on the hill, and then we’ll walk down to the road tomorrow at dawn. Let’s set the tents up toute suite and unpack the blankets, and have yourselves a good snack. And the firewood, don’t forget the firewood. If someone would grab a few pieces of wood and build a fire for us tonight, that’d be tremendous.”

  John and Nathan rummaged through the cart and found the tent sticks. They scattered the spare parts on the ground and began setting the tent up. Jamie walked over to the sled and went for the wood, and she found a bundle of them tightly packed in a bag.

  “Is this all we got?” she asked Seydoux. “This will only last for one or two times. Three, at the most.”

  Seydoux nodded. “That is correct. We needed the space for other things. Light the fire, ma chère.”

  She got to work and piled the wood up, forming the logs into a neatly balanced pyramid. She placed one of the logs at her feet and began carving two long sticks out of the wood and cut a hole in the middle of the log. Then, she put the sticks in the hole and started rubbing them back and forth ferociously.

  “That’s never going to work!” said William. “It’s too cold.”

  She ignored him and kept doing her handiwork. After only a minute or two, there was smoke. And after smoke came the fire. She threw the burning log into the pyramid, and the embers engulfed the wooden structure quickly.

  “Voilà!” she cried out proudly and kneeled before the fire that burned bright in the desolation of Antarctica.

  “Wow. Where did you learn that? Back home in Montana?” William was awestruck.

  “South Dakota,” she corrected him. “I’m from South Dakota. Rapid City, born and bred. Do you know of the old Western television series called Deadwood?”

  “Damn right I do! And old? Hardly. It’s a classic already for sure, but if Deadwood is old, then I don’t know what something like Bonanza would be. Ancient, perhaps. Have you been there?” asked William.

  “Yes, many times. Rapid City is the next-door neighbour. My father took me there the first time when I was about twelve or thirteen. I remember stepping into the Saloon No. 10, vividly so. You know, the saloon where the legendary gunman Wild Bill Hickok was shot point blank by Jack McCall at the end of a poker game.”

  “Dead Man’s Hand,” said William. “That’s how the poker hand went by ever since that fateful shot in the neck killed the man. Pair of aces and eights in black.”

  “Mmmm. Yes, I do recall it being called something like that.” Jamie looked into the glistering fire with a blank expression on her face and seemed to drift away for a moment.

  “So, now you’ve seen your beloved penguins,” said William and leaned by the fire, rubbing his cold hands just above the heat source. “Do you feel alive out here, in this sea of nothingness? What is it you want to run away from so dearly, if I may ask?”

  Jamie Vickers kept staring into the fire with dead eyes, and William wondered for a second if she had heard a word of what he just said. Just as soon as he was about to ask again, she turned away from the fire and looked into his eyes.

  “One year ago, I lost my twin sister. She died only two years after being diagnosed, and it was a gruesome struggle. She had ALS. Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis.”

  “Dear God. I know of the disease,” said William.

  “The last stretch was absolutely unbearable. The last couple of months, to be precise. They were so dreadful. When Death finally came knocking, we were all relieved. My parents were relieved. I was relieved.”

  She wiped off the tears that came streaming from her eyes with her glove.

  “It isn’t fair. It’s not fair that she is all but bones in a box, rotting away six feet below in a coffin while I am here, living and breathing in the best of my days, venturing to places beyond my wildest dreams.”

  “I am so sorry,” he said and crawled up next to Jamie and embraced her tightly.

  “Merde!”

  They were unceremoniously interrupted by Jacques Seydoux, who stumbled into their field of view with a half-empty liquor bottle in his hand. “Merde, merde! So cold…I am getting too old for this. Ah! This feels better. Much better.”

  He swept his fur coat around him and put his hands over the fire. “Much better.”

  More than a little bit put off by his roughneck intrusion, William swallowed it and decided to ask about the status of their expedition.

  “How many days until we reach Amundsen-Scott? The South Pole, I mean?”

  Seydoux grunted and drank from the vodka bottle before answering. “It’s about six hundred miles left. We will walk…hmm…about ten to fifteen miles a day under my leadership. I think we will reach it with this pace in about four weeks. Erring on the side of caution, of course. Many things can happen still. It might take months.”

  “I see. We’ll fight the good fight,” said William.

  “Exactement. This expedition will be successful, my little friends. That I can promise.”

  “Damned good work, son! There’s more spirit in you than meets the eye!” Nathan exclaimed with joy. They had successfully put up the fifth and final tent, and their work for the night was complete. Jacques Seydoux would sleep in this tent.

  “Looks can be deceiving,” mumbled John tiredly. “I’m heading over to my tent now. I can barely keep my eyes open, and my legs are spaghetti. Good night!”

  “Good night! I’ll get some myself some sleep, too,” said Nathan.

  John left him there and wandered slowly back to his own tent. He kept his eyes down in the snow and was tired beyond words. But something caught the side of his eye…in the sky. A velvet sheen, green lights in the sky. He looked straight up to the heavens and was struck by one of the most surrealistic, beautiful sights he had ever had the pleasure to behold. Green vibrating stripes behind a neon purple palette shone so bright that he almost stumbled and fell to the ground. Instead of going in to the tent to sleep, he sat down outside of it in the cold snow and just observed the heavenly wonders above in the night.

  Aurora Australis. I may be lost in body and soul, but I have come to a magical place. Whatever happens from here on out, this has to be worth it. It has to be, and this is a sign of good things to come. I hope…I hope.

  16<
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  Finally. Finally, we walk a terrain where we don’t have to fight until our lungs give up, like a galley slave in the Roman army. This is bearable.

  They had walked alongside the path ever since the Sun came up, which occurred at around seven o’clock in the morning. Seydoux had barged into each and every tent and waked the lot, and they were up and marching soon thereafter. They did eat breakfast, even though it was brief and most humble. They walked in the same order as they did before they reached the main road—Jacques Seydoux leading the way, with Nathan and Jamie just behind. John and William were last in line, and today it was William’s turn to pull the sled.

  “Tell me when it’s my turn to pull the sled,” said John. “It looks heavy.”

  William grunted. “It’s state-of-the-art quality, John. Special design. No worries, I can do this all day.”

  There was no snowfall or headwind today. While the temperature was still bone-chillingly cold, it did feel like a remarkable improvement on yesterday’s weather. The view around them was all but familiar. Long, endless plains of ice and snow for as far as the eye could see. They were now at the northern peak of Ross Ice Shelf, the nearby mountain pass ahead…although no mountains could be seen today from afar.

  The mountains may be closer than we think, though. There’s a bit of mist and haze today that might block the view.

  “This is the most silent place I’ve ever been to,” said John out loud while he looked around. “No birds. No animals. No tree, shrub, or bush. Not even the smallest flower or any kind of plant for that matter! It’s eerie…eerie indeed. And I thought our wildlands back home were desolate and spooky enough. We truly walk a no man’s land.”

  William grunted and growled as he dragged the sled forward. “Folks back home, if they knew we were here, they’d probably think that we are busy wrestling polar bears or seals or something. When it comes to Antarctica, even the moderately educated man or woman is woefully uninformed when it comes to the polar areas. It is as a dead zone for sure. Nobody in their right mind could ever think that living out here would be a sensible idea. Like we discussed before, this entire place is designed to keep trespassers away. The world’s end.”