Snowburn

by E J Frost

  me how to do that. Looks like more fun than

  I’m having.

  Erin’s just a few meters behind me. She’s

  not surfing as joyfully as Kez, but she looks

  calm and competent.

  Focusing again on the entrance to our

  refuge, I double-check the angles, count

  down the meters in my head, and when I’m

  just at the edge of that welcoming darkness,

  throw my weight to my right. Kez moves

  with me, our boards leaning together into the

  yawning hole. We’re sucked up into the void

  like a pair of matchsticks.

  I expect it to be like the last time.

  Darkness and sudden silence. What I don’t

  count on is what it will be like without the

  skimmer’s protection.

  I’m tumbled off the finboard, ass over

  ears. I have a moment of weightlessness, of

  total disorientation where I’m not sure which

  end is up. Then I slam into unyielding metal.

  So hard it knocks the breath out of me. Pain

  lances through my left shoulder and knee.

  The finboard explodes into splinters, razors

  of polycarb kissing the bare skin of my head

  and hands. A force like a huge hand presses

  me against the metal. Roaring fills my ears,

  and I’m too stunned to know whether it’s air

  or water or just the pounding of my own

  blood.

  I grope to my left, where Kez was. I’m

  blind and deaf from the impact, but I can still

  feel and what I need to feel now is my

  kitten’s warm, breathing body. I grope across

  the pitted metal while I wait for the world to

  stop spinning. A breath fills my lungs, and

  my fingers find a yielding, rubbery surface.

  Shadowsuit. I grasp it with my fingertips.

  Tug it closer until I can wrap my hand

  around it. An arm. I pull on it until she begins

  to move towards me. She shudders and

  scoots across the metal, until we’re close

  enough to put our heads together, and I’m

  still not sure it’s Kez until she shouts into my

  ear. “I didn’t think through this part!”

  In spite of everything, I chuckle. “Me

  neither!”

  “We can’t stay here!”

  I nod, force my eyes open and lift my

  head up off the metal. The crawlspace

  between the airjet vents is six meters wide,

  just like the other ship, and as black as Tol

  Seng’s pit. We’ve been shoved against the

  far wall, held there by a g-force stronger than

  anything I’ve ever felt, even during

  hyperjumps. I can’t see any light, but there

  must be an opening at the front of the ship,

  because the wind whipping through the

  crawlspace is so wild that even in the

  darkness, it’s a white sheet, sweeping away

  the wreckage of the finboards splinter by

  splinter. It fills my ears with its malicious

  howl.

  Erin’s a shadow, defined only by her

  hair, spread-eagled against the metal a few

  meters below us. Her equipment bags are

  plastered to either side of her like beetle

  wings. She’s not moving and I hope she’s

  conscious because it’s going to be hard

  enough to get out of here if we’re all awake.

  Dragging the Überbitch’s unconscious ass to

  safety is not on my agenda today.

  I hunch over Kez so I can get a view to

  my left. There’s not much to see in the

  darkness, but I can make out shapes. There’s

  only one shape I’m looking for. Finally, I

  make it out. Two meters above us and three

  meters to Kez’s left. The rectangle of a hatch.

  I consider for a moment. It could lead into

  the port airjet, in which case this is going to

  be a real short trip. But if the bowship’s

  designed anything like the other ships I’ve

  been on, I’m betting on a service corridor.

  I let my head sag back down next to

  Kez’s. The knot of pain that’s been building

  between my shoulders uncoils fractionally.

  Just so my shoulder and knee and head can

  throb more fiercely.

  “There’s a hatch just to your left. Little

  bit up. It’s not far. Think you can make it?”

  “I’ll try!” Kez shouts. Slowly, painfully,

  she lifts her head and locates the hatch. Then

  she gathers herself, drawing her arms and

  legs underneath her body. More like a turtle

  than a kitten. But I can see what she’s trying

  to do. With the g-force pinning us to the

  metal, if she stretches her arms out and

  pushes herself up with those strong runner’s

  legs, she should be able to shinny up the wall

  to the hatch.

  I follow her example, pulling in my arms

  and legs. Something grinds in my left

  shoulder. Fuck, that doesn’t feel good.

  Presenting my back to the wind and

  unrelenting g-force, I rest my forehead

  against the metal while I wait for Kez to

  move. Feel my veins throb against the cold

  metal. Something warm and wet runs from

  my nose, drips in long strands over my chin.

  With every motion a titanic effort, I don’t

  waste the energy to wipe it away. I can feel

  my ears bleeding, too: warmth running down

  my jaw to cool and clot on my neck. We

  need to get out of here before our eyeballs

  burst.

  Kez wriggles up the wall a slow quarter-

  meter at a time. Reach, struggle, push. Reach,

  struggle, puuuush. I shove myself along the

  wall horizontally once she’s out of my way.

  White-hot pain shoots through my left

  shoulder with every movement. Something’s

  really wrong there. I ignore it the way I was

  taught in S.A.W.L. Work through it. Get cold.

  Stay focused. My arms and legs are longer

  than Kez’s, so I line up below the hatch in

  only three reach-struggle-pushes. Then it’s

  one long stretch and the bottom lip of the

  hatch is under my fingertips. I use the

  radiating ribs on the hatch as purchase as I

  pull myself up. Reach out to my right and

  throw an arm over Kez’s hunched back.

  Grasp her backpack and drag her across the

  rough metal until she’s tight against my side.

  “Now what?” she shouts.

  Now I hotwire the hatch, since it

  probably only opens from the inside. Good

  thing I’ve got an advanced degree in

  breaking and entering. The hatch looks like

  standard U.D.P. Modified military design.

  The bowships are probably part of the

  original Colony kit, over a hundred years old

  now and still going strong. G.D.F. built to

  last, I’ll give those corporate fuckers that.

  I reach up and feel along the ribs until I

  reach the center of the hatch. There’s no

  wheel to turn, even Colony equipment isn’t

  that antiquated, but there’s a thick square

  plate that tells me where the pressure

  controls are on the other side. T
here’ll be an

  emergency release on this side, if I can find

  it. I feel around the plate, carefully tickling

  my fingertips along the edge. Hyperfocus on

  the sensations under my hand to block out the

  pain in my head, my ears, the pressure that’s

  crushing my motherfucking bones to jelly.

  Feels like forever before I find a long ridge.

  I press it and the lever pops out into my

  palm. I clutch it in my fist and crank it

  downwards.

  The pressure seal pops like the

  universe’s biggest cork. I pull Kez down a

  half-meter to avoid being decapitated by the

  hatch as it swings open. Moment of truth. I

  reach-struggle-push just enough to get my

  head over the edge of the hatch.

  Mercifully, there’s nothing but a dark

  tunnel beyond the hatch. A couple of slips of

  flimsy slap my face on their transit from the

  tunnel to oblivion. I reach over to Kez again

  and help push her up through the hatch before

  I follow her through.

  Lying on the tunnel floor, with the brutal

  pressure in my head easing, there’s nothing I

  want to do more than close that hatch and

  leave the Überbitch behind. Maybe she’ll

  wake up before her brain implodes.

  “You get a good look at your sister?” I

  finally ask Kez.

  She snuffles and stirs, a whisper of skin

  and hair over metal. “No, did you?”

  “Yeah. Looked like she’d been knocked

  out.”

  Kez snuffles again. She’ll be snuffling

  blood, just like me. “That means we’re going

  to have to go back in there and get her,

  doesn’t it?”

  “Could leave her.”

  “God, don’t tempt me.” Kez gives a weak

  chuckle. “It wouldn’t make Tyng very

  happy.”

  “Probably not.”

  Kez sighs heavily. “I told him she

  wouldn’t be able to keep up.” She rolls onto

  her side and begins to sit up, stiffly and

  painfully. Her pale skin glimmers in my night

  vision, marked with thick, dark smears of

  blood.

  “You look like hell, kitten.” I don’t move.

  Not yet. I’ll go back for the Überbitch if Kez

  wants me to, but I’ll do it in my own time.

  “Mirrormen’d turn tail and run if they saw

  you now.”

  She shifts so she’s beside me and leans

  over until we’re nose to nose. “You can

  talk,” she says, her warm breath feathering

  my cheeks. She’s got tiger breath again. Not

  surprising, I guess.

  I pull her to me and give her a kiss.

  Despite her tiger breath. And the blood all

  over both of us. The taste of blood’s never

  bothered me. I’m not crazy about raw meat,

  but I’ve eaten it before and I probably will

  again. I suck the blood off her lips, swallow

  the copperish taste, and then it’s just the

  warm sweetness of Kez’s mouth against

  mine. We’ve survived. Again. Against the

  odds. That calls for a little celebration.

  Before I want to, I let her go. Push her

  bangs away from her face with a sticky hand

  and smile into her hugely dilated eyes.

  “Better get your sister before she’s nothin’

  more than a red smear.”

  “Ugh.” She climbs slowly to her feet.

  Shucks off her backpack. I think through what

  I saw in her pack. There’s enough snake

  chain to wrap Erin up like a sausage. But I’d

  have to go down and get the line on her.

  Might as well push her up while I’m there.

  This is too fucking much effort for the

  Überbitch.

  I sit up, wait for my head to stop

  spinning, then roll to my feet. Fuck, I hurt.

  There’s a deep grinding in my left shoulder.

  Hauling up Erin’s dead weight is definitely

  out. The pain in my shoulder’s echoed by

  smaller aches and pains all over, and a not-

  so-small pain in my left knee, which took a

  hell of a crack when I hit the wall. I roll my

  shoulders and gauge the pain. Something’s

  torn on that left side, but nothing’s broken,

  and even if it were, I’ve walked and run and

  fought with broken bones before. Time to get

  moving.

  Kez is going through the same careful

  self-assessment that I am. She looks up at me

  when she’s done. She’s frowning, but there’s

  no shadow in her eyes. She’ll be battered

  and sore, just like I am, but she can keep

  going. “You pushin’ or pullin’, kitten?” I ask.

  She scratches at her dreads with blood-

  caked fingers. “Pulling? I’m not sure I can

  get her moving on my own.”

  I nod. Kez might outweigh her sister by a

  kilo or two, but there’s not much difference

  between them, and in the tug-of-war against

  that brutal g-force, it’s going to be all about

  relative mass.

  We both turn and look at the hatch. It’s

  empty, save for the howling wind. I think

  we’re both hoping that Erin will suddenly

  appear out of that maelstrom. But she

  doesn’t. The hatch remains stubbornly empty

  until I put my right hand on the rim and climb

  through.

  Crawling down to Erin would be easiest,

  but I’d be upside-down, and that’s more than

  I can take. The pressure’s already returned,

  every capillary pounding, the skin of my

  cheeks and chin rippling against my bones

  like fucking laundry flapping in the wind.

  Blood spreads slowly over my upper lip,

  down my neck. When I blink, my vision

  washes red. My gut’s fighting its way up into

  my throat. Puking here is going to be really

  fucking messy. I force the nausea down as I

  crawl down the wall. It’s slower going than

  shinnying up, but at least I’m right-side up,

  and my slow progress gives me time to

  observe Erin. She’s breathing, unfortunately,

  but she’s not moving. Definitely unconscious.

  Blood’s spread in a wide smear around her,

  and the fastest way down will have me

  crawling right through it. Hope she doesn’t

  have anything communicable. If she gives me

  something nasty I’m going to program the

  Marie to fly her right into the Twins.

  When I’m close enough, and before I

  have to crawl through her blood, I give her a

  couple of love-taps with my right boot.

  Nothing. Her face, pressed tight against the

  ceramsteel, is a mask of blood. Better get her

  out of here.

  I wriggle down the wall, through her

  blood. It gums my hands. Coats the back of

  my head. I’m gonna look like I’ve been

  dipped in the shit before I’m done. I get

  below her and roll carefully over her leg.

  She’s spread-eagled, and the reach-struggle-

  push method is not going to work with her

  unconscious. On the way down, I’ve
figured

  the easiest way is to get her on my shoulders

  and push us both up using my back and legs.

  And the easiest way to get her on my

  shoulders is to shove my head up between

  her thighs.

  I pull her calves under my arms, loop my

  injured left arm around her thigh, and wedge

  my head up into her groin. She doesn’t stir,

  despite the indignity of what I’m doing to

  her. Lifting my head against the brutal g-

  force pulls that knot between my shoulders

  tight again. Turns the spear of pain in my left

  shoulder into a cutting laser. The blood

  oozing from my nose and ears becomes a

  stream. Fuck, she owes me for this. I’m

  taking my ship back as soon as I get her

  through that hatch.

  The rough, pitted wall provides a little

  purchase for my feet. I shove and shove and

  shove until the laws of physics finally tilt in

  my favor and Erin’s dead weight slides up

  the wall.

  It feels like I’ve pushed forever before

  she moves a meter. She doesn’t rise straight.

  Whatever’s in her left bag is heavier and it

  drags her down to the side, fighting against

  my upward momentum. She’s going to look

  like she’s been hauled over a klick of rough

  road by the time I get her up this fucking

  wall. Hope Tyng values her for more than

  her pretty face.

  Another meter, and another, measured by

  thumping, cutting pain. How much fucking

  further can the hatch be? I can’t lift my head

  to gauge the distance. Just have to keep

  going. Then suddenly the weight across my

  neck and shoulders lessens. I give another

  hard push and there’s no weight. Erin slides

  up the wall and disappears over the edge of

  the hatch. I grab the edge of the hatch and

  pull myself over. Lie panting on the gridded

  floor while the hatch clangs shut behind me

  and the roaring in my head falls blessedly,

  mercifully silent.

  I hear movement, the susurrus of hair and

  fabric and the squeak of Kez’s shadowsuit.

  But I don’t open my eyes until something

  cool and wet touches my cheek.

  I crack open one blood-caked eye and

  peer up into Kez’s anxious face, framed by

  the glowing halo of her hair. “Hey, kitten.” It

  comes out a croak.

  “Shh. Give it a minute. You’ll feel

  better.” She wipes my face with that soft,

  wet thing again. Discards it into a heap of

  other bloody cloths and applies a fresh wipe

  to the stiff clot under my nose. I close my

  eyes and let her work.