Ice Storm

by David Meyer

  "I don't see anything here." Graham skipped back to the section on the Amber Room. "What else do you know about amber? How old is it?"

  "Baltic amber is pretty old. It dates back to the Eocene epoch, about forty to sixty million years ago."

  "Here's something interesting." He stopped to read a short section of text. "Apparently, the Nazis thought the Amber Room's amber was a bit too old to be from the Baltic."

  "Yeah?"

  "They dated it to about two hundred and fifty million years ago."

  "That's pretty old." I thought for a moment. "But not impossible. The oldest amber known to exist comes from the Upper Carboniferous Period. That was over three hundred million years ago."

  "Let's assume the Nazis were correct. The Amber Room's amber dates back two hundred and fifty million years. What's the significance?"

  An idea formed inside my head. It scared the hell out of me. "The current geological eon is called the Phanerozoic Eon. It's been going strong for about five hundred and forty million years."

  "So what?"

  "Scientists divide the Phanerozoic Eon into three geological eras. The Paleozoic, the Mesozoic, and the current Cenozoic." My voice picked up speed. "The switchover from the Paleozoic to the Mesozoic took place about two hundred and fifty million years ago."

  "How did that happen?"

  "Via the Permian-Triassic extinction event." I took a deep breath. "Otherwise known as the Great Dying."

  "Holy shit." His jaw dropped. "I thought Großen Sterbens was just an invented term. Are you saying it was a real thing?"

  "I studied it back in college. It killed off the vast majority of all living animals. Wiped out most of the insects too. All told, it was the biggest extinction event in history. Experts have all sorts of theories about what caused it. Volcanic eruptions in Siberia, some kind of impact event, stuff like that." My brain started to churn. "Of course, there's another possibility. Bacteria."

  Graham nodded slowly. "An infection. A world-wide infection."

  "Some of the infected insects could've been trapped in the amber. Amber is airtight. It would've acted like a tomb."

  "Incredible." Graham lowered the book to his lap. "So, the Nazis wanted to extract the bacteria from the amber. Then they wanted to revive it and prepare an inoculation against it."

  "It wouldn't have been easy. But if successful, they would've been able to spread it across the globe. A second Great Dying would commence. Only the inoculated few would survive it." My body temperature dropped a few degrees. "Hitler's dream of a Garden of Eden would be fulfilled."

  "That explains every aspect of the compound. They extracted the Großen Sterbens bacteria and created potential inoculations for it at Werwolfsschanze. They injected prisoners with those inoculations and then exposed them to the bacteria in the gas chambers. Initially, they buried the dead in that mass grave. Later, they switched to incineration." Graham inhaled sharply. "Do you think their plan would've worked?"

  I shrugged. "The Nazis thought so."

  "What are we going to do?"

  "Same as before. We're going to find Werwolfsschanze. Then we're going to locate and excavate the Amber Room. Is there a map in that book?"

  "Yes," he replied. "But we should think about this. Maybe the Amber Room is too dangerous to be allowed to survive."

  I stared at him.

  "It could wipe out every living thing on this planet, Cy."

  "I know."

  "Then you know what we have to do."

  "We have to find it." I exhaled. "And then we have to destroy it."

  Chapter 41

  "Do you want to know why people call me Crazy Roy?"

  I looked around the common room. Most of the residents had showed up on time for Baxter's town hall meeting. But Beverly was nowhere to be seen. Her absence was beginning to grate on my nerves. "Not really."

  "Because I scare the shit out of them."

  I glanced into his unblinking eyes. Roy Savala looked like a cowboy, an honest-to-God arctic cowboy. He was tall and brawny. His chin was square and covered with scruff. His eyebrows were thick and untamed. Based on his lined face, I guessed him to be fifty years old. But it was difficult to know where the weathering ended and the aging began.

  He wore a brown field coat and boots with spurs. A cowboy hat topped his head. A long strap kept it firmly in place. All he lacked was a lasso and a horse.

  "You don't say," I replied.

  "You see, people like to think the world is just so. They find comfort in stability, constancy. The very idea—”

  "Hey Roy." A man cleared his throat. He was short and a bit on the stocky side. His hair, what was left of it, was thin and wispy. "Do you want us to stick around for the meeting?"

  "Yeah." Roy nodded at me. "This is Cy. He works with Beverly and Jeff."

  The man offered his hand. "I'm Ben, Roy's younger brother."

  As I shook it, I noticed him stealing glimpses at my black eye. I was pleased that he didn't say anything about it. "Cy Reed," I replied.

  "We've been trying to get in touch with your friends. Unfortunately, they seem to have turned off their communications devices."

  "So I heard." I exhaled. "Is it just the two of you?"

  "No." Ben nodded at a man and woman. They looked like a tough lot, sporting hard, determined faces along with an abundance of tattoos. "That's Zoey Sanders and Warren Davis. They've been with us for a few years now."

  "You're geologists?"

  "Sometimes." He glanced at Roy. "I need to go over a few things with Zoey and Warren. We'll be heading out as soon as Pat is done."

  "Good." Roy waited for him to leave. "Now, what was I saying before?"

  I rolled my eyes. "Something about how you scare people."

  "Ah yes. The truth is that most people fear change. I'm on the opposite end. I think the world could change at any minute. In fact, I welcome it. And so people tend to fear me too."

  "That's interesting." I twisted away from him, hoping he'd get the hint.

  "Take Fenrir for example."

  I twisted back to him. "What about it?"

  "I heard about your little encounter. Everyone's talking about it. Now, most experts say large land animals can't survive Antarctica's harsh conditions. But you saw it, fought it. Just like that, our entire outlook on this region changed." He snapped his fingers. "The paradigm shifted."

  "I wouldn't go that far. Scientists might have to rethink a few things. But it won't change much."

  "It changes everything. And it won't be the last thing to do so. Maybe a UFO will show up tomorrow. Maybe ghosts will appear for all to see. The world as we know it will change someday. And the vast majority of people can't handle that."

  I took another look around the common room. Ben, Zoey, and Davis had commandeered one corner for themselves. The Whitlows sat on a couch. Rupert was silent while Holly was overly animated. Dan Trotter and Ted Ayers sat across from them. They kept stealing looks in my direction. Graham stood near the kitchen table, chatting quietly with Aaron Jenner.

  Where was Beverly? What about her guide? And they weren't the only ones who'd failed to show up. Jim Peterson was absent too.

  I glanced at the doors. Beverly could walk through them at any moment. What would I say when I saw her? Would I accuse her of stealing from me? Embrace her? Ignore her? Something else?

  "You never know," I said in a distracted voice. "People are pretty resilient."

  "You're optimistic. I like that." Roy nodded in approval. "Let me ask you a question. Have you ever wondered about past civilizations?"

  "Who hasn't?"

  "I don't mean the ancient Greeks or Mayas. I mean truly lost civilizations. Places like Atlantis."

  I could've spoken for hours on the subject. But I had to remind myself I was still playing the part of a geomorphologist. "Atlantis is a myth."

  "Not necessarily."

  "Aren't you a geologist?"

  He nodded.

  "Then you should know plate tectoni
cs rules out any possibility of lost continents."

  "I'm not talking about lost continents. I'm talking about lost civilizations. Take Thule for instance. The ancient Greeks and Romans wrote about it. Ptolemy even mapped it. For years, historians and geographers thought it was a myth. After all, how could an ancient continent just disappear? Turns out it didn't. If you converted the old coordinates to modern ones, you'd see that Thule matches the location of a Norwegian island."

  I nodded, still unsure of where he was taking the conversation.

  "Ever heard of the Piri Reis map?"

  Heard of it? I'd managed to wrangle a private showing of it while passing through Istanbul. "Nope, can't say that I have."

  "It's a world map, drawn up in 1513 by an Ottoman admiral named Piri Reis. It shows a large landmass to the south, right about where this continent is located."

  "Unfortunately, it looks nothing like Antarctica." Baxter strode out of the Residential hallway. His face looked haggard, exhausted. "It's just that theoretical continent. What's it called again? Oh yeah. Terra Australis."

  Roy glared at him. "The Piri Reis map is incredibly accurate. You just have to ignore Antarctica's ice and focus on the actual land beneath it. I really think it's possible an ancient civilization—maybe the Egyptians—sailed here many centuries ago."

  "It's easy to make baseless statements. Any traces of an ancient expedition would be long gone by now and you know it."

  As Baxter strode to the center of the room, Roy's eyes narrowed to slits. His voice lowered to a barely-audible whisper. "Don't be too sure about that."

  Chapter 42

  "Hello everyone." Baxter spoke in a funeral-ready tone. "May I please have your attention?"

  The voices in the room ceased talking. Other than the blowing wind, the common room was completely quiet.

  Baxter examined the various faces. "Three people are still missing. It's been over forty-eight hours since our last contact with Beverly Ginger and Jeff Morin. Jim Peterson, from what I understand, arrived at Kirby last night with some of our new folks. He hasn't been seen since that time."

  I exchanged glances with Graham. I didn't like where this was going, especially after my encounter with Fenrir.

  Holly raised her hand. "We should get a chopper out here."

  "Ordinarily, I'd agree with you. But wind currents are far too strong and visibility is less than fifty feet out there." Baxter hesitated. "Speaking of the storm, does anyone have a signal?"

  The room rustled as the residents pulled out their satellite phones. Screens were examined. Numbers were dialed. Phones were raised to ears.

  A few seconds passed. Then frowns appeared. One by one, the phones were returned to pockets.

  "I was afraid of that," Baxter said. "It appears the storm has knocked out our satellite reception. And unfortunately, the last report I received said the weather was going to get worse."

  "How about the main line?" Rupert asked.

  "It's down too. The wires run through the power plant. Once the storm lets up a bit, I'll see if I can figure out what happened."

  "What about the missing people?" Holly asked. "We can't just leave them out there."

  Soft murmurs filled the air. Baxter raised his hands, urging everyone to be quiet. "No one is getting abandoned. But we can't run blindly into the storm either. It's important to keep a level head about this. Jim is well trained in cold-weather survival tactics. Beverly is with Jeff and he knows more about this continent than anyone on the planet. They should be fine."

  "I hate to bring this up." Rupert leaned back in his seat. "But I warned you months ago. I told you we needed to harden our systems. But no, you wouldn't listen."

  Baxter's face turned bright pink. "There will be plenty of time for blame later. Right now, safety is our top concern. Until further notice, I'm instituting a travel ban. No one is to enter or exit Kirby Station without my express permission. Is that understood?"

  No one said a word.

  "In the meantime, hunker down and be ready for anything. Once the weather clears a bit, we're going to conduct an orderly evacuation to Fitzgerald."

  The room exploded into furious whispers.

  "Why?" Holly called out above the ruckus.

  "As your husband pointed out, our systems need to be hardened," Baxter replied. "Kirby won't be safe until that process is complete."

  "Is this really about the storm?" Roy jumped out of his seat. "Or is it about Fenrir?"

  Baxter's right eye twitched. "It's about the storm."

  "Fenrir attacks Cy and you call for an evacuation. That's a big coincidence, wouldn't you say?"

  "No bigger than that of a once-in-a-century storm."

  "We've had big storms in the past. And you've never shut Kirby's doors."

  "This storm is bigger."

  "And Fenrir is real."

  Baxter waited for the chatter to die down a bit. "Okay, I wasn't going to talk about this but I can see it's unavoidable. As some of you may have heard, an incident occurred several hours ago."

  Heads swiveled toward me. The room was utterly silent.

  "Something scratched up Cy's chest." He paused. "We didn't get a good look at it. Honestly, it could've been anything."

  Loud conversations erupted around the room.

  "Regardless, the incident took place nearly twenty miles from here." Baxter raised his voice, fighting to be heard above the crowd. "So, we should have nothing to worry about as long as we stay put."

  "What if it comes here?" Holly asked.

  "I've got my pistol and plenty of ammunition. But I really don't think it'll come to that."

  I cupped my hands around my mouth. "Are there any other guns in the building?"

  "No," he replied. "Anyway you don't need one."

  "I will if I'm going to go outside."

  "Didn't you hear what I just said? You can't leave."

  "I heard what you said. I just don't care."

  "Why not?"

  My eyes narrowed. "Because Beverly's still out there."

  Chapter 43

  "I don't get it." I watched as Baxter and Roy engaged in a shouting match over Fenrir. "He was there. He saw Fenrir. Why would he deny it now?"

  "Maybe he's trying to avoid a panic," Graham said.

  "Maybe. By the way, did you notice his right eye? It twitches every time someone mentions Fenrir. For a skeptic, he seems pretty damn nervous about it."

  "More like obsessed. He reminds me of Captain Ahab. I wonder …"

  "Wonder what?"

  "If he's seen Fenrir before. Captain Ahab had Moby Dick. Maybe Pat Baxter's got his own beast."

  "As I recall, it didn't end well for Ahab."

  "Or his crew."

  I walked to the main entrance and donned my boots. Then I cracked the door and looked outside. The falling snow continued to blot out the sun. "We don't need him."

  "Pat knows this area better than anyone else," Graham said. "If anyone can find Beverly, it's him."

  "Then talk to him. But one way or another, I'm leaving in five minutes."

  I put on my torn parka and stepped outside. A biting wind rose up, slashing at my cheeks. I wrapped a scarf around my face and walked toward the vehicle shed.

  Snow crunched.

  Footsteps raced toward me.

  I started to turn my head.

  Something struck the back of my skull. My body flew forward and I collapsed into a snow bank.

  I flipped onto my back. Two pairs of boots trudged toward me. Lifting my eyes, I saw Trotter and Ayers staring down at me. Trotter held a knife. Ayers wielded a wrench.

  "Who are you? And tell us the truth this time." Trotter knelt down and placed the knife against my neck. "Your life depends on it."

  Chapter 44

  My fingers inched toward my machete. "I should be asking you that question. Who the hell are you?"

  The blade pressed deeper into my neck. "No questions."

  "You lied to me on the plane." My breath came out in short
gasps. "You're no climatologist."

  "Actually, Ted and I work in the Chicago National Weather Service Office. But you're right in a way. We're not trained in paleoclimatology. I wouldn't know an ice core from an ice sculpture."

  My fingers closed around my machete. "Then why'd you come here?"

  "It's my turn. Let's start simple. What's your name?"

  "You already know that." I winced as he increased pressure on the blade. "My name is Cy Reed."

  "See?" Trotter hissed into my ear. "That wasn't so hard. Now, tell me about your work. Tell me about your experiments."

  "Experiments?"

  "Don't act so surprised. We know everything."

  "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "Tell the truth." His voice quivered with rage. "This isn't your first summer at Kirby. You were here last year. You were performing experiments."

  "You're crazy."

  "Stop lying. I know you were involved. I've already checked everyone else out." He inhaled sharply. "And why else would you follow us around Fitzgerald? Why else would you attack us?"

  "I didn't attack you."

  "Then where'd you get that black eye?"

  My adrenaline raced. "I heard a crash. I figured I'd lend a hand. Next thing I know, I'm taking a pair of bolt cutters to the face."

  "You just happened to be walking down that particular hallway?" He gave me a disdainful look. "Do you really expect me to believe that?"

  "I was looking for Pat. He was in the hospital, checking on the survivor from the Desolation."

  Trotter's eyes glinted with uncertainty. "Just tell me what you did to him," he said. "Tell me where I can find him. Pete deserves a decent funeral."

  "Who's Pete?"

  "You know damn well—”

  A high-pitched howling noise assaulted my ears. Snow whirled around me. It was so thick it looked like a sheet of paper, fluttering in the wind. The effect lasted three or four seconds. Then silence overtook the area and the snow settled down to normal.

  Trotter looked around uneasily. "What was that?"