Ice Storm

by David Meyer

"That makes sense. Like I said, the V-2 had limited range. It would need extra power to cross the globe."

  "Do me a favor. Look at the nose."

  I lifted my gaze. "It looks like a cockpit."

  "My thoughts exactly." His eyes glinted. "The Nazis lacked modern guidance systems. They would've needed pilots to direct these rockets to their ultimate targets."

  Beverly frowned. "Nazi kamikazes."

  "Not necessarily." He pointed at the rocket body. "That looks like a landing gear. The idea must've been to have the pilots dump their payloads and then land somewhere else. Too bad we don't have any fuel. I'm feeling lucky after seeing that generator come back to life."

  A grin creased my face as I thought about the damaged Sno-Cats. "I'm glad to hear that."

  "Why?"

  "Because I know where we can get some fuel."

  Chapter 99

  "You can't be serious." Beverly studied the rocket. "It's impossible. This thing is too old."

  "It's the same age as the generator," I pointed out.

  "That was a simple piece of equipment." She stared at the rocket. "This is a bit more complicated."

  "It could work."

  "Or it could blow up in our faces."

  "We're going to die if we wait any longer," I replied. "And if we die, so will lots of other people."

  Graham swept snow away from the rocket. Then he slid underneath it and pointed his flashlight into its interior. "It's in good shape," he said. "I only see one combustion chamber. It's plenty big though. It appears to feed into a single expansion nozzle."

  "Is that enough to get us out of here?"

  "More than enough." He frowned. "Actually, it's too much. Far too much."

  "You know a lot about rockets."

  "No, I know about planes. I've flown everything from a prop plane to a jumbo jet. If anyone can figure out this piece of crap, it's me."

  I glanced at Beverly. She shrugged.

  "Then you're our pilot," I said. "How can we help?"

  We maneuvered a rolling staircase into place. For the next few hours, Graham directed us around the rocket. He had us open numerous access panels, check the liquid propellant and other fluids, inspect multiple sections of machinery, and perform countless tests.

  Finally, he wiped his brow. "Well, I can't promise anything. But she appears to be in decent order."

  "Can you fly it?" I asked.

  "Good question. Let's check out the cockpit."

  Beverly grabbed a metal railing and hoisted herself onto the rolling staircase. She climbed to the cockpit.

  I cupped my hands around my mouth. "How's it look?"

  "Hang on." She brushed her hands over the cockpit. A canopy popped open. Snowflakes shot into the air. "Okay, we're good to go."

  As she climbed into the cockpit, I mounted the staircase. In a few seconds, I stood next to the canopy. The interior of the aircraft was small. It contained just one extended seat.

  Beverly sat in the seat so her back was parallel to the ground. I stared into her eyes for a second. "Looks roomy."

  "It's awkward." She shifted around. "I feel like an astronaut. But I guess I've sat in worse."

  "That makes one of us."

  She reached into a compartment and pulled out some manuals. "Okay, my German's a tad bit rusty. But this thing is part of something called the Aggregat series of rockets. Aggregat basically means a group of machines working in harmony. This particular model is referred to as A9/A10, or the Amerika-Rakete."

  "That sounds ominous."

  "Indeed." She scanned a page. "Here's the operational history. It looks like the Nazis initially saw this as a Wunderwaffe, a revolutionary technology that could seize them a last minute victory. They wanted to load it with sarin gas and fire it at the United States. But time ran out and the technology was transferred here for Fall Garten Eden."

  I glanced at the rocket's body. "What can you tell us about the armaments?"

  "Two MK-103 thirty millimeter cannons with one hundred rounds," she replied. "Plus, two MG-151 twenty millimeter cannons. Those carry two hundred and fifty rounds apiece."

  "Not bad." I stroked my jaw. "So, from here to America, huh? That's a hell of a long ways to send a rocket, especially with 1940s technology."

  "It's equivalent to a two-staged intercontinental ballistic missile. The first stage, the A10 booster, was designed to burn for about fifty seconds. This would propel the second stage, the A9 rocket, to a height of three hundred and ninety-four kilometers at a speed of four thousand three hundred kilometers per hour."

  I performed the calculations in my head. "That's an altitude of two hundred and forty-five miles at a speed of about two thousand seven hundred miles per hour. What was the potential range?"

  "Based on this, I'd say about six thousand miles." She sucked in some air. "Wow, that meant it was at least a decade ahead of its time."

  "That's not enough to reach the United States. But it would've allowed the Nazis to target locations in South America and Africa. The bacteria would've multiplied and spread across the globe. I can't say I care for those arctic wolves. But when their ancestors ransacked this place, they pretty much saved the world." I furrowed my brow. "Unfortunately, Dutch was right. That's way too much power for our needs."

  "Agreed." Graham wheezed for air as he pulled himself up the staircase. "I made a few tweaks to the booster. It should fire, but only at a fraction of its intended power."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Only one way to find out."

  A strong gust of wind from above nearly knocked me off the ladder. As I steadied myself, my forehead started to hurt. I rubbed it a few times but it only got worse. "Let's give it a test run."

  Beverly scooted over. Graham climbed into the seat. He ran his fingers over the dashboard. Then he opened up a hidden panel and started fiddling with the wires.

  I climbed down the steps and pulled the stairs away from the rocket. "Okay," I shouted. "All clear."

  The rocket fired almost immediately. It grew louder and hotter. Then it started to shake. After a few seconds, the noise faded away and the rocket returned to normal.

  A shiver ran through me. Despite decades of neglect, the rocket still worked. I felt a change in the tides.

  At last, our luck was beginning to turn.

  Chapter 100

  The cockpit was too crowded. Graham sat in the middle of the seat, with his elbows kicked out like wings. He was completely in his element and entirely focused on the controls. Unfortunately, he was also taking up way too much space.

  Beverly sat next to him, squeezed against the cockpit's left side. She held the manual in one hand. Her other hand pointed to various mechanisms and instruments on the dashboard. A string of technical terms emitted from her lips.

  I grabbed the cockpit's edge with one hand and placed my boot next to Graham's right arm. He shifted a few inches to the left. Beverly did the same.

  The wind howled in my ears. Snow fell at a rapid clip. A cold breeze brushed against my face. For the first time in hours, my fingers and toes grew cold. I wiggled them but it didn't help.

  The coldness spread through my limbs. It worked its way into my torso. I started to shiver.

  I swung into the cockpit. It was a tight squeeze but I managed to make it work. Reaching up, I grabbed a long lever. I pulled it toward me until the canopy snapped shut. There were two sets of seat belts. Beverly and Graham buckled themselves into one of them. I took the other one.

  I felt a small jolt as the rocket fired up. The seat started to quake. A loud rumbling noise pierced the air.

  The Amerika-Rakete shook violently. My body trembled. Ripples ran through my cold cheeks like waves in an ocean.

  The rumbling noise was almost deafening. The shaking increased to an unbearable level. The pressure increased and my body felt like it was about to be splattered against the canopy.

  The rocket jolted again. The back of my skull slammed into the headrest.

  "Hang on," Graham yel
led. "Here she goes."

  The Amerika-Rakete quaked. Shockwaves passed all the way through me, from my head to my toes.

  Then the quaking ceased. I felt a sudden, freeing sensation.

  I looked through the canopy. The upper edges of the silo looked closer than I remembered. Seconds later, we shot past them and soared into the sky.

  Graham slapped his knee and let out a war whoop. Beverly exhaled a long breath. And I just sat there, stunned beyond belief.

  We climbed a few thousand feet into the air. The wind seemed to increase as we gained height. Then the booster rocket burned out and fell away.

  The shaking settled down even further. The rumbling noise dissipated. Eventually, Graham leveled off the rocket and we hovered for about a minute on a horizontal plane.

  I curled my head to the side. Through the transparent canopy, I saw the hazy edges of the Mühlig-Hofmann Mountains. They were shrouded in snow and mist, looking more like a fantasy than a reality.

  Graham took a few minutes to learn the controls. Then he directed us away from the mountains.

  "Not bad," I said. "A little bumpy though. How's she handling?"

  "Like a dream." Graham gave me a wily grin. "If we make it out of here in one piece, what do you say we take her with us?"

  I chuckled. "It's a deal."

  We flew for several minutes. My ears started to warm up. So did my fingers and toes. The heat spread to my torso.

  Graham cleared his throat. "I see them."

  I perked up. "Already?"

  He nodded at the canopy.

  I leaned forward. Despite the snow, I saw a small vehicle on the horizon. "It's alone. Must be a straggler."

  "Good," Beverly said. "It'll give us a chance to test our guns."

  I reached into my satchel and pulled out my binoculars. "That's going to be tougher than it looks. They've spotted us." I pushed the lenses close to my eyes. "Aaron prepared for everything. His men are getting out missiles. Anti-aircraft missiles."

  Chapter 101

  Beverly snatched the binoculars from me and raised them to her face. "Those aren't ordinary missiles. They're laser-guided shoulder-launched surface-to-air missiles."

  "What's the difference?" Graham asked.

  "They're extremely easy to use. Once they're in the air, the operator uses joysticks to aim lasers. The missiles fly along laser beams until they hit their target. It's like a video game."

  "Can we jam their signals?"

  "Unfortunately, no. The missiles don't use data links."

  "Do the operators have to keep a bead on us for the lasers to work?"

  "Yes, it's a manual process."

  I glanced at Graham. "Think you can evade their lasers?"

  "I hope so." He gripped the control stick. "Hang on."

  The aircraft's nose turned upward. We started to climb into the sky.

  "What are you doing?" Beverly called out.

  "Gaining altitude," he said. "The snow's still plenty thick. If we get high enough, they won't be able to see us. And if they can't see us, they can't hit us."

  The aircraft rose higher and higher. Then Graham shifted the control stick, sending us zooming to the side. Moments later, a couple of smoke trails appeared to our northeast. Within seconds, the wind swept them out of existence.

  "Nice move," Beverly remarked. "What're you going to do for an encore?"

  "How do you feel about fireworks?" he asked.

  "Theirs or ours?"

  "Ours."

  The plane's nose dipped downward.

  "Need help firing the guns?" I asked.

  "Nah." He shook his head. "The controls are at my fingertips. Those bastards are mine."

  He tilted the Amerika-Rakete toward the ground. We shot forward at tremendous speed.

  Beverly lifted the lenses back to her eyes. "I see seven people. They're loading missiles." She breathed deeply. "Maybe we should rethink this."

  "Almost there." Graham pushed the control stick. The nose dipped at a steeper angle.

  I stared through the canopy. The snow-covered ground was coming up much faster than I'd expected. "Dutch …"

  He shifted the control stick again. "Just another second."

  We shot through the air, heading at breakneck pace toward a fatal collision.

  I braced myself. "Dutch …"

  The plane jolted. Gunfire spat out of the cannons. Decades-old bullets stitched the ice. The soldiers reeled backward. Their arms and legs shot out in crazy angles. Then they collapsed into the snow.

  "Nice aim," Beverly said. "You got them. Now, how about we straighten this thing out?"

  "I'm working on it," he shouted.

  We picked up speed. The ground got closer and closer. Forces pressed on my body. They thrust me deeper into my seat. They pushed my cheeks toward my ears. I found it difficult to keep my eyes open.

  The Amerika-Rakete rumbled. The nose tipped upward. The pressure intensified. My eardrums popped.

  The nose eased into a horizontal position. We zoomed at high speed, less than a hundred feet over the ice.

  I inhaled through my nose, exhaled through my mouth. It felt like a giant block of ice had been lifted from my chest.

  Graham let out a long breath. "Wow."

  Beverly's shoulders sagged. "I didn't think we'd make it."

  "Neither did I."

  We gained some altitude. I took the binoculars back from Beverly and looked out of the canopy. "I see a truck and a Sno-Cat."

  "Which way?" Graham asked.

  "Northwest of here. They're moving at a decent clip." I paused. "I see another truck ahead of them. It's parked."

  The rocket jolted. Our speed started to drop. "Something's wrong," Graham said. "We're losing altitude."

  "But their rockets missed us," I replied.

  "This thing is seventy years old. We're lucky we got it off the ground." Graham studied the landscape. "Where should I put her down?"

  An idea formed in my head. "Near that truck we just passed."

  Beverly gritted her teeth. "Try not to crash, okay?"

  He made a strange face. "Quick question for you."

  "What's that?"

  "How the hell do I land this thing anyway?"

  Chapter 102

  "Are you sure we're straight?" I shouted. "It feels like we're tipping to the right."

  "That's because we are," Graham said tightly.

  I leaned my head back and stared at the falling snow. We were losing altitude at a dizzying pace. And the lack of a proper runway didn't make me feel any better.

  Graham pressed a button. I heard a rush of wind. "Landing gear deployed," he said. "Not that it'll help much on this surface. You might want to brace yourselves for impact."

  The ground came up quickly. I steeled my body just as the rocket struck the ice. It jolted in furious fashion. Then it bounced and started to slide. We slid for a long ways before the Amerika-Rakete settled into the snow.

  I let the air out of my lungs. "You did it."

  Graham's hands remained locked on the control stick. "Was there ever any doubt?" he said dully.

  I pulled the lever next to me. The canopy sprung open. Icy air and snowflakes careened against my face.

  I unbuckled my seatbelt. Then I pulled myself out of the seat and dropped to the ground.

  I ducked my head and rolled. Springing to my feet, I helped Graham and Beverly exit the rocket. Then I took out my binoculars and stared across the landscape. In the distance, I saw the parked truck and the seven dead bodies.

  "I hate to leave her here like this." Graham gave the rocket a forlorn glance. "What if someone tries to take her?"

  "I doubt that'll be a problem." Swiftly, I hiked across the snow.

  I recalled everything I'd seen, everything I'd heard, everything I'd sensed. My body was on the verge of exhaustion. But anger boiled deep within me. It pushed me to keep going.

  Beverly hurried to catch up with me. "Where do you think they're going?"

  "Back to wher
e this all began." I pointed north. "To the Ekström Ice Shelf."

  Chapter 103

  The mighty Ekström Ice Shelf, framed by thick snow and curling waves of water, stood proudly before him. Jenner allowed a small smile to cross his face as his Sno-Cat pulled to a stop. It was more than just a scenic ice cliff. At that particular moment, the shelf felt like a finish line at the end of a particularly grueling race.

  He opened his door and stepped outside. A brisk wind sailed past him, causing a flurry of snowflakes to jump into the air. The swirling snow surrounded him completely. It felt strangely alive, as if it had weight and form.

  He walked toward the shelf. The swirling snow followed him like a pack of bees. He tried to wave it away, but it refused to leave.

  Behind him, he heard the second truck pull to a stop next to the first truck. He looked around for the third truck but it was nowhere in sight. He scowled under his breath. What was taking them so long?

  Men—his men—exited the vehicles. They were in good spirits, laughing loudly and carrying on like college kids. Anger welled up inside his chest. "Form up," he shouted. "I want to be moving crates in ten minutes."

  He shifted his feet. His foot plunged into space.

  Jenner yanked himself away from the cliff. He stumbled a few steps before catching his footing. Then he glanced over his shoulder.

  The shelf ran straight down, shooting through the icy waters. Nearby, he saw the wreckage of the cargo ship. He also noticed the ice docks. They had survived the explosion largely unscathed. A small submarine sat patiently next to them.

  He'd used the Desolation to bring trucks and equipment to Antarctica. But the Amber Room was far too important to be extracted on a ship owned by someone else. So, Jenner had used his contacts and vast resources to procure a submarine.

  He'd had no real desire to destroy the Desolation or kill its crew. But he couldn't risk anyone knowing about his operation. Thus, he'd ordered the placement of explosive devices.

  Of course, things hadn't gone perfectly. Reed had managed to save Johnny Richards from the ship. By that time, Jenner's men had already vacated the area. So, he'd taken matters into his own hands, sneaking into the clinic and putting an end to the man's life.