by Ben Hammott
The Arctic - 1999
DESPITE THE LAYERS OF extreme weather gear wrapping her in its thermal embrace, Jane gasped when a gust of freezing wind gripped her in its icy fingers and squeezed the warmth from her body. It had to be minus fifty at least. She'd never experienced anything so cold or unwelcoming. A tug on the rope attached to her harness caused her to lurch. She had stopped walking. She wiped the build-up of ice from her goggles and amongst the constant stream of snow and ice particles carried by the wind that filled her view, glimpsed a hazy, red form a few yards ahead. The small dark patch of tinted goggles indicated Kyle was staring back at her. Though, like her face, his was completely covered against the biting cold temperature, she knew he wore a worried frown. To alleviate his fears, Jane raised an arm to acknowledge she was okay. Words, however loud she shouted them, were a waste of breath in these conditions. The wind would carry them away immediately they left her lips, which would soon freeze if she removed the thermal mask protecting them.
Kyle waved back, turned around and continued walking. Jane followed at a distance to leave a little slack in the safety line that joined her and her fiancée together. For miles around, the bright red of their matching snowsuits was the only splash of colour in the Arctic's white wilderness.
The weather forecast, which they'd checked before embarking on their expedition, had failed to predict the blizzard that had arrived so swiftly to trap them in its ferocious embrace of wind and driving ice. Such was the whim of the Arctic for throwing surprises at those who trespass upon its shore. As soon as the first evidence of the approaching blizzard had reached them, they'd immediately ceased their climb up the frozen waterfall of ice melt. Climbing an icefall was something Jane had never experienced before and a thrill Kyle wanted to share with her. It was he who'd arranged this trip; a surprise to celebrate the first anniversary of their engagement.
Eighteen months ago, at the age of thirty, Jane had passed her exams to become a bona fide glaciologist, a career change she'd taken late in life after becoming disillusioned with her job as a market analyst. She had yearned to get out of the constrictive office environment and do something constructive with her life. Global warming had decided her new career choice. To celebrate her success, and gain some much needed experience on the ice, she had joined a field trip in Iceland. It was there she had encountered the rugged, dark-haired, handsome climber, whom she soon discovered was British, three years older than her and a geologist. Though it wasn't love at first sight, both had felt a strong attraction. By the end of the two-week trip he had shared her bed, and soon after, her love and her life. They'd been together ever since.
They'd gone on many ice walks and climbing trips together. Kyle proved to be a good teacher and Jane soon became almost as skilled a climber as her instructor. She had learnt a lot from his patient instructions, both on the ice, the rock face and in bed. The memory of their love making sent a wave of warmth flowing through her body. She longed to climb in bed with him and snuggle against his warm, naked body beneath the duvet to chase away the shivering cold she currently experienced. By her reckoning, she judged they had about two miles to go before she could turn that wonderful thought into reality.
She stumbled yet again on a frozen ripple of ice, but quickly recovered her balance and battled forward against the strong wind, snow and ice pellets constantly beating at her. For all its hardships, she loved being in this environment.
A wipe of a glove-clad hand removed the latest film of ice to obscure her vision. Someone should invent heated goggles, or ones that had mini wipers on them. She grinned at the thought, and knew Kyle would too when she told him later. She glimpsed the reassuring colour of his bright clothing between less dense patches of the wind-borne snow and ice. Though she wondered how he could navigate in these conditions, she trusted him completely; Kyle had a perfect sense of direction.
About ten minutes later, a strong tug on the rope toppled Jane to the ground. She sped along the ice. Fear of what had happened momentarily froze her. She quickly pushed the emotion aside. She needed to save Kyle. She gripped the ice axe tightly and slammed it into the ice. It stuck. Her body pivoted until her feet faced in the direction of the rope. When Kyle's weight yanked the tether taut, she kicked the climbing crampons attached to her boots into the ice; they'd had no time to remove them earlier when the storm struck. It did little to lessen the pressure on the arm gripping the anchored ice axe. She groaned in pain, but refused to let go. She turned her head and gazed along the rope tugging at her body. It disappeared into the ice. Her worst fear had been realized; Kyle had fallen into a crevasse.
Fighting the panic that threatened to incapacitate her, she thought back to the training Kyle had instilled in her. She checked the axe was anchored firmly; it was. For the moment both were safe. It was Kyle's training that made her ignore her first instinct to pull on the rope and help him up. The action could dislodge his tenuous grip on the ice. She was also aware that Kyle, like her, still had his crampons attached and, if he'd not been injured in the fall, should be able to climb out.
A few moments later the stress on her arm faded. Kyle was okay. The sigh of relief she exhaled seeped through her face cover and immediately formed crystals the wind carried away. She climbed to her knees, gently took out the slack in the rope, grabbed a carabineer from the belt around her waist, attached it to the blade of the ice axe and fed the rope through it. The makeshift anchor would prevent Kyle from falling too far if he slipped. Only when she was certain the line and axe were secure, did she disconnect the rope from her harness and move to the edge of the crevasse. She laid flat on the ice and peered into its depths. A relieved smile spread across her lips. Kyle was climbing up the side of the crevasse. A few more yards and she would be able to touch him.
Kyle sensed her presence and tilted his head. The smile Jane couldn't see, but knew was on his lips, was communicated with a reassuring nod.
The wait was excruciating as her lover, inch-by-inch climbed toward her. She watched him free the axe from the ice, reach out and hammer it in to a new higher position. He then moved one foot higher, kicking the crampon into the ice. His hand then searched for a secure hold in the almost sheer, smooth ice. Jane couldn't help but admire the man's skill and strength as his fingers found a small bump in the ice to cling too. At all times he kept three anchor points on the ice. Releasing and then finding another of his anchor points, he slowly climbed up the crevasse. When he was near enough to touch, she wanted to reach out and pull him to safety, but she forced herself to wait.
When he appeared above the edge and sunk his axe into the ice at arm's length, she could resist no more. She grabbed his arm and dragged him onto the ice. As soon as he was safe, she rolled over and straddled him, kissing him through their thermal face masks, fighting back the tears she knew would collect in her goggles and freeze. His arms wrapped around her and pulled her tight against him.
Jane felt Kyle tense. Something was wrong. With no warning she was thrown aside. As she rolled, she spotted a huge polar bear appear out of the wall of windblown snow and ice. It rose up on its hind legs and roared furiously. A flash of red captured her attention. Kyle rushed at the threat with a raised ice axe.
“Noooo!” she screamed, her muffled warning lost to the wind.
Kyle collided with the bear and slammed the axe into its large chest. Blood leaked from the wound, staining its white fur red before freezing. The bear, surprised by the unexpected attack, staggered to the side. Its foot rested on the edge of the crevasse, and unable to support the bear's weight, the ice broke away. The animal toppled into the abyss. Unaware what was happening, it slashed out at its attacker. Its large claw-tipped paw ripped through Kyle's coat and the skin beneath like paper. The blood pouring from the wound instantly froze. Claws snagged on the zipper. Kyle was pulled into the chasm.
Jane screamed and rushed to the edge. She glanced at the rope still attached to Kyle and tethered to her axe buried in the ice. There was still a chance he wou
ld survive. She scrambled to her feet and dived for the axe as the force of Kyle's and the polar bear's weight snapped the rope taut and yanked it free. She grabbed hold, but with nothing to stop her she sped toward the chasm. Her crampons sprayed two plumes of ice as they failed to find a grip. Tears filled her eyes when she realized that to save herself, she must let him go.
Her hands reluctantly released her grip upon the axe.
She slid to a stop with her face staring into the crevasse. She watched Kyle fall. He looked up at her. He blew her a kiss before he disappeared in the airborne snow racing through the chasm.
He was gone. She curled into a ball and sobbed.
After five minutes she pulled herself together and climbed to her feet.
If she remained here she would die. She would not waste her lover’s sacrifice by doing so. She had to find a way across the crevasse.
It took her three hours to find a route past the chasm and reach the ice station.
When the blizzard blew itself out the following day, she returned with a rescue party. Though they'd warned her it was possible Kyle's body would have fallen so deep into the crevasse it might be irretrievable, she'd insisted an attempt be made. She couldn't tolerate the thought of him down there, alone and forever frozen in his last vestiges of death.
The rescuer who climbed into the crevasse discovered Kyle's body resting on a small ice shelf. The position of his head indicated his neck had broken in the fall. The dead polar bear was spotted deeper in the chasm, trapped between the ever narrowing ice walls.
That Kyle's death would have been quick brought little comfort to Jane.
She accompanied Kyle's body when it was flown home two days later.
The flight attendant pushed the cart next to Jane's seat and glanced at the occupant, noticing the passenger's eyes were red from weeping and held fresh tears ready to fall. The plastic tray of food was almost untouched. The attendant knew of the passenger's connection with the body in the hold and genuinely sympathized with her loss. “Have you finished with your meal?” she asked softly.
Jane glanced at the attendant and nodded.
The attendant cleared away the plate. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
“No, thank you,” Jane replied.
As the attendant moved to the next row of seats, Jane continued her visual out through the window, wondering how she would pick up her life now that the man she'd planned to spend the rest of her life with was gone. Tears trickled down her cheek.
After Kyle's funeral, Jane forced herself to move on with her life; it would be what Kyle would have wanted. She spent the following few years throwing herself into her work and soon became a respected scientist in her field. Though, over time, the pain had dulled, the memories of Kyle and their short time together remained as sharp as the day they were formed.
Pine Glacier Ice Shelf - 2011
NO MOUNTAINS OR HILLS blemished the horizon and no buildings broke the monotony of the ice. It was as if a giant bulldozer had swept everything away to leave a desolate ledge of ice. Blue patches of sky among the broad stretches of grey-tinted clouds, were the only colour to invade the white pallet used by nature to paint the vista that stretched so far and wide that the curvature of the earth was distinguishable. The snow and ice pellets the ever-present Antarctic wind skittered over the surface of the ice sounded like the tiny feet of thousands of insects. But for all of its desolate appearance, it was also a beautiful and deceptively peaceful vista.
The revving of an approaching Ski-Doo shattered the relative tranquility that had prevailed over the scene. Its bright orange and black chassis and the blue cold weather gear that cloaked the driver, stood out starkly against the surrounding pallor.
The driver steering the snow vehicle over uneven and hazardous terrain was Grant Tilbury, a member of the advance party sent to scout out a suitable location for the planned base camp on the Pine Ice Glacier. It was his first trip to Antarctica.
Propelled along by twin rear tracks covered in thick-knobbed treads to grip the ice, the Ski-Doo sped up a small ice ridge and down the other side. Front skis bounced and shuddered on the rippled ice, giving the driver an uncomfortable ride.
Grant's eyes, hidden behind dark-tinted goggles, glanced at the handheld GPS vibrating erratically where it was taped to the center of the handlebars, adjusted course and gazed ahead at the mile still to go. He had travelled a fraction of the distance when he noticed an anomaly ahead. The snow and ice carried by the wind appeared to be diving down and disappearing into the ice. He strained his vision to make sense of the snow's abnormal behaviour. Only when he'd drawn nearer did he recognize the danger, a crevasse that could swallow vehicle and driver in an instant with little chance of survival for man or machine.
He pressed hard on the brake and turned the vehicle.
The Ski-Doo slewed to the side and skidded across the ice.
Forced to move sideways, the tracks scraped up a wave of ice until the machine juddered to a hesitant halt.
Grant twisted his head. Half of the treads hung over the edge of the deep drop. The ice beneath the vehicle cracked from the weight. The skidoo tilted. Grant gunned the engine. It climbed up the sloping slab of ice and bounced onto solid ground. He stopped a safe distance from the edge, climbed off and walked over to the crevasse. He stared in awe at the deep, wide rift that stretched for miles in both directions.
ICE RIFT - 2015
Betrayed
BARRY GLEG WAS LATE for work again. He turned the old car into the British Glaciological Research Society (BGRS) car park, and scanned the rows of parked vehicles for a free space. He spotted one and headed for it. He stopped a little way past the empty parking place, crunched the car into reverse and turned to back into the space. A car horn beeped loudly. Barry slammed on the brakes. Coffee sloshed from the half-full paper cup in the cup-holder onto his clothes. Barry cursed and glanced at the rear-view mirror. A red sports car drove into his space.
Barry knew the driver of the car only too well― Richard Whorley. The man was a constant thorn in his side and it seemed today was to be no different. His nemesis emerged from the car and glanced over with his usual expression, a smug confident smile, before walking toward the entrance of the BGRS building. Barry glared at his well-groomed co-worker, dressed in his expensive hand-tailored suit, walking away with a self-assured stride. Everything about the man annoyed him, and he was well aware of part of the reason. Richard was the exact opposite of Barry, handsome, successful and well tailored. It was a package that appealed to many of the women the lecherous man came into contact with, which included the boss's daughter to whom the man had recently become engaged.
Barry sighed. Though he would like to confront the annoying prick, he knew it would be a waste of time and drove off to look for another empty parking space.
When Barry entered the building five minutes later, his nemesis was flirting with the young receptionist. Richard's gaze was unashamedly directed at the girl's ample cleavage less than a foot away from his perfectly formed nose. From the smile on the girl's face it was evident she enjoyed the attention.
Richard had been flirting with Samantha for the past two weeks and tonight, after he'd furnished her with a few drinks at the hotel where they had planned to meet, he intended to bed her. At the sound of cheap shoes tapping on the marble floor, he tore his eyes away from the wonderful sight and saw Barry approaching. Richard noticed the man's cheap, off-the-peg suit seemed even more crinkled today than usual, if that was possible. The stern look his balding colleague directed at him was evidence of the man’s pissed off attitude. Though this in itself caused Richard no concern, a confrontation witnessed by the pretty receptionist could cause him some embarrassment. Unwilling to risk anything that might cause her to look at him in a less than favourable light, Richard stood up straight and flashed a smile at the girl. “Okay, Doll, I have to go.” He then added in a conspiratorial whisper, “I'll pick you up about eight tonight, and remember, this is our se
cret and no underwear.”
The girl smiled mischievously. “You're a wicked, wicked man, Richard.”
Richard flashed a roguish grin and crossed to the elevator. Tonight she would find out just how wicked he could be. His approach toward the elevator was greeted by the timely opening of its doors. He nipped around its three emerging passengers and quickly stabbed a finger at the fifth-floor button. A glance through the rapidly narrowing gap of the closing doors revealed Barry running for the elevator.
Richard smiled and waved. “Too slow, old man,” he called out just before the doors met.
Barry halted his rush and glared at the floor numbers lighting one by one as the elevator passed each floor.
“That man is a complete dickhead.”
Barry turned to see another of his co-workers approach. This one he liked. “Morning, Jane. Yes, he is, a prize-winning dick head.”
They both smiled.
Barry pressed the call button.
Jane glanced over at the large wall clock. “I thought you had a meeting with Jerrod at nine?”
Barry let out a sigh. “I do. I'm late, as usual.”
“Betsy playing up again?”
Barry nodded. “I hate to get rid of her, but I really need a new car.”
“Just promise me you won't buy a sports car.”
“A sports car! With my funds I'd be lucky if I could afford a bike.”
Jane laughed. “I can't imagine you on a bike.”
Barry smiled sadly. “Neither can I, though I might have no choice, I was relying on the promotion and the extra money it would bring.”
“The position Richard swiped away from you.”
Barry nodded. “I'm sure his relationship with Jerrod's daughter is just a front so he can worm his way up the ladder.”