Cold Flood (Kea Wright Mysteries Book 1)

by RJ Corgan

  She focused on the task at hand, trying not to think about her trembling fingers or the infinity that seemed to stretch below. Or Tony’s body growing cold beneath her.

  Stop! Just stop. There’s nothing you can do. Just get out. Just get the hell out of here. Get help.

  She edged a couple feet upward so she could reach Jon. Feeling for a pulse, she was delighted to find his skin still warm to the touch. Pulling up his eyelids elicited no response, but he was very definitely alive. She took out a large bandage from the pack. Using her teeth to tear it open, she pressed it against the wound on his forehead, hoping it was worse than it looked. She hated to leave him, but if she didn’t go for help, they could both die down here.

  Using her feet and knees, Kea edged her way along the crevasse, out from under Jon and away from Tony. She didn’t - couldn’t - look back. She extended one knee forward, shifted her good shoulder a few inches, then moved the other knee. Knee, shoulder, knee. Repeat. As she crawled along, every motion felt like her shoulder was being stabbed with an ice pick, but she forced herself to keep going.

  After what felt like an eternity, her knees raw and her legs quaking with fatigue, she hoped that she had gone far enough. Sparing a glance back at the blob that was Jon and Tony, she estimated that she had only moved about ten meters. Enough, she hoped, that if she showed her head again above the ice, no one would think to look in her direction.

  Shifting so that her back was against the ice, she pushed her feet against the opposing wall, knees bent. Very slowly, feeling like she was the Grinch trying to shimmy up a chimney, she began to climb. She judged that she only had to ascend about three meters, but as the gap grew wider, she found herself pausing to rest more frequently. Because of her exertions, her teeth had stopped chattering at least. Although she wasn’t confident that was a good sign.

  Finally reaching the surface, she inched her head above the ice. The sky was darker now, and the rain poured down heavily, angled by the strong winds. Off to her left, she saw a bright blotch of red.

  A jacket.

  She ducked down again, waiting. After a minute, hearing no sign of approach, she dared to look again. In the distance, someone, the red blob, had their back to her.

  Pulling herself up until she could rest an elbow on the ice, she took some weight off her stiff legs. The figure was about fifty meters away. Judging by the size, it looked like a man, crouching over the alien object that appeared to still be stuck in a crevasse. Squinting, she could only discern that the man’s back was to her.

  Stay or go? Either hide and wait for him to leave and pray he wouldn’t come back to finish the job. Or run.

  Now or never.

  Kea didn’t stop to think any longer, didn’t give herself the chance to question, she rolled out onto the ice and made a dash for the wildlands. She kept her gaze on the gray landscape ahead of her, beneath her, anywhere but behind. Her boots flashed under her as she ran, the jolt of each step causing her shoulder to pull and scream with pain. She moved as silently as she could, praying that the wind and rain were covering the sounds of her steps. Ahead, the dark smear of the wildlands opened before her, inviting her in. She knew them better than anyone. She could lose him there. Or at least she hoped she could.

  She chanced one last look backward as she ran down into the valley of the wildlands. The man was yelling in frustration, stamping on the machine, kicking its broken body down into the crevasse.

  She kept running, sliding down into the first valley, slipping down into the depths. She let gravity speed her way downhill as she fled, using her remaining good hand to slow herself on the curving, twisting channels of ice. As she fled, her mind returned to the sound of his voice. One she knew well.

  Fernando.

  ***

  Kea didn’t run through the wildlands so much as fall down it. She swerved through the canyons propelled by gravity, her feet finding purchase through luck rather than skill. As the channels widened out around her, she tried to judge how far down-glacier she had come. Without her glasses, she felt as if she was finding her way through a fog. The walking stick was a blessing, helping her keep her balance and push her way along the channels. She kept moving, always alert for the sound of footsteps behind her.

  Sliding to a stop at an intersection of three channels, she found a slope gentle enough that she could scrabble up using only her knees and her good arm. Poking her head up above the ice, she could see nothing but the gray of ice and clouds. Fernando, if he was following, was still hidden below in the labyrinth of the wildlands. She heaved herself up and jogged across the open ice, heading eastward. The oblong shape of the lake gradually came into view on her right as she stumbled downslope towards the esker and the Double Embayment.

  Drawing closer, she could discern the yellow blob of the raft on the water’s edge. She quickened her pace, each step gaining more traction as the ice beneath her feet turned to cobbles, then gravel, then sand. She skidded to a stop on her skinned knees beside the raft, swearing as she groped for the oars. It was only then that she noticed both rafts anchored on the shore.

  Of course, he used the other raft. It’s not as if he swam here.

  It was then that she understood why Fernando hadn’t just grabbed the drone before, why he waited for them to come first. He needed the compressor. They had been so focused on looking westward, they had never bothered to look behind them.

  She glanced over her shoulder. Still no sign. During her sprint across the open ice, she had been exposed, but she had hugged the lower slopes as best she could, hoping that the topography and rain kept her cloaked from sight. Not that it mattered. They both would be headed here. Yet she had bought herself a head start and didn’t want to waste it.

  She attempted to untie the rope that was anchored around a small boulder, but her fingers were numb and lifeless. The coarse nylon knot was bound tightly by the weight of the raft. She quickly resorted to using her teeth to pull it free, desperate.

  This has to work. It has to.

  During her flight through the wildlands, the stabbing pain in her shoulder made her realize that reaching the raft first wasn’t enough. There was no way she could row across the lake with only one arm. She would be paddling around in circles. Round and round. If Fernando had a gun, she would be a sitting duck. While she had no idea where he might have managed to procure such a weapon, Iceland didn’t exactly sell them at the local hardware store, she didn’t want to take the chance.

  Giving the knot a savage tug with her teeth, it finally gave way. She sagged against the raft, nearly crying with gratitude. She yanked the rope free and dragged the inflatable raft the last meter to the water’s edge. Almost done.

  She pulled off her bright red jacket, wincing as she maneuvered her injured arm through the sleeve. Left wearing only her windbreaker, she kept the camel pack and a few other small items before tossing the daypack into the raft. She positioned the pack upright against the rear of the raft and wrapped her jacket around it. Hastily, she tugged a life jacket around her creation and with a firm shove of her foot, set the raft adrift into the lake, watching as a gentle current carried the boat slowly away.

  She squinted at the lump of her pack. It was, she hoped, enough to suggest the shape of an injured Kea huddled in the raft.

  Not very convincing, she thought worriedly. And I’m the blind one.

  She waited for one heartbeat. Two. Three. The raft wasn’t moving into the lake far enough to create the illusion yet, but she couldn’t hang around to wait.

  It could fool someone, she admitted. If that someone was Mr. Magoo.

  She considered the remaining raft. She could either let him get away or just push the thing into the lake and strand him here with her, which would mean her death.

  Tony. Bruce. Cole. Jon. Nadia.

  She exhaled a long breath and made up her mind.

  The edge of the raft was only a foot or so away from the water’s edge. Leaving the anchor rope attached, she nudged the raft closer to
the lake until the base was roughly five centimeters into the water. Then, lifting the edge of the raft, she wedged the hilt of her pocketknife into the sand beneath it. Gently, she lowered the rubber base down on top of it, careful to ensure the blade didn’t puncture the raft’s skin.

  Glancing around to make sure the coast was clear, or at least as far as she could tell, she sprinted away from the water’s edge, heading eastward across the irregular face of the glacier. She rounded a tongue of the ice margin, praying that it would shield her from view. Her breathing was labored now, the adrenaline fading. Kea was desperate for a rest, but she settled for swearing frequently under her breath, using it as a mantra to urge herself on. She plodded on as fast she could, hoping to put as much distance between her and the lake as possible. She knew where she had to go, but she was worried he would be heading there too.

  Roughly five minutes later, as she was stumbling across the ice, she heard a scream of rage echo across the glacier. She smiled grimly. She couldn’t be sure of Fernando’s fate, however, so she kept moving.

  ***

  Kea moved eastward as fast as the dared, aiming for a region where she knew the lobe of the glacier bridged the depression, touching the outwash plain and letting her cross to freedom. She had only been here once with a team doing a reconnoiter a couple of years ago. Even then, the landscape had been sickly, riddled with shallow lakes that pooled on a fragile skin of ice.

  During that expedition, she hadn’t fully realized just how thin the ice was here, nor how close she and her team had been to falling through into the frigid waters. Now, as she followed the curve of a trough in the glacier surface, she was comforted to see the familiar random pattern of jagged sheets of ice stabbing upward into the sky. At their base, several little pools of water were scattered across the white landscape, their dark surfaces tickled from below by cascades of bubbles. She’d made it.

  She knew that these fountain-like pools were formed by the upwellings of water coming from under the ice. The topography of the terrain beneath the glacier ice meant that this was the low point in the massive valley. The resulting overburden pressure of the glacier was enough to super cool the water and force it upward into fountains of free-flowing liquid ice.

  Another paper I haven’t gotten around to writing, she realized in dismay. It seemed so trivial now.

  Conjuring up a mental map of the chaotic landscape, she picked her way carefully down into the lowest part of the valley. She put her weight on each step gingerly, testing the ice with the walking stick, and listening for sounds of cracking. Her progress was infuriatingly slow. She found herself continually looking over her shoulder for any signs of pursuit.

  Fernando would be cold, wet, tired, and furious. At least she was counting on that. With any luck, the stunt with the raft had made him angry and irrational. This was her only chance.

  In her present condition, she would never win a race across the sandur to the jeep. In her sprint across the open ice, she had only spied the red blob of his jacket once or twice. While the occasional sight of him caused the taste of vomit to edge up her throat, the lack of gunfire was reassuring. If by some remote chance, he had gotten his hands on a firearm, perhaps her little trick with the raft had caused him to drop it. However, if he had been paying attention during their field lectures, he knew where she was heading. There was only one way off the glacier.

  Stepping as close as she dared to a patch of thin ice, she placed the camel pack on the ground. She drank a long pull of water, then stuffed as much of the bag’s contents as possible into her jacket before tipping it over onto the ice. She scattered some wrappers and tissues around to make it look as if she’d dropped it in a rush, mentally apologizing to the glacier for littering.

  She retraced her steps away from the bag, hoping she had bought enough time to hide. Each slow step she took across the ice was agony, her heart thump, thump, thumping in her head. Finally, when she was sure that the ice would bear her full weight, she used the last of her energy to sprint up the northern side of a little depression.

  Keeping low to the ground and moving as quietly as she could between the jagged peaks of ice, she cursed her poor vision. The triangles of ice served as adequate cover as she worked her way to the far side of the depression. She was nearly halfway along the edge of the valley when she saw the red glare of his jacket as he entered the valley behind her. She tucked herself behind an ice block and held her breath, hoping he hadn’t spotted her.

  She counted to fifty before sneaking a look. Although blurry, she could discern Fernando slowly approaching her bag. His pace was slow, measured, his boots testing the ice. She hissed obscenities through clenched teeth. She had taken too long. She had hoped to be on the other side of the valley by now, just a blob retreating into the distance for him to recklessly pursue.

  He came to a stop a few meters away from her bag. She couldn’t be sure, but she got the impression that he was surveying the valley around him, as if sniffing the air. She ducked back behind the ice, her eyes closed. Mentally, she willed him on.

  Just keep walking. Just a little more. Just grab the bag.

  “Nice try,” Fernando’s voice boomed through the air. The fact that he was yelling meant that he still didn’t know where she was. Or at least she hoped not. Unfortunately, she was close enough to him that she couldn’t move on the ice without him hearing. She waited. It was his move. She was out of options, and if she was right about her theory about the drone causing havoc with the seismic sensors, she might be out of time as well.

  The silence stretched out interminably. She imagined Fernando turning slowly, hunting for her.

  “I never wanted to hurt anyone,” Fernando shouted. Judging by his tone, he sounded as exhausted as she was. “I just needed to get across the lake to the drone. I could have been gone a week ago, if you had just left the rafts inflated.”

  Kea bit back a response, resisting the urge to scream. Stillness reigned on the ice, broken only by the crackle of the rain on the surface, as constant as television static. Finally, she heard the crunch, crunch, crunch of footsteps as Fernando walked around the little valley. The acoustics of the area were unnerving. She couldn’t tell if he was walking further away or closer. Perhaps he was just circling, looking for her.

  “Bruce didn’t know I was reading his emails.” Fernando’s tone became conversational as he walked. “None of them did. No one pays attention to the IT guys unless they’re too stupid not to know who to map their printer. I knew Max fudged the budgets to keep us on schedule. I knew it was the reason the code in the prototype wasn’t ready, why it crashed. Knew he blamed it on Bruce. I knew all about the company that Bruce and Andrea were setting up, trying to get rich off the next launch. When those two next-generation drones crashed, I knew where Bruce was trying to send them. I was even able to alter the landing coordinates.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt him. He freaked out when he found me out here with the remote control… I just knocked him around a little to scare him. He fought back. Even tore up off my vest. He ran away from me but wound up leaping straight down into that pit. Was awful.”

  Kea thought she detected genuine sorrow in Fernando’s voice, but the fact he was telling her anything only terrified her more. He would never let her leave, not now. The crunching of his icy steps continued. She pictured the valley in her head, trying to remember the location of the weak spots, hoping the terrain hadn’t already changed since she had taken the aerial photographs last week.

  “I knew he didn’t think he was coming back,” Fernando laughed, a nervous cackle, thin and creepy as his voice edged up an octave. “He saved drafts of his suicide notes on his desktop at work.” He tutted scornfully. “Things not to do on company time… could give a guy like me ideas. I have to admit I was so sure that someone had heard the screams, but then Gary spazzed out. It was all just a mess.”

  There was a pause and more crunching. If she had to bet, he was standing about four meters to her left.

&n
bsp; She pressed her face against the ice, trying to flatten every centimeter of her body, praying that she was shielded from view. The harsh, crystalline granules bit into her cheek, numbed her flesh. She heard the slow breath of the glacier, the susurration of the rainwater trickling down into the ice, the shifting of the grains beneath her head… and something else. A sharp ~crack~ that rattled through the ice.

  Willing to make a bet? Julie’s voice echoed in her head.

  “I’m sorry.” Fernando sounded weary, as if he didn’t want to be here any more than she did.

  Kea winced, offended by his feeble attempt at an apology, but there was no time to process that, no time for anger, no time forgiveness. There was no time for anything.

  The sound came again, closer now as the pressure wave shifted its way through the glacier. A short distance up the ice, the internal drainage was shifting as metric tons of water lifted the ice, forcing its way into every cavity and crack, about to inundate the very valley they were standing in.

  God dammit, Kea mentally screamed at the skies above. I’ve waited my whole career for this, and now it happens? What the hell did I ever do to you?

  She felt the subtle shift of the ice beneath her feet.

  Screw it. Now or never.

  Her knees shaking, she pulled herself up from the ice block and stepped into view.

  “You killed them!” Kea spat, trying to act as angry as she possibly could, finding that it came all too easily. “You nearly killed me!”

  Fernando was standing right in front of her, far closer than she expected. She carried on ranting, to keep his attention. Even with her bad vision, she could see the outline of the ice ax he brandished in one hand. “You knocked us into a crevasse for God’s sake. I nearly drowned in that river, nearly froze.” It was with some satisfaction that she noted that he seemed drenched, courtesy of her raft trick. “And what about Cole? He could have broken his neck!”