Surviving Antarctica

by Andrea White

  “Come relax in the basement,” Chad said.

  “I’m fine,” Steve said. He wished that his father were alive so he could talk to him.

  “You’re missing a good time.” Chad stepped on the loose tile.

  Steve could hear shouts and laughter as Chad climbed down into the basement.

  “Put the tile back, would you?” Chad said. “It’s easier to close from the outside.”

  “Sure,” Steve said. Someone entered from the side door, but Steve turned back to the screens when he saw that it was only Pearl with her broom. Four of the five screens were the deep black of closed eyes. Only Billy’s screen was gray.

  Steve could hear the sound of Billy’s feet pounding the floor.

  Billy must be walking around in his dark cabin. Suddenly an object—Billy’s dark blue backpack—appeared on his screen. Billy pulled his backpack toward him and opened the clasp. Inside was a mound of silver- and gold-wrapped packages. Steve spotted health-food bars, Chocobombs, crackers, and peanuts. How had Billy snuck snacks on board? But then Steve remembered the testing period, when the crews had checked the screens only periodically. While no one was watching, Billy must have broken the rules.

  The digicamera in Billy’s eye focused on a long line of wooden slats.

  Steve guessed that to hide from the cameras, Billy had crawled underneath his bunk. A candy bar filled the entire screen. Billy’s hands slowly tore off the wrapping. He held the deep brown chocolate bar close to the digicamera and stared at it before biting into it. Billy gave a long sigh of pleasure that made Steve wish he had a chocolate bar.

  When Billy was finished eating, he scooted out from under the bunk. A white porcelain toilet appeared. Billy threw the gold candy wrapping into the toilet bowl and flushed it.

  Normally, cheating made Steve mad, but cheating the Secretary was different. “This guy has enough to worry about. He ought to be able to eat a little candy,” Steve said to Pearl.

  Pearl didn’t look up.

  Billy lay down on his bed, holding his injured hand.

  “It’s your secret, Billy,” Steve whispered to the screen. “Yours and mine and Pearl’s.”

  As Steve pushed the button that would double delete the scene from the computer’s memory, he was surprised by his own action. After a lifetime of passively viewing, he had intervened twice in less than one hour.

  Billy closed his eyes.

  All the screens were now dark and quiet, leaving Steve to his troubled thoughts. It bothered him that intervening the second time had been so much easier. His father had always warned him never to do anything to jeopardize his future.

  The dark screens were no help.

  If only I could watch the kids’ dreams, Steve thought.

  17

  ODDLY ENOUGH, ANDREW was almost sure that he had heard the craft’s motor come on during the night. Even though when he awoke he couldn’t hear the familiar hum, he still rushed down to breakfast hoping for one last Shipchef meal. Instead of a hot breakfast, he had found Billy, Robert, and Polly waiting to resume their argument.

  Although she was sitting with the group, as always, Grace held herself a little apart. All four of them seemed to have already eaten.

  Andrew fixed himself a bowl of pemmican. As he sat down, he heard Billy mutter, “You can’t vote with them.”

  Billy pulled his coat tightly to his chest. The heat had gone off in the middle of the night—another sign that the contest had officially begun. He turned and stared at Andrew. “Are you?”

  The memory of a certain voice in his head was growing fainter, but Andrew answered bravely, “Yes.”

  “Hey,” Robert said. “We don’t have time to argue, Billy. He’s made up his mind.”

  “We’ve already wasted a lot of time,” Polly said.

  “Okay, okay,” Billy said. “Let’s go.”

  Andrew shoveled down a few bites of pemmican.

  Robert stood up and headed out the door. On deck, the wind whirled around him. The sky was gray, and the sun, which hung low in the sky, was blurred. Was it just a cloudy day, or was a blizzard coming on?

  Waves lapped against the side of the ship, and Robert glanced toward land. Or he looked toward where land was supposed to be. Overnight the ice had broken up and shifted. Yesterday the ship’s gangplank had been on firm ground, but now it was floating on a large ice floe next to the ship. The ponies were on a separate, smaller piece, floating out to sea. Land was at least a hundred yards away. “Incredible!” he whispered.

  Polly and Billy raced up to the rail.

  “What happened?” Polly asked.

  “We landed at a glacier,” Robert said slowly. “Last night the ship must have rammed it and broken off chunks of ice.”

  “I should have known. Something like this happened to Scott,” Polly wailed.

  “Good thing we unloaded our gear yesterday,” Billy said.

  Andrew rushed to join them. He stood at the rail, staring in disbelief at the helpless ponies.

  “I told you to tie the ponies next to the hut, not the ship!” Robert said to Andrew sharply.

  Andrew hung his head. Robert probably had. Andrew couldn’t remember.

  “We can’t argue now,” Polly said. She heard footsteps, then Grace’s gasp as she stood next to Polly.

  “Ice and snow are treacherous. Never forget,” Grace’s grandfather had always said. “I won’t,” she had promised him. But she had. This morning’s icy betrayal was a surprise.

  “What are we going to do?” Billy moaned. “The ship’s motor is cut off. We’ll never start it.”

  “We have lifeboats,” Robert said. “We’ll have to go ashore in those.”

  “But what about the ponies?” Andrew and Grace said in unison.

  “We could tie a rope to an ice pick, toss it at the ponies’ ice floe, and pull the floe in,” Robert said thoughtfully. “But should we risk it?”

  “We can’t just let them die,” Andrew said. It was horrible to think that Milky and Cookie might die just because he had made a mistake.

  “Our rifle’s on shore,” Billy said grimly. “We could kill them.”

  Grace shot him a quick look of resentment. “We may need the ponies to make it to the Pole.”

  “So what do you propose we do, Robert?” Polly asked, ignoring Billy.

  Fifty miles to the first depot. An hour to pack up gear. Two—no, better give it three hours to set up camp and cook dinner. He didn’t know the terrain yet. The ponies and dogs would be slower than the snowcycles, maybe significantly slower. Better count on the whole group making only three miles per hour. To be super-cautious, Robert had loaded all the food from the ship onto the sleds, even though that would slow them down. Twelve to fifteen miles today was doable, but the clock in Robert’s head was ticking loudly. “Okay, guys, here’s the plan,” he said. “Let’s give the ponies two hours. If we can’t rescue them in two hours, we’ll shoot them. Is that fair?”

  Grace nodded.

  Andrew did the same, though he didn’t agree.

  Polly was worried. They had just arrived in Antarctica and they were already threatened with casualties!

  Robert turned away. The easiest solution was to shoot the ponies at once. You’re a fool not to, he chided himself.

  “I’ll help you get the lifeboats,” Billy said.

  Andrew had had one job: the ponies. He had staked them to the ground next to the ship. If they lost Milky and Cookie, it was probably his fault—and besides, what would his job be then? Robert and Billy would never let him ride one of the snowcycles. Grace was the boss of the dogs. They had to rescue the ponies….

  They had to?

  He thought about the rescue for a minute, and the clarity of his thinking surprised him. No one cared as much about the ponies as he did, not even Grace.

  He had to rescue the ponies. He couldn’t let them be shot or drift off to sea.

  Robert and Billy picked up a big gray inflatable lifeboat from the deck.

 
It looks to be of modern design, Polly thought. Thank goodness the Secretary of Entertainment wasn’t always accurate.

  Or was she? Scott’s expedition had lost ponies in similar circumstances. As far as the eye could see there was nothing solid; it was all broken up, and heaving up and down with the swell. Long black tongues of water were everywhere. The floe on which we were had split…. Guts [the pony] had gone, and a dark streak of water alone showed the place where the ice had opened under him.

  But how could the Secretary have known that the ice would break up? Then Polly remembered hearing the ship’s motor start last night. Had the Secretary programmed the ship to ram the shore? After Scott’s pony had fallen into the water, killer whales, their black fins flashing, had appeared.

  “Robert!” she called urgently. He and Billy were examining a lifeboat for holes. “I don’t know if this is important.”

  “Then save it,” Robert said. “This one looks fine,” he said to Billy.

  He couldn’t put her off that way. “Robert, for your information, Scott and his men had this identical problem. They lost two of their ponies in the ocean.”

  So this was planned, Robert thought. As if hiking to the Pole with four children wasn’t hard enough, the Secretary had created a calamity.

  But how did Hot Sauce know that Andrew would mess up and stake the ponies near the ship? Robert wondered. Of course she didn’t. But it was reasonable to guess that the kids would be too tired to lug everything to the hut. Actually, they had gotten lucky. If they had left food on shore, not “just” ponies, they wouldn’t have had any choice but to chase after the ice.

  “What would the viewers want us to do?” Billy mumbled.

  “Who cares?” Robert snapped. “They’re sitting at home watching TV. It’s a game to them. It’s no game to us.” Didn’t Billy understand what danger they were all in? They couldn’t live in this cold without food and fuel, and they had a limited supply.

  Grace, Andrew, and Polly stood at the rail, watching the ponies drift away, while Robert returned his attention to the lifeboat.

  “I could lower myself down onto that chunk of ice,” Andrew said, pointing to the ice mass directly below the ship.

  “The chunks of ice are called floes,” Polly said.

  “Then I could hop those floes to the ponies,” Andrew added.

  “But what would you do then? How would you get back?” Grace asked.

  “The ponies could jump with me,” Andrew said.

  “That’s dangerous,” Polly said.

  “I can do it,” Andrew said. “Some of those floes are really close together.”

  “Look, Andrew,” Polly said. “Ponies are of little use in Antarctica. They sink into soft snow, hate blizzards, and generally are more trouble than they’re worth.”

  Andrew stared at her. Sometimes Polly was such a know-it-all.

  Polly didn’t want Andrew to go onto the ice. She closed her eyes, and killer whales started cruising her memory.

  Killer whales … were cruising about in great numbers, snorting and blowing, while occasionally they would in some extraordinary way raise themselves and look about over the ice, resting the fore part of their enormous yellow and black bodies on the edge of the floes. They were undisguisedly interested in us and the ponies, and we felt that if we once got into the water our ends would be swift and bloody.

  “We’re ready!” Robert called. “We’re going to launch the first boat. Polly, Grace, and Billy, head to shore. Andrew and I will see if we can rescue the ponies.”

  “But I want to try to save the ponies,” Grace said, staring at the field of broken ice.

  “I need you to get the dogs ready,” Robert said sternly.

  Grace thought about arguing, then changed her mind. She needed the extra time to work with her team.

  With Polly following, Billy and Robert carried the boat down the gangplank. Together they launched the boat into the choppy water.

  Grace climbed into it.

  “I need to tell you, Robert,” Polly whispered into his ear. “In Scott’s time, killer whales cruised these waters. The Scott team stabbed a pony that fell in to keep it from being eaten alive by the whales.”

  Robert acted as if he hadn’t heard her.

  Billy climbed in beside Grace and unhooked the oars. He handed Grace one and kept one for himself.

  “Come on, Polly!” Billy called.

  “Did you hear me?” Polly said to Robert.

  “Thanks for the info, Polly,” Robert said quietly. The girl had no common sense. “But even the Secretary of Entertainment can’t use a killer whale as a prop.”

  Polly stepped into the lifeboat. The boat skidded but didn’t rock. She sat down on the plastic boat bottom. Robert was right. Her knowledge of the Scott expedition was just making her nervous. This morning she should try to forget about Scott and his men.

  “Paddle, Grace,” Billy said.

  As Robert and Andrew stepped into the second lifeboat, Robert watched Billy and Grace turn their boat toward shore.

  Polly pulled her jacket closer to her, but it wasn’t the cold that bothered her. It was the burden of the Scott expedition. She glanced over the side into the murky water. It seemed bottomless.

  Robert was angry with the Secretary for planning this emergency and worried about the ponies. He was also troubled by his own inability to read the environment. He had never dreamed that the ice could break up like that. Even so, the more he rowed, the stronger he felt. “To the left!” he called to Andrew, glad to feel in control again.

  But his next few maneuvers were no good. The lifeboat was trapped in a maze of floes. “Guess that’s it,” Robert said. He’d gotten the boat as close as he could, but the ponies were still staked to a floe thirty yards from them. Despite the rough ocean surrounding the floe, the animals looked peaceful.

  “Listen, Robert,” Andrew said. As usual, he was hatless. “From here I could jump from floe to floe until I reach the ponies. Then I could get them to follow me back to shore.”

  “Those floes may not be stable,” Robert replied. Didn’t Andrew realize that if he fell into the water, he’d probably die? Robert had made a pact with himself not to consider the viewers, but now he could feel their eyes on him. The viewers wouldn’t want Andrew to risk his life.

  “I’ve got to,” Andrew said stubbornly.

  Don’t worry about those dumb viewers, Robert chided himself. Think for yourself. You know it will be safer if you save those ponies. What if the mutts never cooperate? The motors can’t pull much stuff. How are you going to haul all the gear to the Pole? “Go for it,” Robert said to Andrew.

  Andrew could hear the creaks and groans of ice splitting in the distance. He stood up and cautiously tried the first floe. It seemed stable. He walked across it to the next one. There was only about a yard separating the two floes. He jumped and skidded onto the second floe.

  The next floe was farther away, but he jumped the watery divide easily. Of course, if the floe moved before he started back with the ponies, his return trip might be harder. But he couldn’t let himself think about that. All he could think about right now was that Milky and Cookie were drifting out to sea.

  He jumped again, and then a fourth and a fifth time, but the space between him and the next floe, the one with the ponies, was too far for him to jump. He pulled out his ice pick, tied it to a rope, and threw it toward the floe. It caught the ice, and he pulled on the rope with all his might. Slowly the floe inched toward him. When it was close enough, Andrew jumped. The tip of his boot touched the icy water.

  He wouldn’t let himself think about what would happen to him if he fell in. He picked up each pony’s rope. Holding the ends in one hand, he jumped across to the nearest floe. Then he faced the ponies. “This is it, girls,” he said. He pulled on Milky’s rope. The pony dug her hooves into the ice and wouldn’t budge.

  “Please, Milky. Please, pony. Just jump.”

  No, she seemed to say.

  Andrew looke
d into Cookie’s eyes. Maybe, she seemed to answer.

  He put Milky’s rope on the ground and stood on it. Then he pulled on Cookie’s rope with both his hands.

  The short, squat pony sailed across the water and landed so close to him that he almost fell back.

  “It’s safer to try to bring one back! Just leave the other one!” Robert called.

  Andrew acted as if he hadn’t heard. With Cookie next to him, he knew, Milky would come. He took hold of Milky’s rope and yanked it, and this time Milky jumped. It was a powerful leap. She looked like she was going to clear the water, but she changed her mind midway and faltered. Her forelegs struck the ice floe, but her back legs landed in the ocean. Her forelegs slipped backward.

  The splash of water hit Cookie, and she reared back. The ice floe tilted, and Andrew almost slipped into the water. He dropped Milky’s rope, caught hold of Cookie’s tail, and pulled himself to her.

  “Let the pony go!” Robert shouted. “Come on back.”

  Milky was thrashing around in the cold water. Andrew had never felt so sorry for any animal in his life. He reached down, grabbed her wet rope, and pulled. She lifted her head out of the water. Her eyes rolled back until Robert was staring at big white globes.

  He let the rope drop to his side.

  She sank back down. He wasn’t strong enough to pull her out alone.

  “Robert, come help me!” Andrew called.

  “No, we can’t risk it!” Robert yelled. “Come on back!”

  Andrew tied the end of Milky’s rope to Cookie’s halter and tried to get Cookie to step forward. She took a few steps, but the ice floe was small. This time Milky’s head didn’t even come up out of the water, only a cloud of blood.

  Andrew stared into the water. He saw a dark shape dart from under the floe. More blood gurgled up, so dark that it was almost brown.

  “What is it, Andrew?” Robert called.

  “Just a fish!” Andrew yelled. Poor Milky.

  “It could be dangerous!” Robert warned. “Watch out!” He imagined that Polly was there, scolding him as he argued with her: What am I supposed to say to Andrew? “Watch out for killer whales?” The poor guy is on a tiny floe and still has to lead the other pony back. I don’t want him to panic.