by Andrea White
Andrew’s screen blinked on, then off. He was fighting sleep. Could he be waiting for Steve?
Why not? Why not be kind to the kid? It was the least that he could do. Steve reached under the screen and pulled out the mike. Holding it, he felt that Andrew was closer to him. He hesitated, almost hypnotized by the steady swish of Pearl’s broom.
When he was young, Steve had put his little brother to sleep with rhymes. Before he had a chance to change his mind, he flipped on the switch: “Good night. Sleep tight. Don’t let the nuclear monster bite.”
“Ahh …” Andrew gave a long sigh of satisfaction and closed his eyes.
Steve faced five dark screens in the empty room. The other members of the night crew were in the basement, playing cards. While Steve liked Chad and the rest of them, he was much younger than they were, and he didn’t care about the things they talked about: their kids, their taxes, and their bills.
On his way to the water fountain, he caught sight of Chad’s briefcase sitting on a stool. He was drawn to its shiny blackness. If the top hadn’t been open, he might have been able to resist. He walked over to it.
He cast a glance at Pearl. As usual, she was paying attention only to a spot on the floor. He riffled through Chad’s papers and found what he was looking for almost immediately. ANTARCTIC SCRIPT, he read.
CONFIDENTIAL
CALAMITIES:
Calamity One: The Glacier. On day one, the ship’s motor shuts off, but it turns back on in the middle of the night, setting the stage for calamity number one. The ship will ram into the glacier and knock some ice loose. Of course, nothing can be predicted with certainty, but it is highly unlikely that the kids will have safely stowed all their foodstuffs.
Calamity Two: The Motor Sledges. The motor sledge engines are programmed to fail quickly. If the kids have placed too much reliance on these motor sledges, they will have to man-haul at least some of the supplies to the Pole.
Calamity Three: The Heating Oil. Scott and his men had placed heating oil at the depots, but because of faulty containers, some of the oil evaporated. As a consequence, they had much less heating oil than needed, and when the terrible weather hit …
Steve looked away from the script. At the moment he couldn’t read any more of it; he was too angry. The calamity on the ship had been bad enough, but he held in his hand written proof that the Secretary planned five more calamities. The contest wasn’t fair anyway, and here the Secretary had gone out of her way to create more problems for the kids. How could she do this? Why did America view the troubles and almost certain death of its poor as entertainment?
He had a vague recollection of an EduTV series about Roman gladiators. Men placed in the middle of a coliseum to fight lions and tigers while Roman crowds cheered. Didn’t the Romans’ love of gladiatorial combat predict the fall of their civilization?
How were the gladiators different from these kids?
“This series is wrong,” he said out loud. Historical Survivor’s rules prohibited acts of kindness like Pearl’s. Its aim was to torture people—even kids. He stared at the five blank screens on the wall. The Secretary’s treachery just made him want to fight harder to protect the kids.
He reminded himself that nothing was hopeless. His whole family had died, but he had survived the Superpox, hadn’t he?
He still didn’t know how much he could do, but he leaned toward the screens and promised the kids, “You’re not alone.”
If he was to help them, he couldn’t let himself get too worked up; he needed to use his head. He picked up the script again from the floor where he had dropped it.
Calamity Four: The Weather. Although blizzards cannot be predicted, they used to be prevalent at the South Pole during November….
Steve skipped ahead.
Calamity Five: The Crevasses. The route marked for the contestants is full of crevasses. Even experienced polar travelers find crevasses difficult to maneuver around.
Calamity Six: Frostbite. One of Scott’s men died because he got frostbitten. It will be a miracle if one or more of the kids don’t get it. After gangrene sets in, there is no cure but amputation of the limb. It could make for an interesting episode if one of them needs an amputation. Grace Untoka has considerable experience operating on animals. She will surely be the one to attempt this….
Steve, feeling tears sting his eyes, closed the script. He sat down in a nearby chair and cried as Pearl swept. He wasn’t sure who he was crying for—himself or the kids or Pearl or the millions of viewers.
All of us, he decided through his tears.
24
IN HIS SLEEP, Billy heard a noise and tried to wake himself. He felt as if he were at the bottom of a deep well. No, a crevasse. He tried to climb out, but he kept slipping down the icy slope.
The noise grew louder. Billy opened his eyes. He heard the sound of wild animals. Was he in Africa, in some jungle somewhere?
He stuck his head out of his sleeping bag and noticed the blue walls, a wool cap sticking out of the sleeping bag next to him, and the Primus stove. Then he remembered. He was in a tent in Antarctica in the middle of a blizzard. But Antarctica didn’t have any wild animals, except for seals and penguins. He listened some more. Apart from the animal noises, it was quiet outside. The blizzard was over. He glanced at his watch. It was three A.M. or three P.M. in D.C. There was no way for him to know. All he knew for sure was that he had been asleep for hours.
The growling, snarling sound was loud. It was coming from more than one animal, and they were crazed and howling with excitement. They sounded like fierce wolves. Was this another calamity, another event in the stupid game? Had the Secretary transported wolves to Antarctica? There was something about this cold, forbidding terrain that made wolves seem appropriate.
He listened closely to the howls.
It was the idiot dogs. Who were like wolves, they were so fierce.
The dogs had gotten loose and were destroying the camp. Maybe the best thing he could do was to go back to sleep. The dogs would make a huge mess, and Andrew and Polly would vote to get rid of them in the morning. They had traveled seven miles yesterday before the bad weather hit. They had only twenty-three miles to go to get to the first depot. Pulling the loaded sleds, the cycles were slower than Billy and Robert had hoped, but on a normal surface they could make four miles an hour. Driving the cycles, Robert and Billy could make it to the depot in six hours.
Billy slipped his head back into his sleeping bag, pleased that they were not about to get attacked by wolves. Besides, he felt like he was closer to depositing one hundred thousand dollars in his bank account. With Grace out of the way, he’d have a better shot at being MVP.
Then Billy remembered the seal. That’s what had excited the dogs.
The dogs were chowing down. Billy had tolerated the seal-leg soup, and seal steaks were bound to be even better. The dogs were eating his food. Billy reached over and shook Robert.
Robert groaned in his sleep.
Billy shook him again. “Listen.”
Robert shot up. “What?”
“The dogs.”
Robert paused and listened. “Why are they making so much noise?”
“They’ve gotten loose,” Billy told him. “Now we have to risk frostbite to catch them.”
Billy shook Grace. She sat up quickly, too. “What’s up?”
“The dogs,” Billy said simply.
“You must not have tied them up,” Robert said, completely alert now.
“I tied them, all right,” Grace said as she scooted out of her sleeping bag.
“Then how could they get loose?” Billy asked.
“They probably ate through their harnesses,” Grace said. “Their food is moldy, and they’re hungry.”
“Well, come on,” Robert said.
Billy started groping around in his sleeping bag for his fur gloves. He felt his bags of nuts and candy, packages of crackers and health food bars before finally touching his gloves. He’d help Grace. Score points with the aud
ience and Robert. He wouldn’t complain. Maybe tomorrow Robert would get rid of those stupid dogs. Didn’t Robert realize that he was setting Grace up as MVP?
Billy climbed out of his sleeping bag and, to keep his stash safe, carefully rolled it up. “Do you want to wake the others?” he asked Robert.
Robert was pulling on his parka. “I think we can handle it.”
Grace opened the tent flap and walked outside. The blizzard had stopped. They must have been asleep for a while, she thought, because the landscape had changed. The light from the sun and both moons reflected off the blanket of new snow. The air seemed full of dazzling light. The mountains glowed in the distance. The temperature actually felt warmer, but Grace couldn’t enjoy the snowy wonderland because of the dogs.
Brontosaurus, Diplodocus, and Apatosaurus were loose. The tethered dogs were standing and panting in frustration as they watched the feast in progress.
Not only had the loose dogs attacked the seal, one of them had ripped open a box of pemmican. The loose pemmican littered the white snow like dog droppings. The seal’s blood splattered the snow with pink polka dots.
Grace cracked the whip over Brontosaurus. He was undoubtedly the ringleader.
“You’re just hitting the air. Hit them!” Billy yelled. “They’re eating our food!”
What Billy said was true. The three dogs, large enough to be wolves, were devouring the seal. When Grace cracked the whip again, Brontosaurus turned back and looked at her, his fangs drenched in blood. Grace moved in quickly and pulled him off the carcass. He snarled and bit the air.
Grabbing his collar, Grace yanked him toward Robert. “Here,” she said. “Tie him up.”
Robert pulled a rope out of his pocket and tied the dog to the sled.
Billy tried to shrink away. Surely Grace wouldn’t ask him to hold a dog.
Luckily, Grace had a rope in her pocket. She used it to tie Apatosaurus’s mouth shut.
She pushed the muzzled dog toward Billy. “Take Apatosaurus.”
Billy held on to the collar of this dog, who managed to snarl even with his stupid mouth roped shut.
Grace struggled with Diplodocus, trying to pull him away from the feast.
Apatosaurus was a big dog, and strong. He fought to get free. Billy held his collar. He wished that he had the whip. He’d get this dog to calm down.
Grace examined Diplodocus. “Just as I thought—they ate through their harnesses.”
Billy wrestled Apatosaurus onto the snow and squatted on his back.
Robert examined the seal’s body. “Not much left,” he called.
So much for seal steaks, Billy thought bitterly. Apatosaurus tried to twist away from him, but Billy only held him tighter. The dog stank of blood.
But Billy wasn’t unhappy. The dog was muzzled and couldn’t bite him. Yesterday Grace had had a good day with the dogs, but now, once again, they had proved that they were more trouble than they were worth. After this, Robert would have to get rid of them. Without the dogs, Grace didn’t have a chance to be MVP. Not a chance.
“You ready to go?” Chad said to Steve. “The day crew will be here soon.”
“The Secretary overlooked a calamity,” Steve said. “The script didn’t mention the dogs eating the kids’ food.”
Chad looked serious. “You read the script?”
“Yeah.” Steve waited for Chad to get angry.
The lock on Chad’s briefcase clicked loudly before he picked it up. But all he said was, “So you understand how bad the odds are?”
“I do.” Steve grabbed his coat.
“I’m sorry,” Chad said.
“Were you going to tell me?” Steve turned and faced Chad.
“Sometimes it’s better not to know everything,” Chad murmured.
Steve walked to the door. In a way, Chad was right. If he let it, that script could steal his hope, and then how could he face watching the kids?
“See you tomorrow,” Chad called.
Steve didn’t bother answering. I’ll be here tomorrow and the day after and the day after that. No matter how bleak their chances, I will be there for those kids, Steve promised himself as he walked down the dark hallway.
25
LATER THAT SAME morning, Polly examined Robert, Grace, and Billy. The trio had been up for half the night looking after the dogs, and Robert was in a particularly foul mood. In contrast, she and Andrew had been asleep since yesterday afternoon. She felt bleary-eyed from too much sleep, and Andrew was yawning.
“I’ve checked the supplies, and we’re down to one day’s worth of food,” Robert said. “The dogs ate the rest.” He glared at the group.
“I want to call another vote on the dogs,” Billy said. “We could stake them here and pick them up in the helicopter on our way home.”
Billy was cruel, Grace thought. Her dogs would starve before they returned.
“What’s to keep them from eating through their harnesses tonight, Grace?” Polly asked.
“Nothing,” Grace said. “They’re tired of their moldy food. From now on, we’ll have to store all our food in the tent.”
“What do you think we should do, Polly?” Andrew said.
“We need the dogs,” Polly said.
“You want to change your vote, Andrew?” Billy asked.
Andrew took a sip of hot chocolate, remembered the voice of his friend, and shook his head.
“Robert, what do you think?” Billy said.
“Even though Grace still has trouble controlling them, the dogs have been performing, Billy,” Robert said firmly.
Polly was proud of Robert, but she didn’t want to say anything. It would just make him mad.
Robert had noticed, Grace thought. Her dogs were a team. She wasn’t perfect yet, but she was a dogsled driver.
Billy sighed in disappointment. Didn’t Robert know that he was setting up Grace to win the game? Robert wasn’t nearly as smart as he thought he was. Billy flattened one of the maps on the floor of the tent. No use arguing. He knew he was beaten.
“We have a straight shot. Only twenty-three miles and we’re there,” Billy said. “Before the blizzard, we were just about to cross a patch of blue ice.”
“That’s good and bad,” Grace said, remembering her grandfather’s tales of ice and snow.
“Why?” Robert asked.
“More crevasses,” Grace explained.
“The map warns that the area is full of them,” Billy agreed.
“How many crevasses are there supposed to be?” Andrew asked.
“No one can know,” Grace said.
“We’ve been lucky so far,” Polly moaned. At least they weren’t dead.
“You call a drowned pony, a storm, loose dogs, and losing our food supply luck?” Billy stared incredulously at Polly.
“It could be so much worse,” Polly said.
“We need to stay upbeat,” Robert said sharply.
“Sure.” Polly remembered Scott’s words: One can only say, “God help us!” and plod on our weary way, cold and very miserable.
Robert turned his attention away from Polly’s dour expression.
“Billy, I’ll lead today,” Robert said in what Billy thought was a particularly bossy tone. “I’ll carry an ice pick in my backpack and some rope. If I go down, with any luck I’ll be able to climb my way out.”
Grace thought of the icy sides of the crevasse that she had stared into on the first day of their trek. She wouldn’t want to climb out of one of those.
“Robert,” Polly objected, “some of the crevasses are hundreds of feet deep. Have you ever used an ice pick?”
Robert shook his head.
“I’ll stay in the lead,” Billy heard himself say.
“You’re sure?” Robert asked.
Billy nodded. He wasn’t going to let Robert win so easily. Billy was supposed to be the most experienced one in the group. People would expect him to be the leader, especially now. He’d just have to be very careful.
“Okay,” Robe
rt said. “Let’s see if we can take down camp in under two hours.” He looked at Billy. “Time us.”
Grace was trying to mend a chewed-through harness with rope, but even in the relative warmth of the tent, her fingers were stupid and stiff, and it took a while. From time to time she had to stop and warm her hands by tucking them under her armpits.
When she finally went outside to feed the dogs, she spotted Brontosaurus trotting off toward the direction of the ship. Trotting off toward his certain death. What did he think he was going to eat? Moldy food was better than none.
That morning she had put him in a makeshift rope harness. He must have eaten through it.
“What’s wrong?” Andrew said.
Grace pointed at the dog.
“I’ll go get him.” Andrew took some skis off the sled and skied after him.
But Grace didn’t have much hope. Bronty had had a head start, and he was fast.
She turned back to the other dogs, who were roped to the frozen gear on the sled. As she adjusted Diplodocus’s harness, she noticed several bald spots in his fur. She examined T-Rex. He was fine, but little Triceratops had a bald spot on her neck. She wondered whether this was a skin disease or poor diet.
Grace hugged Triceratops. Although small, she was a perfectly built sled dog, with a broad chest, strong haunches, and a narrow waist. But if she lost her hair, she wouldn’t last long in this frigid temperature. Grace hated the fact that the Antarctic posed dangers for dogs as well as kids. She wasn’t planning to alarm the others, but Robert, who was walking by, stopped and stared.
“Are the dogs sick?” Robert pointed at little Triceratops’s neck.
“I don’t know,” Grace answered.
“Great,” Robert said.
“Their food is moldy. I think if we want to keep them healthy, we might need to feed them the pony soon.”
Robert didn’t say anything, but he was fuming inside. Cookie had been little trouble. Using her snowshoes, the pony had handled the snow just fine. Although for the last day and a half the dogs had worked together well, last night they had gotten loose and eaten the food. Robert was tempted to feed the dogs to Cookie, not the other way around.