Surviving Antarctica

by Andrea White

  “I’m rescuing you,” the man said.

  Robert felt sadness and relief all rolled up into one.

  “What if we don’t want to be rescued?” Billy surprised himself by saying. He wanted to go home more than he had ever wanted anything in his whole life, but in a way he was sorry to see an adult. He had gotten used to kids making the decisions.

  “Orders of the President,” the man said. “Viewers don’t want to watch kids die.”

  “But what about the prize money?” Billy said.

  “The President has instructed me to tell you that you each get the ten thousand dollars.”

  I wasn’t going to be voted MVP anyway, Billy thought. At least the ten thousand dollars will pay for my freshman year of high school.

  Robert pictured his new red boat with silver trim for a moment before his thoughts shifted to Andrew. “Do you have food?” he asked

  The man nodded.

  “Let’s hurry back, then,” Robert said. Maybe it wouldn’t be too late. Maybe this man could help Andrew before Grace …

  Robert and Billy looked at each other. Neither wanted to put into words the situation in the tent. “One of us …” Billy started to explain. But he gave up.

  “Well, let’s go,” Robert said. It felt strange to turn around. Each step into the wind was doubly hard. Bronty’s sled flapped like a metal kite behind him.

  “Did you get caught in the blizzard?” Billy asked.

  The big man shook his head. “No. I parachuted in afterward, but the blizzard must have messed up our bearings because I was supposed to land next to you.”

  “So you just landed?” Billy asked. All of a sudden, the man appeared soft to him; this man didn’t know how tough the Antarctic could be.

  “Yeah,” the man said. “See, my partner and I have been on alert at a secret location. The plan was to drop me off at the Pole a few hours before you guys arrived. It was supposed to be a simulation of how Amundsen beat Scott to the Pole.”

  Billy shook his head. “Sick.”

  “But the viewers were too upset,” the man continued.

  “What about?” Robert said.

  “I haven’t been able to watch television. But my boss tells me there are riots in front of the Department of Entertainment.”

  “Why?” Billy asked.

  “People are angry about your situation,” the man said.

  “About us?” Robert wondered.

  “About the boy who was trapped in that crevasse, and about the whole thing. People are mad about the whole Historical Survivor series.”

  “What do you know!” Robert said. “Maybe the viewers aren’t so sick after all.”

  “Maybe not,” Billy said.

  “So you’re … ?”The man pointed at Robert.

  “I’m Robert.”

  “And I’m Billy,” Billy said.

  “You can call me Harry,” the man said. “You’re supposed to call me Roald, but I can’t pronounce it.” He looked around. “Besides, who cares if we stick to the story? Where could the cameras be out here, anyway?”

  Billy and Robert looked at each other. This man had a lot to learn.

  35

  ROBERT PUSHED OPEN the tent flap and painfully began crawling into the tent. What he saw made him stop. A bloodred towel lay next to the Primus. Oh, no! The rescue had come too late.

  Grace and Polly turned to him. They both looked worried and tired. Grace’s face was especially white and pinched.

  Andrew was awake, and smiled at him.

  “Are you okay?” Robert asked as he entered.

  “I had a nosebleed,” Andrew said.

  Polly nodded.

  Robert sighed with relief.

  Billy stuck his head in and crawled toward them. “You won’t believe this. We’ve been rescued.”

  “Rescued?” Grace said in a tone of disbelief.

  “By Amundsen.” Robert sat down and rubbed his shoulder. “Not really by Amundsen. I mean, by the guy who’s playing Amundsen. His name is Harry.”

  Harry stuck his head into the tent. “What happened?” he asked, looking at the bloody towel.

  “I almost froze,” Andrew said. “It messed up my nose.”

  Billy looked at Polly with a question in his eyes. Polly shook her head. So Andrew’s toes were still intact. Thank goodness.

  The man wagged his finger at the girls. “Where are the smiles? Ol’ Harry has rescued you.”

  “We thought we were in this game alone,” Polly said, irritated at this man’s silliness.

  “Not anymore.” Harry grinned broadly. “I’m here.”

  Polly and Grace exchanged glances. Both disliked this big man, but what were their alternatives? Andrew needed a doctor and lots of warm food to get well.

  Harry held up his radio locator. “The military transport helicopter will be here before you know it.” He chuckled. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you guys didn’t want to be rescued.”

  “I don’t,” Grace piped up. “I’d like to stay.”

  Harry scowled at her. “What does a little girl like you know about her own good? You’re coming with me.”

  Grace set her teeth and glared at him.

  How could Grace want to stay? Polly couldn’t wait to leave this cramped tent. “Could you leave us alone for a minute?” she asked Harry.

  Harry doffed his cap at her and backed out of the tent.

  Polly turned to Grace. “So what’s going on?”

  “I don’t expect you guys to understand, but my whole life I’ve wanted to live somewhere like this. I don’t want to go back yet.” Grace looked at the kids’ solemn faces. It felt good to have shared her dream and to realize that no one was laughing.

  “But you’ll die,” Polly said finally. “We can’t leave you.”

  “There’s plenty of food at the depots for me to stay awhile,” Grace said. She was starting to admit to herself that she wouldn’t be able to live here, that she needed to rethink her dream. The time that she got to spend here on account of this game might be all she’d ever have.

  Robert eyed Grace. The trip had been hard, but he was beginning to figure out ice and snow. If he left now, he’d be turning away from a challenge. “I’d like to go with you to the Pole,” he said. It was strange to realize that he probably couldn’t make it without her.

  “But Robert, your shoulder,” Polly said.

  “I hiked through the thick snow today, and it hardly hurt at all,” Robert lied.

  “We could take turns riding the dogsled,” Grace said to Robert.

  Robert grinned at Polly. “You could watch us on television.”

  Polly wasn’t convinced. But what could she do? Grace and Robert had a right to make their own decisions. “I guess the government could send the rescue team back for you,” she said.

  Robert and Grace looked at each other and smiled.

  “Billy, you don’t want to stay, do you?” Polly asked playfully.

  Billy shook his head. He had eaten enough seal and pony meat to last a lifetime.

  Polly laughed. “I didn’t think so.” Then there was a loud noise. “What’s that?” she said.

  Everyone’s head turned in the direction of the noise.

  “The helicopter,” Robert said. “Polly, make sure they pick us up in a military transport helicopter.” He was tempted to leave just for the ride. But it would be so cool to be the first kid to make it to the Pole unassisted by an adult.

  Harry stuck his head back in. “My orders are to take you back. All of you. Now come on.”

  “Andrew, Billy, and I will come,” Polly said cheerfully. “But Grace likes it here. This is her home.”

  “Nobody lives here,” Harry argued.

  “And Robert wants to be a record setter,” Polly added.

  “You kids are crazy,” Harry said. “If I have to get out my gun, I will.”

  Robert hated threats, but while he was feeling tongue-tied, Polly responded in her brisk, confident way.

  �
��There are cameras here, and I can assure you that the President would not want the viewers to see us taken out at gunpoint,” Polly said.

  “Cameras? Where?” Harry looked around the small tent.

  “In our eyes,” Polly said.

  “What?”

  “We’re freaks,” Polly said. “We have cameras in our eyes, and I’m filming you right now.”

  Harry backed off.

  Then the kids heard someone calling. “Harry?” It was the helicopter pilot.

  Antarctic Historical Survivor was over for Polly. She was going home. “Are you sure you want to stay?” she asked Grace.

  Grace nodded.

  Polly turned to Robert.

  Robert beamed at her. “We’ll make it.”

  Polly thought about Robert’s silly grin. Optimism was his brand of courage.

  “You guys can have my whole stash of peanuts and Chocobombs,” Billy said gravely.

  Robert laughed. “Thanks, Billy.” Even though Billy was going back to America and they were staying, Robert knew that it was hard for Billy to give them his stash of food.

  Andrew grinned. “I don’t have anything to give you unless you want my parka.”

  “You never buttoned it anyway,” Robert said.

  “I don’t have anything to give you but this,” Polly said to Robert. She crawled over and kissed him.

  “Thank you, Polly,” Robert said.

  Billy stuck out his hand to shake Grace’s.

  Grace pulled him to her and hugged him.

  “Hug me, too,” Andrew said.

  Grace crawled to Andrew and hugged him.

  “I would have trusted you with my toes, Grace,” he whispered into her ear. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

  Robert overheard him. “Thank you, Andrew, for all you did for me.” He leaned down next to Andrew. “I’m sorry if I treated you badly at the beginning of the trip.”

  “It’s not important. I was a different person then,” Andrew said.

  “Can we do anything else for you?” Polly asked Robert.

  “Yeah.” Robert grinned. “Make sure they send someone back for us after we reach the Pole!”

  Polly nodded.

  “It’s time,” Billy said. He was excited.

  “Let’s help Andrew out,” Polly said.

  Billy and Robert each grabbed one of Andrew’s arms and pulled him.

  Grace held the tent flap open.

  Polly crawled toward the open tent flap for the last time. She felt as if she were leaving her death behind. She had never believed that she would make it home.

  Billy and Robert helped Andrew toward the helicopter.

  Grace stood in front of the tent and looked at the shiny helicopter. She felt a stab of joy that she didn’t have to go back to the modern world yet.

  “Good-bye!” Polly grabbed Grace’s hand before she climbed in.

  Grace squeezed it. “Good-bye.”

  They stared at each other for a few seconds before the pilot shouted, “Let’s get out of here while we can! You never know when bad weather will blow in down here.”

  “Everybody buckle up!” the pilot called.

  Polly grabbed Andrew’s hand and looked out the window.

  Billy, who was sitting up front with Harry, waved at Robert.

  Polly waved, too.

  With its propellers whirring, the helicopter lifted off.

  Polly pressed her forehead against the icy glass. She remembered what Wilson had written in his diary: These days are with one for all time—they are never to be forgotten—and they are to be found nowhere else in the world but at the poles…. One only wishes one could bring a glimpse of it away with one with all its unimaginable beauty.

  Polly stared out the window. Robert and Grace were standing next to the blue tent below. She watched them until they, the tent, and even the mountains had disappeared and all she could see was a great expanse of white.

  36

  FOR SEVENTY-TWO HOURS Steve had been locked up in a small, windowless room. His head still ached. No one spoke to him. Every once in a while he heard the dry metallic sound of a plate of chips being pushed under the door, and once, in the middle of the night, he thought he heard the swish of Pearl’s broom. Occasionally he heard voices. He was so lonely that his heart leaped whenever this happened, but he quickly grew afraid. Were they coming for him?

  Mostly he worried about the kids. Was Andrew still alive? Or any of the kids, for that matter? He wondered if Chad had gotten into trouble. He had a million questions and no answers. But every time he asked himself whether it had been wise to intervene, he pushed aside his doubts. Maybe trying to rescue Andrew had been a reckless act, but it was the only shot he had had to try to keep Andrew alive. The more he thought about it, the more he believed that his dad would understand. A boy’s life had been at stake, and the rigged Survivor show didn’t leave him any other choice. He wouldn’t waste any time on regrets.

  Suddenly keys rattled in the lock.

  Steve felt sick. Was it time? Were the guards coming to beat him senseless? Or was it the bailiff for Court TV?

  When the door opened, Chad stepped in.

  The flood of light hurt Steve’s eyes and gave Chad a sort of halo. Steve stood up on shaky legs.

  Chad beamed. “You’re a national hero.”

  Steve’s mouth was dry. His voice was rusty. “The kids …” he croaked.

  “… are fine.” Chad smiled. “The guards didn’t even tell you that?”

  “Nothing.” Steve groaned, thinking of the last few days, when he had been so hungry for information.

  “Thanks to you, the rescue was broadcast live,” Chad said. He sounded pleased.

  Steve had almost forgotten about pushing that green button. “But is Andrew okay?”

  Chad grinned. “Yes.”

  Steve felt like crying, he was so relieved.

  “After they took you here, to this prison”—Chad looked around with disgust at the cobwebbed room—“the kids managed to get Andrew inside the tent. He was dehydrated and weak, and his toes were badly frostbitten.”

  Steve had been afraid of that.

  “Everyone in the whole country saw how brave and strong the kids were. The audience witnessed how close Andrew came to dying. They understood how risky Historical Survivor is.” Chad lowered his voice. “So when the danger had passed, the viewers cut off their televisions!”

  “You’re kidding!” Steve said.

  “During prime time, the ratings of all shows dropped to zero,” Chad said.

  Steve tried, but he couldn’t imagine billions of silent televisions.

  “Then the President intervened.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The President put the Secretary of Entertainment on mandatory leave and obtained a copy of the Antarctic Historical Survivor script. The script showed that the Secretary had set up a rival Amundsen expedition. The actor-Amundsen was waiting nearby. He was supposed to beat the kids to the Pole just as the real Amundsen had beaten Scott.

  “The President declared the game over and sent the actor to Antarctica to rescue the kids. The kids’ parents met them in Tierra del Fuego. Doctors there gave them a clean bill of health. Polly, Andrew, and Billy are on their way home as we speak.” Chad beamed. “You stopped a Historical Survivor game.”

  Just as he had feared, Steve had to be in a lot of trouble.

  “But Robert and Grace decided to stay,” Chad added.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Robert wanted to be the first kid to reach the Pole, and Grace wants to stay just a little while longer. They’re halfway to the Pole now and doing fine.”

  “And what’s going to happen to me?” Steve said.

  “We haven’t been able to find you. We had no idea that you were locked up right here in the DOE. Jacob sent out an e-mail telling the public what you had done. When the Department took the MVP vote, the viewers wrote in your name.” He paused. “Or Birdie Bowers’s name. It’s
the same thing.”

  “What?” Steve said.

  “You’re MVP on Historical Survivor, entitled to the prize money.” Chad’s grin grew wider. “The President has almost started taking credit for your intervention. She’d like to talk to you. A little while ago one of the Secretary’s guards cracked, and we learned that you were hidden in the building all along. Lots of reporters want to interview you, but I came alone to get you. You’re a rich man.”

  No goons were going to beat him up. He wasn’t going to be an old man at seventeen. No Court TV. He wasn’t going to get a public whipping. Steve felt so overwhelmed with happiness that he was afraid he might faint.

  “There’s more, but I’ll have to tell you later,” Chad said. “Let’s go. After you’ve had a chance to rest and eat, the President wants to talk to you.”

  Steve tried to walk, but his legs were too shaky. He stumbled.

  “Come on,” Chad said kindly. “I’ll help you.” He gripped Steve’s arm.

  Jacob and a policeman Steve didn’t recognize were waiting for them outside the room.

  “Hi, Steve,” Jacob said.

  Steve smiled weakly at Jacob.

  The policeman nodded. “There’s a crowd up there, sir.”

  Steve tensed. He wasn’t ready to face a crowd.

  “The sooner we go, the sooner you’ll get home,” Chad reminded him.

  “I’ll get his other arm,” Jacob said, moving next to Steve.

  Together with Chad and Jacob, Steve followed the policeman down the long, dank hall. As they walked up the stairway, he heard a jumble of loud voices.

  Several police officers were blocking a group of cameramen and reporters. When the news reporters saw Steve, they began yelling at him from the top of the stairwell.

  “Mr. Michael, what will you do with your prize money?”

  “Why did you choose the alias Birdie Bowers?”

  “Those kids could have made it!” a man wearing a cowboy hat shouted at him. “Why did you stop the Survivor show?” He stuck a mike in Steve’s face.

  Steve had been alone for so long that the stares of the journalists made him feel lightheaded. How should he answer the last reporter? He had to defend himself. Oddly enough, a quote that he had heard in teleschool popped into his mind. He hoped Birdie Bowers had said it, but he couldn’t remember for sure. He cleared his throat.