Читать книгу Polar Quest - Alex Archer - Страница 8

As Annja stepped off the plane, she took in the vast scene before her. She saw snow and ice everywhere, but also the look of an entire town some distance away.

“That’s McMurdo,” the pilot said. “Most of the folks who come down here stop by there first. Last chance at a decent watering hole, too.”

“It’s big,” Annja said. “Much larger than I expected any of the outposts down here to be.”

“During the Antarctic summer, there are between eleven hundred and fifteen hundred people at the station. With over one hundred and fifty buildings, they’ve pretty much got something for everyone,” he said.

“What about now?”

The pilot pointed overhead, where a distinct lack of sun sent howling winds across the barren ice runway. “When it gets dark like this? Maybe two hundred altogether.”

“Cozy,” Annja said.

The pilot laughed over a gale. “We don’t usually fly this time of year.”

“How come you did this time?”

He looked at her. “Orders, Miss Creed. Our orders were to get you down here whatever the risk.”

Annja frowned. “I appreciate the chance you and your crew took on me. I don’t know what the big deal is, but I’ll try not to let you guys down.”

He shook her hand and then headed off to oversee the refueling procedure. Annja knew that once the plane’s tanks were topped off, they’d be flying back to New Zealand.

She felt remarkably warm despite the frigid temperatures outside. The extreme-cold-weather gear she wore had certainly proved itself capable of keeping the harsh conditions at bay, but she wondered how long it might last in a survival situation. She shuddered at the thought of freezing to death out here, but her thoughts were broken by the sound of a vehicle approaching.

Across the ice, she spotted what looked like a Sno-Cat. The tracked vehicle slowly chewed its way through the snow and ice. A flashing red light atop the cab helped mark its position while the bright red paint made it stand out in contrast to its surroundings.

Annja hefted her duffel bag and stood on the leeward side of the plane, trying to shield herself from the wind as much as possible. At last, the Sno-Cat trundled to a halt almost right in front of her and the cab door opened.

“Annja Creed?”

“That’s me.”

“Climb on in—weather’s getting worse. I want to get you back to town before it gets any nastier out here.”

Annja hustled over to the Sno-Cat and heaved her duffel bag into the open door before climbing up on part of the tracks and sliding into the passenger compartment herself.

As soon as she did, she felt a bellows of heat pumping up between her legs. The interior windows were coated with condensation. The driver next to her held out his hand.

“Dave Rasmudsen. Geology.”

Annja shook his hand. “Annja Creed. I have no idea why I’m here.”

He laughed. “I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.” He pointed at the vents. “Too warm in here? Myself, I like to keep it toasty in the cat. But some folks like it a bit more temperate.”

“As long as I don’t show up all sweaty, I think I’ll be fine for the trip back. How long does it take?”

“About a half hour,” Dave said.

“That long?” Annja asked.

Dave patted the dashboard. “This thing doesn’t do sixty, so we have to settle for a snail’s crawl. But she does the job she was designed to do, which is to say she gets us where we need to go and does it without complaining. So, that said, I can’t complain if she takes a little bit of time to do so.”

“Fair enough.”

“Where you hailing from?”

“New York,” Annja said.

Dave nodded. “I’m outside Anchorage, myself.”

Annja smiled. “So this kind of weather doesn’t really bother you, huh?”

He grinned. “Well, that depends. Now, it’s true Alaska has herself some of the nastiest weather around, especially out on the Bering Sea, but Antarctica can give her a run for her money if she wants. I’ve been here before in storms that would make you get down and hide under your bed. Winds howling and screaming outside—you wonder if the station is going to hold or if you’ll be buried in snow.”

“Sounds delightful,” Annja said.

He laughed. “It’s not bad. I gotta be honest with you, I love her. I mean, where else can you get access to the kind of rocks and soil I can study here? We’ve got projects going on right now that can tell us mounds of info about what happened millions of years ago. It’s tremendous stuff.”

“Or you could be a truck driver.”

Dave grinned. “Exactly. You know what I’m talking about. We only get one shot—we have to live her the best way we know how.”

“You married, Dave?” Annja asked.

He looked surprised. “Me? No, no chance of that. I’m afraid I place my career ahead of everything else. Too much to study and not enough time to devote to a family. I dunno. Maybe that’ll change one day, but not anytime soon. I’ve just got too much to do.”

And too much to say, Annja thought.

“Why do you ask, anyway?” Dave said.

“Just that I noticed you use ‘her’ a lot when you’re describing things. I thought there might be a logical explanation for it.”

Dave nodded. “Oh, there is, there is. My father used to use that all the time. I guess after he died, I kind of took it to heart and started using it as a way of maybe remembering him better on a daily basis.”

Annja smiled. “That’s awfully insightful of you.”

“I just miss him is all,” Dave said. He took a breath and flicked the wipers as snow started coming down outside.

Annja glanced back over her seat. In the darkness, she could barely make out the LC-130 sitting in the snow as it was refueled.

“Will they be able to get out of here?” she asked.

Dave nodded. “Those guys? They’re amazing. You know you landed on skis, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, invariably, what ends up happening is the skis stop the plane through friction. Yep, the pilot doesn’t even use the throttle or brakes to control her when she comes in.”

“How nice to know that after I’m already here,” Annja said.

Dave laughed. “Yep, they don’t tell you that ahead of time, no siree.”

Annja smiled. “Go on.”

“So the friction melts the snow, you know? Then once the plane stops, the melted ice refreezes pretty darned quick and keeps the plane in place. You might have noticed they weren’t tying her down.”

“I thought that was because they were going to be leaving very quickly.”

“Nope, just no need to do so. The ice keeps her in place.”

“And what—they have to dig the plane out when they’re ready to leave?” Annja asked.

Dave shrugged. “You know, sometimes that does happen. But most times, the pilot will put the wheels down to break up the ice and then retract them back into the plane. Then the skis can move again and the plane can take off.”

Annja sighed. “It’s fascinating.”

“Dangerous, too. Those aircrews, they’re amazing people. Some of the folks down here owe them their lives,” Dave said.

“The woman with breast cancer, right?” Annja asked, recalling the news story a few years earlier.

“Yep, and another doctor down near the pole. Both of them had to be evacuated out of here when the weather wasn’t too spectacular.” He glanced at Annja. “You know, kind of like how you were just flown in.”

Annja looked at him. “I guess that’s a bit unusual, huh?”

“You could say that. This time of year, things get mighty ferocious down here. Lots of folks are still down at the various outposts and stations, and by and large, we’re cut off from the outside world.”

“You’re trapped here?” Annja asked.

Dave sniffed. “If we’re being honest?”

“Always.”

“Yep. We’re trapped here. Unless one of us is important enough to warrant sending in another plane. But that doesn’t happen all that often. For the most part, what you see when we get to McMurdo is what you get.”

“The pilot said there was a place to get a drink,” Annja said.

“Three places, actually,” Dave said. “Depends on what your pleasure is, I guess.”

“Meaning?”

Dave eyed her. “You smoke?”

“No.”

“Okay, so I’m guessing you wouldn’t want to hang out at Southern Exposure. It’s a bit small anyway, and with the smokers, you’ll have the hazy funk infecting your clothes if you go in. Still, it can be a fun place.”

“What else have you got?”

Dave tapped his fingers along the steering wheel. “If you’re into wine and cheese, you can check out the coffee-house. It’s pretty mellow. A lot of folks head on over there to relax after a day at work.”

Annja frowned. The thought of spending too much time at a coffeehouse didn’t excite her much, either. “Anything else?”

“Yep. We have a place called Gallagher’s.”

“Gallagher’s?”

“Named after a guy who died out on the ice of a heart attack. Our way of remembering him, I guess.”

“It’s a good place?” Annja asked.

“Oh, yeah. Nonsmoking so there’s no funk. Bigger than any of the other places and the dance floor is usually packed.” He eyed her. “You a dancer?”

“Depends on my mood,” she said with a grin.

“Fair one. Anyway, we’ve got some pretty old beer for fifty cents a can. I never touch it. But they’re getting some pretty good stuff down here these days, too. Bottles of Sam Adams, which are damned good brews. Plus, you’ve got the wine and the mixed drinks, too. And if you’re up for it, we’ve got a pretty kick-butt group of folks who love to do karaoke. Swing night just got started, as well.”

“All that?” Annja asked, amazed.

Dave smiled. “Even though there aren’t that many of us, we have to make it as much like home as we can. It gets tough sometimes, but that’s how we do it.”

Annja peered out of the windshield. The snow seemed to be falling harder now than it was before. “You weren’t kidding about the weather.”

Dave frowned. “You’ll find that’s about the one thing no one kids about down here. When we say it’s getting bad outside, take us at our word. It’s not going to be nice.”

“Noted.”

Dave pointed at lights in the distance. “That’s McMurdo. What we call Mac Town.”

Annja tried to pick out details through the dark and the snow, which seemed to be coming in horizontally. She could see the dim outlines of shapes that she took to be buildings. She could just make out a few vehicles, parked up in a ragged line with snow already draping over them like a heavy woolen blanket.

“Is anyone still awake?” she asked.

Dave laughed. “I know what you mean. You see the dark and think it’s the middle of the night, right?”

“I guess.” Annja realized she had no idea what time it was.

“Well, it’s six in the evening. If I guess right, most folks are enjoying a nice warm supper right now.”

“Guess I’d better get squared away and do the same,” Annja said.

Dave nodded. “I’m taking you right to your quarters. Not sure how long you’re staying there, though.”

“Oh?”

“I hear tell you’re headed out of town pretty fast. Seems like you’ve got some folks down here who are keenly interested in getting your eyes on something.”

“What kind of thing?”

Dave shook his head. “Annja, I’m just a guy who digs rocks. Literally. Anything else going on down here? I don’t want to know about it.”

“That sounds ominous,” Annja said.

He glanced at her. “In case you forgot, you’re at the bottom of the world. Something goes on down here, there aren’t a lot of eyes looking at it, you know what I’m talking about?”

“I suppose.”

Dave pointed again. “Here we are. Welcome to Mac Town.”

Annja peered out of her window and wondered what exactly was going on with Zach.