State Of Fear
Page 24"What's a standing wave?" Evans said.
"You ever watch girls play jump rope? Yes? Well, if instead of spinning the rope, they shake it up and down, they generate loopy waves that travel along the length of the rope, back and forth."
"Okay amp;"
"But if the girls shake it just right, the waves appear to stop moving back and forth. The rope takes on a single curved shape and holds it. You've seen that? Well, that's a standing wave. It reflects back and forth in perfect synchronization so it doesn't seem to move."
"And these explosives do that?"
"Yes. In nature, standing waves are incredibly powerful. They can shake a suspension bridge to pieces. They can shatter a skyscraper. The most destructive effects of earthquakes are caused by standing waves generated in the crust."
"So Brewster's got these explosives amp;set in a row amp;for a hundred miles? Isn't that what Bolden said? A hundred miles?"
"Right. And I think there's no question what he intends. Our friend Brewster is hoping to fracture the ice for a hundred miles, and break off the biggest iceberg in the history of the planet."
Sarah stuck her head in.
Kenner said, "Did you find a computer?"
"No," she said. "There's nothing there. Nothing at all. No sleeping bag, no food, no personal effects. Nothing but a bare tent. The guy's gone."
Kenner swore. "All right," he said. "Now, listen carefully. Here's what we are going to do."
Chapter 35
TO WEDDELL STATION
WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 6
2:22 P.M.
"Oh no," Jimmy Bolden said, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, but I can't allow that, Dr. Kenner. It's too dangerous."
"Why is it dangerous?" Kenner said. "You take these two back to the station, and I'll follow Brewster's snowtracks until I meet up with him."
"No, sir, we all stay together, sir."
"Jimmy," Kenner said firmly, "we're not going to do that."
"With all due respect, sir, you don't know your way around this part of the world amp;"
"You forget, I am an IADG inspector," Kenner said. "I was resident in Vostok Station for six months in the winter of '99. And I was resident in Morval for three months in '91. I know exactly what I'm doing."
"Gee, I don't know amp;"
"Call back to Weddell. The station chief will confirm it."
"Well, sir, if you put it that way amp;"
"I do," Kenner said firmly. "Now get these two people back to base. Time is wasting."
"Okay, if you'll be all right amp;" Bolden turned to Evans and Sarah. "Then I guess we go. Mount up, folks, and we'll head out."
Within minutes, Evans and Sarah were jouncing along on the ice, following behind Bolden's snowtrack. Behind them, Kenner was driving parallel to the line of flags, heading east. Evans looked back just in time to see Kenner stop, get out, check one of the flags briefly, then get back in again and drive on.
Bolden saw it, too. "What is he doing?" he said in an anxious tone.
"Just looking at the unit, I guess."
"He shouldn't be getting out of his vehicle," Bolden said. "And he shouldn't be alone on the shelf. It's against regulations."
Sarah had the feeling Bolden was about to turn back. She said, "I can tell you something about Dr. Kenner, Jimmy."
"You don't want to make him mad."
"Really?"
"No, Jimmy. You don't."
"Well amp;okay then."
They drove on, climbing a long rise, descending on the other side. Brewster's camp was gone, and so was Kenner's snowtrack. Ahead lay the vast white field of the Ross Ice Shelf, stretching away to the gray horizon.
"Two hours, folks," Bolden said. "And then a hot shower."
The first hour passed uneventfully. Evans started to fall asleep, only to be jolted awake by the sharp movements of the vehicle. Then he would drift off again, his head nodding until the next shock.
Sarah was driving. He said to her, "Aren't you tired?"
"No, not at all," she said.
The sun was now low on the horizon, and obscured by fog. The landscape was shades of pale gray, with almost no separation between land and sky. Evans yawned. "Want me to take over?"
"I've got it, thanks."
"I'm a good driver."
"I know you are."
He was thinking she had a definite bossy side, despite her charm and her beauty. She was the kind of woman who would want to control the remote.
"I bet you want the remote," he said.
"You think so?" She smiled.
It was irritating in a certain way, he thought, that she did not take him seriously as a man. At least, not as a man she could be interested in. In truth, she was a little too cool for his taste. A little too ice blond. A little too controlled, beneath that beautiful exterior.
The radio clicked. Bolden said, "I don't like this weather coming in. We better take a shortcut."
"What shortcut?"
"It's only half a mile, but it'll save twenty minutes on our time. Follow me." He turned his snowtrack left, leaving the packed snow road, and heading off onto the ice fields.
"Okay," Sarah said. "Right behind you."
"Good work," Bolden said. "We're still an hour from Weddell. I know this route, it's a piece of cake. Just stay directly behind me. Not to the left or right, but directly behind, you understand?"
"Got it," Sarah said.
"Good."
In a matter of minutes, they had moved several hundred yards from the road. The ice there was bare and hard, the treads of the snowtracks scratching and squeaking as they crossed it.
"You're on ice now," Bolden said.
"I noticed."
"Won't be long now."
Evans was looking out the window. He could no longer see the road. In fact, he wasn't sure anymore in which direction it lay. Everything now looked the same. He felt anxious suddenly. "We're really in the middle of nowhere."
The snowtrack slid laterally a little, across the ice. He grabbed for the dashboard. Sarah immediately brought the vehicle back under control.
"Jeez," Evans said, clinging to the dashboard.
"Maybe a little."
"Too bad we can't get some music. Is there any way to get music?" she asked Bolden.
"You should," Bolden said. "Weddell broadcasts twenty-four hours. Just a minute." He stopped his snowtrack, and walked back to their stopped vehicle. He climbed up on the tread and opened the door, in a blast of freezing air. "Sometimes you get interference from this," he said, and unclipped the transponder from the dash. "Okay. Try your radio now."
Sarah fiddled with the receiver, twisting the knob. Bolden walked back to his red cab, carrying the transponder. His diesel engine spit a cloud of black exhaust as he put the snowtrack in gear.
"You think they'd be a little more ecologically minded," Evans said, looking at the exhaust as Bolden's snowtrack chugged forward.
"I'm not getting any music," Sarah said.
"Never mind," Evans said. "I don't care that much."
They drove another hundred yards. Then Bolden stopped again.
"Now what?" Evans said.
Bolden climbed out of his vehicle, walked to the back of it, and looked at his own treads.
Sarah was still fiddling with the radio. Punching the buttons for the different transmission frequencies, she got bursts of static for each.
"I'm not sure this is an improvement," Evans said. "Just let it go. Why have we stopped, anyway?"
"I don't know," Sarah said. "He seems to be checking something."
Now Bolden turned and looked back at them. He didn't move. He just stood there and stared.
"Should we get out?" Evans said.
The radio crackled and they heard "is Weddell CM to401. Are you there, Dr. Kenner? Weddell CM toKenner. Can you hear?"
"Hey," Sarah said, smiling. "I think we finally got something."
The radio hissed and sputtered.
"just found Jimmy Bolden unconscious inmaintenance room. We don't know who isout there withbut it's not"
"Oh shit," Evans said, staring at the man in front of them. "That guy's not Bolden? Who is he?"
"I don't know, but he's blocking the way," Sarah said. "And he's waiting."
"Waiting for what?"
There was a loud crack! from beneath them. Inside the cab, the sound echoed like a gunshot. Their vehicle shifted slightly.
"Screw this," Sarah said. "We're getting out of here, even if I have to ram the bastard." She put the snowtrack in gear, and started to back away from the vehicle in front of them. She shifted, starting the snowtrack forward again.
Another crack!
"Let's go!" Evans said. "Let's go!"
Crack! Crack! Their vehicle lurched beneath them, tilted sideways at an angle. Evans looked out at the guy pretending to be Bolden.
"It's the ice," Sarah said. "He's waiting for our weight to break through."
"Ram him!" Evans said, pointing ahead. The bastard was making some hand gesture to them. It took him a moment for Evans to understand what it meant. Then he got it.
The man was waving goodbye.
Sarah stomped on the accelerator and the engine rumbled forward, but in the next moment the ground gave way completely beneath them, and their vehicle nosed down. Evans saw the blue-ice wall of a crevasse. Then the vehicle began to tumble forward, and they were encased for an instant in a world of eerie blue before they plunged onward into the blackness below.
SHEAR ZONE
WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 6
3:51 P.M.
Sarah opened her eyes and saw a huge blue starburst, streaks radiating outward in all directions. Her forehead was icy cold, and she had terrible pain in her neck. Tentatively, she shifted her body, checking each of her limbs. They hurt, but she could move all of them except her right leg, which was pinned under something. She coughed and paused, taking stock. She was lying on her side, her face shoved up against the windshield, which she had shattered with her forehead. Her eyes were just inches from the fractured glass. She eased away, and slowly looked around.
It was dark, a kind of twilight. Faint light coming from somewhere to her left. But she could see that the whole cab of the snowtrack was lying on its side, the treads up against the ice wall. They must have landed on a ledge of some kind. She looked upwardthe mouth of the crevasse was surprisingly close, maybe thirty or forty yards above her. It was near enough to give her a burst of encouragement.
Next she looked down, trying to see Evans. But it was dark everywhere beneath her. She couldn't see him at all. Her eyes slowly adjusted. She gasped. She saw her true situation.
There was no ledge.
The snowtrack had tumbled into the narrowing crevasse, and wedged itself sideways within the crevasse walls. The treads were against one wall, the roof of the cab against the other, and the cab itself was suspended over the inky downward gash. The door on Evans's side hung open.
Evans was not in the cab.
He had fallen out.
Into the blackness.
"Peter?"
No answer.
"Peter, can you hear me?"
She listened. There was nothing. No sound or movement.
Nothing at all.
And then the realization hit her: She was alone down there. A hundred feet down in a freezing crevasse, in the middle of a trackless ice field, far off the road, miles from anywhere.
And she realized, with a chill, that this was going to be her tomb.
Boldenor whoever he washad planned it very well, Sarah thought. He had taken their transponder. He could drive a few miles, drop it down the deepest crevasse he could find, and then go back to the base. When the rescue parties set out, they would head for the transponder. It would be nowhere near where she was. The party might search for days in a deep crevasse before giving up.
And if they widened the search? They still wouldn't find the snowtrack. Even though it was only about forty yards below the surface, it might as well be four hundred yards below. It was too deep to be seen by a passing helicopter, or even a vehicle as it drove by. Not that any vehicle would. They would think the snowtrack had gone off the marked road, and they would search along the edge of the road. Not way out here, in the middle of the ice field. The road was seventeen miles long. They would spend days searching.
No, Sarah thought. They would never find her.
And even if she could get herself to the surface, what then? She had no compass, no map, no GPS. No radioit lay smashed beneath her knee. She didn't even know in what direction Weddell Station might be from her present location.
Of course, she thought, she had a bright red parka that would be visible from a distance, and she had supplies, food, equipmentall the equipment that guy had talked about, before they set out. What was it, exactly? She vaguely remembered something about climbing supplies. Crampons and ropes.
Sarah bent down, managed to free herself from a toolbox that had pinned her foot to the floor, and then crawled to the rear of the cab, balancing carefully to avoid the gaping, wide-open door beneath her. In the perpetual twilight of the crevasse, she saw the supply locker. It was crumpled slightly from the impact, and she couldn't get it open.
She went back to the toolbox, opened it, took out a hammer and a screwdriver, and spent the better part of the next half hour trying to pry the locker open. At last, with a metallic screech, the door swung wide. She peered inside.
The locker was empty.
No food, no water, no climbing supplies. No space blankets, no heaters.
Nothing at all.
Sarah took a deep breath, let it out slowly. She remained calm, refusing to panic. She considered her options. Without ropes and crampons, she could not get to the surface. What could she use instead? She had a toolbox. Could she use the screwdriver as an ice axe? Probably too small. Perhaps she could disassemble the gearshift and make an ice axe out of the parts. Or perhaps she could take apart some of the tread and find parts to use.