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The running board shifted under Robby’s feet. The sled began to shift off the side of the ice-ledge, tugging the tractor to the side. Robby banged his naked hand against the glass, cursing himself for not bringing something to break the window.

“Jump, Robby,” Pete yelled.

Robby looked down at the snow rolling past beneath him. The tractor jerked again and he nearly lost his grip. He’d have to jump far enough so the sled wouldn’t run him over as it passed.

“Brynn!” he yelled, slapping at the glass one last time. His bare hand ached in the cold. “If you’re in there you have to get out. This whole thing is about to go over the edge.”

Robby turned away from the door and set his legs for the jump. Movement caught the corner of his eye and Robby turned to see Brynn’s tiny hand appearing to unlock the driver’s door of the dark cab. Robby lost no time—he yanked on the door and fell backwards, tugging the door open. All his strength pulled him around the door and up into the driver’s seat. Robby unlocked the the throttle and eased it back to stop the rig. The tractor shuddered and groaned as the heavy sled kept slipping over the edge, dragging the tractor with it.

The radio erupted with Pete’s voice—“Robby, more throttle. Gentle acceleration. You’re still slipping.”

He nudged the throttle forward and the grinding and shaking intensified. He could feel the tracks slipping on the ice, failing to get traction. Robby clamped his jaw and pushed the throttle a little farther.

“That’s it.” Pete’s voice was nearly drowned out by the grinding. “Keep increasing speed, and don’t try to steer left at all. Straight forward.”

As the sled’s runner began to scrape its way back onto the edge of the ice, the tracks dug in and the tractor bucked with the exertion.

“Robby,” Brynn whispered. His voice came from the dark well behind the seat.

The tractor shook and rumbled. The engine groaned under the load. When the sled’s runners reclaimed purchase on the ice, the load shifted to the left, twisting the tractor and slamming Robby into the door. With the friction suddenly removed, the tractor shot forward. Robby wrestled the tractor to the left, away from the edge of the ice. They swung left and then overcorrected back to the right when they almost collided with Pete.

“You did it!” Pete called over the radio. “Nice job.”

“Good work, Robby,” Nate said. “Is Brynn there? Is Brynn okay?”

Robby turned on the lights inside the cab.

“Brynn? Are you okay?” Robby asked. He turned and looked down to find him curled up in the space where they’d packed their food and extra gear. He gripped his knees to his chest and tucked his head down to make himself into a little ball.

“What’s wrong?” Robby asked.

“They’ve come for me,” Brynn said. He pointed up.

Robby lifted his gaze towards the back window of the cab. He scrambled backwards away from the rear window, throwing his body against the dashboard of the tractor. His numb hand accidentally landed on a switch, killing the interior lights.

The image from the window was still burned in his eyes—a dozen or so eyeless faces were pressed against the glass. Robby fumbled with the switch until lights inside the cab came back on. The dead didn’t respond to the light, but they were moving. Their hands groped and slid across the surface of the glass. Some pressed their lips against the window, giving Robby an intimate look at the insides of their mouths. All of them, whether their faces were pressed against the glass or not, were smiling with big, toothy grins.

Robby remembered the throttle just as Pete’s voice came over the radio—“Robby, what are you doing? You’re headed for the edge again.”

He spun and sat on the very edge of the seat and regained control of the tractor’s heading.

“It’s okay, Brynn,” Robby said, trying to get control enough to keep his voice from shaking. “They’re not trying to get us. They’re not real people, they’re just shells.”

Robby picked up the radio. “Brynn’s fine. Everything’s under control here. One of the straps gave way and we’ve got some… um…”

“Should we stop?” Brad radioed from behind.

“No,” Robby said. “Keep going as fast as we can. We have to get to the light.”

“Put Brynn on the radio,” Nate said.

Robby handed the radio down to Brynn. He didn’t look around to see if Brynn was reaching to take it. He didn’t want to risk looking at those hungry, eyeless, grinning faces. Brynn took the radio from his hand. When the boy’s hand brushed his, the skin on Robby’s hand crawled and sent a ripple of goosebumps up through his arm.

Nate’s voice came over the radio. “Brynn? Are you there, Brynn?”

After several long seconds, Robby heard the click of the send button and Brynn’s soft voice whispering into the radio.

“I can’t hear what you’re saying,” Nate said, cutting in.

“They’re here for me,” Brynn whispered louder. “You said they wouldn’t be able to get me, but they’re here for me.”

“I’m so sorry,” Nate said. “You’re okay now. Robby is there. He’s going to take care of you.”

“He’s just a boy,” Brynn said. “He talks like a grownup, but he’s just a boy.”

“He’s smart,” Nate said. His voice sounded small over the radio; not nearly as strong as he sounded in person. “Don’t you worry. We’re almost there and then we’ll be together again. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you on your own.”

“You couldn’t have done anything,” whispered Brynn. “They’re all here for me.”

Up ahead, Pete pulled up behind Nate. Robby increased his speed until they re-formed their convoy.

Pete’s voice cut into the conversation—“How’s it going up front? Christine, are you okay? Still keeping to the center?”

“Yes,” Christine said after a few seconds. She left space between her phrases, like she expected someone to cut in. “It’s getting easier to follow the ice. There’s not as much snow up ahead.”

As they moved forward, Robby became aware of what Christine meant. Not only was the snow’s depth falling away on either side of the ice, but the thin layer of snow on top of the ice was decreasing as well. The miles rolled by under their tracks and the landscape changed. The snow on either side of the ice fell away and they drove their tractors down the middle of a wide path of blue-glowing ice. Robby’s shoulders ached, but he couldn’t stop hunching them forward. He would take a deep breath and try to relax his muscles, but soon they’d be bunched up again, burning hot from tension. Under the tarp on the back of Pete’s sled, the corpses writhed and squirmed, held down by the heavy strap. Here and there an arm would wrestle its way out of captivity and flop around. Robby sat on his bare hand until it warmed up, and then kept sitting on it. Occasionally the radio in Brynn’s hands would crackle to life and the team announced their status, but it happened less and less often.

Eventually, Christine broke the monotony.

“I can see the top of the thing that’s giving off the light,” Christine said. “It’s like a ball, mostly under the ice. It’s so pretty, but so cold. It’s bright, but not as bright as the sun. You can look right at it. What should I do?”

Robby reached back and Brynn put the radio into his hand.

“Christine?” Robby asked. “Does the ice keep going right to the edge of the ball?”

“Yes,” she said. “As far as I can see.”

Through the side windows of the tractor, Robby saw other paths made of ice, all converging ahead of the tractors. They all pulsed at once with the same blue glow. Somewhere down in the snow, perpendicular to their road of ice, a line of orange light pulsed just before the blue. The orange light flared again just as Robby’s tractor passed over it. Robby held his breath; nothing unusual happened.