I couldn't stop shivering. I steeled my body. Held my breath. Folded my arms over my torn parka. But nothing helped.
With my eyes fixed on the flames, I slogged through another section of snow. The wind shrieked in my ears. My shivering turned into quaking.
"Cy?" A parka-clad figure burst out of the white landscape. "Is that you?"
I didn't break stride.
The figure drew closer. "It is you. Thank God."
I recognized Jenner's voice. "What happened?"
"The power plant exploded."
I frowned. "Dan was out here with me. Ted too."
"We found Dan, barely conscious. He's getting first-aid back at Kirby."
"And Ted?"
"We're still looking for him."
Through the blowing snow, I saw flames tickling the air. "Is that the power plant?"
Jenner nodded.
"Last I saw, Ted was heading in that direction."
"I was afraid of that," Jenner said. "Unfortunately, we can't go that way."
I halted. "Why not?"
"Pat doesn't want anyone near the power plant. He's worried about another explosion."
"But Ted might be over there."
Jenner shrugged.
I recalled Kirby's long history of electrical failures and power outages. Then I started forward again, favoring my right leg.
Jenner hurried to catch up to me. "Did you hear what I said?"
I nodded.
"Then we should be going in a different direction."
"You go wherever you want. But I'm going to search the power plant. Ted might be in there." A frown creased my face. "Plus, I'm not convinced Pat's worried about another explosion. I think he's hiding something. And I want to know what it is."
Chapter 48
The power plant materialized in front of my eyes. It was a small building, constructed from brick red materials. A series of tripod-mounted circular fans stood nearby, forming an ultra-modern wind farm. The tripods rose four feet off the ground. The circular fans added another six feet in height.
I squinted as a tiny sliver of light caught my eye. It appeared to originate from the rooftop, probably from a solar panel.
My jaw slowly unhinged as the carnage came into view. A large hole had torn through one side of the building. Broken solar panels littered the ground. The wind turbines had been heavily damaged. Several circular fans hung limply from their tripods. Other turbines had been ripped clean out of the ice.
"I guess this explains the blackout." Jenner swallowed thickly. "What do you think caused it?"
I nodded at the gaping hole. "Only one way to find out."
He stared uneasily at the flames. "You sure it's safe?"
"No." I armed myself with my flashlight and machete. As I crept toward the building, smoke curled into my face. It got into my nose, my mouth, and my lungs. My eyes watered. My throat felt parched.
I buried my face in the crook of my arm and glanced inside the hole. I saw sparks of electricity. Several flames burned brightly. However, they seemed on the verge of dying out.
I climbed through the hole and switched on my flashlight. Various posters hung on the walls. Some of them portrayed the dangers of global warming to Antarctica. Others touted the benefits of the power plant, specifically its complete dependence on renewable energy.
The floor consisted of dark wood. Various machines and monitors sat on top of it. They were interspersed with wood paneling and other embellishments. Despite the destruction, it was the most stylish power plant I'd ever seen. I assumed Baxter's superiors had hired an interior designer to spruce up the place, probably so they could show it off to politicians and other dignitaries.
I swept my gaze across the room, searching for Ayers. The heart of the station was a mess. Several of the machines had been knocked over. Virtually all of the monitors had been cracked open. Bundles of thick cables lay in smoldering piles of melted rubber.
I waved my flashlight, driving smoke away from my face. In the middle of the room, I noticed something odd. The explosion had damaged a few floorboards. Beneath them, I saw a dark void. I figured it was a crawl space to hide more cables. But I wanted to be sure.
My boot slammed into the floorboards. They cracked and crumbled. My leg shot into the void and I lost my balance.
Dust flew into my eyes and mouth. Coughing violently, I tried to shift my leg. But it was jammed into the small hole. I coughed harder. Waving my flashlight, I tried to clear the air. But I only succeeded in stirring up more dust.
My eyes itched and burned. I tried to breathe, but another coughing fit stopped me cold. Jenner appeared at my side. Quickly, he pried up a floorboard. Then he yanked my leg. Jagged pieces of wood tore through my snow pants and long underwear, scraping my skin. It hurt like hell.
My leg popped free. Still coughing, I shuffled backward. Then I rubbed my eyes and coughed a few more times.
"You okay?" Jenner asked.
"Never better," I managed between wheezes.
He eyed the void from a safe distance. "What's down there?"
"Let's find out."
I made my way back to the void and pointed my beam into it. A large hunk of twisted green metal lay on a lower platform. Cords and cables, now melted to the floor, branched away from the metal and snaked in all directions.
Jenner hacked a couple of times. "What is that?"
"It's a diesel generator." I snorted in disgust. "So much for Kirby being a zero emissions base."
Chapter 49
Anxiously, I thrust my hands into the snow bank. My gloves touched nothing but powder. I tried to frown but my face was too cold to move.
I stood up again. Stared at the whiteout. My eyes picked out another dark spot about twenty feet away. My lips started to shudder as I hiked toward it.
The wind picked up a notch. Blowing snow struck the ground repeatedly, causing more powder to rise into the air. It whirled around in great circles, striking me from all sides.
What time was it anyway? How long had I been searching for Ayers? Minutes? Hours?
I figured the others were out there with me, blanketing the vast tundra. But I couldn't see them, hear them, or smell them. For all I knew, they'd given up hours ago. Or maybe I'd strayed too far. Maybe they were searching for me now.
A fleeting image of Beverly's face crossed my mind. I was still determined to find her as soon as possible. But I had no reason to think she was in immediate danger. On the other hand, the odds of finding Ayers still alive were falling by the second.
I twisted around. I couldn't see Kirby. But I was reasonably sure I could get myself back to it.
I reached the snow bank and started to search it. I didn't know much about Ayers. I hadn't even heard his voice. Hell, I couldn't even be sure he had a voice. Still, I found myself wondering about him, his life. What would happen if we didn't find him? Would anyone remember him? Would they mourn him? How long would those memories last? Months? Years?
Practically everyone who'd ever lived had already been forgotten. It was a cold, but undeniable truth. There were just too many people to remember, too few memory slots available.
Most individuals succumbed to time, some quicker than others. Within a single generation, the vast majority of people completely vanished from the public consciousness. A few high-profile individuals — politicians, actresses, athletes, people like that — lasted a little longer. But almost all of them faded within a few decades. Only a precious few — the religious icons, the trendsetters, the inventors, the explorers, the conquerors — managed to live on in the collective memory.
My legs began to quiver. I cursed myself for walking so far. I should've stayed closer to Kirby, to the others.
I craned my neck. I saw another dark blotch among the vast expanse of ice and snow. As I hiked toward it, I thought more about Ayers, about how others would remember him. But deep down, I knew I was really thinking about myself.