Right angles didn't exist in nature.
Footsteps crunched through the snow. Roy's gaze remained fixed to the block. "Is that you, Ben?"
The footsteps halted. "Yeah, it's me."
"Is it done?"
"Not exactly."
Roy's anger surged. Turning around, he stared at his younger brother. Ben Savala was short and stocky. Like everyone else on Roy's team, he wore western-style clothing. "What do you mean?"
"We lost them," Ben replied.
Roy rubbed his forehead. "So, follow their tracks. Christ Almighty, do I have to do everything for you?"
"We tried. Unfortunately, the snow covered them up."
"What about the radio?"
"They haven't checked in yet. I'm guessing some of our bullets damaged their communications equipment."
A wave of relief ran through Roy. "So, keep looking."
"What do you think we've been doing all this time? Believe me, we looked everywhere. And now—”
"Then set up a perimeter around Kirby and shoot them on sight. You know what'll happen if they make an official report." Roy waved his hand at the block. "Our work will be destroyed. It'll never see the light of day."
With a quick nod, Ben spun around and trudged away.
Seething, Roy turned his attention back to the block. A large part of him wanted to join the hunt. But he couldn't afford to waste time, not when a breakthrough was within his grasp.
His eyes examined the many blocks in front of him. They varied in shape and size. But together, they formed something astounding. As a seasoned geologist, they'd originally intrigued him for a different reason. But the more time he spent with them, the more he'd begun to realize the truth.
He ached to show his discovery to the world. But he knew the experts would merely scoff at him. They wouldn't even bother to examine his claim. They'd just dismiss him out of hand.
That was why he needed to finish his excavation. He needed to gather proof, indisputable evidence. Only then could he go public. Only then could he turn the tables on the experts.
According to them, Antarctica hadn't been sighted until 1820. A year later, Captain John Davis became the first person to set foot on its icy shores. But the theoretical notion of a Terra Australis, or South Land, extended at least as far back as Aristotle.
Roy felt a soaring feeling in his gut. The blocks would change everything. They'd rewrite history.
They'd shift the paradigm.
Chapter 13
I cleared my throat. "Excuse me."
The man stared at his monitor. His thin fingers punched away at a keyboard.
I looked around the small waiting room. It was nothing fancy, just a few chairs and a magazine rack. The walls, a light blue, showed signs of heavy water damage. The marks were covered with several coats of paint, each thicker and more useless than the last. That was how the world worked. You could try to paint over old problems, pretend they didn't exist. But they always found a way back to the surface.
I glanced at the nameplate on the desk. "I need to see a doctor, Connie."
Connie Chico's eyes stayed glued to his monitor. "Dr. Shay is busy."
I slammed my hands on his desk.
Startled, he glanced up at me. His eyes widened. "What happened to you?"
"Just take me to Dr. Shay."
Chico hustled me through a door and into another room. Curtains hung from the ceiling, dividing the space into a half dozen makeshift rooms. Two permanent rooms branched off from the rear wall. I caught a glimpse of Baxter inside one of them.
The second room was closed. A sign mounted on the door read "Examination Room."
Chico led me through one of the curtains. He sat me down on a wheeled gurney and took my temperature. "Ninety-eight point four. Congratulations. You've avoided the Muck so far."
"The Muck?"
"You must be new here. It's like the flu. It crops up every year, no surprise given the close quarters and lack of proper vitamins." He gave me a few more tests. "Dr. Carol Shay is plenty busy. I imagine you heard about the Desolation. But I'll let her know you're here."
"No rush."
As he closed the curtain, I noticed a mirror on a small stand. I picked it up and studied my face. My left eye was puffed out. An inch of dark bruising encircled it on all sides.
"Hello?" The curtain slid open and a tall woman appeared. She flashed me a weary smile. "What's your name?"
"Cy Reed."
"Are you new here?"
"You could say that."
She looked at my bruised face. "What happened?"
"The Desolation happened."
"You were on it?"
"Only for a few minutes."
"You're the one who climbed the crane?" she asked.
"Guilty as charged."
"That was brave. Stupid, but brave."
I shrugged. "I get that a lot."
"Any other injuries?"
I pulled up my shirt and showed her my welts. "They look worse than they feel."
"We'll get to those in a moment. Do you have any vision problems?"
"No."
She produced a vision chart and held it against the curtain. "Cover your right eye and read the fifth line."
I did as she asked. "N, D, O, F, Z."
"How about the sixth line?"
"E, C, N, D, Z, O."
"Good." She picked up a small light and peered into my eye, occasionally asking me to blink or to look in certain directions.
After a short examination, she peeled off her gloves. "Your eye looks fine. I don't see any signs of hyphema or unusual pressure. A black eye usually has nothing to do with the eye itself. Instead, burst capillaries and the subsequent hemorrhaging cause blood to accumulate in the space around the socket. As the blood is reabsorbed, pigments are released."
"How long will I look like this?"
"Most of the swelling and discoloration will be gone in a day or two. But it could take a few weeks to fade completely." She wrote a few notes on a clipboard. "I'm going to give you an ice pack. It'll reduce the swelling and numb any pain you might feel. But keep the pressure light. Your eye has undergone a significant trauma."
"Anything else?" I asked.
She pulled up my shirt again and applied alcohol to my welts. The burning sensation caused me to cringe. Afterward, she bandaged the wounds. "I'll have Connie rustle up some extra bandages for you. Acetaminophen too. If you notice any bleeding or experience additional pain, come back here immediately."
She reached for the curtain. "Do you need anything else?"
The entire appointment had taken less than five minutes. It had to be some kind of record. "That's it?"
"This is guerrilla medicine. We don't waste time. We fix a problem and move on to the next one."
"Sounds good to me."
The curtain shuffled as she closed it over. The soles of her shoes scraped across the floor. A door opened and closed. Silence fell over the clinic.
I hopped off the bed and donned my shirt. Then I pulled the curtain aside. The clinic appeared empty. The door leading to the office was now closed.
I hurried to the Examination Room. Quietly, I opened the door. The room consisted of two cots with a drawn curtain between them.
As I pulled the curtain out of the way, I inhaled sharply. The man from the Desolation lay on the second cot. Bandages covered most of his head and upper body. A blanket covered his lower body. But I assumed it wasn't much better than the rest of him.
"You shouldn't be here."
I didn't turn around. "What's his name?"
Baxter walked to the opposite side of the cot. "Johnny Richards. He served as first mate on the Desolation."