ardor, running his fingers through her hair, then down the curve of her neck and back, drawing her closer, deepening their kiss.
Wendy pulled back, panting. "I love you," she said. Then she gave him a gentle push. "But we still have this clothes problem." She got to her feet and began to unbutton her cuffs.
"No," John said, standing. "Allow me."
Grinning, she held her arms out. "I am entirely at your disposal."
"Not like loading stuff at a dock," John said.
"No," Dieter said. "More creative."
More of a pain in the ass, John thought, looking shoreward.
The yacht was anchored in the lee of a headland. The shore was shale and rock, rising to high rocky hills whose black expanse was split by fingers of white—the outliers of the great interior ice sheets of Antarctica. Nobody had bothered giving the bay a name; Desolation would be about right. The rocky upthrust to the east sheltered the Love's Thrust from the westerlies, but there was still a definite chop, with white-caps on the short steep waves. That made the big pleasure craft pitch at its anchor, a sharp rocking motion more unpleasant than the long surges of the huge deep-ocean waves. Several of the crew were looking green as a result, which wasn't helping with unloading.
Getting the big inflatable raft over the side had been a nightmare. Getting heavy parcels into it was worse. Right now the boxed snowmobile was swinging up on
the pivoting boom.
"Slowly… slowly…" Dieter said, leaning over the side and making hand signals to the man operating the power winch. "Slowly… I said slowly, dummkopf!"
John hopped nimbly over the side and slid down the rope ladder, landing easily on his feet and helping the two crewmen guide the big Sno-Cat down. The raft was a military model, with aluminum stringers to stiffen the bottom; it had been designed to take a dozen troops and their gear into a beachhead or on a commando raid. With three men gripping the front and two corners of the crate, and Dieter blasphemously directing the winch operator, they managed to get it down despite the continual seesaw of differential movement between the two crafts. Which was fortunate, because if the crate had come down really hard, it would have gone straight through the bottom.
The crewmen threw John looks of surprised respect as he helped guide the crate down and lash it firmly in place. He gave them a grin and a thumbs-up— Hey, I'm a lad of many skills, thanks to Mom—and swarmed back up the ladder to the deck.
"That's the last of it," he panted.
Dieter and Wendy were there, their hiking clothes covered with a final layer of orange water-resistant coat and pants, to find Vera waiting for them, a vision in pink. Her fine skin looked greasy from the sunblock she wore, and the big pink sunglasses that shielded her eyes from Antarctica's fierce ultraviolet rays made her look like an owl with bloodshot eyes.
God knows where she found a pink anorak, John thought. But he wasn't really
surprised. By now he knew that whatever Vera wanted, Vera got. Well, with the exception of Dieter. So far.
"Sweetie," she said, rushing forward to give John a farewell embrace. "You take care of that nice girl, now. Y'hear? And take care of yourself, too."
She planted a kiss on his cheek, then pushed him away and gave him a swat on his bottom. Then she turned to Wendy, leaving John to wonder if that was a grandmotherly slap on the tush or a lecherous one.
Too fast to be lecherous, he decided. Besides, there's Dieter right in front of her.
Vera kissed Wendy on both cheeks, then tugged her sunglasses down to give the girl a conspiratorial look. Wendy giggled and blushed, then enfolded the older woman in a fond hug. "We'll see you soon," she promised.
Vera tapped Wendy's nose with a pink-gloved finger. "You'd better," she warned. Then she pushed her sunglasses back up and turned to Dieter, one hand on her hip. "Well, big boy," she said, somehow managing to slink toward him in her parka and heavy boots, "looks like this is it."
"I sincerely hope not." Dieter smiled. "Or you might not come back for us."
Then he took her in his arms and gave her a kiss that made her moan for more.
When he finally let her go she staggered slightly and he gently held her shoulders until she seemed steady on her feet.
"Wow!" she said, grinning. "I'll come back for sure if you'll promise me another just like that one next time I see you."
He chucked her under the chin. "I'll look forward to it," he promised.
Vera waggled her brows. "So will I, honey. So will I."
With that, John handed down the last duffel and swung out onto the ladder that led down to the Zodiac. Wendy followed, and when she was far enough down he took her by the waist to steady her as she stepped down from the ladder. Dieter handed down Wendy's equipment and then his own duffel, following it down with economic efficiency.
The crewman fended the huge inflatable boat off the side of the yacht and started the motor. The three travelers looked up from their seats to wave at Vera and her merry crew, who continued to wave at them all the way to the shore.
Giovanni, Vera's handsome crewman, efficiently beached the Zodiac onto a smooth spot on the shale so that they didn't have to wet their feet to step ashore; it was less than a dozen paces to the beginning of the snow. All four of the men joined in pushing the crate containing the Sno-Cat up a collapsible metal ramp, over the side of the Zodiac, and then down to the beach. Then the Italian tossed them their bags. Returning to the motor, he pulled the boat off and turned it in a sway and flurry of foam.
As he headed back to the yacht he waved and shouted, "Good luck!"
Wendy waved back while John and Dieter strapped the duffels to the pile of supplies on the sledge. Two of them would ride the Sno-Cat while an unlucky third took a more precarious ride atop the supplies. They'd fashioned a sort of seat out of the softer goods they carried, but it was still going to be tricky.
"There's sure a lot of wildlife around here," Wendy commented.
John had to agree. He'd known the animals were there but somehow it hadn't registered. Off to the right, far enough away to mute both their sound and smell was a huge… herd, he supposed… of penguins. To the left a small pod of seals lounged.
Dieter looked back and forth between them. "It's unusual for that many leopard seals to get together," he said quietly. "They're usually solitary creatures. I don't see any pups, so that can't be it…"
"I think the penguins are watching them," Wendy commented.
"Leopard seals eat penguins," Dieter said. He looked at them for a few moments, unable to shake the feeling that while the penguins were watching the seals, the seals were watching the humans. He shook off the feeling and went back to work.
"Would you hold on to this for me, hon?" John called out.
Wendy turned away from the penguins and headed toward the sledge. Suddenly something hit her in the head with enough violence to knock her down.
"Wendy!" John shouted, and rushed over to her. "Are you okay?"
She rolled over, one hand holding the back of her head, tears in her eyes.
"Yeah," she said. "I guess so. What the hell hit me?"
John looked up in astonishment at the bird that had struck her. It looked like a huge brown pigeon wearing an unpleasant expression on its avian face. He
pointed and she looked up.
"That was a bird" ? It felt like a rock. A big rock. Was I near its nest or something?" she asked, looking around.
"That's a skua gull," Dieter said. "They do that. No one knows why."