Like me.
She still remembered the sense of feeling herself slipping away, the fog flowing thicker, filling her up and pushing all else out.
Even now she shuddered. She found herself constantly doing personal inventory. If she forgot her keys, was that a sign of residual damage? What if she fumbled for a word or couldn’t recall an address or phone number? That alone was disconcerting.
So she had taken to getting up at daybreak. She had always loved the mornings on the lake. The sun turned the mirrored waters into myriad shades, changing with each season. The streets stayed mostly deserted. Or if it was high season, then the city would just be beginning to wake, yawning and stretching its legs.
The quiet of the mornings had always given her time to think, to collect herself. And right now she needed that more than anything.
But mornings meant one other thing to her now.
She picked up the radio and called into dispatch. “Bill, I’m going to stop and fuel up.”
“Got it.”
She parked under the yellow sign of Nicely’s Restaurant and hopped out, followed by Nikko. She headed inside, the bell tinkling. Behind the counter, Barbara lifted the to-go cup already full of hot black coffee, the best in town, and tossed Nikko a dog biscuit, which he caught midair, a skill learned from years of experience.
But she now had a new routine.
A figure called to her from a booth, not even bothering to look up from his paper. “Morning, dear.”
She crossed and slid into the booth with her coffee. “So what’s your day look like?” she asked Drake. He had accepted a permanent position as a Marine trainer at the mountain base.
“You know,” he said, “probably have to save the planet again.”
She nodded, sipped her coffee, winced at the heat. “SSDD.”
Same shit, different day.
He passed her the sports page, which she accepted.
Nothing like keeping it simple.
“Mate, if you keep coming back here, you might want to sign up for my frequent flier program.”
Jason clapped the UK airman on the shoulder and zippered more snugly into his parka, pulling up the hood. “I just might have to do that, Barstow.”
Jason hopped out of the Twin Otter and onto the ice. He stared at the cluster of buildings that had spread like a tumble of toy blocks in the shadow of the black crags of the Fenriskjeften mountains. It was as if the Back Door substation had been a seed that had germinated out of the warmth below and sprouted into this ever-growing international research complex on the frozen surface.
They’d made a lot of progress.
Still, he remembered that journey a month ago, rising out of Hell’s Cape through that Back Door with Gray, Kowalski, and Stella. As Stella had promised, they found an emergency CAAT garaged on the surface and used it to venture back to the coast, joining up with Dr. Von Der Bruegge and the remaining researchers from the Haley VI station. With the solar storm ended, they were able to contact McMurdo Station for help.
Now I’m back again.
But he had a good reason. She came out of one of the tallest of the new structures, which was painted in the red-and-black of the British Antarctic Survey, a match to the Otter’s coloring. Even her parka had the letters BAS emblazoned on the chest.
She strode toward him, her hood down, as if strolling across a park versus forging through an Antarctic winter. This time of year the continent was sunk into a perpetual midnight, but the sweep of bright stars and a silvery full moon offered plenty of light, especially when accompanied by the swirling electric tides of the aurora australis.
“Jason, it’s so great to see you.” Stella hugged him, her embrace lingering a little longer than expected — but he wasn’t complaining.
“I’ve got so much to show you, to tell you.” She started to lead him toward the station, but he kept his place.
“I’ve been reading the reports,” he said, smiling. “You do have a lot on your hands. Opening select sections of Hell’s Cape as protected biospheres must be a sensitive endeavor. I kept promising you some experienced help, so I’m here finally delivering on that in person.”
Jason waved to the rear compartment of the Otter. The hatch opened and two people climbed out in well-worn arctic gear. The woman tucked a long tail of curly black hair, shot through with a few strands of gray, back as she pulled up her parka’s hood. She was helped out by a taller man, ruggedly built, whose age most people would have never guessed. Like their gear, they looked well worn together, an inseparable couple.
Jason introduced them. “My mother, Ashley Carter. And stepdad, Benjamin Brust.”
Stella shook their hands, a surprised smile making her look even more beautiful. “It’s great to meet you both. Come inside and we can get you all warm.”
She led them all toward the Back Door station, the new entrance to the subterranean world below. As she turned way, Ben hung back and nudged Jason in the side with an elbow.
“Nice, mate,” Ben said, his Aussie accent twanging a little richer, like it always did when teasing him. “Now I see why you wanted to come and introduce us in person. Found yourself a little sheila.”
Both women glanced back at them.
Jason lowered his head, shaking it a bit.
Ben scooted up between the others and took both Ashley and Stella under his arms. “So the kid tells me you found an interesting cavern system under the ice.”
“Do you know much about caves?” Stella asked.
“I’ve been known to putter around a bit.”
His stepfather was actually an expert caver, with decades of experience, most of it right here on this continent.
“Well, I doubt you’ve seen anything like what we found down here,” Stella said proudly.
“You’d be surprised how much we have seen,” his mother said with a grin. “Someday we’ll have to invite you back to our place.”
Ben nodded. “Might be an adventure in there for all of us.” He glanced back to Jason. “What do you say? Up for some fun?”
Jason hurried to keep up with them.
Why did I think this was such a good idea?
Kendall Hess drove the rental car up the long tree-lined entryway to the private mental health facility. Rolling manicured lawns spread to garden parkways and small fountains. The building itself was divided into four wings, branching out like a cross in the center of these highly secured grounds.
The hospital wasn’t on any directory and few knew of these forty acres that bordered the Blue Ridge Parkway outside of Roanoke, Virginia. It was for special cases, those of interest to national security. He had to reach out to contacts with BRAG, the FBI’s Bioterrorism Risk Assessment Group, to facilitate getting a bed here.
He pulled through the final checkpoint, showed his identification, and parked. He had to leave a fingerprint at the front desk and was escorted by one of the nurses.
“How’s he doing?” Kendall asked.
“The same. If you’d like to talk to his case clinician?”
“That won’t be necessary.”
The nurse — a soft-spoken, sober young woman dressed in blues and thick-soled shoes — glanced to him. “He does have a visitor.”