‘Hey, Drake,’ Colby said, when the worst was over, ‘how long have we known each other?’
‘Almost two years now,’ Drake answered, calculating from the first time they’d slept together. Actually, he’d slept with most of the women at the base. Everyone knew the score and tried not to get attached. They were all fuck buddies. And Colby had no illusions.
Eyes fixed firmly ahead, Colby took a deep breath. ‘You asked me earlier if I was married … Yes, his name was Jake and, after South Africa, he was called to China to do relief work with the poor. Well, you know what that job’s like: shepherding people from one shadow spot in the mountains to the next, from one cavern community to another, before the owners throw you out. And one day, he had around five hundred refugees in his convoy and they stayed out too long … and, well, a sun storm hit them … and they …’
‘Colby, you don’t have to …’ Drake tried to give her comfort. Fifteen minutes out in one of those storms was all it took, and all that was left would be black bones melted together.
‘I don’t need your sympathy, you fuck,’ Colby said. She was as closed down inside as he was.
He tried again. ‘We all left somebody behind.’ Everyone in the squadron had lost someone they’d loved. Maybe that was why they’d applied for one of the most dangerous jobs on earth. They had nothing to lose and nobody would grieve over them.
Bad choice of words. ‘Jake wasn’t just somebody, he was my life.’ She sighed and gave him a forgiving glance. ‘I know you always dream of dancing girls,’ she said. ‘Or is it electric sheep? But …’
Suddenly she unclipped her chair belt, leant over and pulled his face around to hers and kissed him. Warmly. Tightly. ‘I’m here. I’m real. I’ve always wanted to do that.’ Then she buckled herself in again.
Drake regained his composure. ‘What do you dream about?’ he asked after a while.
It was as if the kiss had never happened. ‘One of these days, I’d like to take a bath. I’d fill it to the brim with cool water. I’d sit in it. And then I’d pull the plug and let that water drain clear away.’
‘Room for a friend?’
‘Answer me one question. You fart in bed, right? What about in water?’
‘Well …’
‘Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll pass.’
Drake was about to protest, but he saw that Colby had flipped into work mode. ‘We’ve entered the FIZ,’ she said.
Small talk was over. ‘Okay, radio the rest of the squadron to get ready, and ask Queequeeg if he’s okay and to keep his guys in formation. I don’t want to lose anybody.’ The Southern Ocean was one of the most inhospitable and windswept areas of ocean on the planet; a cyclone wind or water spout could come out of nowhere and take a chopper down. On top of which other companies sometimes liked to get into a dogfight; there was safety in numbers.
‘We’re right on your tail, boss,’ the squadron responded. And Queequeeg came through the headset. ‘So are we, and Daedalus has still got his wings.’
Relieved, Drake made a visual check. Starbuck and Flask had joined Samurai Sam, Harry and Czar on port. Queequeeg and his guys came up on starboard. With Drake leading, they made a perfect V.
‘What about the subs and the tugs?’ Drake asked Colby.
‘They’ve just left base and hope to cross the FIZ with an estimated time of arrival in two hours,’ she answered. ‘They’ll await our word that we’ve planted our flags on whatever we find. Once we’ve done that and radioed location, they’ll be on their way to grapple and take the tow. No doubt Gonzalez will be out there again to complicate matters for us.’
It was a messy business but it got the adrenalin going.
Very soon the grey waves below were dotted with icebergs. Choppers from rival companies were already feasting. Over the headphones was the excited chatter of other companies as they staked their claims. The Chileans had homed in and now the Chinese and Russians were coming. Gonzalez, the pirate, was maintaining radio silence so that nobody would know where he was until, like an eagle, he would drop down from the sky and snatch his prey away before others had time to claim it.
‘We’ll leave those for the hungry,’ Drake said.
The floes on the outer perimeter were always the small ones, eroded away by the waves. The larger bergs of more ancient pedigree were further in. It was just a matter of holding on and finding them.
‘Let’s go for bigger fish,’ Drake radioed the squadron as he peeled the helicopter away. ‘Frankly, I’ve never liked crowds.’
An hour later, and Drake was still not satisfied.
‘We’ll be approaching our PSR in forty-five minutes,’ Colby warned him.
Drake nodded: the point of safe return. The thought never worried him: all choppers worked at the extreme range of their fuel capacities, trying to go farthest out on the assumption that the biggest bastards were just over the next wave, and praying like hell that there was something extra in the tank that would get them back. ‘Let’s live a little dangerously,’ he said, acting nonchalant about it. ‘You’re not going to get pussy on me, are you?’
‘Why aren’t I surprised?’ said Colby. ‘As to your second question, woof.’
Drake radioed the men. ‘See those clouds ahead? I reckon our quarry’s on the other side, don’t you?’
When he reached the cloudbank, Drake pushed Pequod up and over.
The aurora came rushing up and out of nowhere, fogbows and clouds of iridescence. Weaving through it was Hine Nui Te Po, the Great Goddess of the Underworld, in a waka of spinning water spouts. ‘Welcome to Te Kore, The Void,’ the goddess sang, ‘haere mai.’
In this place you could imagine a graveyard of ghostly ships, like the Flying Dutchman or the Marie Celeste. Within this realm lived the mighty kraken, the fabled giant squid, ready to pull the chopper down with its tentacles. Sirens sang men to their death.
Drake shivered. If hell ever froze over, this is what it would look like: a phantasmagoric place of clashing tides, steaming mist and white-tipped waves like a malevolent host on the march, herding all human souls down through the jagged rocks and icy whirlpools into the underworld. He wanted to curl into a foetal position, hugging himself against this place where the darkness was shining and the hands of loved ones were reaching up, pleading with him to save them.
Oh Huppapuppa!
I remember the day you died. I was a teenage boy when you had a heart attack. I found you in the cow yard, amid shit and cow piss, the cows all milling around, mooing frantically; they knew you were going. I yelled, ‘Mum! Dad! Something’s happening to Granddad!’ And when Hemi came, he went down on his knees and cradled your head and moaned, ‘No, Dad, no.’ You tried to smile, ‘At least, son, the sun hasn’t burnt me up. I’d have hated to go like that.’ And Dad yelled at me, ‘Get the cows outta the yard, Francis, for Chrissake, and bring some water so I can clean Dad up.’ He was rocking you, wouldn’t let you go, and you answered, ‘No, son, I’m used to cow shit.’
Then you looked at me. ‘The world’s not supposed to end like this. I’m sorry, mokopuna.’
They’d all died: Huppapuppa, Hemi, Phyllis, girlfriends, friends.
And yes, like Colby, like everyone on the base, even he had left someone behind. Actually, two people: his wife, Georgina, and their baby girl, Mona.
What better place to remember them than here, where souls were screaming and singing waiata tangi, here amid the grinding and crunching of ice, the whistling of winds? The fifth anniversary since … the temperature suddenly escalated and the solar deflectors failed in Los Angeles. Drake was stationed there with his family — gorgeous Georgina and happy Mona — and when the order came to evacuate, he was on one of the chopper teams pulling people out and ferrying them to ships, waiting off Santa Monica. Georgina and Mona were on the extraction list.