Sarah Andrews - In Cold Pursuit

Dave’s face went blank. He opened his mouth to say something, but in the next instant they both heard her name spoken in the middle of Edith’s check-in conversation. The woman at Mac Ops was saying: “Is Valena Walker with you?”

Valena and Dave both stared at the radio.

“Affirmative,” said Edith.

“I have a message for her. Can you get it to her? Over.”

“I’m sure she is listening to this call, but I will double-check, over.”

Dave grabbed the microphone and handed it to Valena. “Just press this key to talk,” he said.

Valena slowed the tractor to a stop and pressed the key. Was this the bad news she had been bracing against? “This is Valena,” she said, and managed to add, “Over.”

The radio operator said, “Message reads: ‘Meet Jim at Crary if back by eighteen hundred hours. If not, phone number will be on his door.’ Do you copy? Over.”

“I copy. Over.”

“Thanks for your help, over and out,” said Edith.

“Mac Ops over and out.”

Dave gave her one of his smiles. “You look like your pet dog just died.”

Valena hung her head in misery. “I’m afraid they’re going to send me home tomorrow.”

Dave put a hand on her shoulder.

She looked his way.

He smiled softly. Used one finger to slide a stray lock of her hair away from her eyes. He said, “Come on, things are always bound to get better.” He pointed toward the line of snow machines. “Just park it right over there and I’ll drop the goose.”

She longed to drive up through the main street of McMurdo Station in this towering tractor with this handsome man at her side, smiling his smile, but she pulled up at the end of the line near the Delta and stopped.

Dave opened the door and stepped out onto the fender.

“We’ll ride up in the Delta with the others,” he said, then hurried down the steps. The cab door swung shut behind him.

The constant daylight of Antarctica shone all around her, but Valena felt darkness closing in. Once again, she was alone.

VALENA RAN STRAIGHT FROM THE SPOT WHERE THE Delta left her to Crary Lab. She did not stop in her dorm room to drop her gear or take a shower. She did not stop in the hallway nearby to look at the flight manifests to see if she was scheduled to leave in the morning. She did not stop in her office in Crary or look for Jim’s number, nor did she go looking for Cal Hart. Instead, she ran down the ramp all the way to phase 3 in search of Michael.

“What? Whoa!” he said, as she burst through the door into his shop and threw her arms around his neck. “What’s going on? Hey! There, now. Hey…” As he realized that she was crying, he put his arms around her, taking in the great volume of her big red parka. “Slow down, little one. Tell me what’s happened.”

Valena could not say a thing for several moments. She was crying too hard. The sobs came with racking jolts from the very center of her soul. Finally, she began to relax against his body. “I don’t know, Michael, it’s all just so difficult…”

“What’s difficult?”

“I’m trying to do the right thing, and…”

Michael quit asking questions and waited, swaying slightly to soothe her. He said, “I have it on good authority that the reason they made the cuffs as long as they did on the sleeves of your big red parka is so you can blow your nose on them.”

Valena immediately put one to her face.

Michael went on talking stuff and nonsense to give her an anchor in the storm that was tossing her. “Really, it’s true.

I’ve been here long enough now that I’ve finished the initial training in the use of big red. Did you know that there are fourteen pockets in the damned things? Enough that you can load way too much into them. If you filled each one up to full capacity, you’d topple over onto your face.”

“You’re making this up,” said Valena, beginning to smile through her tears.

“No, I’m not. First, there are the two big pockets at the sides, where you warm your hands and keep your gloves, right? There are four patch pockets on the front, and multiply that by two, because there’s a hand warmer pocket behind each one of them. So that’s eight. Then of course there are two inside breast pockets. That’s ten. There’s a double pen and pencil pocket on your left sleeve, just below the shoulder, and it comes with its own built-in pocket protectors.” He patted it. “That’s twelve. There’s a bigger pocket in the same position on your right sleeve for your sunglasses.”

“That’s thirteen,” she sniffed. “Where’s the last one?”

“Ah, this is the extra-special one that you only get to know about when you’re really, truly an Antarctican.” He gently stood her back up onto her feet and helped her out of the parka, then turned it inside out and lifted the snow skirt that was built into it below the waist cinch. There was one more pocket there on the left. It was very large, just a panel of nylon. “See? This one’s for your water bottle.”

“Why down there? That’s so hard to get to.”

“Ah, yes, but it puts your water inside the parka where your body will keep it from freezing, and you can always unzip from bottom up to get it out. Sort of awkward, but I wouldn’t want to have to chew my bottle open and lick ice in order to get a drink.”

Valena smiled raggedly. “You’re a pal, Michael.”

“I’m pleased to be of service.”

She looked at her feet, suddenly embarrassed. “You must think I’m nuts.”

“No, I think you’re under a lot of stress.”

“It was a nice trip out to Black Island, really.”

“Is that where you’ve been?”

She rolled her eyes. “I thought everybody in this town knew where I was. Heck, the omelet cook knew what was up.”

“You know what I like about this town? As cranky or quirky as everybody is, they all look after each other. You heard about Steve, right? Well, it’s like we’re all one big organism that’s lost an arm. People are grieving together, looking after each other. And even before that happened, I noticed that every person here, whether I know them or not, and no matter how quickly we happen to pass each other in the hallway or out between buildings, they look you in the eye, they smile, and they say hello. And there’s always someone to eat a meal with. Which reminds me, it’s past six. Would you like to join me?”

Valena sighed heavily. Jim Skehan was waiting for her, and so was Cal Hart, and for some reason all she wanted to do was go back to her dorm room and hide until it was time for her flight north. She was in over her head, she knew that now. No adventure or master’s thesis or ethical principle was worth risking her life. She had cried it out now and was ready to concede the game. Something about riding over the snow with Dave had snapped everything back into proportion for her. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. But thank you. For everything.” She threw another bone-crushing hug on him, this time without the voluminous parka. Then she grabbed her things and headed out of the room in search of the note that would give her the number for Skehan’s beeper.

She did not need the note. Skehan was standing in the middle of the hallway, waiting for her.

He crooked his finger for her to follow him and headed up the ramp. He wasn’t smiling.

MICHAEL SAT FOR A MOMENT ON HIS LAB STOOL, TRYing to collect himself. Valena’s young and so… beautiful is the only word, though her beauty is as unconventional as… Words escaped him. He reached up a hand and rubbed the back of his neck, trying to loosen a knot that had not been there before she tumbled into his laboratory. The skin felt hot and moist.