James Rollins - The 6th Extinction

Finally they reached the last car of this icy train. It was clearly a storage space.

“Where are the weapons?” Gray asked.

“Near the back door,” Karen said and tossed a set of keys to Barstow. “Show them.”

While he obeyed, Karen stepped over to an intercom on the wall, quickly tapping in a code. Gray followed Barstow as Karen sounded a general alert, warning any other station members inside to evacuate. To those outside, she instructed them to stay away.

Barstow led them to a locker on the back wall and used Karen’s key to open the double doors. Gray stared at the rows of rifles and handguns, trying not to show his disappointment at the meager number of weapons, but then again, what sort of threat would this base normally face? There were no land-based predators out here, nothing but penguins and some seals. The few rifles and guns were likely meant to deal with any unruly guests of the station — not a full-on assault.

Gray passed around the six Glock 17 pistols and shouldered one of the three assault rifles. It was an L86A2 Light Support Weapon. He passed another to Kowalski and the last to Barstow. To the side, Jason loaded his Glock with experienced skill.

Gray stepped to the window in the last door. Outside, night had fallen on this short day, dropping a blanket of darkness over them. Beyond the hatch, a small platform led to a ladder that descended down to the ice.

“Kowalski and Barstow, once we’re on the ground, we’ll try to discourage the plane from landing. Failing that, we’ll move to a defensible position.” Gray turned to Jason. “You lead the others away. Put as much distance between here and the station as you can.”

The kid nodded. His eyes looked alert, frosted by a healthy fear, but ready to move.

Karen returned, bearing an armload of handheld radios. “Grabbed these, too.”

Gray nodded at her resourcefulness, then took one and pushed it into his parka’s pocket. “Pass the others around.”

Once they were ready, Gray took the lead. He hauled open the hatch to the dark, frigid night. As the first blast of cold hit his face, he suddenly doubted the wisdom of his plan. Death was as certain out on the ice as it was inside the station. They would need to find shelter and fast — somewhere other than here.

But where?

Another blast erupted, shaking the station. The lights flickered once, then died.

Karen spoke behind him. “Must’ve taken out the generators.”

Gray frowned. Had the enemy eavesdropped on Karen’s alert? Had it triggered this new attack? Or was this the assault team’s final salvo to soften and unnerve their targets before landing?

The continuing drone of the Twin Otter reminded him that any further reservations or hesitation would only worsen their odds. Knowing this, he hurried into the cold, pulling on his gloves, and mounted the ladder. He slid most of the way down and waved for the others to follow.

With the butt of his weapon at his shoulder, he used the scope to track the lights of the Twin Otter in the evening sky. It banked on the far side of the station. Then a flash flared from its hull. Another explosion echoed across the ice. A small island of light went dark out there.

“I think that was one of our Sno-Cats,” Karen said, her voice strained with guilt. “I should’ve warned them to go dark.”

Gray noted another Sno-Cat parked on the ice to the right of the station, along with a trio of Ski-Doos. “Can you get those snow machines started fast enough? If you keep the lights off, you’ll be able to cover more ground than on foot.”

She nodded.

“What if the enemy has night-vision?” Jason asked, joining them.

“If they do, they’ll spot us just as easily on foot.” Gray pointed to the thick banks of fog settling to the icy shelf all around the station. “Once you’re moving, make for that cover as quickly as you can. It’s your best chance.”

Jason eyed that refuge doubtfully.

In a hope to better their odds, Gray turned to Kowalski and Barstow. “We’ll buy the others as much time as possible.” He motioned to the opposite side of the station from the parked snow machines. “If we fire from over there, we can keep the enemy’s attention on us.”

Kowalski shrugged. “I guess it’s better than freezing our asses off.”

Barstow also nodded.

With a plan in place, Gray ordered the two groups to split up.

Jason glanced over a shoulder as he led his party off. “One of the Ski-Doos is a three-seater.” He eyed Gray’s team. “I’ll leave it with the engine running. Just in case.”

Gray acknowledged this with a nod, impressed with the kid’s quick thinking.

With the matter settled, Gray led Kowalski and Barstow under the caboose of the station. He heard the snow engines grumble to life on the other side — at first cold and choking, then with more throaty power.

Gray watched the group slowly depart, disappearing into the fog, one after the other.

Satisfied, Gray stepped out from under the shelter of the station, weapon at his shoulder. He followed the Twin Otter in the sky as it turned and swung in his direction, seeming to climb higher as if sensing the hidden snipers below.

Its strange actions worried Gray. Suspicions jangled up his spine.

Why hadn’t it made any effort to land yet?

The plane continued a slow circle, like a hawk above a field. So far, the assault seemed targeted to isolate the base, to keep its occupants pinned down.

But to what end? What are they waiting for?

The answer came a heartbeat later.

A massive explosion — a hundredfold stronger than any of the prior rocket blasts — shook the world. At the far end of the station, a geyser of ice and fire blew high into the night. Then another detonation erupted, much closer, followed by yet another.

Gray and the others were knocked to their knees. He pictured a row of munitions buried deep in the ice. The line of charges must have been planted long ago.

The series of blasts continued on the far side of the station, running from one end to the other.

Gray stared beyond that line, toward the heavy fog bank.

As least the others got clear in time…

As Gray watched, fissures skittered outward, connecting the new craters together and extending yet again. He imagined the ice splitting downward as well, cleaving deep into the shelf of floating ice.

Gray suddenly understood the enemy’s plan.

His stomach knotted into a cold fist.

Confirming his worst fear, a final loud crack erupted, sounding like the earth’s crust shattering beneath them.

Slowly the ice shifted under his knees, tilting away from the new fracture and leaning out toward the dark sea. The buried bombs had succeeded in breaking loose a chunk of the Brunt Ice Shelf, calving a new iceberg — one that included Halley VI atop it.

The entire station shuddered and began to slowly slide across the slanting ice, skating atop its giant skis.

Gray stared upward in disbelief.

Kowalski watched it all, too. “Looks like I won’t be patching things up with my ex after all.”

“If you’re going to hide,” Drake said, “this isn’t a bad place to hole up.”

“Let’s hope she’s still here.” Jenna climbed out of the SUV into the morning drizzle. She pulled up her Gore-Tex jacket’s hood and appreciated the majesty that was the famous Ahwahnee Hotel, the crown jewel of Yosemite National Park.

Opened in 1927, the rustic mountain lodge was a masterful mix of Arts and Crafts style and Native American design, famous for its massive sandstone fireplaces, its hand-stenciled wood beams, and for its many stained glass windows. Though a night’s stay was too pricey for Jenna’s salary, she occasionally splurged for a brunch in the resplendent dining room, a three-story-tall space supported by massive sugar pine trestles.