William Dietrich - Ice Reich

"Because I love you."

She nodded. "You make a good argument," she said finally. "It's exactly the one I would make." For an instant she looked up at the stars, seeming to search for something. Then she said: "I go with you."

He smiled. "Then let's hurry, before dawn comes. We'll share the antibiotic when we get out of sight of the sub."

Drexler led his men down off the crater rim at dawn, cold and exhausted. The storm was blowing itself out but it had been an abominable night of grim slogging and futile shouts and fired flares. The three SS men had simply disappeared. What a foul island!

Jurgen was frustrated. The mouth of the cave had been blown up as he'd ordered. Had the idiots somehow killed themselves? There was no sign. Or gotten lost in the storm? Again no sign. Something tickled in the back of his mind; some part of their search that remained uncompleted. Yet he couldn't think what it was. Now everyone was half frozen and uneasy. They needed some food and warmth and rest in the submarine.

The launch was where they'd left it, grounded on the beach. But the sentry was missing. Jurgen scowled in disgust.

"Where's Johann?"

The SS sergeant frowned. "He was supposed to stay with the boat. He should be right here."

"I know he should be right here! Where is he?"

"Perhaps he went back to the U-boat in the storm?"

"How could he get back to the U-boat without this launch, idiot?"

The sergeant stiffened. "Yes, sir."

Drexler fumed. The elimination of Hart hadn't left him feeling triumphant this time. He dreaded having to face Greta and tell her the American was missing again, lost in the cave or the storm. He doubted she'd believe him. It would be a relief to finally be done with her, he told himself. Yes. A relief.

"This damn island is swallowing my men! I don't like it! I want to get out of here!" He looked at the others. There was no disagreement. "Well. Into the launch."

They motored to the U-boat. "Have you seen Johann Prien?" Drexler called to the sailors as they climbed wearily aboard.

"Came alongside last night," one replied tiredly. "As you requested."

Drexler frowned. "What?"

"To get the woman. The packs."

"Greta? My wife?"

"Yes. He said you sent a message and then she went with him." He peered curiously at the group, noticing the missing SS men were not there.

"I sent no message." The man looked surprised and a glimmer of dread began to shine on Drexler's brain. "You actually saw Johann?"

"Yes, of course. In the boat."

"I mean, you saw his face? You recognized him?"

The sailor began to comprehend. "No… It was dark. No one could recognize anyone last night."

Drexler's men were already dropping down the hatch into the submarine. The colonel's disquiet was growing. "Could this man have been the American?"

"I thought the American was with you."

"Jesus Christ. And Greta went with this man?"

"Yes." The sailor looked at Drexler with a cringe of sympathy.

"Fuck." It was a snarl. "Fuck! Where's Dr. Schmidt?"

"Below, I suppose. I haven't seen him."

Drexler dropped down to the main deck and yanked off his parka, stomping aft in his boots. "Max?" he roared. He found Freiwald. "Where's our damn doctor?"

The captain looked at Drexler with dislike. "I don't keep track of your party, Colonel. How would I know? Try your laboratory."

Drexler peered down. The hatch was closed but that was normal. He climbed down and opened it. "Max?" No answer. There were shards of glass on the deck. The chamber stank. He dropped into it with a premonition of dread. "Great God."

It looked like a bomb had hit. The planks of the workbench had splintered and the deck was littered with shards of petri dishes and their microbial goo. There was a stench reminiscent of the underground lake. All the containers so laboriously carried from the cave were empty. Schmidt lay writhing, trussed in tape. His head was bloody.

The U-boat captain descended the ladder after Drexler and then stopped in fearful shock. "Get out of here," the SS colonel ordered. "Close the hatch."

Jurgen began cutting Schmidt free. As the tape was yanked painfully off his mouth the doctor howled. He gasped for breath.

"Was it Hart, Max? Did that pilot do this?"

Schmidt spat, clutching his head. "Frau Greta Drexler"-Schmidt pronounced the name with acid- "did this. She caught me by surprise and shoved me into the lab bench. She contaminated the ship."

Now Drexler was ashen, remembering the horror of the Bergen. "She's a serpent," he muttered. "I married a Medusa."

"Is she insane?"

"She is when the American is around."

"I thought he was supposed to be dead."

Jurgen ignored this. "Do we still have the weapon? Do we still have the cure?"

Schmidt sat up, holding his head, and looked around with a wince. "I secreted the spores away because I remembered her emotional fit the last time. But not the drug. It looks like she dumped what we had and took the concentrate with her. Did you bring more from the cave?"

Drexler felt a tiresome buzzing in his head as he contemplated the wreckage of all his plans, all his hopes. "No. My men never emerged."

"Well, we can get more, yes?"

"No, Max. The cave is demolished. My men may never have gotten out."

"But you just said Hart was out!"

"That's my suspicion." He said it in a small voice. "Greta would never do this alone." He looked at the splinters of petri dish. "This means we're dead men, Max, unless we catch her. If she has the drug she's our only hope." He swallowed and glanced at the ladder. "I closed the hatch. Maybe it won't spread."

"You must be joking." Schmidt pointed at the vents. "We're talking about escaping germs, not escaping rabbits. It's been sucked all over the ship by now. Everyone is infected. It will be like the Bergen. Why on earth did you trust her?"

Drexler looked hollow. "I didn't trust her. I thought I could control her." Then he glared at Schmidt. "Thought you could control her! My God, trussed up by a woman?"

"By a sneaking, conniving- "

Drexler held up his hand, suddenly weary. "All right. Enough. Enough recrimination. How much time do we have before the symptoms appear?"

Schmidt shook his head. "Hours. Maybe a day."

"And where did she go? Where on the island did they hide? Another cave?"

"Good point," said Schmidt. "They can't have gone far on an island. Maybe we can find them and get the drug back." He thought a moment. "And they can't operate a submarine, not alone. They can't leave Antarctica without us. If we die, they die, no?"

"I don't think they plan to die. They're too infatuated with each other for self-sacrifice."

"Then they have an alternate plan," Schmidt reasoned. "A radio. A rescue. An airplane…"

Mention of the plane jogged Drexler's memory. The lonely Dornier he'd spied on the snowy plateau the last trip, the seaplane that had allowed the American's escape. So there had to be a vehicle this time as well, yes? But where? Ah, of course. Now he remembered! Now he realized what they'd missed on last night's search! The couple's furtive discussion at the cave mouth! The tiny bay they'd surveyed together. That was their escape hatch! There was something there. Something to get them out. That was where they'd run.

He hauled up Schmidt. "I know where they're going, I think. A bay on the other side of the volcano below the new cave. We can intercept them there. Not over the rim: that takes too long. Around by sea. If we do that, we live."

Schmidt looked at the SS colonel with hope. They banged open the hatch and climbed out. "Freiwald!"

The captain was in the control room looking worried. "Aren't you letting out the- "

"It's already out," Drexler said brusquely. "It's all over the ship. You're breathing it now." The submariner looked aghast. "Never mind that. How soon can we get underway?"