Alex Archer - Polar Quest

“Well, I guess I’ll have to make sure I don’t expose myself on the way back to my room. Good night.” She walked back to the front door of the bar, slid into her parka and zipped up. In another moment, she eased out into the dark cold.

Dave was right. It was absolutely frigid outside, and the cold slammed into Annja like a five-ton truck zooming along at eighty miles per hour. She took a breath and felt her throat freeze. Her sinuses instantly shriveled, and she tucked herself down into the wind and started walking back up the road.

The gale-force winds howled around her, screeching through the nooks and crannies of the buildings that clustered in this part of McMurdo. The fallen snow was deep, as well, making her footing unstable. Twice she slipped and had to right herself before continuing. Every once in a while, she would look up to make sure she was still headed in the direction she needed to travel.

But it was slow going.

Maybe I should have opted for that ride, she thought.

But the truth was, she needed some time to think as she walked. Zach’s proposition that the necklace was alien in origin didn’t sit well with her. Sure, she’d seen plenty of things that regularly defied logical explanation. Her own situation as the inheritor of Joan of Arc’s mystical sword was just one of the many instances that had caused her to reevaluate her philosophies.

But extraterrestrials?

Annja couldn’t believe that. She knew a little about Antarctica’s history and how it had once been linked to other continents. She also knew that its mountain ranges were something of a peculiarity, with scientists believing that neither earthquakes nor tectonic smashes had formed them.

And the continent had plenty of volcanoes—eleven of them at last count. Some were active and continued to shed lava into the sea. The whole region was a fascinating trip into the primeval past.

But aliens?

The necklace was peculiar; there was no doubt of that. The weight of such thin material had caused Annja to wonder if it might have even been radioactive. But she dismissed that immediately, knowing the government would have already run tests on it. And there’d be no way Zach would wear it unless it was safe.

She frowned. Why was Zach wearing it? Didn’t he trust the people around here enough to leave it in a safe or something? Or had the government people ordered him to have it with him at all times?

But that was dangerous, too. Zach was a good guy and Annja knew he could hold his own in a fight if need be, but the two hitters she’d met earlier would have been able to take him without breaking a sweat.

She reached the top of the street and turned left. Main Street stood before her. Some of the buildings had lights on them that helped illuminate Annja’s path. She felt a bit foolish trudging through the frozen town, but then again, she did enjoy being independent.

She kept walking, knowing that her building lay up the street a few hundred feet. Once she got there, she could take that bath and then settle in for a nice sleep.

Sleeping on the flight down had been difficult at best. The interior of the LC-130 was Spartan, barely recognizable as a place where passengers sat. It also had no lavatory on board, just a drum filled with chemicals at the back of the plane. Annja had used it a few times and each time, the stench got grimmer and grimmer.

The noise had been oppressive, as well. Jet engines were noisy, but the turboprops were even louder. By the time she got to New Zealand, Annja had needed some serious migraine medicine.

Her boots got stuck in a bit of snow and she paused, yanking at the drift until she felt it give.

Annja glanced around. Somewhere in the distance, she thought she could hear an engine starting up. Maybe Dave was coming to look for her to see that she’d gotten home safe and sound.

Or maybe someone else was still up. After all, it couldn’t be much later than nine o’clock at night. Still, she didn’t know what passed for daily schedules around these parts.

She could see her building ahead. Annja huddled in against a harsh blast of wind and started to cross the street.

As she hustled, a Sno-Cat turned the corner and crawled toward her. Annja paused, trying to see into the cab beyond the bright headlights. She could see one person inside but only in shadow.

She waved.

The Sno-Cat kept coming at her.

Annja frowned. Maybe they didn’t see her. She turned and kept moving across the street.

Someone flew into her, tackling her from the side. Annja felt the wind rush out of her lungs and she and her attacker shot into the hard-packed snow together with a crash.

She could hear him huffing as he kept driving his elbow right into her midsection, slamming it repeatedly into her.

Annja grunted and tried to roll.

She heard a crack and felt her ribs explode in pain. “Dammit!”

The immense weight on top of her shifted and then vanished. Annja lay on her back in the middle of the street. Her breath came in spurts, and the needles of agony lancing through her came with every breath.

The headlights of the Sno-Cat continued to bear down on her.

So that was the plan—tackle her and try to immobilize her while the slow-moving snow vehicle stalked her. If she couldn’t move, she’d get run over.

She stared at the headlights. The Sno-Cat was only forty feet from her now. She tried to get up, but the weight of her clothing made movement tough, combined with the incredible pain shooting through her. She felt as if she were a beetle trapped on its back.

She had to move!

Her fingers fumbled for her zipper and found it. She tore it down and then took a deep breath. Clenching her teeth, she squirmed out of the jacket. Finally free of it, she rolled and screamed as the pain almost became too much.

Then she was up and across the street as the Sno-Cat crawled past, crushing her parka in the snow.

A few more seconds and that would have been me, Annja thought.

She staggered toward her building, aware now that she was terribly exposed to the harsh cold. She reached the door and fell inside, collapsing on the floor.

“Annja?”

She looked up and saw Trevor’s face. “Someone tried to kill me,” she gasped.

His face hardened. “What? Here? When?”

“Just now. Outside.” Annja took a breath. “My ribs. Someone tackled me. I think they’re broken.”

She felt Trevor’s hands under her armpits. “Okay, okay, let’s get you upstairs where you can lie down. I’ll send for a medical team. They can check you out and make sure you’re okay.”

He lifted her and Annja cried out. The pain felt like a hot poker being pushed into her lungs.

“Easy,” Trevor said. “I’ve got you. Just rest all your weight on me. I think I can handle it.”

They took the stairs slowly and made their way to Annja’s room. Trevor sat her on her bed and then removed her boots, got a wool blanket and covered her.

“Don’t want you going into shock. I need to elevate your feet, too,” he said.

Annja took a breath and nodded when she was ready. Trevor was mercifully quick, getting her settled and sliding another folded blanket under her heels.

Annja closed her eyes. She could hear Trevor using the telephone. “I need a medic over at Building 5. Possible broken ribs. Okay. Thanks.”

He hung up and then leaned in close to her. “Who did this to you?”

Annja shook her head. “I don’t know. I was walking—”

“Walking? What the hell were you out walking for? You know how cold it is out there?”

Annja smiled. “Needed some fresh air.”

“That’s not fresh air, Annja. That’s death air. That stuff’ll kill you dead before you know what hit you. Don’t mess around down here. You can get disoriented way too easily. And you might not even be found before it’s too late.”