appearing in his hands.
The doctor stumbled next to him. “It’s amazing!”
Bratt opened his mouth, but he felt a sharp buzzing behind his ears. His jaw vibrated like a tuning fork. It was a familiar feeling. Working on a sub, he had been exposed to intense sonar. He knew what he was feeling.
Others felt it, too, rubbing at their ears.
“Look!” one of the students said, pointing to the EEG machines.
Bratt glanced over. The slow sine waves were now spiking and racing. The two specimens attached to the lead were now beginning to tremble. Another tail whipped from its frozen curl.
They all fled to the crevice opening.
“I can’t believe it,” Ogden said, digging one finger in an ear. “I think the first beast is calling to the others.”
“With sonar,” Bratt said, jaw buzzing.
“Early whale song,” the biologist corrected. “The
The thrashings spread. Equipment crashed. The ultrasonic keening grew worse.
Off to the side, the first creature lay panting, gulping air through its gaped jaws. It then rolled to its belly, unstable, shaking, cold.
“Someone shoot the damn things!” the girl urged in a high-pitched voice.
Bratt hefted his weapon up.
The biologist stared from the gun to the wobbly creature. “Are you crazy? This is the discovery of the century…and you want to kill it? We need to protect them!”
Bratt kept his tone civil but firm. “Sir, this ain’t no
Ogden began to protest, but Bratt turned away and faced Washburn. “Move ’em out, Lieutenant.”
She nodded, one eye on the thrashing monsters.
Bratt herded everyone behind him as they retreated. Once clear of the cliff, they hurried across the ice lake.
“The Russians must have known about this,” Odgen droned. “It must be why they are trying to commandeer the station. They want the glory for themselves.”
Bratt knew the doctor was wrong. He was one of the few who knew what lay hidden within the lab on Level Four. It was
As they reached the far side, Washburn shouted from a few steps back. “Commander! We’ve got company!”
He swung around.
From the cleft in the cliff face, one of the creatures slid out onto the ice. Another followed it…then another…
They wobbled on their feet, shaky but determined. And after fifty thousand years, they were probably damn hungry, too.
“They’re waking up fast,” Ogden said, respect clear in his voice.
Bratt waved toward the exit. “Out!” he yelled. “Everyone get moving!”
Across the ice lake, three heads swiveled toward the sound of his voice. He again felt the buzzing surge sweep over him. The goddamn things were pinging him with their sonar.
“Shit,” he swore, raising his rifle as he retreated. They were being hunted!
Two more creatures slipped from the cliff.
“Washburn, get everyone moving down the tunnel.
He lifted his rifle.
“Don’t!” Ogden begged.
“Professor, this time it ain’t up for debate.”
Matt’s spine felt like jelly. For well over an hour, the driver of the Sno-Cat, a petty officer named Frank O’Donnell, had been racing the treaded vehicle at top speed, oblivious to the rough terrain. It was like riding a paint shaker. Every bone in his body felt rattled and bruised.
He stared out at the blowing snow. Winds battered the vehicle. He had long given up any hope of dissuading the Navy men from their goal of reaching the Russian ice station. His only concession was that the driver had tried to raise the other Sno-Cat every five minutes.
Nobody answered.
They had also tried to raise someone at the base on the short band, but their luck wasn’t any better there. It was as if they were alone out here.
Matt’s fear for Jenny had developed into a grapefruit-sized stone in his gut. He found it hard to concentrate on his own situation.
“There’s the station!” O’Donnell called back to them, and pointed straight ahead. Relief cheered his voice. “Looks like they left the goddamn light on at least.”
Matt leaned forward, glad for the distraction from his worries. Craig glanced to him, eyes bright.
Ahead, a wall of ice rose in mountainous pressure ridges. Snow blasted horizontally across the landscape, obscuring any details. But near the base of one peak, a glow cut through the midday gloom.
“I don’t see any station,” Craig said.
“It’s all underground,” the driver explained “The entire facility.”
The Sno-Cat aimed for the glowing beacon, bouncing over ridged ice. Matt spotted other vehicles, half covered in snow, sheltered in ravines between ridges. There was even a sailboat anchored with its sails snugged down. The Cat passed them all, continuing straight for the glowing opening.
“Fuck!” Lieutenant Greer’s outburst startled everyone.
Eyes turned to where he had his face pressed to the side window. Out in the blizzard, Matt saw something impossible. Crashing through the ice, a submarine conning tower climbed from the depths, steaming and sluicing water.
“The Russians!” Pearlson hissed. “They beat us here!”
Matt noted the polynya through which the submarine surfaced. It was small, too small for the large Russian sub. Little room for more than the conning tower.
“What are we going to do?” Matt asked.
“I’m almost out of gas,” O’Donnell said.
Greer was senior officer here. He didn’t hesitate, thinking quickly. “Make for the station!”
Matt nodded, silently agreeing. They needed cover. It was death to stay out here. Surely the submarine’s hydrophones had heard their Cat trundling over the ice. The Russians would know they were here.
O’Donnell kicked the slowing Sno-Cat back up to full speed. Matt bounced to the ceiling as the vehicle struck a particularly sharp ridge.
“Hang on!” O’Donnell yelled.
Matt rubbed his head and sat back.
Greer clutched the seat back in front of him. “O’Donnell…”
“I see them, sir!”
Matt glanced over to the sub. Men in white parkas climbed to the top of the sub’s flying bridge. Arms pointed toward them.
The Sno-Cat made a sharp turn, racing toward the base’s opening.
“Slow down!” Craig yelled from the front seat, arms braced against the dashboard.
Matt’s eyes widened as he realized what the driver intended. “You’ve got to be kidding…”
