Rue was tempted to tell him to keep it in his pants, but the awe in his voice reminded her of the first time she’d seen Denaliat sunrise, the whole mountain blushing pink. Some things, you just had to let people feel.
Tyler and Mia followed Keene’s lead, snapping photos, bagging samples in sterile containers, even chiseling a core from the base of one of the columns. Mia ran air readings every five meters, her brow furrowed, but she gave Rue the thumbs up.
Noah lingered at the mouth of the chamber, eyes never leaving the darkness behind them.
Elliot hung back with Rue, his hand resting lightly on her harness strap. “You okay?” he asked.
She nodded for show, but asked softly for his ears only, “Does this feel wrong to you?”
He didn’t answer, just squeezed her shoulder.
Keene’s excitement crescendoed as they found a wall of ice, streaked with ancient dust and, embedded within it, a tendril-like structure the length of Rue’s arm. It curled and split, like the fossil of a prehistoric worm or the branch of a leafless tree.
He pressed his face close, shining a light through the ice. “Not plant, not fungus,” he muttered. “Cellular organization is too complex for a filament, but no vascular system... This is... this is something else. Something in between.”
Rue stared, goosebumps racing down her arms. She didn’t have the language for what she felt, but it was the opposite of awe.
She took a step back, bumping into Elliot. “We need to wrap this up,” she said. “We’re running out of time before the next storm hits, and the weather could shift on a dime.”
Keene nodded absently, busy chiseling a sample from the wall.
They’d just packed the last of the gear when Tyler doubled over, coughing so violently it sounded like he might bring up a lung. Mia was at his side instantly, checking his mask, his pulse, his pupils.
“Lightheaded,” Tyler gasped. “Can’t—breathe?—”
Shit. Not good.
“Everyone out,” Rue barked. “Now!”
Keene started to protest, but Mia shot him a look that could melt ice. “We need to get him to the surface. Now.”
Elliot slung Tyler’s arm over his shoulder and started for the rope. Rue checked the meter—oxygen was dropping, carbon dioxide climbing. “Move, move,” she urged, ushering Keene and Mia ahead of her.
The cave felt different now. The silence was no longer peaceful, but predatory.
Noah brought up the rear, eyes still locked on the darkness behind them.
They scrambled for the surface, the rope slick under their gloves. Elliot half-lifted Tyler the last few meters, then rolled him onto the snow above, where he sucked in lungfuls of frigid air.
Keene and Mia surfaced next, both wide-eyed, followed by Noah, who scanned the horizon before helping Rue up.
The sky had darkened in the hour they’d been below. Thick clouds banked over the glacier, flattening the world to a sheet of endless white.
Elliot checked Tyler’s pulse, then looked up at Rue. “He’s okay. Shaken, but okay.”
Keene said nothing, just stared at the sample in his hand, his breath coming in short, worshipful gasps.
There was something in that cave, something the ice had trapped for eons. And now they’d brought it to the surface.
She resisted the urge to grab the sample and throw it back.
The wind picked up, blowing snow in thin, ghostly sheets over the white. Rue barely had time to yank her goggles down before the first ice pellet caught her cheekbone. Within seconds,the world was howling chaos—snow slamming sideways, the sky obliterated by a tumbling white void.
They’d trained for this. All of them knew the theory: anchor to the flag line, count your paces, keep your hand on the person in front of you, don’t stop for anything.
But theory didn’t cover what Antarctica did to you when she was pissed.
Rue tried shouting, “Move! Heads down!” but the wind shredded her words and flung them into the storm.
