Outpost

‘Apex, this is Rampart. We need your location. We must have your position, over. There are men at Darwin, but they can’t stay long. This is your only chance, Apex. If you don’t respond you will be left behind.’

Simon picked up his radio but was too disoriented to work the buttons. ‘Hello? Hello?’

He turned the frequency dial. Nothing but feedback. His fingers were swollen. He dropped the radio.

He scrabbled at the tent zip and stumbled into the snow. Weak sunlight. Intolerable cold. He fumbled in his pocket without understanding what he was looking for.

Ghost swerved and brought his snowmobile to a skidding halt. Punch copied the move.

‘There.’ Ghost pointed east. A red flare slowly drifted to earth two miles distant. They gunned their engines and set off at full speed.

They found Simon face down in the snow. They rolled him. Ghost stabbed him in the thigh with a syringe pre-loaded with epinephrine.

Simon’s right hand was blue.

‘Give me a spare glove,’ said Ghost.

Punch took a glove from his backpack and threw it to Ghost. ‘He’s going to lose fingers for sure.’

Ghost threw the unconscious man over the saddle of his snowmobile.

Punch slit open the tent with a lock-knife. He injected Nikki and struggled to drag her to the bikes.

They strapped Alan to a sledge still covered in sleeping bags. Ghost hitched the sledge to the back of his snowmobile.

‘Think he’s dead?’ asked Punch.

‘Won’t know until we get him unwrapped.’

Ghost slapped Simon and Nikki awake.

‘You’re both riding pillion, got it?’ he shouted in their faces.

‘All you have to do is hang on.’

Ghost pulled out. Simon sat in the saddle behind him. Alan was towed on the sledge.

Punch pulled away. Nikki clung to his back. They followed their own tracks. They drove fast, spewing slush. They checked the sky for the coming storm.

Jane sat with Rawlins in his office. They rewound radar footage. Jane pointed at the time code in the corner of the screen.

‘Fourteen forty-six. Any second.’

‘You didn’t see it yourself?’

‘Out of the corner of my eye. I was sitting in the bubble. The sky lit up.’

The radar sweep showed miles of empty ocean, the edge of the island, and the haze of the approaching ice storm.

‘It fell to earth north-west of their position. That’s what they said. It hit land.’

A sudden white flare, just out of frame.

‘Jeez,’ said Rawlins. He leaned forward. ‘The debris plume must be half a kilometre wide. Stuff in the air for twenty, twenty- five seconds.’

‘A meteorite?’

‘Possibly. It wouldn’t be the first up here. There have been a couple of strikes in Ontario and Troms. Chunks of asteroid the size of a football.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Back in ‘78 a Soviet reconnaissance satellite re-entered over the Northern Territories. Chunks landed in deep forest. The Canadian Army spent months looking for a plutonium power cell.’

‘I’d love to take a look.’

‘If things were different, I’d be out there right now with a rock hammer collecting a souvenir. But we only have two Skidoos. We can’t risk them for a joyride.’

‘I suppose.’

‘Still manning the radio?’

‘Calling for help at the top of every hour. Rest of the time we broadcast Queen’s Greatest Hits. Let people know we have an active transmitter.’

‘Good idea.’

‘Sian thinks she heard a voice a few days back. A man’s voice. Brief. Very faint.’

‘What did he say?’

‘Couldn’t make out.’

‘Well, keep on it. We can’t be the only people stuck out here.’

Three hours in the saddle. Simon let go of Ghost’s waist. He toppled backward. He fell from the snowmobile. He lay in the snow. He pulled off his gloves. He tried to take off his coat.

Ghost brought the Yamaha full circle. He dragged Simon to his feet and slapped him around.

‘Look at me. Look at me. Come on, man.’

Simon’s eyes were rolling. He couldn’t focus.

Ghost jammed gauntlets back on to Simon’s hands. Simon tried to slide them off again.

‘No, dude. You have to wear gloves, you hear me?’

Punch pulled up.

‘He’s delirious,’ said Ghost. ‘Give him another shot.’

Punch slammed epinephrine into Simon’s thigh. The guy gasped and snapped awake.

‘Can you keep it together a couple more hours, Simon? Can you keep it together that long?’

He nodded.

They set off. Headlights at full beam. Fuel needle edging into red. Snow particles feathered Ghost’s goggles, blurring his view.

They made poor time. Ghost’s snowmobile laboured to haul two passengers and a sledge. The sledge flipped twice, tipping Alan into the snow. They took off Alan’s goggles and face-mask. His eyes were closed. They couldn’t get a neck pulse. They couldn’t tell if he was breathing.

‘Give me your knife,’ demanded Ghost.

Punch handed over his lock-knife. Ghost snapped open the blade and cut the sledge rope.

‘What are you doing?’ asked Nikki, shouting to be heard over the gathering wind.

‘He’s either dead or dying. We have to outrun the storm.’ Ghost pushed Nikki and Simon back towards the bikes. ‘It’s all right. I didn’t give you a choice, okay? It’s my decision. My guilt.’