The Laptev Virus

As they worked, Max paced around the men, walking slowly in a circle and scanning the horizon. There was nothing but gray on all sides. Occasionally he would stop and watch the men for a while. The noisy drill was steadily spewing up tiny bits and chunks of shredded ice which formed a growing mound that would have been quite nice for snow cones.

The drill shaft had disappeared fairly soon after drilling had begun, and now just the cable could be seen, snaking over and into the ever deepening hole. After a few minutes Max would begin pacing again, stopping every now and then to look at the storm and gauge its progression. Gusts of wind were increasing in frequency, but the menacing dark clouds looked like they would indeed not make their appearance until later in the afternoon.

After about an hour, Brian signaled that the drill had reached the location from which they wanted to extract the core sample, and they began the reverse drilling operations to bring it up to the surface. The first few times Max had seen an ice-core being extracted, he had been quite interested. They had removed the long pole-like structure, thinner than his wrist, and wrapped it carefully and quickly, hermetically sealing it in one single chunk for later analysis. Once it was sealed in plastic, they would pack it in Styrofoam and packing bubbles to protect it. This was the most precarious part of the entire operation. The sample needed to remain intact in order for the lab techs back at the barracks to be able to analyze it properly. It was a delicate operation, but the men made it seem fairly easy. Max wasn’t fooled, though. Hunting had taught him that it took many months of practice before things looked easy.

The men worked for another fifty minutes to bring the sample up. As the drill bore finally re-appeared, everyone, including Max, watched in fascination. They lowered the shaft slightly and began to gently eject the sample from the inner casing of the drill. First the tip, then agonizingly slowly, the rest of the crystalline core sample began to gently slide out as the men waited, plastic bag and Styrofoam at the ready. The roar came at the worst possible moment, just as the last part of the ice-core sample had emerged into the air.

Max’s heart raced as he cocked his shotgun and whirled toward the sound. He sighted his prey and immediately took aim, but he didn’t pull the trigger yet. He had hoped and dreamed of just such a moment for so many weeks. Now his pent-up adrenaline raced through his veins. He took a deep breath, steadying himself.

The bear stopped advancing and reared up on its hind legs. It was an enormous beast, all the more fearsome as it towered over them, its keen black eyes now more than twelve feet above the ice. Slowly swiveling its head, the bear surveyed the group, as if pondering which one of the men it should attack first. Honing in on Brian, clearly the smallest of the crew members, it flared its nostrils and opened its large mouth in a rumbling growl, revealing four long incisors, each capable of inflicting mortal wounds.

Max followed the bear’s gaze and saw Brian, who had been reaching for the fragile ice core sample to wrap it in the plastic bag, flinch violently at the sound of the menacing growl, and then lose his purchase on a slick patch of ice.

All of the Arctic workers had undergone long hours of safety training in case of bear attacks, which had included pictures of bears. But, from experience, Max knew there simply was no substitute for having the live, hulking animal, right there.

Trying to recover his balance, Brian staggered forward, flailing wildly with his arms. Both Evan and Ted tried to catch Brian as he tottered, but their thick suits and the slippery ice made them clumsy. Before they could catch him, Brian slammed into the ice core sample which had been hanging perilously on the edge of the drill shaft. The plug of ice broke free and clattered to the ground unceremoniously, fracturing and sending splinters of ice, like tiny darts, into the exposed faces of the men.

“What are you waiting for? Shoot it!” Ted yelled at Max.

Max, however, paused for another moment. It was one of the greatest moments of his life and he was relishing the inimitable experience. The bear got back down on all four legs and began loping toward the men. Max’s entire body tingled as he tracked it. Then, in one swift motion, he pulled the trigger and shot several times, sending four quivering darts into the flesh of the white bear. He felt a momentary pang of regret that he was not using real bullets, but he would still have a good story to tell his peers when he got back to Texas.

As he watched the big animal topple clumsily down onto the ice, the skin on the back of Max’s neck pricked up, a hunter’s sixth sense, and he whirled in time to see a second bear bounding toward the group of men. It was about forty five degrees to the right of the one that was still struggling, shaking its head as if bewildered.