guys.'
Ghost
turned to Simon.
'Let's
take a look at you.'
Simon
allowed Ghost to unbuckle his gauntlets. He sat back and let Ghost peel off his
socks and shoes.
Simon's
toes were swollen and peeling. The fingertips of his left hand were blue. His
entire right hand was black, cracked and weeping. The smell was foul. Punch
covered his mouth and nose.
'Probably
looks worse than it is,' lied Ghost. 'Skin will grow back in time.'
He
helped Simon dress.
'Take
it easy, all right?'
Ghost
picked up the trenching spade.
'I'm
going outside to dig us out. Don't want to suffocate.'
He
stepped outside into the wind and snow. He shouted into his radio.
'Shore
team to Rye. Shore team to Rye, do you copy, over?'
Jane
knocked on Rawlins's door.
'They
reached the cabin,' she said. 'I thought you'd like to know. Couldn't get much
out of them. Bad atmospherics. Imagine they will push for the coast at
daylight.'
'Everyone
all right?'
'Punch
and Ghost are okay. But only two members of the Apex team made it.'
'What
happened to the third guy?'
'Like
I say, bad reception. I could barely make out a word. But there were three of
them. Now there are two. Maybe the cold got him.'
'Christ.
There will be a bunch of tears when they get back. A bunch of guilt. Well,
that's your problem. Pastoral care. Ghost and Punch are okay, yeah?'
'We'll
hear more when they reach the bunker.'
'Take
a look at this.'
Rawlins
had stapled an Arctic map to the wall. The island and surrounding ocean were dotted
with red pins.
'These
are all the installations in our sector, as best I can remember. Mostly
Gazprom. A couple of Occidental. I suppose most have been evacuated. But if
they cleared out in a hurry they might have left some useful supplies. Food.
Fuel.'
'What's
that?' Jane pointed to a pin tacked to the northern shore of the island.
'Kalashnikov.
A cluster of cabins built by whalers. Survey teams use it as a stop-over. There
might be a cache of food, if we're lucky.'
'There's
a town called Kalashnikov?'
'A
Hero of Socialist Labour. He got a patch of ice named after him.'
'So
we take the snowmobiles and travel up the coast?'
'Yeah.'
'Our
route would pass within a couple of kilometres of that impact site,' said Jane.
'A person could walk inland and take a look.'
'Depends
on the weather, but yeah.'
'This
time I go, all right? If the boat goes out I want to be on it. I need to get
off this damn rig.'
Jane
sipped coffee. Sian hurried into the canteen.
'It's
Rye. You better talk to her.'
She
handed Jane a radio.
'Go
ahead.'
'We're at the bunker. We're heading back in the boat.
I need you to boot-up Medical .'
Jane
flipped a wall switch. Strip-lights flickered.
The
medical bay was a wide, white room with an operating table at the centre.
Sub-zero.
Jane's breath fogged the air. She set convection heaters running.
'Okay.
What do you need?'
'The resuscitation trolley. Plug it in. Get it charged .'
'Done. '
'An instrument pack from the wall cupboard. It's on a
plastic tray, vacuum sealed in plastic . '
'Got it. '
'Bottom shelf. There's a blue nylon bag. It's a
hypothermia bath .
Inflate it. Don't fill it, though. I'll need to adjust
water temperature myself .'
Jane
unrolled the rubber bath. It was shaped like a coffin. She recognised it from the
survival skills training day Con Amalgam insisted she attend before getting
shipped north.
She
released the valve of a little C02 cylinder. The bath inflated like a child's
paddling pool.
'Done.'
'Go to the refrigerator. Get a bag of saline and a bag
of Haemaccel. Unlock the drug store and fetch pethidine . '
'Who's
hurt?'
'Simon, one of the Apex team. Big-time frostbite.
Oedema. Possible septic shock .'
'Shit.'
'Meet us on the dock. He's fading fast. We've got to
get him in a hypothermic bath and raise his core temperature or we are going to
lose him .'
Dealing
Jane
and Sian waited on the floodlit dock with a stretcher. Jane had binoculars.
'Here
they come.'
The
zodiac
Ghost
turned to Simon.
'Let's
take a look at you.'
Simon
allowed Ghost to unbuckle his gauntlets. He sat back and let Ghost peel off his
socks and shoes.
Simon's
toes were swollen and peeling. The fingertips of his left hand were blue. His
entire right hand was black, cracked and weeping. The smell was foul. Punch
covered his mouth and nose.
'Probably
looks worse than it is,' lied Ghost. 'Skin will grow back in time.'
He
helped Simon dress.
'Take
it easy, all right?'
Ghost
picked up the trenching spade.
'I'm
going outside to dig us out. Don't want to suffocate.'
He
stepped outside into the wind and snow. He shouted into his radio.
'Shore
team to Rye. Shore team to Rye, do you copy, over?'
Jane
knocked on Rawlins's door.
'They
reached the cabin,' she said. 'I thought you'd like to know. Couldn't get much
out of them. Bad atmospherics. Imagine they will push for the coast at
daylight.'
'Everyone
all right?'
'Punch
and Ghost are okay. But only two members of the Apex team made it.'
'What
happened to the third guy?'
'Like
I say, bad reception. I could barely make out a word. But there were three of
them. Now there are two. Maybe the cold got him.'
'Christ.
There will be a bunch of tears when they get back. A bunch of guilt. Well,
that's your problem. Pastoral care. Ghost and Punch are okay, yeah?'
'We'll
hear more when they reach the bunker.'
'Take
a look at this.'
Rawlins
had stapled an Arctic map to the wall. The island and surrounding ocean were dotted
with red pins.
'These
are all the installations in our sector, as best I can remember. Mostly
Gazprom. A couple of Occidental. I suppose most have been evacuated. But if
they cleared out in a hurry they might have left some useful supplies. Food.
Fuel.'
'What's
that?' Jane pointed to a pin tacked to the northern shore of the island.
'Kalashnikov.
A cluster of cabins built by whalers. Survey teams use it as a stop-over. There
might be a cache of food, if we're lucky.'
'There's
a town called Kalashnikov?'
'A
Hero of Socialist Labour. He got a patch of ice named after him.'
'So
we take the snowmobiles and travel up the coast?'
'Yeah.'
'Our
route would pass within a couple of kilometres of that impact site,' said Jane.
'A person could walk inland and take a look.'
'Depends
on the weather, but yeah.'
'This
time I go, all right? If the boat goes out I want to be on it. I need to get
off this damn rig.'
Jane
sipped coffee. Sian hurried into the canteen.
'It's
Rye. You better talk to her.'
She
handed Jane a radio.
'Go
ahead.'
'We're at the bunker. We're heading back in the boat.
I need you to boot-up Medical .'
Jane
flipped a wall switch. Strip-lights flickered.
The
medical bay was a wide, white room with an operating table at the centre.
Sub-zero.
Jane's breath fogged the air. She set convection heaters running.
'Okay.
What do you need?'
'The resuscitation trolley. Plug it in. Get it charged .'
'Done. '
'An instrument pack from the wall cupboard. It's on a
plastic tray, vacuum sealed in plastic . '
'Got it. '
'Bottom shelf. There's a blue nylon bag. It's a
hypothermia bath .
Inflate it. Don't fill it, though. I'll need to adjust
water temperature myself .'
Jane
unrolled the rubber bath. It was shaped like a coffin. She recognised it from the
survival skills training day Con Amalgam insisted she attend before getting
shipped north.
She
released the valve of a little C02 cylinder. The bath inflated like a child's
paddling pool.
'Done.'
'Go to the refrigerator. Get a bag of saline and a bag
of Haemaccel. Unlock the drug store and fetch pethidine . '
'Who's
hurt?'
'Simon, one of the Apex team. Big-time frostbite.
Oedema. Possible septic shock .'
'Shit.'
'Meet us on the dock. He's fading fast. We've got to
get him in a hypothermic bath and raise his core temperature or we are going to
lose him .'
Dealing
Jane
and Sian waited on the floodlit dock with a stretcher. Jane had binoculars.
'Here
they come.'
The
zodiac
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