nod. “I’ll just be gone a few minutes. Why don’t you two see about packing up all our gear so that it’s mobile?”
“Mobile?” Jenny says.
“We’re not staying here,” I say. If we follow the coast south we’ll eventually make it to Thule.”
“Thule?” Peach says. “We’re just north of the Lincoln Sea. It could take weeks to walk there. Maybe longer.”
“We’ve got food and water,” I say. “We’ll have to ration it, but we might be able to make it. Our other option is to sit here and wait for a rescue that might not be coming. I didn’t hear anyone send a distress call before leaving the bridge, did you?”
Neither of them say a word. They know the answer.
“What about the Bliksem ?,” Jenny asks. “They might have called for help.”
“Maybe,” I admit, “But we don’t know where that explosion went off. We don’t know if any of them survived it. We can’t count on that. And both ships were prepped for spending a long time at sea. No one is going to miss us for a while.”
Jenny sighs. “Well, I’ve been meaning to lose some weight. Southwest it is.”
After taking the gun, knife and a small pair of plastic binoculars, I open the hatch and look back at them. “I’ll be an hour, tops.”
I step out and zip the hatch shut behind me. The cold feels like pinpricks on my legs. Next to fishnet stockings, jeans are perhaps the worst possible pants to be wearing in the cold and I chastise myself for even bringing them. Then again, I wasn’t planning on being marooned north of the Arctic Circle. I wrap the long black cloak around me and I’m instantly thankful for whatever weird fetish drove Chase to stow it on board. The thick wool retains my body heat and I’m quickly warmed.
It takes me five minutes to reach the cliff’s end where the rocky ground rises upwards like a staircase. I climb twenty feet up and my view of the land opens up. The barren landscape rises to a peak. Bigger than a hill, but not quite a mountain. Maybe a few hundred feet tall. But it looks easily scalable.
Before heading up, I turn around and look out at the sea. The sky is deep blue and filled with wispy clouds. The ocean is a grayer blue, and full of chop. In the distance, I see a huge iceberg and know we’re lucky to not be stranded on it instead of land. But there isn’t a ship in sight, sunken or afloat.
As I turn away from the ocean, I’m struck by a sudden feeling of rising and falling. Greenland is very seismically active, so my first thought is that I’m feeling an earthquake or erupting volcano, but there’s no sound with the motion. I feel a little sick to my stomach and drop to one knee. I breathe deeply, relaxing my body. I’ve only got about 8 ounces of water and half an energy bar in me right now, and I really need to keep it down. The feeling starts to ebb a little and I realize I’ve been at sea so long I’ve lost my land legs. I’ve heard of this happening to people. They’ll be in bed or sitting at a desk and even though everything is perfectly still, they’ll feel like they’re rolling over the waves. It’s surreal and hard on the stomach, but I push past the feeling and turn back toward the waiting climb.
My ascent turns out to be fairly easy. The stone is solid and the grade forgiving. Twenty minutes later, I reach the top and gasp. The view is amazing. I squint against the frigid wind as I look at five more wannabe mountains. A valley stretches between them, full of rocks, odd debris and…something else. I put the binoculars to my eyes and get a brief glimpse of something rectangular. But the lenses fog up fast and I lose sight of it. It looked almost like a stone foundation. Interesting, but not quite helpful enough to garner a second glance. Instead, I turn around, holding out my compass. There’s ocean to the west, which is where our raft landed. More ocean to the east. And yet more ocean to the north, which is to be expected. There isn’t any land north of
“Mobile?” Jenny says.
“We’re not staying here,” I say. If we follow the coast south we’ll eventually make it to Thule.”
“Thule?” Peach says. “We’re just north of the Lincoln Sea. It could take weeks to walk there. Maybe longer.”
“We’ve got food and water,” I say. “We’ll have to ration it, but we might be able to make it. Our other option is to sit here and wait for a rescue that might not be coming. I didn’t hear anyone send a distress call before leaving the bridge, did you?”
Neither of them say a word. They know the answer.
“What about the Bliksem ?,” Jenny asks. “They might have called for help.”
“Maybe,” I admit, “But we don’t know where that explosion went off. We don’t know if any of them survived it. We can’t count on that. And both ships were prepped for spending a long time at sea. No one is going to miss us for a while.”
Jenny sighs. “Well, I’ve been meaning to lose some weight. Southwest it is.”
After taking the gun, knife and a small pair of plastic binoculars, I open the hatch and look back at them. “I’ll be an hour, tops.”
I step out and zip the hatch shut behind me. The cold feels like pinpricks on my legs. Next to fishnet stockings, jeans are perhaps the worst possible pants to be wearing in the cold and I chastise myself for even bringing them. Then again, I wasn’t planning on being marooned north of the Arctic Circle. I wrap the long black cloak around me and I’m instantly thankful for whatever weird fetish drove Chase to stow it on board. The thick wool retains my body heat and I’m quickly warmed.
It takes me five minutes to reach the cliff’s end where the rocky ground rises upwards like a staircase. I climb twenty feet up and my view of the land opens up. The barren landscape rises to a peak. Bigger than a hill, but not quite a mountain. Maybe a few hundred feet tall. But it looks easily scalable.
Before heading up, I turn around and look out at the sea. The sky is deep blue and filled with wispy clouds. The ocean is a grayer blue, and full of chop. In the distance, I see a huge iceberg and know we’re lucky to not be stranded on it instead of land. But there isn’t a ship in sight, sunken or afloat.
As I turn away from the ocean, I’m struck by a sudden feeling of rising and falling. Greenland is very seismically active, so my first thought is that I’m feeling an earthquake or erupting volcano, but there’s no sound with the motion. I feel a little sick to my stomach and drop to one knee. I breathe deeply, relaxing my body. I’ve only got about 8 ounces of water and half an energy bar in me right now, and I really need to keep it down. The feeling starts to ebb a little and I realize I’ve been at sea so long I’ve lost my land legs. I’ve heard of this happening to people. They’ll be in bed or sitting at a desk and even though everything is perfectly still, they’ll feel like they’re rolling over the waves. It’s surreal and hard on the stomach, but I push past the feeling and turn back toward the waiting climb.
My ascent turns out to be fairly easy. The stone is solid and the grade forgiving. Twenty minutes later, I reach the top and gasp. The view is amazing. I squint against the frigid wind as I look at five more wannabe mountains. A valley stretches between them, full of rocks, odd debris and…something else. I put the binoculars to my eyes and get a brief glimpse of something rectangular. But the lenses fog up fast and I lose sight of it. It looked almost like a stone foundation. Interesting, but not quite helpful enough to garner a second glance. Instead, I turn around, holding out my compass. There’s ocean to the west, which is where our raft landed. More ocean to the east. And yet more ocean to the north, which is to be expected. There isn’t any land north of
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