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Authors: Jeremy Bishop
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Greenland, though there is plenty of solid ice, come winter. My view of the south is blocked by the tallest of the stone rises. “South it is,” I say.
As I turn to descend back to the beach, I catch sight of something moving to the southwest. A hint of something. I follow it toward the ocean and spot an aberration in the waves. I put the binoculars to my eyes again. I scan the water quickly, hoping to find the thing again. As the lenses fog up again, I find it. I only see it for a moment, but the blood red paint splattered on its hull makes the Bliksem easy to identify. All I can see is the bow, blackened and smoldering from fire, the last tendrils of smoke rising into the air. She apparently took a long time in sinking, but she burned as she went down. I wonder how many men were on board, and how many of them drowned or burned to death. I feel a depression setting in, but shrug it off with a sniff. I can’t worry about the dead. The best I can do for them is survive and make sure the world learns the truth…and if Captain McAfee makes it back to civilization, make sure he spends the rest of his life in jail.
10
My trip down takes me on a slightly different path, so I’m not sure where the raft is in relation to me. I creep along the edge of the cliff and see nothing. To the left and right, still nothing. Sigh. Lost in thought, I must have veered sharply off course. I’m not too concerned, I just need to hike back to the right where the cliff ends and then follow the beach back.
I shouldn’t have any trouble finding them.
Unless , I think, they left .
Maybe I misread them? Maybe they duped me? Gained my trust and abandoned me?
As my fears start to take route, logic retakes control. First, I’m a fairly good judge of character, so I’m pretty certain that neither one of them would leave me to die, especially after everything we survived together already. Second, Jenny is big, and Peach is small. They’re not going anywhere fast and they wouldn’t leave (or offend) the person who not only has the compass and binoculars, but also a big fricken knife and a .45 caliber handgun.
A scream makes me jump. It came from my left. I run toward the sound.
I’m a fast runner, but the rocky terrain and my sea legs slow me down. When the second scream sounds, I’m nearly on top of it. I slow and approach the ledge. I can hear terrified whimpers now. A pair of them.
Looking over the edge, I see the bright yellow raft, but it doesn’t hold my attention for long. It’s the mammoth polar bear inspecting the raft that holds my eyes.
I hear peach say, “Be quiet! It will leave if it thinks no one’s in here.”
But she’s wrong. I can tell by the way the polar bear is swaying back and forth that it’s confused, but looking for a way in. A meal in the Arctic summer, with the ice sheets gone, isn’t always easy for a polar bear to come by. They’ll eat pretty much any meat they can find. Including people. Especially people like Jenny.
Is that mean ? I wonder. Am I still making fat jokes ? I decide I’m not. It’s an honest assessment. Jenny would make an excellent meal for a hungry polar bear.
The bear tests the tent top of the raft with its paw. The raft jiggles and Jenny lets out an ill-contained squeal. The noise makes the bear twitch back. The raft is an enigma to him, but he knows there’s a meaty snack inside. Can probably smell them. And sooner or later, the world’s largest meat eating predator is going to overcome its fear of this bright yellow obstacle.
I consider my options. The knife is long and sharp, but I’d have to get down there to use it, and I’m not about to go mano-a-mano with a bear. The handgun is the obvious choice, but it would be loud. If there are other survivors—men from the Bliksem or McAfee and crew—within earshot, I’m not sure I want to announce my presence. I can’t picture either group welcoming us with open arms.
That’s when I notice the
As I turn to descend back to the beach, I catch sight of something moving to the southwest. A hint of something. I follow it toward the ocean and spot an aberration in the waves. I put the binoculars to my eyes again. I scan the water quickly, hoping to find the thing again. As the lenses fog up again, I find it. I only see it for a moment, but the blood red paint splattered on its hull makes the Bliksem easy to identify. All I can see is the bow, blackened and smoldering from fire, the last tendrils of smoke rising into the air. She apparently took a long time in sinking, but she burned as she went down. I wonder how many men were on board, and how many of them drowned or burned to death. I feel a depression setting in, but shrug it off with a sniff. I can’t worry about the dead. The best I can do for them is survive and make sure the world learns the truth…and if Captain McAfee makes it back to civilization, make sure he spends the rest of his life in jail.
10
My trip down takes me on a slightly different path, so I’m not sure where the raft is in relation to me. I creep along the edge of the cliff and see nothing. To the left and right, still nothing. Sigh. Lost in thought, I must have veered sharply off course. I’m not too concerned, I just need to hike back to the right where the cliff ends and then follow the beach back.
I shouldn’t have any trouble finding them.
Unless , I think, they left .
Maybe I misread them? Maybe they duped me? Gained my trust and abandoned me?
As my fears start to take route, logic retakes control. First, I’m a fairly good judge of character, so I’m pretty certain that neither one of them would leave me to die, especially after everything we survived together already. Second, Jenny is big, and Peach is small. They’re not going anywhere fast and they wouldn’t leave (or offend) the person who not only has the compass and binoculars, but also a big fricken knife and a .45 caliber handgun.
A scream makes me jump. It came from my left. I run toward the sound.
I’m a fast runner, but the rocky terrain and my sea legs slow me down. When the second scream sounds, I’m nearly on top of it. I slow and approach the ledge. I can hear terrified whimpers now. A pair of them.
Looking over the edge, I see the bright yellow raft, but it doesn’t hold my attention for long. It’s the mammoth polar bear inspecting the raft that holds my eyes.
I hear peach say, “Be quiet! It will leave if it thinks no one’s in here.”
But she’s wrong. I can tell by the way the polar bear is swaying back and forth that it’s confused, but looking for a way in. A meal in the Arctic summer, with the ice sheets gone, isn’t always easy for a polar bear to come by. They’ll eat pretty much any meat they can find. Including people. Especially people like Jenny.
Is that mean ? I wonder. Am I still making fat jokes ? I decide I’m not. It’s an honest assessment. Jenny would make an excellent meal for a hungry polar bear.
The bear tests the tent top of the raft with its paw. The raft jiggles and Jenny lets out an ill-contained squeal. The noise makes the bear twitch back. The raft is an enigma to him, but he knows there’s a meaty snack inside. Can probably smell them. And sooner or later, the world’s largest meat eating predator is going to overcome its fear of this bright yellow obstacle.
I consider my options. The knife is long and sharp, but I’d have to get down there to use it, and I’m not about to go mano-a-mano with a bear. The handgun is the obvious choice, but it would be loud. If there are other survivors—men from the Bliksem or McAfee and crew—within earshot, I’m not sure I want to announce my presence. I can’t picture either group welcoming us with open arms.
That’s when I notice the
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