Antarctic Ice Beasts, page 4
Jeannie regained her composure. “Is…is he deformed or something? I mean, how can a person have eyes like that?”
Nichols stared into those depthless orbs, wondering how deep they’d have to dig in the snow to find the body. Would those eyes in death remain so obsidian, as alien and foreboding as they looked at this moment, captured by a camera twelve hours earlier?
“If there’s anyone who would know that, it’ll be North. Sit tight and I’ll get him.”
Jeannie got up and turned off the monitor. “I don’t mind staying here, but I can’t stare at…him.”
Chapter Seven
Nichols did something he’d never done before. He locked the rec room door.
He, Jeannie and a bleary-eyed North watched the video of the bizarre, impossible man over and over again. Once the man stepped into view, he looked into the camera for a few moments, his face devoid of expression, and moved on, back into the black nightmare from which he’d come.
“I’ll be a son of The Weekly World News,” North finally said, pinching the bridge of his nose and getting a cup of coffee.
“What?” Nichols said. He was perched on a chair in a catcher’s squat, fighting the nervous energy that demanded to be released.
“Either of you remember The Weekly World News? It was a rag you’d find by the cash register in supermarkets.”
“Sure I do,” Jeannie said. “My mother would buy one every now and then and me and my sister would read the crazy articles. President Clinton had a love child with an alien. Bigfoot was spotted in the New York sewers. Nazis were running a secret lab off America’s east coast and making monsters. Crazy stuff.”
North gave a slow nod. “Exactly. I got a kick out of that paper, though I always wondered if there was anyone who actually believed the insanity it cranked out. You must remember the most famous cover model in the paper’s history?”
Jeannie’s face lit up and she pointed at the man on the monitor. “Bat Boy! Holy Christ, he looked like Bat Boy all grown up!”
“What the heck are you two going on about?” Nichols said.
“I weep for the hole in your youth,” North said. “Google it later.” Turning to Jeannie, he said, “Unfortunately, our Bat Boy, or should we call him Bat Man, is very real and I will assume, at this moment very dead. I suggest we go out and find him.”
Frustrated, Nichols said, “We all know that isn’t a bat man. I wanted you here to tell me what could be medically wrong with him.”
North walked up to the monitor and stared at the frozen image. “Hard to tell from a video. Not to mention the image isn’t the best, what with the snow acting as a very poor filter.”
“What about his eyes?”
The eyes bothered Nichols the most. He was sure that’s what unhinged Dallas, too. Naked in the snow could happen. If someone had gotten lost outside from one of the other bases, hypothermia could make people mistake that they were burning hot and they would remove all of their clothing.
Tapping the screen with a pen, North said, “Well, the size could be due to several things, like hyperthyroidism or Graves’ disease.”
“What can make an eye all black like that?” Jeannie said. Her arms were wrapped around her torso as if she were trying to give herself a bear hug.
“He could have been high as a kite. The camera lens may not be giving us the truest image. Or he could have been hurt, and what we’re mistaking for big, black eyes is actually blood. That’s the one I’m putting my money on. Again, we need to find his body.”
The door clicked and Nichols jumped from his chair.
Dallas stood in the doorway, a key ring in his hand.
“So no one thinks I’m crazy anymore?”
“I never thought you were crazy,” Nichols said.
“You did. And I don’t blame you. I was kinda worried that I was losing it.” Dallas looked at the wall monitor and closed the door. “Weird looking son of a bitch.”
“I’m going out to look for his body while we have a break between storms,” Nichols said. “You in?”
Dallas popped his knuckles nervously. “Yeah. He couldn’t have gotten far. I’ll get some shovels.”
North had wanted to go, too, but Nichols didn’t want to risk it. He was the only doctor they had and any trip outside was dangerous, even if it was just to take a few steps out the door.
Naturally, Jeannie wanted in as well.
“I’ll feel better knowing you’re safe inside,” he said.
“You know that’s sexist, right? Leave the woman behind while the men go hunting?”
“No. It’s a husband who loves his wife and doesn’t see the need for her to risk her life. You don’t like it, take it up with HR.”
He didn’t give her an opportunity to talk circles around him and make him change his mind. She’d done it many times before, and in this case, his word was final. “Dallas, let’s go suit up.”
The two men went to the prep room that contained their protective gear. Dallas had procured a pair of shovels and nylon rope. “What’s the rope for?”
“When we find him, we’ll have to drag him inside. He’ll be frozen solid. Might be hard to carry.”
Nichols went and got a small sled and tied the rope to it. “I don’t want to damage the body any more than we have to.”
They suited up, layer after layer. Nichols slipped into his insulated overalls, followed by a down jacket, balaclava, wool hat, headlamp, gloves and final layer, the standard issue thick, red coat everyone called Big Red. It was insulated and big enough to accommodate all of the layers underneath. Plus, it was bright, which was crucial. You did not want to get lost out there.
No matter how many layers they put on, that first gust of frigid air went straight to their marrow. Nichols took a deep breath and steadied himself. It was around minus-eighty, cold enough to make you see stars.
Mercifully, there was no wind, but the darkness at the edge of the base gave him another reason to shiver. Guidelines had been set up around the buildings so people didn’t get lost. He and Dallas clipped themselves onto the guideline, Nichols in the lead. The snow cracked like ice beneath their heavy boots. Only a couple of inches had accumulated from the previous storm. Contrary to popular opinion, the South Pole was not bombarded by constant snowstorms. It was actually pretty dry, too dry for much precipitation. However, howling winds scooped up existing snow and scattered it to new portions of the pole.
Those same winds raked the snow, obliterating any footprints or tracks.
Nichols and Dallas made their way to the wall outside the storage room, where the naked Bat Man had been spotted.
“You see anything?” Nichols asked. His headlamp and the extra flashlight he’d brought swept the bare ground.
“Nothing,” Dallas said. “Not that I expected to. Let’s keep going. He went that way. I’m sure we’ll find him close by.”
Nichols stared into the black. He tied a rope onto the guideline and headed into the nothingness. Dallas stayed close behind him.
“Why couldn’t he have stayed close to the buildings?” Dallas grumbled.
There were three buildings in Freedom Base, though only one was occupied in winter. The others housed all sorts of science equipment and living quarters for the summer shift. They’d been shut down for the winter, though each had to be checked on daily to make sure the elements hadn’t found their way inside.
“I still want to know where the hell he came from,” Nichols said, his breath practically turning to ice the second it wafted through his balaclava.
Dallas looked around. They were miles and miles from the nearest living person, naked or otherwise. Somewhere out there had to be an abandoned vehicle. “Maybe he dropped from the sky. The wind was pretty bad. Kinda like when it rains toads on one town because a tornado scooped them all out of their ponds from another several miles away.”
Stopping and turning to him, Nichols said, “Are you messing with me?”
Dallas shook his head. “Saw it on the History Channel.”
“The channel that has all those shows about us coming from aliens? Oh, then it has to be right.”
They trudged on, their crunching footsteps the only sound in the southern desert. Nichols was hyper aware of the moment when they stepped out of the confines of the floodlights and into the vast nothing. He looked back at the base, as if to make sure it was still there, the lone haven in this never ending emptiness. He didn’t like straying this far. Not here where it was easy to get turned around and lost…and dead.
With their flashlights and headlamps trained on the ground, they searched for any odd lump or shape. The Bat Man should have collapsed somewhere right around here. There was no way he could have survived much further. Not in this cold and without clothes.
A tug of guilt prickled at the back of his skull.
I should have listened to Dallas.
At the very least, I should have checked the camera right away.
Now a man, no matter how odd he seemed, was dead because of him.
No, the second he walked out here without clothes, he was already dead.
That gave Nichols little comfort.
“Where the hell is he?” Dallas grumbled.
“Maybe he walked back home. Wherever that is.”
Before they’d left, Nichols had asked Jeannie to put out a call to the other bases to make sure no one was missing. He and Dallas were the only search and recovery team that were going to be out here until the summer season. He was sure when they got back inside, they’d have the identity of their man. He just hoped they’d have his body to send home, too.
Dallas adjusted the intensity of his lantern, putting it up as high as it would go. The harsh light did its best to battle the darkness, illuminating nothing but pure, white snow.
“Nothing.” Dallas pulled his balaclava down and spat, the liquid turning to ice before it hit the powder.
“That’s impossible. Let’s go this way.”
Trudging to their left, Nichols checked the rope. They were running out. There was no way in hell they would get to the end and even walk two feet without it. That would be suicide. There was no need for three stiffs out here.
Nichols’ jacket was getting heavier. It felt and sounded like it was starting to freeze. They were running out of time. The warmth and safety of the base was calling.
“I don’t think he’s here,” Dallas said when they came to the end of the line and started following the rope back.
“He must have the stamina of a polar bear to get any further from here. Come on. We can try again later with more rope and widen the search. It’s not like his life is in the balance. Let’s warm up. I need an Irish coffee.”
Dallas patted his shoulder. “Make that two.”
Nichols was in the process of turning around when the beam from his flashlight caught something paler than the snow.
He stopped.
It was a pair of legs.
Standing upright.
He reached behind him and tugged on Dallas’ coat.
“What?”
Nichols pointed.
There was more than one pair of legs.
His light inched upward, slowly.
Five men, all naked, hairless and with the same large, black eyes as the man on the video stood still as statues. Their arms were slack, hanging at their sides. Their bodies sparkled in the light, encased in pinprick crystals of ice.
“Are they dead?” Dallas whispered. A sudden breeze carried his query into the ether.
“I don’t even know if they’re real,” Nichols said. They looked to him like a display of statues. They all looked the same. He couldn’t detect a single difference in any of their features.
They had to be some kind of statue. Was another outpost playing a gag on them? The statues could have been placed out here at the very tail end of summer, just before night fell.
But how would that account for the man they caught walking around the base?
Dallas said, “I’ll be damned if I know –”
One of the statues blinked.
Then another. And right on down the line.
When their mouths opened in unison, a deep wail emanating from their bizarre, cookie cutter faces, Nichols and Dallas ran.
Chapter Eight
Dallas slammed and locked the door, his back against it, trying hard to catch his breath. His lungs stung from the cold.
Nichols ripped his hood, hat and balaclava off and tossed them in a corner. Neither spoke a word, but the look in their eyes said plenty. Once they settled down, Nichols hunched over with his hands on his knees, Dallas asked, “What in blue hell are those things?”
Yes, he’d said things. They may have looked like men, but they certainly weren’t.
“I don’t have a fucking clue.”
“For all we know, there are more of them out there.”
Nichols didn’t answer, but Dallas could see the man’s jaw working. The question was, what did they do now? It wasn’t as if there was a contingency plan for coming across naked humanoids who made sounds no human throat could replicate.
“We have to tell everyone,” Nichols said, stripping down to his clothes. “Get Hols and C-Rod. I’ll grab Sherm, North and Jeannie and we’ll meet in the rec room. You know what to bring.”
Dallas was glad Nichols had been with him this time. That and the video they’d captured would at least keep anyone from doubting him.
Suddenly, he wished he were crazy.
As they hustled into the corridor, Dallas said, “What do you think they’re doing out there?”
Nichols shrugged. “One thing they’re not doing is freezing to death.” He ran toward the science pod, his heavy footsteps stomping away from Dallas.
Pounding on the door, Dallas shouted, “C-Rod, I need you in the rec room, now!”
When there was no reply, he knocked harder. “C-Rod! Leave your wet dreams behind and get out here pronto.”
There was a thump at the door. C-Rod had thrown a boot or something heavy. “I’m coming, man. Chill out.”
Chill out. Dallas didn’t think he’d ever be able to chill out again.
Before he could knock on Holli’s door, it opened and she stepped into the corridor. She was already dressed, her red tresses tucked under a cap.
“What’s going on?” She didn’t look like she’d just woken up.
“We’ll discuss it in the rec room,” he said, hustling past her to his own room. Nearly knocking his door off its hinges, he lunged at his locker, finding the metal box on the top shelf. Using a key on his key ring, he unlocked the box and palmed the lone key inside. Next, he ran to what they called the office. This is where Rob Nichols filed his reports and spoke to their bosses. It wasn’t much to look at, just big enough to accommodate a desk and two chairs, but it did contain something very important Dallas hoped they’d never have to use.
Opening the bottom drawer, he pushed aside a stack of manila folders. Underneath was a false bottom with a small lock. He used the key he’d extracted from his locker and opened it.
The loaded Glock 217 was exactly where it had been placed originally, never having seen the light of day…until now. The .45 caliber weapon held thirteen rounds and had efficient and deadly stopping power. Dallas had hoped to never see the damn thing. Almost all stations in Antarctica were weapons-free. He could only think of one station run by the Germans that had a rifle on hand.
When Freedom Base had been constructed, it had been decided that it would contain one firearm in case of emergency. With no police or military presence on the continent, there was no help coming in a crisis. A crisis down here would more times than most mean having to subdue someone who had simply gone mad. It had happened before. Dallas remembered a man at the United Kingdom Edmund Post who had suddenly and without warning started speaking in tongues. Rising from his spot at the dining table, he’d proceeded to lift his chair and smash everything he could get his hands on. People around him had said his eyes had practically rolled to the top of his skull as he babbled in increasing volume, destroying the mess hall. At first, he was given wide berth, the startled scientists unsure what to do. Once their paralysis broke, it took six men to take him down, one man having his arm snapped in two. It had been winter at the time, and the insane scientist, who until that day had been a father figure to many of the younger staff, had to be locked in his quarters.
He never did regain his senses. For months, people lived in fear that he would escape, his manic cries keeping them awake, turning them all into shuffling zombies.
Dallas suspected that the higher ups at the USAP considered that someone from the destroyed Amundsen-Scott Base had flipped their lid, sabotaging it and leading to one-hundred percent fatalities. Hence, the gun.
He never, ever wanted to have to use it on his fellow crew members, not even when C-Rod spent entire days intentionally getting on his nerves.
But those things out there? He wouldn’t hesitate to shoot.
The second Jeannie saw her husband, she knew something had gone wrong.
“Where’s Sherm?” he asked, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
“I think he went to the restroom.” She got up from her chair and gripped his upper arms. “What happened out there?”
He leaned in close to whisper. “We found…we found other men.”
Jeannie gasped. “Are they hurt? Did they say where they’re from? Where are they now?”
Rob shook his head. “They’re still out there. There’s five of them and they’re identical to the man we saw on the monitor.” He licked his lips, his parched throat clicking. “I don’t know what they are. The sound they made. Christ, I can still hear it in my head.”
She had never seen him like this before. Rob was given command of Freedom Base both because of his military background running similar outposts around the globe and his exceedingly calm demeanor. In a place like Antarctica where tensions and fear ran high, a steady hand at the wheel was an absolute necessity.
