The Ice Sings Back, page 17
“Whatcha doing sitting out here?” Clearly, he wanted to talk.
She leaned further back against the side of the truck bed. “I’m waiting for Chief,” May explained. “He told me he wanted a debrief, to wait here at the bush truck. So, I’m here.” She kicked her legs a little, tried to get the blood moving in her feet.
“But didn’t I hear you radio in over an hour ago? Have you eaten?” Baker pushed away from the bush truck where he’d been leaning, swung his face two inches from hers. Looked hard into her eyes. “Young, how long you been sitting here?”
She looked down, felt profoundly tired. Worried that the person who owned the jacket would come back and take it. Realized just how cold she was. She pulled an arm from the borrowed jacket, looked at her watch. Wow. She hadn’t realized what time it was. “Just an hour or so,” she murmured. “But Chief is busy.”
“Ah, Young.”
May leaned away from him. She had no idea why he was looking at her like that, but she was too tired to fence, to soothe, to defuse. Couldn’t be bothered to wonder at all. Honestly, all she wanted to do was lay down, go to sleep. She felt just like the first-year interns on Grey’s Anatomy, the ones who knocked out forty-eight-hour shifts and still looked good. She suspected she looked less than good. Tried to shake away her mother’s voice in her head.
“I’ll be right back.” Baker shook his head, turned on his heel, strode away into the sea of vehicles and tents surrounding Command.
May sighed heavily, closed her eyes as she felt unexpected tears gather. Opened them again, looked into her lap. All she wanted to do was just sit right there, wait, keep her big hands warm in the jacket.
She’d realized she’d forgotten her gloves when Jonas ordered her to dig away the snow around the shoe and leg she’d discovered.
May had initially screamed when she realized what she’d found, when she realized she was holding onto a human leg in the snow.
She’d screamed and screamed, and Jonas had run straight at her, across the snow. She figured out later that he had thought she was hurt, but then, when he saw the leg, he’d screamed right back at her.
“Dig, Young! Dig!”
He’d frantically cleared away snow, clawing clear the leg, the torso.
Later, it had also occurred to her that Jonas must have thought the person was alive. But she couldn’t fathom why he’d think that. There was so much snow, what looked to her like years and years of snow stacked up. And the body was prone, one leg sticking towards the sky. No way the person was living.
But she dug anyway, using her bare hands. Pushed and moved snow until she’d uncovered the leg to the thigh. It took immense effort. Jonas had been right there. He’d even said at some point, “Is it Amelia?”
She’d stopped digging then, shook her head. “Adult,” she’d responded, gawked at the denim covering the leg. She’d tried not to touch it as she dug but ended up repeatedly brushing her hands against its hardness—stiff, unyielding.
Jonas at some point had stopped digging, had gotten up and walked away, had gotten his radio out. He’d ordered her to stop digging too, to back off the snow patch and sit down on a rock and stop contaminating evidence. He was holding the radio in his hand and it was screeching, voices cutting through static.
“We’ve been told to stay here,” Jonas had said at some point. “They’re going to hike in a few people to help, but since this is obviously not Amelia, Command doesn’t want to pull too many from the search.”
May had gratefully sank further down into the hard, cold boulder by the snow’s edge, had wrapped her frozen hands into her lap, wished she’d thought to bring chocolate or something to eat. Rookie mistake. She was starving. She hadn’t wanted to ask Jonas and reveal what an idiot she was, but it took all her self-restraint not to ask him for food when she saw him pull a chocolate bar from his pack and shove it into his mouth.
She’d had to look away, away from him and the leg and body sticking out of the torn-up snow. Had physically tilted her growling stomach away and pointed her wilting face over the edge of the snow patch towards the glacier. Had tried not to think about food, about the leg, and the body, and the person she’d uncovered.
She had no idea what had happened, who the person was, and she promised herself that she’d not let her imagination wander, not escape away from reality by imagining something that wasn’t real. She did know that Grey’s Anatomy had at least ten episodes that dealt with John and Jane Does, and always, eventually, they were claimed. Their families always found them. May had hoped whoever was buried in the snow would be claimed by a family that would finally be healed by knowing what had happened to their loved one. She’d felt a momentary flash of warmth that she’d be able to help a hurting family somewhere.
To distract herself from her stomach, the leg, everything, May stared at the glacier in front of her. Breathed, tried to calm herself, warmed her hands. She counted the boulders scattered across the snow patches, looked up to the ridgeline, assessed the slope edge eroding away into scree.
The wind swayed her gently, carried a sound of light humming. May looked around at all the boulders around her—huge, dark lumps—and realized that she was sitting in the fall line for rocks directly upslope. She’d shivered, hoped nothing else would roll down while she sat there. Waited for Jonas to tell her to do something. Waited. Stared at the snow patch closest to her.
Stared, narrowed her eyes.
Her brain must have understood before her eyes did, before her mouth did. Had made sense of the boulders scattered across the snow, the dark slumped boulders closest to her that weren’t actually boulders. That were not rocks that had just hurtled down from the mountainside, were not loose volcanic chunks eroded by weather, ice, and fire.
No, what she was looking at was something else melting out of the snow, something else melting far away from the leg she’d found.
Directly in front of her were the rounded shoulders of two other bodies emerging from the snow.
She’d screamed then. Screamed again and again and again. And then Jonas was there kneeling before her, his hands on her shoulders, saying “what, what,” but all she could do was point. Even then he didn’t understand.
“Oh my god,” her voice wavering and liquid and hitching, “more people,” and she’d pointed to the shoulder directly in front of her in the snow, and then Jonas had gotten it and she’d watched his face drain of all color.
Everything had moved extraordinarily quick after that. May estimated it was less than five minutes before a helicopter was hovering over them, kicking up scree and snow as two spotters photographed and radioed Jonas. She’d hunched for cover in the windstorm. Later, searchers had landed above them on the ridge and sent a team down the slope. She and Jonas had stood waiting, then moved high above the snow patch so as not to make tracks. Jonas had briefed the new people while May had stood mute, frozen.
People May didn’t recognize in bright red jackets had swarmed in. Over the radio, Chief had ordered her and Jonas to return to Command. May wished she’d been quicker when the helicopter pilot explained that he was leaving some gear at the site, so weight-wise could take one additional passenger back to Command. Jonas had turned to her and told her it was likely that the chief wanted a full debriefing, so he should fly back, and would she mind doing a return on foot and they’d catch up then?
May hadn’t had time to think, so she’d just nodded, and then, abruptly, Jonas was gone. She was left sitting on a boulder with her hands tucked into her pockets. She wasn’t sure which way to go to get back and her brain felt foggy. She’d felt bone weary, overwhelmed, like she was holding back a year’s worth of tears.
“You okay?” a voice came from the swarm of people surrounding the snow patch.
May looked up slowly and saw two guys drawing closer to her, faces concerned. She’d nodded to them, unsure who’d asked the question, but then the taller one moved closer and crouched down, level with her face.
He was older, in his thirties, gray-eyed, red-headed, and pale. In that moment, he’d reminded May of Owen Hunt from Grey’s Anatomy. Except, he didn’t have Owen’s military bearing, was instead more flowy, all limbs and height and willowiness.
“You discovered all of this.” He had a slight southern accent lining his words. His gray eyes scrunched kindly. “This is a lot, what you’ve found today.”
May felt her lower lip tremble.
The man placed a gloved hand on her shoe. “Jamal, grab some mangos and a granola bar from my pack, top compartment, would you?” he’d directed the guy next to him, then turned back to May. “I’m Lou, that’s Jamal,” he’d explained. “We’re EMTs from Eugene.”
May had stared wide-eyed at them, unused to the direct attention, the obvious concern emanating from both men. Jamal was shorter than Lou and had a visible pouch of belly pushing out over the waist strap of his backpack. May watched him sort through Lou’s pack, wondered for a moment if the men were real or figments of her imagination.
“I’m May,” she’d eventually said. She’d rattled off her department number in the Thurston Hills, then hesitantly took the food Jamal had handed over.
May stuffed the dried mangos into her mouth, waited, repeated, and then had felt the sugar hit. It blunted down her emotions and weariness.
The din around them continued to hum but Lou had just sat patiently, unperturbed, rocked back on his haunches. Jamal had perched on a boulder that May had double checked was a real boulder. Both stared at her curiously, but she hadn’t known what to say. She did not look at the bodies, did not look at the snow patch behind her teaming with activity. She couldn’t. She pushed everything from her mind.
Instead, she’d chewed, hoped all the food stayed in her mouth, let the words logjam up behind her teeth. How long she would have sat there like a mute clown she wasn’t sure. But then, her radio squawked and May jolted back to the present, recalled the chief’s orders to get back to Command and debrief him.
She’d stopped chewing then, rousted herself and stood, grateful to have a mission that took her as far from everything happening behind her as possible. She thanked Lou and Jamal gratefully, then explained that she needed to get going.
“No problem,” Lou had responded, also standing, stretching up to his full, well-over six-foot height. It was refreshing to May, made her feel not so gargantuan.
“You want any more bars for the trip? It’ll take you a couple of hours. We’ve got tons.”
She’d shook her head, not sure why she was refusing. Jamal moved around Lou, reached and single-handedly picked up her pack, twisted it around so she could step in, and waited while she clipped her waist and shoulder straps.
“Thanks again.” Gratefulness and embarrassment crowded her mouth.
Lou and Jamal waved at her and moved off, heading up the slope. She’d stood motionless, followed them with her eyes, indecision surging up and down her spine. She wanted so badly to show she was competent, reliable, that she was a good medic. But she also didn’t know what to do.
The scene was crawling with people at the edge of the glacier. North Sister glared down ominously.
Words bubbled at her lips, and even though she strained to contain them, they broke through. May found herself calling after Jamal and Lou, running after them, backpack jostling.
“Can you point me to the trail to get to Command?” she’d blurted out when she caught up to them, unable to meet their eyes. “My search partner went back with the helicopter, and I’m not familiar…” She’d trailed off, whispering her last words.
“This is your first time out here?” Lou had asked, his accented tone landing somewhere in the neighborhood of incredulous and astonished. “And your partner left you?”
“Jesus,” Jamal’s tone had been fierce.
May didn’t have the energy to defend Jonas, nor did she want to try to explain him or the situation. Instead, she’d just focused on her orders. “If you tell me which trail to take, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
“Well, it’s not a question of a single trail—it’s a bit of a maze of trails out here,” Jamal had explained hesitantly.
She’d watched Jamal and Lou exchange a loaded glance. She felt her hackles go up. Were they laughing at her? Weariness mixed with anger swirled in her gut. Why did every day have to be a fight?
But then Lou had stepped closer. “Tell you what,” he’d said, mollifying. “Earlier they were asking for volunteers to pound around Yapoah Crater. That’s also north. How about if we three head that way together? Get you situated onto the main trail back to the Scott Trailhead? Once you’re on that, smooth sailing back.”
Lou’s words had taken a minute to sink in. Once May understood them, she paused, simultaneously confused and grateful. “Are you sure?”
Lou had gestured widely at the melee around them. “This whole area, even if it hasn’t been officially declared yet, is clearly a crime scene. The police are going to take over, and that’s usually our cue. All we medics do is package people, right? We don’t investigate horrific stuff like this, thank god.”
May felt her clenched muscles loosen. She felt her tongue thaw back to its normal babble. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
They’d gathered their gear, radioed their own Unit Commands, and then the three of them headed upslope, back down the ridgeline, and cutting through the lava beds toward Opie Dilldock Pass.
They’d hiked in silence for the first mile or two, concentrating on moving safely through the sharp lava outcroppings. The wind had quieted somewhat, and clouds raced across the sky. May’d strained her ears, but she hadn’t heard the laughter again, nor the weird thrumming she’d heard earlier.
Jamal was the first to break the quiet. “May,” he’d said from several steps ahead, tone serious, “I don’t mean to be rude, but that was a really dick move, your partner leaving you out here.”
May had smiled, tried to diffuse his criticism. “He’s not my run partner,” she’d explained. “I’m so new to the department, I don’t actually have a partner. I usually just ride along with whoever’s responding to the call.”
Jamal had made a clicking sound in his throat, shook his head. “That’s not the best way to train a newbie, either.”
She’d shrugged. She hadn’t known.
“We need to look out for each other in this job,” Jamal had continued. “And honestly, if someone in our department abandoned a newbie on a search, I’d run his ass out with a flame thrower. I can’t stand people like that.”
May had laughed, and Lou joined her. “Agreed. We’re at a station in west Eugene famous for its number one policy: no douches allowed. Human decency is the first prerequisite for anyone who works with us. If you want to help people, you have to want to help all people.”
May had swallowed a grin, her feet and shoulders and pack aching. Wished she worked there.
Jamal had reached back, bumped her lightly on the shoulder with his pointer finger. “If you ever get tired of working out in the sticks and fancy a change of scenery, we’re always hiring medics. Any stage of training. Just get ahold of Lou or me.”
May’s eyes widened. She felt warmth suffusing through her body for the first time that day, had thought about when Meredith on Grey’s Anatomy had fought having her coworkers as roommates for over half an episode, but then finally caved in and was happy to have friends living with her. May mused that maybe if she switched departments, she’d be better able to make friends.
The thought had sustained her all the way to the intersection of the main trail connecting to the Scott Trailhead. There, to her pleasure and parallel awkwardness, Lou and Jamal had given her a hug. Then, they stood there and repeated explicit instructions on how to get back to Command until she felt one hundred percent confident. Lou also filled her hands with granola bars and a bottle of red Gatorade. She’d been overwhelmed, had stood watching the two guys hike off north towards Yapoah long past the time they’d disappeared from her sight.
She’d finally turned, trudged on alone. May felt the weariness she’d been keeping at bay creep back. She hiked oblivious to the lava formations stacked on either side of the trail. Her thoughts tacked and deflected, ran punishingly through memories of the day. She wondered if Jonas had meant to leave her on purpose. Wondered what was so different between him and Lou and Jamal. How he seemed to emanate a sense of command that was both frail and volatile and made her constantly unsure while Lou and Jamal had clear authority but also had known to help her without making her ask.
She couldn’t make sense of it and her thoughts ran on indiscriminately. Discovering the shoe in the snow, the feel of the leg entirely frozen, the slips of cloth flapping like sunburnt canvas. The digging with her bare hands. May glanced at her hands, wondered if she had the dead person’s flesh under her nails. May knew from her medic training that snow, ice, and cold slowed or completely stopped the decay process. The cold and ice chapter in the medical book had a subsection on Otzi, the prehistoric man found in the Alps in the early nineties. He’d melted out of a glacier, and doctors at first thought he was a regular hiker who’d frozen to death. But tests revealed Otzi was actually over thirty-three hundred years old. May had been fascinated reading about Otzi, how a visual assessment of a frozen body could not differentiate between yesterday and yester-eons. She’d watched the episode in season fourteen of Grey’s Anatomy when April Kepner froze almost to death twice, had watched the show’s doctors pound the life back into the character’s frozen body, and taken notes on hypothermia. May hoped she’d never get that cold.
She wondered if the bodies she found were hypothermic, if they’d died from the cold. Perhaps, they were prehistoric, maybe part of a large hunting party of native people tracking mammoths across the landscape. Perhaps they’d all perished when the ice collapsed, people and mammoths falling together into a gory hole of spears and shaggy prehistoric creatures. But the leg she’d found had a shoe, and that shoe looked modern. It had once been a high heel, black, or, at least, faded black—the heel had been snapped off. May thought about how long women had been wearing high heels. On television, women wore heels even in Jane Austen’s stories. But the shoe felt more modern than Jane Austen to May. Like, more nineties or aughts. May herself might have worn a shoe like that.
