in the direction of the plume. When they rounded a slight hillock, they saw the flames of a giant bonfire licking up into the now considerably dimmer sky. The fire seemed to come from inside one of the craters. A single figure stood before it. The remains of a military plane lay in the snow not far beyond the fire.
Soren stopped the snowmobile and yanked his binoculars out of one of the containers on the side of the machine.
“It’s Robert,” he said. “What the hell is he doing?”
Any questions or surprise that Sasha might have expressed regarding this discovery were drowned out by the bawl of a wild animal. Sasha whipped her head around and saw a lumbering mass of white barreling down on them at alarming speed.
A polar bear.
Soren drew his gun and fired a shot before Sasha could even scream, but he fired it directly into the air. Despite all his earlier swearing about them, Soren did not like to kill polar bears. He had told her this before—he believed in sharing the Arctic with the majestic creatures and preferred to use the guns to scare them off. Sasha had agreed with this notion at the time, but now that the bear was thundering down on them, she decided that Soren was absolutely nuts. The dogs launched out of the trailer and assembled into a semi-circle, their teeth bared and fur standing in ripples on their backs.
The thousand pound bear was now fifty feet away, its mouth wide open in a howl of rage. Sasha hunted for her own gun but her hands were shaking too much to unzip her pocket.
“You need to shoot it,” Sasha said. “Please.”
Soren nodded and started to take aim, but before he could, rifle shots came from behind them, narrowly missing both them and the bear.
They both turned to see Cal, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, walking toward them with a rifle trained in their direction…at them, or at the bear? For a fleeting second, Sasha was unsure. It had to be at the bear of course, but they were right in the line of fire. Cal let off a few more shots. Instinctively, she dropped to the ground. The distraction of Cal had prevented Soren from getting off a shot. The bear was only twenty feet away now, closing in at a horrifying pace. She snatched squirming and growling Cedar into arms, curled into a ball, closed her eyes, and whimpered.
Shot after shot followed. The pounding of paws echoed in her ears. Why had nobody hit the bear? Bloodcurdling, mind-bending screams followed. Soren. Had the bear gotten Soren?
Something grabbed at her parka. The bear. She braced for death, hoping it would be fast.
“Get up. Get on the machine. Right now. Dogs! Tundra! Timber!” Soren bellowed.
Sasha rose up still holding Cedar, her knees quivering and useless. Soren was already firing up the engine. The screams continued and Sasha forced her gaze to where Cal had been—where the bear now stood, its white fur smeared with blood, tearing what had been a human form to pieces.
She thrust Cedar into the trailer and got on the snowmobile. Soren turned and drove off in the direction of the station as fast as the machine could go.
When the screams faded and had been replaced by the howl of the wind, Sasha dared to open one of her eyes a crack. She was still shaking so hard it was difficult to hold onto Soren. The storm had caused the light level to drop further and the giant craters appeared in front of them without warning every half mile or so, forcing Soren to veer suddenly to avoid catapulting into their depths.
They were traversing between two particularly large craters when they hit one of the patches of fog. The temperature instantly rose, and the wet air condensed on Sasha’s face and clothes. The way ahead was a billowing sea of white and she did not know how Soren could possibly know where he was going. Soren slowed, inching forward cautiously through the mist, and then suddenly cut the engine.
“Did you just hear dogs barking?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe.” Had she? The mist
Soren stopped the snowmobile and yanked his binoculars out of one of the containers on the side of the machine.
“It’s Robert,” he said. “What the hell is he doing?”
Any questions or surprise that Sasha might have expressed regarding this discovery were drowned out by the bawl of a wild animal. Sasha whipped her head around and saw a lumbering mass of white barreling down on them at alarming speed.
A polar bear.
Soren drew his gun and fired a shot before Sasha could even scream, but he fired it directly into the air. Despite all his earlier swearing about them, Soren did not like to kill polar bears. He had told her this before—he believed in sharing the Arctic with the majestic creatures and preferred to use the guns to scare them off. Sasha had agreed with this notion at the time, but now that the bear was thundering down on them, she decided that Soren was absolutely nuts. The dogs launched out of the trailer and assembled into a semi-circle, their teeth bared and fur standing in ripples on their backs.
The thousand pound bear was now fifty feet away, its mouth wide open in a howl of rage. Sasha hunted for her own gun but her hands were shaking too much to unzip her pocket.
“You need to shoot it,” Sasha said. “Please.”
Soren nodded and started to take aim, but before he could, rifle shots came from behind them, narrowly missing both them and the bear.
They both turned to see Cal, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, walking toward them with a rifle trained in their direction…at them, or at the bear? For a fleeting second, Sasha was unsure. It had to be at the bear of course, but they were right in the line of fire. Cal let off a few more shots. Instinctively, she dropped to the ground. The distraction of Cal had prevented Soren from getting off a shot. The bear was only twenty feet away now, closing in at a horrifying pace. She snatched squirming and growling Cedar into arms, curled into a ball, closed her eyes, and whimpered.
Shot after shot followed. The pounding of paws echoed in her ears. Why had nobody hit the bear? Bloodcurdling, mind-bending screams followed. Soren. Had the bear gotten Soren?
Something grabbed at her parka. The bear. She braced for death, hoping it would be fast.
“Get up. Get on the machine. Right now. Dogs! Tundra! Timber!” Soren bellowed.
Sasha rose up still holding Cedar, her knees quivering and useless. Soren was already firing up the engine. The screams continued and Sasha forced her gaze to where Cal had been—where the bear now stood, its white fur smeared with blood, tearing what had been a human form to pieces.
She thrust Cedar into the trailer and got on the snowmobile. Soren turned and drove off in the direction of the station as fast as the machine could go.
When the screams faded and had been replaced by the howl of the wind, Sasha dared to open one of her eyes a crack. She was still shaking so hard it was difficult to hold onto Soren. The storm had caused the light level to drop further and the giant craters appeared in front of them without warning every half mile or so, forcing Soren to veer suddenly to avoid catapulting into their depths.
They were traversing between two particularly large craters when they hit one of the patches of fog. The temperature instantly rose, and the wet air condensed on Sasha’s face and clothes. The way ahead was a billowing sea of white and she did not know how Soren could possibly know where he was going. Soren slowed, inching forward cautiously through the mist, and then suddenly cut the engine.
“Did you just hear dogs barking?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe.” Had she? The mist
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