Book. Where are you?”
Inside the women's shower room on B-deck, Sarah Hensleigh snapped
around at the sound of a door being kicked in.
For one terrifying instant, she thought the French soldiers were
storming the women's shower room. But they weren't. The sound
had come from the next room, the men's shower room.
The French were in the next room!
With Sarah inside the women's shower block were Kirsty, Abby
Sinclair, and a geologist named Warren Conlon. When Buck Riley had
ordered them back to their rooms, the four of them had immediately
scrambled in here. They had only just made it, with Conlon just
managing to squeeze in through the door frame and jam the door shut a
split second before the fragmentation grenades had gone off in the
tunnel outside.
The women's shower block was situated in between the outer tunnel
and the central shaft, in the northeastern corner of B-deck. It had
three doors: one leading to the north tunnel, one leading to the outer
tunnel, and one leading to the men's shower room next door.
More sounds echoed out from the men's shower room.
The sounds of French soldiers kicking open cubicle doors, looking for
anyone who had attempted to hide in the cubicles.
Sarah pulled Kirsty toward the door that led to the north tunnel.
“Come on, honey, keep moving.”
Sarah looked back over her shoulder.
Beyond the row of six shower recesses she could see the top quarter of
the door that led to the men's shower room.
It was still closed.
The French soldiers would be coming through that door any second now.
Sarah reached the door leading out to the north tunnel and grabbed the
handle.
She hesitated. There was no way of knowing what lay on the other side.
“Sarah! What are you doing? Come
on,” Warren Conlon said in a desperate, hissing whisper.
Tall and thin, he was a timid man, nervous at the best of times. Now
he was positively terrified.
“OK, OK,” Sarah said. She began to turn the handle.
There was a loud bang as the door to the men's shower room
suddenly burst open behind them.
“Go!” Conlon yelled.
Sarah threw open the door and, pulling Kirsty with her, charged out
into the north tunnel.
She hadn't gone more than a couple of steps when she stopped dead
in her tracks—
—and found herself looking into the eyes of a man with a gun
pointed right at her head.
The man cocked his head to one side and shook his head.
“Jesus.” He lowered his gun.
“It's OK, it's OK,” Buck Riley said as he ran up to
Sarah and Kirsty. “You scared the shit out of me, but it's
OK.”
Abby Sinclair and Warren Conlon joined them out in the tunnel,
slamming the door shut behind them.
“They in there?” Riley asked, nodding at the women's
shower block.
“Yeah,” Sarah said.
“Are the others all right?” Warren Conlon asked stupidly.
“I don't think they'll be leaving their rooms again in a
hurry,” Riley said as he scanned the tunnel behind him. Automatic
gunfire echoed out from the outer tunnel. As Riley looked behind him,
Sarah noticed a thin line of blood trickling out from a large cut on
his right ear. Riley himself didn't seem to notice it. The
earpiece that he had in that ear had a jagged sliver of metal lodged
in it.
“We may have a slight problem,” Riley said as his eyes
searched the tunnel around them. “I've lost contact with the
rest of my team. My radio gear got hit by some ricocheting fragments
before, so I'm off the air. I can't hear the others, and they
can't hear me.”
Riley snapped round and looked the other way, out over Sarah's
head, toward that end of the tunnel that led to the catwalks and the
massive shaft in the center of the station.
“Come with me,” was all he said as he brushed past Sarah and
led the way toward the central well of Wilkes Ice Station.
“Book!” Schofield whispered into his
helmet mike as he kept his eyes locked on the western tunnel of
B-deck.
Inside the women's shower room on B-deck, Sarah Hensleigh snapped
around at the sound of a door being kicked in.
For one terrifying instant, she thought the French soldiers were
storming the women's shower room. But they weren't. The sound
had come from the next room, the men's shower room.
The French were in the next room!
With Sarah inside the women's shower block were Kirsty, Abby
Sinclair, and a geologist named Warren Conlon. When Buck Riley had
ordered them back to their rooms, the four of them had immediately
scrambled in here. They had only just made it, with Conlon just
managing to squeeze in through the door frame and jam the door shut a
split second before the fragmentation grenades had gone off in the
tunnel outside.
The women's shower block was situated in between the outer tunnel
and the central shaft, in the northeastern corner of B-deck. It had
three doors: one leading to the north tunnel, one leading to the outer
tunnel, and one leading to the men's shower room next door.
More sounds echoed out from the men's shower room.
The sounds of French soldiers kicking open cubicle doors, looking for
anyone who had attempted to hide in the cubicles.
Sarah pulled Kirsty toward the door that led to the north tunnel.
“Come on, honey, keep moving.”
Sarah looked back over her shoulder.
Beyond the row of six shower recesses she could see the top quarter of
the door that led to the men's shower room.
It was still closed.
The French soldiers would be coming through that door any second now.
Sarah reached the door leading out to the north tunnel and grabbed the
handle.
She hesitated. There was no way of knowing what lay on the other side.
“Sarah! What are you doing? Come
on,” Warren Conlon said in a desperate, hissing whisper.
Tall and thin, he was a timid man, nervous at the best of times. Now
he was positively terrified.
“OK, OK,” Sarah said. She began to turn the handle.
There was a loud bang as the door to the men's shower room
suddenly burst open behind them.
“Go!” Conlon yelled.
Sarah threw open the door and, pulling Kirsty with her, charged out
into the north tunnel.
She hadn't gone more than a couple of steps when she stopped dead
in her tracks—
—and found herself looking into the eyes of a man with a gun
pointed right at her head.
The man cocked his head to one side and shook his head.
“Jesus.” He lowered his gun.
“It's OK, it's OK,” Buck Riley said as he ran up to
Sarah and Kirsty. “You scared the shit out of me, but it's
OK.”
Abby Sinclair and Warren Conlon joined them out in the tunnel,
slamming the door shut behind them.
“They in there?” Riley asked, nodding at the women's
shower block.
“Yeah,” Sarah said.
“Are the others all right?” Warren Conlon asked stupidly.
“I don't think they'll be leaving their rooms again in a
hurry,” Riley said as he scanned the tunnel behind him. Automatic
gunfire echoed out from the outer tunnel. As Riley looked behind him,
Sarah noticed a thin line of blood trickling out from a large cut on
his right ear. Riley himself didn't seem to notice it. The
earpiece that he had in that ear had a jagged sliver of metal lodged
in it.
“We may have a slight problem,” Riley said as his eyes
searched the tunnel around them. “I've lost contact with the
rest of my team. My radio gear got hit by some ricocheting fragments
before, so I'm off the air. I can't hear the others, and they
can't hear me.”
Riley snapped round and looked the other way, out over Sarah's
head, toward that end of the tunnel that led to the catwalks and the
massive shaft in the center of the station.
“Come with me,” was all he said as he brushed past Sarah and
led the way toward the central well of Wilkes Ice Station.
“Book!” Schofield whispered into his
helmet mike as he kept his eyes locked on the western tunnel of
B-deck.
Similar Books
