The force of the crash threw George to the ground, winding her. As she recovered, she peered through the deepening gloom. Marshall called again. “George, are you okay?”
“I-I think so,” she called. “I’m almost afraid to move.”
She pulled a small flashlight from her pocket and switched it on. Its feeble beam penetrated the swiftly falling darkness. Then she saw it and she could scarcely control her excitement, “Marshall, I think I can reach you!”
“Thank, God!” he moaned.
“There must be a ledge or something in the crevasse and there’s wreckage on it. which I can climb over." Once she got to him they could figure out out what to do.
Hand over hand with freezing fingers, George let herself down into the crevasse until she reached the broken bits of helicopter. It was hard to tell how deep into the rugged opening the pieces had fallen, but what seemed to be part of the propeller was lying on a diagonal toward Marshall’s side of the gash.
Slowly, ever so slowly and with great care she dragged herselt toward the top.
The ice shifted. George screamed as she lost her precarious hold on the frozen metal and slid backward toward the bottom of the narrow crevasse...
Alex had never felt such pain. “Help me!” she screamed. The debilitating cramps came in wave after wave. Fetid liquid rushed from her chilled body. Blood or what? She couldn’t imagine! “Oh-h-h-h!” she cried, curling into a tight ball. The next scream turned into a whimper as she passed out.
Dawson stared at her still body. “What, now?” he muttered in disgust. Why, he wondered, had she come on this so-called scientific survey when she knew she was pregnant? She must have known! And who was the father?”
Anger competed with fear as he surveyed the scene around him. He should leave, get out of this hellhole. But where would he go? The storm was gone and even the wind had abated. White snow gleamed against a starless night sky. Maybe he’d try to follow Marshall for just a little way; might see something or hear something. Dawson decided to check Alex one more time and then head out. He stepped cautiously toward the small still figure silhouetted against the luminous snow and crouched down. He leaned over and lightly stroked her face. He held it there just a split second. He jerked his hand away. Alex was ice cold. Dead? Panicking he jumped back overturning the Primus stove.
Henry opened the door a crack and peered into the night. “Marcus, the storm's headed north. Maybe we can get some help for those poor sods.”
Marcus picked up the phone and dialled. Two minutes later he slumped in his swivel desk chair then turned to face his partner. “The phone line is dead!”
“So what happens now? “
Marcus shook his head and frowned. With both the balloon and the station helicopter out of commission they were in as much trouble as the frozen guys on the glacier.
Kalli Deschamps (USA)
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