Apocalypse Weird: Reversal (Polar Wyrd Book 1) by Jennifer Ellis Page B
Authors: Jennifer Ellis
Ads: Link
and retracing the route on our GPS to get back.”
“Sasha!” She heard Soren’s voice, ever so faint in the distance, calling for her. She nearly fainted in relief. But where was he, and why did he sound so distant? Had he wandered off in the wrong direction?
“Over here, Soren!”
“Sasha!” he called again and then “Tundra!” Tundra apparently heard him because the rope on her harness snapped around. There was a moment of slack and then she was being hauled along the snow, in the direction of the crater she was certain. “Tundra! Whoa!” But Tundra, now responding to his master, ignored her and she began to be pulled along on her stomach across the snow at breakneck speed.
Soren must have realized what was happening because he also yelled “Whoa!” The sled mercifully came to a stop, and this time Soren’s voice sounded firmer, more solid.
“I’m still attached to the sled. Where’s the crater? Are you out?”
“I’m out.” Soren’s voice materialized nearby this time, and she would have launched off the ground and thrown herself into his arms in relief if she had been able to see him.
By calling each other’s names, they were able to inch their way to each other on hands and knees until Sasha could feel the puffs of Soren’s breath on her face. For a second it seemed like they would hug, like they should hug, but neither of them could see each other to note the suspension of arms, the quick exchange of permission and intent. Instead, Soren called Tundra, and the dog joined them in the tangle of ropes. Sasha closed her eyes and felt the warmth of Soren’s closeness, just for a second.
“I think we better go back to the station. We can’t do anything blind, and I don’t know where the hell that hole in the ground came from. I’ll just check the radio and sat phone signals and then let’s go,” Soren said.
“Wait! There was a man here, while you were in the crater. He thought everyone was dead. Vincent Robinson. He must have come from one of the planes that crashed.” She turned and called into the wind, “Vincent! Vincent! We’re over here.”
Nobody replied.
“Did you say Vincent Robinson?”
“Yes, he was upset about all the researchers being dead. He seemed to think the station was destroyed. Does he live around here? Who is he?”
She called again for Vincent. But as before, the only thing that echoed back to her was the cry of the wind.
“Soren, what if he’s fallen in the crater? He sounded like an old man.”
“He is an old man, Sash. But I don’t think he’s fallen in that pit. We need to get out of here.”
“Is he here to rescue us?”
“No, he’s not. We’ve got to go.” Soren’s voice sounded dangerous and terrible again, and Sasha bit off her reply.
Soren detached and reattached the ropes in the proper configuration with surprising speed, checking and double-checking the ropes that bound them together. He called for Vincent a few times himself, and then when no response was received, ordered her onto the sled. She suggested he should go on the sled as he had just climbed out of a pit in the ground, but he replied with a terse “get on the sled.” Sasha got back on the sled and they hastened away, following the directions of the GPS to retrace their steps to their most recent waypoint. Sasha wanted to ask what they were running from, why they were leaving an old man behind, but she did not.
At the waypoint, Soren checked both the radio and the sat phone and received nothing but static and silence for his efforts. Even the crazy lady had vanished. The storm had picked up again and icy strands of wind found their way down the neck of Sasha’s parka. After a few more failed attempts with the radio and phone, they made their way back in the direction of the station without stopping.
As they approached, her stomach clenched. Was the station still there? Had the GPS even guided them in the right direction? When she heard the rumble of the bay door
“Sasha!” She heard Soren’s voice, ever so faint in the distance, calling for her. She nearly fainted in relief. But where was he, and why did he sound so distant? Had he wandered off in the wrong direction?
“Over here, Soren!”
“Sasha!” he called again and then “Tundra!” Tundra apparently heard him because the rope on her harness snapped around. There was a moment of slack and then she was being hauled along the snow, in the direction of the crater she was certain. “Tundra! Whoa!” But Tundra, now responding to his master, ignored her and she began to be pulled along on her stomach across the snow at breakneck speed.
Soren must have realized what was happening because he also yelled “Whoa!” The sled mercifully came to a stop, and this time Soren’s voice sounded firmer, more solid.
“I’m still attached to the sled. Where’s the crater? Are you out?”
“I’m out.” Soren’s voice materialized nearby this time, and she would have launched off the ground and thrown herself into his arms in relief if she had been able to see him.
By calling each other’s names, they were able to inch their way to each other on hands and knees until Sasha could feel the puffs of Soren’s breath on her face. For a second it seemed like they would hug, like they should hug, but neither of them could see each other to note the suspension of arms, the quick exchange of permission and intent. Instead, Soren called Tundra, and the dog joined them in the tangle of ropes. Sasha closed her eyes and felt the warmth of Soren’s closeness, just for a second.
“I think we better go back to the station. We can’t do anything blind, and I don’t know where the hell that hole in the ground came from. I’ll just check the radio and sat phone signals and then let’s go,” Soren said.
“Wait! There was a man here, while you were in the crater. He thought everyone was dead. Vincent Robinson. He must have come from one of the planes that crashed.” She turned and called into the wind, “Vincent! Vincent! We’re over here.”
Nobody replied.
“Did you say Vincent Robinson?”
“Yes, he was upset about all the researchers being dead. He seemed to think the station was destroyed. Does he live around here? Who is he?”
She called again for Vincent. But as before, the only thing that echoed back to her was the cry of the wind.
“Soren, what if he’s fallen in the crater? He sounded like an old man.”
“He is an old man, Sash. But I don’t think he’s fallen in that pit. We need to get out of here.”
“Is he here to rescue us?”
“No, he’s not. We’ve got to go.” Soren’s voice sounded dangerous and terrible again, and Sasha bit off her reply.
Soren detached and reattached the ropes in the proper configuration with surprising speed, checking and double-checking the ropes that bound them together. He called for Vincent a few times himself, and then when no response was received, ordered her onto the sled. She suggested he should go on the sled as he had just climbed out of a pit in the ground, but he replied with a terse “get on the sled.” Sasha got back on the sled and they hastened away, following the directions of the GPS to retrace their steps to their most recent waypoint. Sasha wanted to ask what they were running from, why they were leaving an old man behind, but she did not.
At the waypoint, Soren checked both the radio and the sat phone and received nothing but static and silence for his efforts. Even the crazy lady had vanished. The storm had picked up again and icy strands of wind found their way down the neck of Sasha’s parka. After a few more failed attempts with the radio and phone, they made their way back in the direction of the station without stopping.
As they approached, her stomach clenched. Was the station still there? Had the GPS even guided them in the right direction? When she heard the rumble of the bay door
Similar Books
