Hunt Beyond the Frozen Fire by Christa Faust, Gabriel Hunt Page B

There was one small couch and a sad, broken-down recliner, meaning even if three of them squeezed onto the couch, two people would still have nowhere to sit. The low curved ceiling just added to the claustrophobia. Gabriel couldn’t imagine living like this for months at a time, especially during the sunless winter, when spending time outside was even less of an option.
    Once out of her gear, Elaine revealed herself to be a plump, light-skinned black woman in her early fifties with dreadlocked white hair and a scattering of dark freckles across her round face. Stripped of his bulky down, Nils was less of a Yeti than a gangly stork. His blond thinning hair was pulled back into a wispy ponytail and the goggles were replaced by round, wire-rimmed glasses. He was missing two-thirds of his right ring finger and all of the pinkie. Even though the big Swede had to be close to seven feet tall, he seemed entirely comfortable with the low ceiling, crouching instinctively and gracefully as he moved through the cramped space.
    “I’ll mix us up some hot chocolate,” Elaine said. “Nils, why don’t you bring in a couple more chairs from the mess hall?”
    The two researchers left the room and Gabriel sat down in the recliner, wondering if this whole expedition really had been a mistake after all. He looked over at Velda, who was standing at the far end of the room with her arms wrapped around herself, her hazel eyes distant. Maybe Michael had been right. He wasn’t always, but he did have a good nose for futility.
    When Nils returned with a spindly folding chair under each arm, he motioned for Gabriel to stand.
    “It’s Elaine’s week for the recliner,” Nils said apologetically, handing a folding chair out to Gabriel. “We rotate on a weekly basis so that everyone is allowed fair and equal usage. Short-term visitors are not included.” He pointed to a hand-drawn chart on the wall labeled RECLINER SCHEDULE. “You may laugh, but we need these kinds of rules out here. It’s the only way to winter-over without murdering each other.”
    Gabriel took the folding chair and looked over at theschedule. He couldn’t help but notice that Dr. Silver’s name—LAWRENCE—was X’d off each time it appeared. His recliner dates had been redistributed among the other researchers. Gabriel wondered if Velda had noticed this and was struck with an urge to comfort her. But although she stood within arm’s reach, she seemed a thousand miles away.
    “Well,” Elaine said, reappearing with six mismatched cups on a plastic tray. “Anyone up for midrats?”
    “I could eat,” Nils replied, handing the other folding chair to Millie.
    “Midrats?” Millie repeated, and handed the chair off to Velda. There was no way it would support his weight.
    “Midnight rations,” Rue explained. “With the shifts up here, there’s four meals a day: breakfast, lunch, dinner and midrats.”
    “Well, then, yes, ma’am,” Millie said. “I’d sure love a bite.”
    Elaine handed around the cocoa and then took her own mug and the tray back into the unseen galley. Gabriel could hear the beep and whir of a micro wave. He shuddered, remembering all the boxes of Tater Tots they had unloaded from Speedo’s plane, but he was hungry and in no position to be finicky.
    “We’ll eat and then get a few hours of sleep,” Gabriel said. “How far away is the site where Dr. Silver was last seen?”
    “About three hours in the Spryte,” Nils replied, blowing over the rim of his steaming mug before taking a sip. “We should plan to spend no more than four hours at a stretch before returning to base camp, but we must also bring overnight supplies and tents in case we are caught out in bad weather. The reports are all clear for the nextforty-eight but you never know for sure. Better to be prepared than dead.”
    “Story of my life,” Gabriel said.
    Elaine returned, the tray loaded with micro wave burritos on plastic plates. She handed the plates around. “Eat