Ice War by Brian Falkner

worried him was running out on his friends. Had he made the right decision? He had seen the question in Emile’s eyes. Seen the brief nod from Price. He had understood what Price wanted Emile to do. But it was an act of desperation.
    There was a plan to the universe. He truly believed that. Ever since Uluru. There had to be, otherwise none of this made any kind of sense. And even if he couldn’t see the plan, couldn’t understand the plan, if his part in that plan ended here, then that was just how things were. But not Price. Please, not Price. She would die too, after torture by the PGZ. That was like a kick to the stomach, because there was nothing at all he could do about it.
    Around him the landscape was flat and featureless, except for the dome-like hills that were Bzadian tanks.
    He steered them on a diagonal course, which was easier than heading straight into the wind.
    The first fifty metres were the hardest. Every step was a scream of pain, both from tortured muscles, fighting their way into the blizzard, and from the burn of ice on the skin of his face.
    Worse was the cold that seeped through his combat suit. Not the sharp bite of the wind, but a constant ache that became an intense throbbing before it began to fade.
    That was a relief, but it meant his skin was going numb. Frostnip could quickly turn to frostbite. That would lead to the gradual lowering of his core body temperature, leading to hypothermia. Violent shivering would be followed by stumbling and mental confusion, leading to a stupor that was the first stage of death.
    He ignored the cold. He ignored the pain. He ignored the fear. He knew that as bad as it was for him, for Emile it must be much worse. He was younger and smaller. Yet there was no bleat of a complaint.
    The lights of Little Diomede, the smaller of the two islands, were a beacon in the white desert. When Monster looked up, which wasn’t often, it was to make sure that those lights were still ahead of him.
    He was concentrating so intently on the simple act of putting one foot in front of the other that he almost fell into the crevasse.
    It was Emile, behind him, who saw it first and grabbed his arm. Monster stopped with one foot out over the void.
    It was a fissure in the ice. Not as wide as the crevasse they had crossed earlier, but wide nevertheless. It ran from north to south, separating the two islands.
    Emile was saying something to him, but he couldn’t hear it. The words were caught by the wind and swept away into the storm.
    He bent down so Emile could put his lips next to his ear.
    “We gotta go back,” Emile said.
    “We can’t go back,” Monster said.
    “We gotta!” Emile said. “We gotta go back for the others.”
    “We cannot,” Monster said. “The Pukes will be looking for us. Must keep going.”
    “I didn’t escape just to save my own skin!” Emile shouted. “I’m not running out on the others.”
    Monster grasped him by the arm, so tightly that Emile winced, even though he wore a combat suit. Monster eased his grip and took a deep breath.
    “We not running out,” Monster said. “We go back; we all die.”
    “We can’t leave them,” Emile cried. “It’s my fault we got caught!”
    Monster shook his head. “Not your fault.”
    “I had the scope,” Emile said. “I should have seen the Pukes coming.”
    “Were you watching the scope?” Monster asked.
    “Yes. I mean, I think so.”
    “Then not your fault,” Monster said. “Scope not work too good in these conditions.”
    “But still …”
    “Not your fault,” Monster said for a third time. “If we can make it to Little Diomede, we can alert ACOG, then try to save others.”
    “Little Diomede?” Emile asked. “You think we can make it that far?”
    “I think we can try,” Monster said.
    Their options were extremely limited. Little Diomede was their only chance and that was hundreds of metres away, across a rugged landscape that would be challenging even in good weather. In this