Outpost

Jane liked Ghost. She wanted his approval. She knew full well she was emotionally immature, prone to infatuation. She had to guard against it. Avoid making a fool of herself.

‘You seem like a practical guy. What are the options?’

‘We have a rubber zodiac with a small outboard motor. Twenty- five horsepower. Room for four men and no luggage. Wouldn’t take us very far. We’ve got plenty of hard-shell lifeboats, but no propulsion. The lifeboats are designed to drift free of a burning rig. They float. That’s all they do.’

‘We could build a big raft and put up a sail,’ said Jane. ‘An option, come spring.’

‘Now you’re talking.’

‘We could bolt on an engine. A motor, a drive shaft, some kind of propeller.’

‘Want to hear my big plan?’

‘All right.’

‘Any attempt to sail our way out of here is going to involve weeks, maybe months at sea. We would need to carry a shit-load of supplies. So I say we hitch a ride. Jump a passing iceberg.’

‘Seriously?’

‘The polar ice shelf breaks up each spring and bergs float south on the current. They pass by, pretty much every hour. We could track incoming debris. Soon as a decent-size berg is in range we use the zodiac to ferry men and supplies. Those things move slow. Inertia. We would have twelve, maybe sixteen hours to make the transfer.’

‘Then what?’

‘Camp on the berg. Put up tents. Eat. Sleep. We could tow a string of lifeboats behind us. As soon as the berg hits warm water and starts to break up, we take to the boats.’

‘What does Rawlins say about it?’

Ghost shrugged. He poured coffee.

‘Everyone is pretty snug at the moment. Plenty of heat, plenty of food. But six months from now things will be very different. People will be cold and hungry. They’ll be ready to roll the dice.’

Jane joined Sian in the observation bubble.

‘Let me take over for a while,’ said Jane. ‘I’m wired on caffeine. Why don’t you get some sleep?’

Jane positioned her chair in front of the microphone.

‘Apex Base, this is refinery Kasker Rampart. Do you copy, over?’

‘This is Apex Base. Damn good to hear from you, Rampart.’ The guy sounded tearful and exhausted.

‘How are you folks getting on?’

‘Not so great. The storm collapsed one of the tents and we lost a bunch of stuff. Clothes. Bedding. Hope you got some good news for us, Rampart. We need it.’

‘We are worried about the distance. Indigo Bay is quite a trek. Winter is closing in and there isn’t much daylight left.’

‘You can’t leave us out here to die. That’s inhuman.’

‘Have you got a map with you? Can you see a map?’

‘We’re in no condition to walk. Alan has frostbite. His feet are black. He can barely stand.’

‘Look at your map. Angakut. Can you see it? There’s a mountain halfway between us.’

‘Yeah.’

‘There’s a cabin, a wood cabin. It’s solid. It’s good shelter. It’s warm and dry. If you can make it that far, you can ride out the storm. Then we can pick you up.’

‘That’s a three-day hike. We’d have to cross two inlets by boat.’

‘What’s your name?’

‘Simon.’

‘You’ve got to move, Simon. You have to put on your skis and move. You have to get your team to the main island. We can reach you from there. We can pick you up.’

‘It’s too much.’

‘You’ve got to dig deep, dude. The weather will lift in a few hours, but there’s more moving in. You’re only getting weaker. It will be sunrise soon. You’re the leader. Get your team ready to travel. Whatever you have to do.’

‘I’m so tired.’

‘You’re giving in to death. If you stay in that sleeping bag you’ll slowly freeze. I’ll call again at nine. You better be on your feet and moving. You’ve got to get on your feet and move if you want to live.’

‘Okay. All right.’

‘God bless, guys.’

‘Do they know about the plague?’ asked Sian.

‘Their relief plane didn’t show up. That’s all they know. Might as well keep it that way.’

Punch cut himself a cheese sandwich. He scraped the last smears from a big Country Larder jar of mayonnaise. He took a fresh jar from the refrigerator. He saw himself reflected in the steel door, and saw the phantom blur of a man standing behind him.

‘Better make that your last snack,’ said Rawlins. ‘I need a list. An inventory of all the food we have left.’

‘Already done.’

‘You can lock these freezers and fridges, yes?’

‘I’ve got keys somewhere.’

‘One set for you, one set for me. Keep them locked at all times.’

‘Okay.’

‘Everyone is perfectly civil right now. A few months from now food will run short and it will be a different story. Situation could turn ugly.’

‘Yeah.’

‘People hoarding, fighting.’

‘Absolutely.’

‘How about dry goods? Cans and stuff?’

‘There’s a crappy lock on the storeroom.’

‘Speak to Ghost. Get a decent padlock and bring me the key. What’s for breakfast?’

‘The last of the real eggs.’

‘Excellent. Well. See you later.’

Rawlins left the kitchen. He scratched his head on the way out of the door. The edge of his leather jacket lifted for a moment and exposed the yellow butt of his Taser slung in a nylon holster. He had a red can of pepper spray in a pouch on his belt. A sheriff ready to lay down the law.