Outpost

‘This is absurd,’ said Jane, when Apex signed off. ‘You know how much Arctic survival training I’ve had? I built a snowman once. I’m talking up this cabin like it’s the answer to their prayers, but we don’t even know if it is still standing.’

‘You’re doing a fantastic job,’ said Sian.

‘I’m trying to coax these poor guys to safety, and I’m not even sure it’s physically possible.’

‘Sometimes people just need to hear an encouraging voice.’

Jane helped Ghost pack his possessions. They dismantled his bivouac. They stacked CDs and books into boxes, and carried them to a room in the main accommodation block.

‘I was thinking,’ said Jane. ‘We’re about three time zones away from the nearest chocolate.’

‘Crush that thought. It’ll drive you nuts. This past week I’ve been craving beer. It hit me the other day. I might never taste beer again. I get weepy just thinking about it.’

‘Some people get high on bereavement. Life is boring, a lot of the time. Then your uncle drops dead and yeah, you’re sad, but on the other hand you relish it because it’s the first real, solid emotion you have experienced for months. It breaks the torpor. Suddenly you are awake and alive. I’m no different. I’m scared and tired and I want to go home. But a little, childish part of me is enjoying the drama.’

‘Yeah. Well. People are complicated. There’s no shame in it.’

Ghost had commandeered a disused tool store. He had glued a High Voltage sign to the door to discourage visitors, and turned the place into a cannabis farm.

The refinery was equipped with UV lamps and sunbeds to help combat winter depression. Ghost hung lamps over a bunch of grow-bags. Convection heaters kept the room subtropical. The plants had grown tall and strong. It looked like a room full of forest bracken.

‘Does Rawlins know about this place?’

‘Frank is a pragmatist. As long as the refinery runs right, he’s happy.’

‘So what exactly is it you do on the rig?’ asked Jane.

‘Critical systems technician. Glorified caretaker.’

Ghost took a tobacco pouch from his pocket. He rolled a joint.

‘Do you smoke?’

‘Now and again,’ lied Jane. She didn’t want to admit her sheltered life.

He lit the joint and passed it to Jane.

‘Mad Dog blend.’

She inhaled. Giddy headrush. She felt her world implode.

Ghost wriggled on surgical gloves. He stripped leaves and bagged them.

‘I’m going to miss you, girls,’ he told the plants.

‘You have names for them?’ croaked Jane.

‘This is Beatrice.’

‘You’re not really a people person, are you?’

‘Humans piss me off.’

Jane cleared out the chapel. She boxed the cross, the candles and the communion wafers. Ghost helped.

‘I hope you don’t mind,’ said Jane.

‘What?’

‘The only religious space on the rig is Christian.’

‘I don’t give a shit. I worked at a gas plant in Qatar for ten years. Religious police everywhere. I had to apply for a licence to drink beer.’

Rawlins had told her to use one of the rooms in the main accommodation block as a church.

‘Take out the bed and the TV,’ he said. ‘Improvise an altar. The men need a special place to sit and think. Some kind of meditation space.’

‘Okay.’

‘Make yourself available. The lads will need to talk.’

‘Maybe I should say a prayer each morning in the canteen.’

‘Good idea. I think everyone would appreciate it.’

Jane felt useful for the first time in a long while. Part of her was glad the Japanese tanker hadn’t stopped. If they were rescued and taken to the mainland her new family would disperse and she would be alone again.

The corridors of the main accommodation block were choked with men and bags like a coach party checking in to a hotel. Rawlins suggested they draw numbers from a cup.

Nail and his gang announced they would take the top floor. They played loud music. They threw mats in the corner of the canteen and laid out dumbbells. Nobody argued. Nobody wanted to be near them.

Jane set up her chapel. She dragged furniture into the corridor. She put a table beneath a window and laid out two candlesticks and a cross. She played Gregorian chant. She left it on Repeat.

She took a room on the ground floor. Ghost lived next door. She could hear him through the wall. She heard him cough. She heard him move around.

Rawlins’s voice on the PA: ‘ Reverend Blanc. Dr Rye. Meet me in the observation room right away.’

Jane took the spiral stairs to the observation bubble. Rawlins was at the microphone. Sian was at his side. .. eyes are open but we’re not getting much sense out of him.’

‘Nothing?’ demanded Rawlins. ‘Does he know his name? Does he know what year it is?’

‘He can’t speak. He’s stopped shivering. His eyes are open.’

‘Can you get him warm? His arms and legs?’

‘We’ve wrapped him in everything we’ve got.’

‘All right. Hold on a moment.’

‘What’s the problem?’ Dr Rye joined the group. A thin woman in her fifties.

‘They didn’t want to camp,’ said Rawlins. ‘They talked it over and decided to keep walking. They reckoned they had enough batteries to keep their flashlights going through the night. They were crossing an inlet by boat. Alan, the guy with frostbite. He fell through the ice.’