The Winter Over(63)
“Taylor!” he shouted, though he had no idea what his security chief could do in the absolute blackness.
Just as the pitch of the voices began climbing the ramp to hysteria, the lights came back on as suddenly as they’d gone out. The forty-some crew members froze in place, looking around wild-eyed and frightened.
Hanratty dove into the pause as though nothing had happened. “In the meantime , please return to your duties as posted or required. I know it’s a difficult thing to do, but bear in mind that the early South Pole crews went all nine months without contact. Even just a few decades ago, the base passed the winter without a single radio broadcast. We are no less capable than any of those brave explorers. We’ve got technology, the accumulated experience of decades, and our ability to work together, all on our side. As Ernest Shackleton himself said, ‘Difficulties are just things to overcome, after all.’”
But the crowd was unmoved and he soon found himself pressed by a half-dozen scared and angry Polies. At his signal, Taylor, Keene, Deb, and even a reluctant Ayres moved forward to mingle with the crowd and start damage control while he fielded questions from the angriest crew members, willing to be the lightning rod if it meant keeping the crew at large calm.
The worst part, he thought as he nodded sympathetically to a red-faced Dave Boychuck, was that someone in the room—someone he’d be talking to, reassuring, and making empty promises to—knew exactly what had happened, why, and what was coming next.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
“Do I have to remind you that midwinter comes but once a year? Please don’t make me come dig you out of that filthy garage.”
Cass smiled. “Oh, you won’t have to.”
Biddi looked at her in the mirror above the sink. “You sound so sure of yourself. Are you a social butterfly now?”
“Pete said they’ve been hoarding goodies for months to celebrate. And I, for one, am tired of eating white lettuce and Wonder bread for every meal.”
“I hear you. What was last night’s dinner supposed to be, again? It was disgusting.”
“Beef stroganoff.”
“The hamburger was the color of used bubble gum.”
“Stop right there,” she said, pointing the toilet bowl brush at her friend. After four months of living in a confined space, the crew at Shackleton had become a little lax in their personal hygiene and bathroom habits. It was her turn to clean commodes and she didn’t need any more grotesque thoughts in her head.
“And the noodles were like the insides of a fish’s belly, all wiggly and white.”
She started to laugh. “Oh my God.”
“And the gravy? It was like they had dumped a tub of man juice over the top—”
“Biddi! For Christ’s sake.” Cass leaned against the side of the stall, shoulders shaking with laughter. Clad in rubber gloves, she had to use her forearm to wipe the tears away.
Biddi turned around. “It’s good to see you laugh again, lady. You’ve been as sober as a judge for weeks now, and I don’t mean in a good way. You should get out more.”
The comment was meant as a question, but Cass gently deflected it. “You’re making up for both of us.”
Biddi harrumphed, taking the hint. “What do you think of Hanratty’s little hootenanny in the gym?”
“About the fact that all of our communications are down or the way in which he told us?”
“Both. Either. Whatever suits your fancy.”
“Comms going down is terrifying in one way, but, as much as I hate to admit it, Hanratty had a point. None of the explorers who came before us had anything like our safety nets.” Cass squirted blue cleaner into the toilet and swirled her magic wand around the bowl. “We’ll have a few nervous days, they’ll fix whatever’s wrong, and in a month we won’t even remember that it happened.”
Biddi grunted. “It doesn’t bother you a tad that half of those explorers died?”
“I think that’s where the technology and living in the twenty-first century come in. We have slightly more advanced gear than reindeer-hide sleeping bags and paraffin stoves.”
“You sound awfully upbeat. What if they don’t get it fixed?”
“They’ll figure something out. I mean, it’s not as if it was broken intentionally, right? If it’s broke, they’ll fix it.” Right after Keene takes his notes and adds them to our psych file . “I’d rather focus on the party, to be honest. At this point, if I got a really good meal, comms could be down for the rest of the winter, for all I care. Speaking of which, is there anything else planned for tomorrow night?”
When there was no answer, Cass leaned out of the stall. Her friend was staring down into the sink. “Biddi?”
“Hmm?”
“I asked, is there anything else planned for tomorrow night after the dinner?”
“Oh. Sorry, love. I got a bit of the T3s there. Activities for tomorrow night, right.” She cleared her throat. “Officially or unofficially?”
“Both?”
Biddi turned to the mirror and sprayed it with a frothy cleaning solution, then set about rubbing the daylights out of it. “Officially, there will be some champagne after the dinner and some disco music, followed by a midnight screening of The Shining .”