“THE ONLY GOOD thing is that it’s so warm,” Grace said. Except for Andrew, who was sleeping, they had all stripped to their long underwear. The inside of the tent felt steamy, and moisture that had collected on the tent ceiling dropped down in a light rain. Billy had cooked a quick pot of pony stew. They each held a cup.
“It’s always warmer after a blizzard,” Polly said.
“Life is not without its small mercies,” Grace said, repeating what her grandfather used to say.
“It’s almost noon. We need to go,” Billy said. He had managed a few bites of the stew. He guessed that it tasted like watered-down dog food. But he’d never eaten dog food, so he couldn’t say for sure.
“I agree.” Robert put his cup down. “Can we leave you guys with the dishes?”
Polly smiled. “Sure.”
Andrew groaned in his sleep. His forehead felt hot, as if he might be running a fever.
Robert pulled on his parka, gloves, hat, and goggles. When he had finished, he looked at Polly. “If anything happens to us, Polly, will you tell my mom and dad?” He stopped and thought for a moment. How could he convey to his parents how hard he had tried, how much he loved them? “You’ll know what to say.”
Polly nodded. Robert was really quite sweet.
“You’re still on TV,” Billy reminded him.
“Oh, yeah.” Robert involuntarily reached his hand to his eye. “I forgot about that.”
“Hi, Dad.” Billy stared at a spot on the tent wall. “The Compu-gametable is going to be a great success someday. Mom, you shouldn’t cry too much, and …” He looked at Polly. “I feel dumb saying good-bye on television. Will you talk to them in person?”
Polly nodded solemnly.
Robert opened the tent flap. “Good luck,” he said before crawling outside. Billy followed him.
Grace’s and Polly’s eyes met. They didn’t want to talk about it, but each understood what they might need to do. “Should we do anything to get ready?” Polly asked. She felt so ignorant.
“Boil the knife,” Grace said. It felt strange to pretend that she was knowledgeable. But hadn’t she acted as if she knew how to handle the dogs, and hadn’t she turned into a dogsled driver? She was positive that the first thing that a surgeon did before an operation was to sterilize her equipment. But even if she was wrong, staying busy was better than nervously hovering.
“What knife are you going to use?” Polly asked.
“The seal knife will do,” Grace said.
“Have you ever done anything like this before, Grace?” Polly turned on the Primus stove. On top of everything else, they were low on fuel.
“I’ve cut off a few dogs’ legs before,” Grace said. One dog had gotten into a fight with a coyote. His leg hung off him, a shredded thing. She had operated on him in her refrigerator carton, by candlelight. Once he got better, the poor dog had followed her around everywhere until he was killed by a hunter’s stray bullet.
“These are only toes,” Polly said.
“Toes,” Grace repeated dully.
“Grace,” Polly said gently. “If his toes turn black, we’ve got to do this.”
Usually it seemed to take forever for the water to boil, but not today. Polly stared at the pot for a few seconds before calling out, “It’s ready!”
Grace gripped the long, sharp knife as she crawled toward the boiling water.
Robert trudged next to Billy. He could feel the soft mounds of snow through his finneskoe. It was like wearing gloves on your feet, he thought. Now that more snow had covered up the crevasses, Robert sensed that they were even more dangerous. The deep steps jarred his shoulder, but he tried to concentrate on the crunching and crackling of the snow.
Sometimes, when Billy took a step, his foot never reached a firm base. He would never have had the courage to make this march without Brontosaurus, who bounded through the soft snow ahead of them, pulling the sled. Brontosaurus would fall into a bottomless pit, not Billy.
Since the wind was at their backs, Billy worried whether they would make decent time on their return. “Another day, we could rig some canvas as a sail and make this sled fly.”
“You learned how in a survival course?” Robert asked, although he doubted that Billy had ever taken one.
“No,” Billy said slowly. If he got a chance, he would lie to the Secretary again. He didn’t feel bad about that, but he did feel bad about lying to Robert. “I want to tell you something, Robert.”
“Go ahead.”
“I lied on my application,” Billy said. “I’ve never taken snow-and-ice survival courses. I’ve skied a bit. Been active in Scouting. That’s it.”
“Why?” Robert asked. The junk food had been a surprise. Billy’s lack of snow-and-ice experience wasn’t.
“Why did I lie, or why am I telling you?”
“Both,” Robert said.
“I don’t know why I’m telling you,” Billy said. “But I wanted to go to college. That’s the reason I lied on the application.”
“We could have used a great snow-and-ice man, but you’re amazing with directions and knots.” Robert smiled. “And you’re the king of junk food.”
“Thanks,” Billy said. He felt that he’d been forgiven.
“Have you ever been lost?” Robert asked.
“Not for very long,” Billy said. “It’s a game I play. I keep track of my longitude and latitude in my head. If there’s no sun, I guess.”
“It’s funny. When I first saw you guys, I never guessed how important each kid would be to the team.” How much I would need every person on the team, Robert thought. He wasn’t used to needing anyone.
“I still can’t believe that Andrew—the human freezer—is the one with frostbite. I mean, I was expecting skinny Polly …” Billy said.
“No one else would have survived so long in that crevasse but Andrew.”
“You’re right,” Billy said.
“With only some dead toes,” Robert said glumly.
“Do you think that Grace will have the guts to …” Billy couldn’t finish the sentence.
“If she needs to,” Robert said. “It’s either that or watch him die.”
“He can’t die,” Billy said.
Robert didn’t answer. To take his mind off his aching shoulder and Andrew’s toes, he looked around. The sky was a light gray, and the mountains were a purplish hue. He had gotten used to the fact that the snow hardly ever looked white. Today it was a paler gray than the sky. These were soft colors for such a tough land.
Brontosaurus barked, and Billy watched the hackles rise on his neck. Oh, no—the dog had used up his good behavior for the day and was going to start giving them trouble!
The dog barked again.
“Idiot dog,” Billy said.
“No, I think he’s trying to tell us something.”
Billy examined the dog carefully. Maybe Robert was right. Bronty’s ears were flat against his head. Instead of bouncing, he was picking his way warily, with his eyes stuck on the horizon.
Billy spotted something moving. A black dot came toward them. Polly had warned them of Antarctic hallucinations. According to her, the Scott party had experienced lots of them. But this black dot didn’t go away. In fact, it kept growing larger until Robert punched Billy in the shoulder and asked, “What can that be?”
Billy shook his head. But before long, he could make out a man.
“Who in the world?” Billy said.
“I thought no one lived here,” Robert said.
“No one used to live here,” Billy said. “But maybe now that it’s warmer?”
“What if he’s lived here for a long time and doesn’t even know about the Big Bust or … ?” Robert searched for a recent technological innovation.
“Or instant trees. Or the human fax,” Billy said.
“Or the Nuclear Accident?” Robert added.
“Good boy.” Robert held on to Bronty’s harness. The dog’s fur bristled along his backbone.
Why, the darn dog would attack that stranger if he tried to hurt us! Billy realized with amazement and pride.
A big, burly man in a parka walked up to Robert. Bronty lunged at him, but Robert held the harness tightly.
The man removed his headphones. Robert could hear the faint strains of “The Hologram Blues.”
“Captain Scott, I presume?” the man said.
“What?” Robert said.
“I’m Historical Survivor’s Amundsen,” the man said. His face was long, as Cookie’s had been. The color of his eyes matched the gray stubble on his face.
“Amundsen?” Billy said.
“I’m rescuing you,” the man said.
Robert felt sadness and relief all rolled up into one.
“What if we don’t want to be rescued?” Billy surprised himself by saying. He wanted to go home more than he had ever wanted anything in his whole life, but in a way he was sorry to see an adult. He had gotten used to kids making the decisions.
“Orders of the President,” the man said. “Viewers don’t want to watch kids die.”
“But what about the prize money?” Billy said.
“The President has instructed me to tell you that you each get the ten thousand dollars.”
I wasn’t going to be voted MVP anyway, Billy thought. At least the ten thousand dollars will pay for my freshman year of high school.
Robert pictured his new red boat with silver trim for a moment before his thoughts shifted to Andrew. “Do you have food?” he asked
The man nodded.
“Let’s hurry back, then,” Robert said. Maybe it wouldn’t be too late. Maybe this man could help Andrew before Grace …
Robert and Billy looked at each other. Neither wanted to put into words the situation in the tent. “One of us …” Billy started to explain. But he gave up.
“Well, let’s go,” Robert said. It felt strange to turn around. Each step into the wind was doubly hard. Bronty’s sled flapped like a metal kite behind him.
“Did you get caught in the blizzard?” Billy asked.
The big man shook his head. “No. I parachuted in afterward, but the blizzard must have messed up our bearings because I was supposed to land next to you.”
“So you just landed?” Billy asked. All of a sudden, the man appeared soft to him; this man didn’t know how tough the Antarctic could be.
“Yeah,” the man said. “See, my partner and I have been on alert at a secret location. The plan was to drop me off at the Pole a few hours before you guys arrived. It was supposed to be a simulation of how Amundsen beat Scott to the Pole.”
Billy shook his head. “Sick.”
“But the viewers were too upset,” the man continued.
“What about?” Robert said.
“I haven’t been able to watch television. But my boss tells me there are riots in front of the Department of Entertainment.”
“Why?” Billy asked.
“People are angry about your situation,” the man said.
“About us?” Robert wondered.
“About the boy who was trapped in that crevasse, and about the whole thing. People are mad about the whole Historical Survivor series.”
“What do you know!” Robert said. “Maybe the viewers aren’t so sick after all.”
“Maybe not,” Billy said.
“So you’re … ?”The man pointed at Robert.
“I’m Robert.”
“And I’m Billy,” Billy said.
“You can call me Harry,” the man said. “You’re supposed to call me Roald, but I can’t pronounce it.” He looked around. “Besides, who cares if we stick to the story? Where could the cameras be out here, anyway?”
Billy and Robert looked at each other. This man had a lot to learn.