Skeleton Gold: Dark Tide by Lucas Andy

Author:Lucas, Andy [Lucas, Andy]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: ALB
Published: 2015-09-25T07:00:00+00:00

19

The grief inside the dormitory was a terrible thing to witness and Pace could only stand back and watch as a stammering, stuttering Marigold told the remaining eight scientists of their colleague’s brutal killing.

All were New Zealanders, of mixed ages, races and disciplines, but they had shared the common hardship of enduring months alone together, isolated from the outside by darkness, frozen seas and impossible flying conditions.

A couple wore white lab coats but most were in jeans and sweatshirts. Tears flowed openly and one of the young men had to be physically prevented from hammering on the door, demanding revenge. After he eventually calmed down, he realised that it would have just given their guards an excuse to kill another one of them.

Pace was already feverishly examining ways they could escape and paid little heed to the tears but did listen when he was properly introduced to everyone. The only names that stuck were two of the older men. One was of a similar age to Pace but carried an extra hundred pounds of pure muscle than he did. His name was Sharpe; an expert on ice deposition and coring who’d passed the months of dark evenings by pumping iron and punching bags in the well-equipped gymnasium.

The other person who stood out for Pace was a physicist, in his early fifties, who sported an Elvis haircut from his seventies era. Long, collar-length dark hair was edged with thick sideburns that came all the way down to his jaw line, although his hair was heavily streaked with grey throughout. His dark green eyes radiated intellect, with just a hint of sadness. He went by the name of Thatcher and was clearly the next in seniority after the doomed Hansol, as shown by the way he quickly seized control and calmed everybody down to the point of rational thought and discussion.

‘Options? What can we do?’ he asked, urging them all to sit down on a number of nearby beds. ‘We have no firearms here and, even if we did, we are civilians who would not stand a hope against these people. However much they are to be despised for what they’re doing to us, they’re clearly experienced soldiers.’

‘And what are they doing?’ asked a lanky, fresh-faced scientist who wore a sweatshirt emblazoned with Greenpeace slogans. He looked about thirty years old and wore his blonde hair in a near-bald crew cut. ‘Why are they here? We have nothing of value.’

‘I don’t know,’ admitted Thatcher, turning to Pace. ‘Perhaps our new companion has the answer?’

All eyes turned to him, widening expectantly. He took a moment to balance the inner arguments about exactly how much detail to give them but decided that he needed to be fairly brutal if he was to win their support, and then convince them to try an escape.

‘They are here,’ Pace said, ‘because yours is not the only scientific base on this island, or the nearby ice sheet.’

‘Tell us something we don’t know,’ said one of the young women,

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