Fire and Ice

This is a game. I am the last piece on the board, and I am wondering why I ever thought of playing.

Body heat warms a small space, Eskimos a testament. It was warm for a while. The storm has fled this desolation, but the cold remains, invulnerable.

I. Not so.

The pain is gone. Like fourth degree burns, the cold is horrific, but welcome because the nerves are destroyed or perhaps indifferent. Emotions are worse than cold, but just like pain, they eventually realise there is no one listening. Fire and ice. Desire and hate. These concepts sit beyond my reach in this empty place.

We are the same now.

Sink down into a crystal-clear glacier and look back up from just beneath the glass and this is what it would be like. Absolute stillness, the pulse a metronome. Perpetual, because we have entered the realm of the impossible.

My heart lazily reminds me it is still there, fuelled by an unreasonable, primal driven consciousness that hides where even the cold cannot reach. That is what keeps it ticking despite its waning enthusiasm. Week by week, day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute, fleeting moment by moment. A lullaby, that is about to go all Hans Christian Anderson. No. A reproach. You deserve to breathe that last desperate, unsatisfying breath.

Silence.

In that moment, the ‘self’ switches off like a lightbulb. But those can be turned back on. More aptly, a foot coming down on a bug.

Is.

Is not.

A never ending nothing.

An atheist’s end.

If there was a god, he or she would never dream of turning their head in this direction. Even their flawed creations couldn’t be that stupid, could they? Darwinism. That’s it. The universe weeding out extreme stupidity the only way it can. Evolution. Science has seen it stagnate. I’m not complaining. A burst appendix would have seen me dead and gone, but will generations thousands of years ahead thank us? Cure? A natural culling that breeds a better version of ourselves has slipped beyond our grasp, yet I am captured.

Irony?

Is that irony.

Astronauts know irony. We wanted to be Astronauts. To go where there was nothing and no one and just be. Clothing, food, a flimsy shelter. The helicopter shrunk and faded, the safety line to the space shuttle severed. Freefall. Astronauts floating about revel in the vast unending nothing; heart beats, the creak of their suit all magnified. It is not empty. That is an illusion. Yes, they know the folly, but wonder pushes aside and says, ‘here’, here is marvellous place to be. The ultimate untethering from humanity. The silent radiation is killing them. Even with a mild exposure their cells are being changed, destroyed. The cold is radiation of a sort, uninterested as it passes through leaving you forever altered.

Untethered. Yes. We achieved that at least.

Philosophy. That’s what an untethered mind embraces. Abstract thoughts that coalesce and evolve when one has left behind the self. Devoid of the emotions that guide us are we still human? Are they necessary? Here, now. The answer is no. The sun, the ice, the frigid air do not feel but are felt.

The sun favours this place. Dazzled, she does not want to look away. Night is a memory recalled with closing eyes, but to her it is unimaginable. Every indulgence has a price. Unlike me, she does not pay. Eventually she will slowly turn her blinding face to one mirrored in its isolation and as equally magical. As she looks down, she is mesmerised, us her favoured children? Personification. Where no god would bother, she holds her gaze. She does not laugh, merely observes. She is there. She will always be there. This curio will not. An unmeasurable insignificance. Observe. Move on unaffected.

Despite the futility, you will come. My own observations? When I had a voice, I spewed sentiment down the lens. Captured. All that I was waits in those artificial minds. It waits for someone to let it out. Soulless. Look. This happened. Closure. Move on. No judgement, because I have slipped beyond judging. There is no deity to critic my efforts. I am beyond caring about what has happened or how I am perceived. Atheism is a life without consequence.

I wonder why more people don’t see that.

Perception. Self-awareness. The cold, forever lacking, hungers for it. It is a skill that should be sharpened to a point in such desolation. Nothing to distract, solitude, but there is no internal adjudication here. There is nothing to perceive. The aware me sits on an emotional level that is too many floors below to count. I am in the great glass elevator if it was made of obsidian. The environment has swallowed me whole.

There are no differences to discern.

Not awareness. An inventory. Senses. Eyes decided all on their own they were threatened. Fight or flight, they fled the only way they could. A clam of sorts that can’t be pried open. My tongue might work, but I have long since been denied the possibility. Swollen, it remembers and shivers, ice its only companion… Was its only companion. There is nothing to assail my nostrils, not anymore. Nerves have long since been destroyed or more likely given up relaying the messages. Sound is one to be debated. Like taste it is denied by circumstance but does my heartbeat count as hearing? I think not. The ears are looking out, not in. And yet I hear it.

The pendulum falters.

Death reaches up to greedily pull me beneath the surface.

I will not thrash or flail.

They do not wait.

There will be no reckoning.

Huuuuuh. Huuuuuh…

Ethan readies the footage. Mike backed it all up and sent it to Ethan’s colleagues at police headquarters in Sydney along with the bodies.

According to Mike, this memory card is where it all went wrong.

Mike looked pale; his eyes swollen. “Watch that one, then the second. It will be upsetting for you. I was… The ones who found them are a mess.”

Mike wouldn’t tell Ethan more, but he can guess.

The memory cards were tucked into Cindy’s pocket in the second layer. His stomach drops thinking about it. In his job he has seen some confronting things, but this… Each layer of Cindy’s gruesome clothing was as disturbing as the last, well almost. The holes...

Cutting off that last bloodied parker revealed not monster, but a tiny gaunt, broken young woman.

His friends. Cindy did that to his friends. He swipes at a tear. This is so messed up.

Cindy was the medic and an artist, her notebook a view from the rear. A graphite testament to the toll the journey gradually forced them to pay. Some of the drawings… The one from the top of the crevasse is disturbing. Bones shattered Cory looks up, his face contorted with pain and fear. Turn the page and Cory is still. Ethan was in the warmth of the research station, and yet he shivered. He shivers now. Pages were torn out. Two pages before those images and one after.

God. Eight. Eight men and woman following in the footsteps of Scott, Wilson and Bowers. The irony. They were only two days from the pick-up point but heading in an unexpected direction, the target overshot. So close.

He presses play.

Cindy is filming. There is a date stamp in the bottom corner. It is just as they expected. They were already stopped eight days before the second storm abated. The wind is fierce, the sky clear, Cindy’s voice distorted. She glances towards the tent, tears frozen on her cheeks. “We should have left Cory. He was just as dead breathing as not. Sean will be next. I told him not to go down, but we knew he had to. The rope slipped through my hands, but I wasn’t the only one.” She glances to the tent again. “It cut halfway through his calf when he dropped. Pulling him up only made it worse. It’s definitely broken. I’ve done what I can. The blood. We have none to give. He won’t survive without it. We need to leave him. Sean agrees. They call me cold, but I feel it, the pressure change. Cory had the radio and the emergency beacon, all beyond his reach. Hanna should have let Sean drop the rest of the way when he pleaded. They would have found us. We are turned about, the crevasse lost. Hanna drove us onward without thought. You need to know. I tried to convince them. If she finds the memory cards... I can’t trust any of them except Fahad. Kelly is a passive bystander. Fahad and I are leaving when...”

The camera angle drops, her leg and snow in view.

“Cindy, you know the rules. The camera has six batteries. Group vlogs only. The book. Hand it over. I know you have it. We can’t warm Sean up. Just a few pages. Hand it over or I will take it.”

Scuffling. “You don’t need to burn it. You just want the drawings. Hanna please. Sean has lost too much blood. None of us match. I’m sorry. You need to prepare yourself. Stay with…”

“You bitch.”

The camera drops and all you see are feet as they struggle. One screams and falls. It is Cindy. Hanna comes into camera view. She opens up Cindy’s jacket and yanks out the book. She rises out of frame. There is ripping and then the book is dropped next to Cindy, pages fluttering wildly in the wind. Cindy scrambles for it, rolls onto her back and you can hear her sobbing. “I’ll tell them.”

Hanna returns and stomps on Cindy’s ankle.

Cindy screams.

No one comes. God. No one comes.

“You tell anyone about what you saw, and we will leave you for dead.” Hanna does it again.

Cindy yowls.

Ethan can’t believe it. His stomach is in his throat. Hanna. This was her third season at the station. Her and her husband were the most experience of them all. They were the heart of this place. This side of her… Sean’s injury made her behave so out of character. It must have been a shock. He wonders how hard Cindy tried to save Sean, or Corey. Cindy is still, but she can’t stay there. Ethan knows she will freeze. Would that have been better?

Still on the ground, Cindy sniffs, turns, and looks into the camera, eyes puffy, “It should have been her.”

The camera comes back on. Cindy’s voice is punctuated by groans, her face contorting as she speaks. “I was right about the storm. Two days. They are outside talking. My ankle. It’s broken. I can feel the displaced piece of fibula beneath the swelling. I’ve bandaged it. I used one of the bloodied ones I took from Sean. Hanna had to be restrained when I unwrapped it. The pain is unbearable. Kelly threw a lot of medical supplies down the crevasse at Cory, even though I told them it was a waste. He couldn’t move to get to his pack. He couldn’t move to get the poorly aimed supplies. He was bleeding out. His arms… The looks I got, but I was right. Hanna used the rest of the morphine to ease Sean from this world. There is nothing left for me. No one but Fahad will help me go outside. Ibuprofen is a feather when a sledgehammer is needed.” Cindy moans, her face contorted. “Hanna wanted to keep Sean in here. He was an ice brick. She wouldn’t take the clothes before he stiffened. They put him outside. She dug him out after the storm.” Cindy looks around and drops her voice. “Jacob is coming. They think I don’t know about the affair. Cory did.”

The footage starts again. It shakily pans around the tent. Three of them have been stripped down to their thermals, their bodies pushed to one side in a gruesome pile. Hannah is facing the door, an ice-pole lodged deep in her eye. There is blood sprayed on the side of the tent and signs of a struggle.

Oh God. Ethan bolts. Head over the toilet bowl, he retches. There is nothing but bile. He was right. Cindy was a monster. Only a monster could do that. In the background the footage rolls on. He is spent. He can still see the screen.

Cindy’s voice is flat. “They should have listened. Daniel saw it all too late.” Cindy sits with a thud and a moan. She props the camera up so she fills the screen. Blood is smeared across her face. “Fahad. Oh god.” She sobs. “Hanna caught him going through her pack. Hanna was hiding supplies and he found them. She shifted the blame. They believed everything even though I saw her plant the evidence. They’ve known her and Sean for years. This is my and Fahad’s first season.” Cindy begins to sob again. She pulls herself together and swipes at tears and mucous. “They left him outside. They took his jacket, tied him up and left him outside.”

Ethan is still sitting on the bathroom floor. What? He runs to the computer.

“I tried. When they brought Fahad in, he was blue. Alive, but the hypothermia was severe. I tried to warm him up. He was making no sense, dropping in and out of consciousness.” Cindy draws in a shuddering breath. “He was… He was gone by morning. They took his clothes and put him outside again. Hanna grinned. Daniel saw. He hadn’t helped, but he didn’t try to stop them. Jacob demeans Daniel. Daniel listens. He never speaks… spoke up. Oh…” She shatters. “I think that was when he realised Hanna was the one to worry about. Hanna saw us talking that last time. When we came in, Kelly was bracing herself in the corner and Jacob and Hanna had the ice axes. Jacob was furious. He accused me of pushing Cory. I had shown Daniel the footage. Daniel tried to tell Jacob, stepping towards him with his hands raised in submission. Hanna…” Cindy drops beyond reach. “She swung and missed. I fell. She turned, and while Jacob and Daniel struggled, she buried the axe in Daniels shoulder. Something snapped after Sean died and she unravelled, embracing the monster unleashed by grief. This was what was left. A beast. Daniel howled but kept his focus on Jacob. They fell. Daniel on top. Hanna tried to get the pick out… Kelly ran. She dived past, not even grabbing her jacket or boots. I don’t remember picking up the testing pole. I don’t know how I got to my feet. The pain. I knew pain and Hanna was hurting Daniel. The sound. I would be next. I thrust it at the back of her head. But she heard me coming and turned. I was already falling towards her, my ankle giving way. It hit the side of her nose and then slid into her eye.” Cindy turns to the side and retches up nothing. She turns back and wipes her mouth. “I only wanted her to stop. It was so still. The quietest it had ever been, as if the ice and the air and my heart all froze in horror. I was on top of Hanna. She wasn’t moving. Daniel groaned. I checked Hanna, but she was…. I had… Jacob…” Cindy closes her eyes, squeezing out tears. Her words are punctuated by sobs and moans. “Jacob and Daniel fell, the pick between them. Jacob had no pulse. Daniel… He was in a really bad way. Kelly had pulled out the pick before I… He was haemorrhaging blood. I put pressure on the wound, but Daniel grabbed my shoulder. The axe. His chest. He knew. He knew and he smiled.” Cindy is a mess, her face... Devastation. Unbearable pain. “Daniel has a brilliant smile. He said I had to tell them, his family. Tell them he loves them, that he is sorry he left. His son.” Cindy is gone again. She pulls herself together. “He wanted to tell Luke he is sorry he won’t get to see him grow up. I held his hand. Tell them I held his hand.” Cindy takes in a huge breath. Ethan sees the tension leave her. “They didn’t need the clothes.” She laughs, then looks to the side and sobs again. “I couldn’t pull it out. I didn’t mean to put it in there and now I can’t… Please don’t think poorly of them. Even in the deepest ocean depths life survives, but this place will not tolerate the living. We are trespassing. We have no right to disrupt this… devastating tranquillity. It tried to erase our humanity and for some of them, it succeeded. Jealousy, suspicion, fear. It drew them out and then… We have no right reprimanding it for being true to its nature.” Cindy repositions herself with a moan and pauses, listening. “It’s quiet again. I know you won’t come in time. That’s not your fault. I don’t think we are anywhere near where we are supposed to be. You will get here eventually. They found Scott.” She takes a deep breath. “I hope the recordings survive. Hanna really did push Cory. I don’t want to take the blame for that. I’m not innocent, I hated Hanna for what she did. I know she is probably a good friend, but her heart froze and then her mind. Robert Lee Frost understood. Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice. From what I've tasted of desire I hold with those who favour fire. But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate to say that for destruction ice is also great and would suffice.”