Icebound

"I must be crazy." Dr. Emilie Saunderson stared out the porthole window of the cramped Twin Otter airplane at the frozen landscape of Antarctica. Snow. Nothing but snow in every direction. Cold, stark, barren.

Crazy was the only explanation for coming to a place that was nothing more than a constant reminder of her life and what she'd lost.

Grief and guilt closed their frozen fingers around her heart.

She shivered.

Could she ever forgive herself? It had been more than a year, yet it often seemed like only yesterday.

"Dr. Saunderson, we're getting set to land," the pilot called out to her. "It's going to be bumpy."

"Thanks for the heads-up," she replied, raising her voice loud enough to be heard over the droning engines and thrusting the uncomfortable feelings aside. "I'll hang on tight."

To what exactly? Surrounded by boxes stacked to the ceiling, she didn't have much of a handhold anywhere.

She tucked the folder of medical information on Antarctica she'd been reading into her backpack. The place had odd physical effects on people. The lack of humidity, cold and elevation caused some to experience high-altitude pulmonary edema--water on the lungs--or even cerebral edema--brain swelling--that could disorient a person, or in severe cases, even kill.

The plane shuddered and jerked, throwing her against her harness. The boxes shifted, and for a moment she entertained thoughts of getting squished flat. A hard bounce and bump had her grabbing at the nearest box, but nothing toppled over and she breathed a sigh of relief.

The plane slid to a stop and Emilie opened the clasp on her harness and stood, stretching cramped muscles. It had been a long six-hour flight from McMurdo, the base on the Antarctic coast that supplied the South Pole Station. She was glad she didn't have to turn around and go right back like the pilots did.

She grabbed her backpack, squeezed past some boxes and crates and found her gear.

"You'll need all your Extreme Cold Weather clothing on, Doctor," the copilot said, coming back to open the side door of the plane. He stuck his head outside for a second before closing it again. "It's blizzarding."

"How long will it last?"

He shrugged. "This is normal weather down here. Could be a couple of hours or a couple of days."

Emilie glanced out the nearest window at the storm. "This is normal?"

"Welcome to the glacial side of hell."

"Gee, thanks."

"Got your stuff?"

She nodded.

"Okay, it'll be a few minutes before someone from the station gets here with snowmobiles to off-load the plane."

"How far away are we?"

"About two hundred yards." He turned to return to the cockpit and pick up his radio.

Her head pounded out a rough tempo between her temples as a blood-freezing chill seeped through her multiple layers of clothing. It hurt to breathe, and for the first time in her life she could actually smell the temperature. Cold--a sharp, metallic sting poking at the sensitive inside of her nose, making her want to cough and sneeze.

No way would she wait here slowly freezing into an icicle when warmth was only a short walk away.