data from the deeper drills. He watched the meter feed change in slow increments. Nearly three hundred meters. It was the deepest he’d attempted on this patch, and he was eager for data. His report wasn’t due for a year, but making the funding stretch took hunks of time he needed for the study.
When the core met the next mark, he twisted, the wind pushing the fur of his parka as he waved a wide arc. His assistants jogged across the ice and he warned them again about exerting themselves unnecessarily. They brought it up, the sample laid out in sections. Overstuffed with down and thermal protection, his colleagues rushed to contain it in the storage trenches dug into the ice to keep the sample from relaxing or their measurements for chemical isotopes would be screwed to hell.
The drill continued and out of the corner of his eye, Walt watched the computer screen’s progress. The nonfreezing drill fluid flowed smoothly and he could kiss the scientist who’d perfected it. Pipes locked in the ice meant abandoning valuable equipment. The crew transported the next length into storage below one degree to maintain the specimen. The rest gathered around the equipment housed over the site with a windscreen that would protect them, yet not change the temperature of the core samples. Walt ached for hot coffee.
Suddenly the core shot another twenty-eight feet and he rushed to shut it down. Shit shit shit. Not good, he thought, his gaze jumping between monitors. A pipe had come loose, he thought, yet the readings were fine. There wasn’t a damn thing wrong with the equipment. That meant there was a gap. An air pocket in the glacier. His brows knit, his heartbeat jumping a little. The core depths so far were a sample of the climate eight hundred years earlier, give or take a hundred.
“All stop, pull up the last sample.”
It was useless anyway. The inconsistent drill would change the atmospheric readings of gas bubbles if the core relaxed and lost its deep ice compression. Holes under pressure were usually deformed. The technician went back to securing the steel pipes. Walt switched on the geothermal radar, lowering the amplifier, then waited for the recalibration. The picture of the ice throbbed back to the screen, loading slowly. He didn’t see anything in the first half that shouldn’t be there. The feed showed an eerie green of solid glacier ice. Then it darkened, a definite shape molding from the radar pulse. Bedrock already? Or perhaps a climate buoy. Thousands of those were getting trapped, yet never this far below the ice flow.
A graduate student moved alongside him, peering in. “There’s something in there.”
Walt didn’t respond, waiting the last few seconds for the pixels to clarify. “Yes, Mister Ticcone. There definitely is.”
And try THE FALCON PRINCE by Karen Kelley…
She needed to clear her head. Nothing in life mattered when she was out running. This was her time. She didn’t have to worry that people thought she was a little mentally off-balance. She didn’t have to…
A hawk swooped down, landing on the trail in front of her.
She came to a grinding halt, feet still running in place, and then stopping altogether.
What the hell? Hawks didn’t just land in front of people. And it should have taken off as soon as it spotted her.
Ria stared at the bird as she tried to catch her breath, bending over and resting her sweaty palms on her knees.
The hawk was magnificent, with a creamy white breast and speckled, dark-brown wings that blended into black tips. The bird was so close she could see its sharp talons. Talons that were made for catching and holding prey. Something about this wasn’t good. Probably because the hawk still hadn’t moved. It stared at her as though it were silently trying to communicate. This was weird. No, it was more than weird.
Almost as weird as the thick fog rolling in. She straightened, her gaze flitting from tree to tree until she could no longer make them out. An icy chill raced down her back as if someone had run an ice cube over her spine.
Fog wasn’t that unusual. Right? It was early morning, and the trail behind her house was in a low spot. Except this fog wasn’t like any fog she’d ever seen. Kind of Friday the 13th creepy.
Alrighty, maybe this was her cue to leave.
Someone groaned, but the fog was so thick now she couldn’t see a thing. Ria hesitated. What if the hawk had