The little convoy of Black Hawks battled against the winds of the approaching storm. They were within five minutes of the lab now. Sam was beginning to wonder if he'd really made the right choice.
Beep! Beep! Beep! A shrill alarm sounded from the cabin of the chopper. The C.O. made his way cautiously to investigate.
"Hang tight; we're starting to get ice on the rotors!" he shouted back to the team. Sam felt the tension rise in the small space.
Suddenly an explosion burst in the direction of the left-flank chopper. The C.O. hit the floor hard with the aftershock, and didn't move. Everyone flinched as debris rattled against the armored hull. They were under attack, out here? Sam held his breath, waiting. This time he heard the scream of a rocket just before an explosion on the right. Seconds later, it crash-landed.
Crunchscree!
Sam braced himself—something had hit the tail, destroying it, and sending the chopper into a spin. A couple of the men who had loosened their harnesses were thrown from their seats. One hit the door latch, which bent open a few inches but not all the way. Now there were glimpses of the white world outside…with no hint of up, down, or distance to impact. The noise was deafening.
Then they were connecting with Earth. Men cried out. Metal crunched and twisted. Sam felt his head strike painfully across something, and he blacked out.
The next thing he knew, everything was still again. There was just enough light to see the outlines of bodies. Sam tried slowly to rise, and was greeted by pain shooting through his own stiff one. The skin from his forehead to his left cheek felt sticky.
Wind whistled through the outside of the wreckage. The storm! There had to be a better shelter nearby. Gritting his teeth, Sam forced himself to check for other survivors, but everyone felt cold. The wind made an insistent rattle against the chopper.
It took several tries to get the door open far enough. How long had he been out of it? Snow was already beginning pile up around the wreck, and the biting cold made his head throb. To his great surprise, however, the shape of a dark hole loomed no more than a hundred feet away. The lab.
At the same time, Sam suddenly felt eerily like he was being watched.
Clank.
The gaping hole began to shrink ever so slowly. Sam broke cover, running as fast as he could make himself go. Even as he tore across the open space, he knew something was tracking him. Adrenaline was screaming through his veins; at the last minute, he dove through what was left of the opening, and landed hard in a dark room. The doors closed with a dull, echoing boom.
Sam picked himself up slowly, still tingling with apprehension. He was in some type of garage or loading bay. Something shifted in the deep shadows, or was it just his imagination? Silence. Then it was behind him, and too late he sensed to blow coming from behind.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"Uhnnn…"
Sam heard himself groan as if it came from somewhere else. Where was he? And, more importantly, who else was there?
Something moved close to his head. He jerked up, inhaling sharply. A shape darted across the still-dim room. Sam's eyes focused very slowly, and finally he could make out a single girl.
"Who are you?" Sam rasped. His mouth and throat felt like cotton.
The girl said nothing, and moved only a little closer. Sam pulled himself into a sitting position, screwing his face up against the pain. The girl looked concerned, but still too scared to abandon her escape route.
"I'm not here to hurt you," Sam said hoarsely. "I came to help. There was a rescue team." His forehead gave a nasty throb.
"And what about the others?" the girl hissed. Fear laced her hushed voice.
"I dunno," Sam confessed. "Whoever they are, they're not fond of the U.S….shot us down…I think I'm the only one left." The slightest movement made him groan with pain.
The girl backed up a couple of paces, then warily moved forward. She was holding a water bottle. "Here; drink carefully."
Parched, Sam couldn't help but gulp it down. He managed two or three swallows before choking. The girl's hand rested softly on his back.
"There's no rush. It's not going anywhere."
Sam coughed a few times, and waited to regain his breath. "I know, I just suddenly realized how thirsty I was. But what about you? Are you okay? How many—"
"Shh, take it easy," the girl said quietly. They might as well have been in a church. "You're not exactly in the best shape yourself. I'm the only one left, too. We tried to leave too late, and got stuck in the superstorm. Somehow I managed to get back here alive."
"And you've been okay all this time?"
"It's been lonely. But the lab is supplied to provision a staff of 120 up to three months, so I've been well stocked. Last week I got decently warm water to come out of the shower. Maybe one would do you some good now, and then I can finish patching you up."
Sam couldn't argue. He'd never found the task so difficult, though. His body was bruised and sore, and his forehead stung terribly whenever water touched it. When he glanced in the mirror, he saw a bright gash that extended from above his nose almost to his right temple. At least he wasn't covered in blood anymore.
"See, you're looking better already," the girl said encouragingly. She was being friendlier now that she knew she wasn't in immediate danger. Even so, she made it clear that her guard was still up. In his absence, basic first aid supplies had been collected on the floor.
"Thanks," Sam replied as he gingerly knelt down. "So, how'd you end up here in the first place?"
"Boss's brat. My dad was in charge of the project. They studied possible consequences to our lifestyle, like this ice age thing, and planned hypothetical responses to them. The government gave it more attention than they wanted to admit. My name's Katie, by the way. Katie Grant."
"Sam Hall, and I do find that surprising. My dad's a climatologist, and it seemed like no one wanted to listen to him when he said we were going into a new ice age, even as it was happening."
Katie nodded, carefully soaking the corner of a towel with rubbing alcohol. "Now, try to hold still. As if your head won't hurt enough already."
"Auugh!"
Sam tried to brace himself, but the pain still caught him off guard.
"The good news is this looks shallow enough that we could just clean it for a few days and not have to cover it," Katie observed. "Unless you want to."
"You'd think I'd be used to stuff like this," grumbled Sam. "I was stuck in Manhattan when the superstorm hit. My dad risked everything to come after me; I guess we were the first ones rescued. Then I worked on rescue missions until I broke my ankle a few weeks ago."
"Ouch."
"Yeah, so I was stuck doing nothing until just recently, and practically had to sneak past my dad to get on this mission."
"At least you've had the freedom to get around, see other people." Katie had cleaned up, and now turned her back on him to put the supplies away.
"Oh." Sam realized what she must have been through. "Sorry."
"Don't be. It's just…it's been so long since I've talked to anyone else."
Sam looked at Katie properly for the first time. Though dressed as a tomboy, she didn't have the appearance of being trapped for the last three months. Her clothes were clean, albeit showing some wear; a lab coat provided extra warmth. Her straight, sandy hair was a little uneven, but not bad for a self-done job and well kempt. Only her hazel eyes betrayed the effects of her involuntary solitude.
"It took a few weeks to get the system functioning again. The first thing I picked up was someone crossing the Bering Strait, giving off an unregistered signal. They've been really close for awhile now." Katie shuddered.
"Why haven't they tried to move in?" asked Sam. "Wouldn't this be a better shelter?"
"It is, and that's why they haven't," Katie explained grimly. "This place could withstand a nuclear blast, aside from one or two weaker spots. A good shot could disable the lab with several shells. But they're waiting. I guess they don't want to risk too much damage." She glanced at her watch. "It's getting late. How's a hot dinner sound to ya?"
Sam smiled, and followed her out of the room.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Shot down?!" Jack's strangled voice managed. "Can you tell if there were any survivors?"
"We're doing all we can," said Nigel. He was trying to keep Jack calm, and failing miserably. "Right now, the only thing being picked up is that weird signature, sitting there like a vulture. And no one's going up there 'til we know who these people are, by order of the President."
Jack knew there wasn't anything he could say to get around that one; that's what was so irritating. Once again, Sam was in trouble—even though he walked himself into it—and there was no way to get to him. Unable to stand the sight of the screen any longer, Jack stormed out and kicked the tire of a jeep parked right outside the door.
"Any news, Dr. Hall?"
Laura, who had just left the mess tents, hand-in-hand with Josh, had to trot to catch up. "What's happened?"
"Shot down. All of them. That's all I know," Jack replied shortly. "There's an unregistered military signature waiting outside the lab in Washington. We're—no one's allowed to go in and look for survivors until further notice."
"Oh my…what have I done?"
"It's not your fault, Laura, you hear me?" Jack hugged the girl fiercely. Josh waited patiently to the side.
"But Sam's strong," Laura's muffled voice said through the fabric of Jack's coat. "I know he'll make it out, just like last time. You've got to believe in him." It sounded like she was trying just as hard to convince herself.
Jack felt tears sting his eyes. Sam would make it back; he'd do anything to make sure that happened. Even so, it took a minute to pull himself together.
"Well, nothing's going to get done standing here," he finally declared. "Go get your boyfriend. Are Brian and JD around?"
"I think so. No other teams have been sent out."
"Good. We may not be able to do anything now, but I want to be ready. I'm not risking lives by not being prepared at the get go."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"So, what all did you do here, anyway?" Sam asked. It was the next morning, and he was following Katie to the main systems room.
"Number of things," she replied over her shoulder. Keys clinked together as she unlocked the door. "We were one of the premiere facilities for monitoring global weather. Most of the time it was just supplying info to the weather channels and programs, keeping up with overall conditions, and pioneering solutions to improve the environment.
"And the government went along with you?"
"Actually, they didn't know until about three months before that summit in India. We were too valuable to shut down, but the President wasn't too happy with Dad. Not that it stopped us. We have digital and carbon copies of all the existing designs, and prototypes for about half of them. All under keypad access only."
"I guess that makes this place pretty valuable now," Sam mused.
"Yep. And I think that's why there's company outside."
"Well, we can't let 'em have it! This is vital to everybody left in the Northern Hemisphere. If these guys are already using force, how much you wanna bet they'll share it? It's gotta go to the President."
"Yeah, I know," Katie agreed distractedly. Her face had darkened into a scowl. "There's just one thing that bothers me."
"What?"
"No one else except the White House is supposed know where we are."