A/N: I notice some reviewers were upset by the twist at the end of the last chapter. Let me therefore take this opportunity to point out that I've planned this story only up to the halfway point; I'm not yet certain how it'll end, so anything's still possible…even 'hawt Argentinians'. ;0)
Disclaimer: As ever, don't own.
The noonday sun beamed directly into Jade's sleeping face, as if to warn her of the disaster that impended, but so deep was her exhaustion that she did not yet awake. The only effect of the light was to alter her dreams; what had been a featureless, dark mindscape of oblivion warped into a half-comprehended nightmare. She was strapped down in a dentist's chair, the lamp above her blinding her, her mouth held open with wires; her saliva had dried to nothing, her tongue was shriveling up, she wanted to cry out but could not. In her troubled sleep, she thrashed about, rocking the little raft.
"Uh-uh-uh BWAH! Uh-uh-uh BWAH!" The sound in her ear pierced the illusion at last, and her eyes fluttered open. The burning corneas could not at first make out her surroundings; she blinked, once, twice. It quickly became clear to her that her throat was no less dry than it had been in her nightmare. Each breath hurt, the bitter chill searing her lungs as her dry tongue flopped about in her mouth. Again the cry of "Uh-uh-uh BWAH!", coming from some squat black shape in the middle distance.
Desperate times call for desperate measures. Fumbling in one of the many pockets of her pack, she drew out a flask of brandy. I may not be 21 yet, but I'm pretty sure that U.S. law doesn't apply here…wherever 'here' is.
The swig was liquid fire; she hated it and thanked God for it in the same instant. The urge was strong to drain the flask dry, but she fought it off and replaced the cap. Andre or I will probably need it again.
She looked at her companion, who was completely still, his hands loosely hanging onto the oars. Jade worried for a moment that he might have lost consciousness from blood loss, even died; but he suddenly gave a great, galumphing snore. She grinned from ear to ear.
No sense waking him up yet. Taking great care not to disturb him, she slid his hands down to his sides, then picked up the now vacant oars.
Stroke-stroke-stroke-what the…?
Jade's valiant attempts to row were accomplishing nothing at all, for the raft was now in the grip of a powerful current, drawing it inexorably onward. No matter how she fought, she could not turn the vessel in any direction. She checked her sextant, squinting to make out the map, for her eyes had not yet fully focused. Well, at least this current's taking us in the right direction – due NNE. A couple more hours and we should make landfall at Tierra del Fuego.
You know, for a place whose name means 'Land of Fire', it sure is pretty damn cold around here…
She blinked one last time, and her vision cleared. There was a great mass of something dead ahead – presumably land – but where were the people? Where was the vegetation? Why was everything so completely, remorselessly…white?
"Uh-uh-uh BWAH!" Okay, what the hell is making that damn noise? She looked over her right shoulder, and gaped in astonishment.
A little ice floe swept past them, bumping the starboard stern as it did so; and atop it the male Emperor penguin continued his blaring call.
"ANDRE! WAKE UP!" Jade cried. When he responded only with a vague grunt of disapproval and rolled over to get comfortable, she grabbed his shoulder and shook it furiously. His agonized scream reminded her that the wound was still raw, and she instantly let go.
"Oh, God, 'Dre, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to…I just panicked. But…look!"
His disgruntled expression turned to amazement, then terror. "Jesus! We're in Antarctica! How did this happen?"
"I…I don't know. We've been following the sextant the whole time, and…do you hear that?"
The water was absolutely calm; the penguin had fallen silent as well. Through the stillness, an infinitesimal beeping reached their ears.
"Ain't that just your 'magic machine'?" The sarcasm in Andre's last two words was palpable.
"No. No, it isn't." Jade got down on hands and knees and peered into the bow. After a moment, her hand settled on a tiny electronic device stuck to the inner hull. She yanked it off; dropped it; crushed it under her foot. The beeping was snuffed out.
At the same moment, before Andre's eyes, the directional map reversed itself, and their true position was laid bare. To their stern, a vast, lifeless expanse of ocean; immediately ahead, a gargantuan shelf of ice, hundreds of miles from any research station or other human settlement.
"This is not happening," Andre said, shutting his eyes tightly and pressing his hands to his temples. "This is a dream, and I'm gonna wake up in bed with Grandma yelling that she burnt the toast again, and it's all gonna go away…"
"Oh, great," Jade snapped. "That's just what I need right now – you having a freakout. Focus, dammit!"
"Focus on what?" His eyes, when he opened them again, were full of despair. "Findin' a 'way out of this'? There ain't no way, Jade. We're already dead, and you know it just as well as I do. Hypothermia, or starvation, or exhaustion – it don't matter which, one of 'em's gonna get us sooner or later, whether we stay on this raft or go out on the ice."
"People have survived the Pole before, 'Dre."
"Yeah. People with sled dogs, and mountaineering equipment, and support teams. All we got is what's in your pack. You really think that'll be enough?"
As if to punctuate his words, four ice floes, carried along by the same swift current, surrounded the raft on all sides. With a grinding noise and a sickening crunch, Jade and Andre were completely hemmed in. Their miniature prison of ice drifted toward the looming shelf, bearing the helpless raft along with it.
For an instant – and only an instant – Jade felt herself succumbing to despair. But a voice inside her – that stubborn, snappish, quintessentially Jade-ish voice that gave her the ferocity she needed to keep the world at arm's length – spoke up:
Jade West does not give up, or give in. Ever.
She rallied herself. "Think of all the tough situations we've been in before, Andre. Prison in Yerba. The cupcake float. Every time we were terrified out of our wits, but every time we found a way out. This is no different."
"It is different, though. Then it was all of us. Now it's just you and me, and with my busted shoulder, I'm not gonna be good for much."
She leaned forward to look him in the eye. "Okay, listen up, and listen good. Shoulder or no shoulder, you're the strongest man I know, Andre Harris. You care for your grandma, no matter how sick she gets. You pursue your dream of a music career no matter what the odds, and every time you hit a snag, you find a way around it. Don't you ever try to tell me you're 'weak'."
Hope crept tentatively back into his eyes. "Maybe so…but still, with just two people…"
"Yeah. Just two people, against the most inhospitable, God-forsaken place on the surface of the Earth. And you know what, Andre?"
She whispered in his ear:
"We're gonna win."
Andre managed a half-hearted smile. "Y'know, when you talk like that, you almost make me believe you're right."
"Almost?" She raised an eyebrow.
"…Okay." He flashed a grin. "I'll buy what you're sellin'. For now, anyway. Forget nurse – you oughta go with motivational speaker as a fallback career."
They geared up as best they could before landfall: multiple layers of clothing (Jade helping the crippled Andre with his jacket), snowshoes, dark goggles to prevent snow-blindness. Jade blew on her hands to warm them, then pulled on a glove.
As she picked up the other, something moved in the corner of her eye.
She whirled. There was nothing there, save the ice and the mercilessly steel-blue sky.
Andre put a hand on her shoulder. "What is it? Somethin' wrong?"
"...No. I guess it was nothing. All the ice must be playing tricks on my eyes."
At last they headed off. It had begun to snow, and they stayed close to one another, each fearful that the other might become lost if the snow escalated to a blizzard.
Several hundred meters away, a not-quite-human figure, apparently altogether unfazed by the intensifying snowfall, studied the oblivious pair with fixed, lidless eyes.