 
NIKKI WHITE: POLAR EXTREMES

By Jack Chaucer

Copyright Jack Chaucer 2017

Smashwords Edition

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this e-book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this e-book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite e-book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover art by Damon Za.

Discover other titles by Jack Chaucer:

Queens are Wild

Freeway and the Vin Numbers

Streaks of Blue (Nikki #1)

Nikki Blue: Source of Trouble (Nikki #2)

Nikki White: Polar Extremes

By Jack Chaucer

Part 1

Chapter 1: Dyer Situation (Nikki's point of view)

Chapter 2: Heaven and Hell (Nikki)

Chapter 3: Call Center (Adam)

Chapter 4: The X Factor (Thomas)

Chapter 5: Second Chance (Nikki)

Chapter 6: Root Beer Lolly (Nikki)

Chapter 7: Men's Room Fight Club (Thomas)

Chapter 8: Bientang's Cave (Nikki)

Chapter 9: The Point of No Return (Nikki)

Chapter 10: Filling the Crevasse (Nikki)

Chapter 11: Tables Turn (Thomas)

Chapter 12: Yellow Ice (Nikki)

Part 2

Chapter 13: Enter Snowbow (Nikki)

Chapter 14: Dishes (Nikki)

Chapter 15: 10-Below Barbershop (Thomas)

Chapter 16: Bottom's Up (Nikki)

Chapter 17: Summer Wind (Thomas)

Chapter 18: Siberia on Steroids (Nikki)

Chapter 19: From Here to Infinity (Nikki)

Chapter 20: Red Flags (Thomas)

Chapter 21: Card Trick (Nikki)

Chapter 22: Unbalanced (Nikki)

Chapter 23: Peace Prize (Thomas)

Chapter 24: Shock (Nikki)

Chapter 25: Race for the Hollywood Showers (Nikki)

Chapter 26: Stockholm Syndrome (Thomas)

Chapter 27: Max Throttle (Nikki)

Chapter 28: Mars Isn't Enough? (Thomas)

Part 3

Chapter 29: The Shining Lights (Nikki)

Chapter 30: $19 Million Burnt Rug (Thomas)

Chapter 31: Love or Mars? (Nikki)

Chapter 32: South by South Pole (Nikki)

Chapter 33: The 300 Club (Thomas)

Chapter 34: Just One Kiss (Nikki)

Chapter 35: Sugar Snow (Thomas)

Chapter 36: Maybe on Mars (Nikki)

Chapter 37: Toasty (Nikki)

Chapter 38: Here Comes the Sun (Nikki)

Part 4

Chapter 39: You're All I Have Left (Nikki)

Chapter 40: Awful Awesome (Thomas)

Chapter 41: Get Lucky (Thomas)

Chapter 42: Too Late (Nikki)

Chapter 43: Pen and Paper (Thomas)

Chapter 44: Upside Down (Nikki)

Chapter 45: With You (Thomas)

Chapter 46: Aroused (Nikki)

Chapter 47: Skyways, Stairways & Corridors (Thomas)

Chapter 48: "60 Minutes" (Nikki)

Chapter 49: Red Confetti (Nikki)

Chapter 50: Let Go (Nikki)

### Prologue

**South Miami Hospital:** Information desk, this is Carol. How may I help you?

**Steve Pearson:** Hi Carol, this is Steve Pearson again, reporter for the Brass City Bulletin in Waterbury, Connecticut.

**Carol:** Hello again.

**Steve:** Any info on those John Does yet?

**Carol:** Yes, I checked for you this morning. We admitted six and five are deceased. One was later identified, treated and released. Two of the five deceased also have now been identified.

**Steve:** And of the three John Does you've identified, were any of them named William Osborne... or Bill Oz?

**Carol:** No.

**Steve:** Were any of them treated by the visiting Dr. Peter van Wooten?

**Carol:** Let me look that up for you.

**Steve:** Thanks.

**Carol:** Yes, the one who was treated and released. His name is Howard Felcher.

**Steve:** Huh. Any other info about Mr. Felcher?

**Carol:** Age 39. That's all I can give you, but there's not much more here anyway.

**Steve:** Is that unusual?

**Carol:** Yes, but he did start out as a John Doe.

**Steve:** Nothing about who might've picked him up... or if he left on his own?

**Carol:** No, I'm sorry.

**Steve:** And Dr. van Wooten still never returned?

**Carol:** I'll check again.

**Steve:** Thanks.

**Carol:** No. He was just here for that week after Hurricane Felicia.... Any luck finding the other people you said were missing?

**Steve:** No.

**Carol:** That's terrible.

**Steve:** Can I just ask you again about Nicole Janicek's unauthorized discharge on the night she disappeared?

**Carol:** You can try.

**Steve:** Your hospital doesn't have a policy where you would report that discharge to authorities or, I don't know, go and try to reclaim that person, does it?

**Carol:** Only if the person is a threat to himself, herself or others. Then we would report that to the police.

**Steve:** OK. Thanks for your help, Carol.

**Carol:** I wish I could do more.

**Steve:** I know the feeling.

**Carol:** No leads at all?

**Steve:** The ones I had seem to grow colder by the day.

### PART 1

**CHAPTER 1: DYER SITUATION**

Nikki Janicek

January 1, 2020

Off the coast of South Africa, near Dyer Island

The sea gulls taunted me with their freedom.

They had it and I didn't. And they could fly anywhere, but no, they had to show off, shrieking at me as they cruised alongside the boat.

After months of indoor isolation and captivity, I suppose I should've been rejoicing at this "reward" of fresh, saltwater air; a new start and new training for the new year. But the sun that I hadn't seen or felt in so long was a no-show, masked by thick, dark-gray clouds; the air was stained with the stench of fish guts, and my own guts were roiling from sea sickness.

To add insult to indignity, a sea hag kept heckling me from the rear of the boat in German, Dutch or whatever the hell it was.

My only consolation was Roy, the biggest and blackest of my abductors, looked even more nauseous than I did. He sat on the bench a few feet to my left and held his breakfast back with a massive hand over his mouth.

That's when the mystery captain, driving the boat behind tinted glass on the upper deck, suddenly cut the engine, leaving us to pitch and roll in lazy, 6- to 8-foot swells. The torturous motion immediately forced me to get up and stagger to the rail. I might have fought it back, but the sound of Roy hurling over the opposite rail was too much. Out it came, pouring into the sea below.

Happy Effing New Year.

And not one drink the night before to make it remotely worth it.

Then the short, stocky sea hag approached me with a big gray scooper in her hand and a prankster smile on her weather-beaten face.

"To settle the stomach, ja," she attempted in gruff English.

She showed me the fish head and cackled. I seized up and wretched the rest of my innards overboard.

Before I could regroup enough to curse her out, she was already back at the stern stirring her revolting cauldron of dead fish.

I just flipped her off with zero satisfaction, turned around and headed for the bow. The island was in front of us, its hilly outline barely visible in the haze. Yes, it was summer here, on the underside of the world. Little did I know at the time how far under I would go.

Could I jump off and swim fast enough to escape a speed boat? Definitely not. Even if I just swam normally without fear of being caught, would I reach the island before hypothermia set in? Not likely. They had warned me the water was cold, even in the summer, due to the Antarctic currents. And all they had given me to wear was a skimpy, two-piece turquoise bikini. There were no wetsuits in sight.

Was there anyone even on that island who could help me? And if my father couldn't help me escape from The Bridge, who could?

Tears stung my eyes just as I instinctively felt someone else's eyes on me. I turned to look up at the second deck and there he was: Dr. Peter van Wooten, smiling down at me. The rage took a second to fully engulf me, but then came his predictable wink, setting me off like a bomb.

"You!!! Where's my father?! What did you do with Bill?! Where's Adam and Max?! Why are you driving me around on this boat?!"

But he just kept smiling... and the next thing I felt was a hard shove from behind, and nothing hard beneath my bare feet.

The sea hag had bull-rushed me overboard, her laughs suddenly silenced when I belly-flopped into the ocean. I quickly got my mouth above water and screamed from the pain, not from my collarbone — that had fully healed since Hurricane Felicia — but because that's how frigid the water felt.

As I forced my shocked limbs to swim back toward the bow, the engine kicked on and the boat whipped around. It began moving away from me, so now I was chasing the stern. Peter had climbed down the rear ladder and joined the hag, both clearly amused by my predicament.

With no wetsuit, I knew I wouldn't last long in this water before hypothermia set in. The island was too far away. I _had_ to catch the boat, no matter how much it killed me to swim toward these assholes.

My lungs and body ached as I churned after the boat as fast as I could. Again the sea gulls taunted me, trailing the boat with ease and hovering around a big blue barrel next to the hag. That's when she began reaching into the cauldron with her scooper and dumping the fish heads/guts into the water in front of me.

I slowed down for a second, repelled by the hideous smell, the gruesome chunks all around me and the terrible thoughts knifing through my brain.

"Fucking shark week!" I shouted, tredding the icy water and shooting Peter evil-yet-futile looks as the sea tossed me up and down.

He had a megaphone and directed it toward me, some 20 feet behind the slow-moving boat.

"Maybe now you'll listen to my mother," he said with a laugh, while wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "She can still kick some ass."

She smiled, nodded and poured more shark bait into the sea.

"Nothing like starting the new decade off with a nice, brisk swim, eh Nikki?" Peter ribbed me. "But I'd advise you to pick up your pace and get back on deck as soon as possible."

I swore at him through gulps of water, gagging and crashing through the waves as I resumed my ragged and desperate pursuit of the boat.

Then I heard the hag cry out. "Shark!!!"

She didn't need a megaphone. I heard her well enough for the paralyzing chill to rip through me. And I'm sure she was only too happy to shriek that word in my language.

My response was to scream like a banshee until I realized maybe I better not draw any more attention to myself beyond my flailing and splashing.

Then my drenched eyes locked on the massive gray fin and I froze in the water, my teeth chattering as a wave washed over me.

The fin disappeared just as quickly, swerving around the front of the boat, so I surged forward again, but those foreign idiots kept driving the boat away from me.

"I'm really going to die. A great-white shark is going to have me for lunch," I chattered to myself out loud, perhaps somehow trying to jinx the inevitable.

That's when the boat stopped, still 20 or so feet away from me.

" _Please_... let me get back on!!" I shouted at Peter, who just eyed my predicament with morbid anticipation, like any fan of the movie, "Jaws."

"Two sharks!!" the hag bellowed, pointing past me.

Now I would be a chew toy for two competing sharks, half of Nikki for each. I literally pissed into the sea and closed my eyes. I refused to even look back.

"Save her!" Peter suddenly yelled into his megaphone.

I faux-laughed, swallowed a rogue wave, choked and then wanted to scream, "Oh, _now_ you fucks decide to save me, when it's too fucking late!!"

But I never got the words out of my mouth for two reasons.

One, I saw what I thought was Fin No. 1 again, directly between me and the stern.

Two, a man in a hooded black wetsuit dove off the second deck and splashed into the water to the right of the boat.

He swam toward me and I rushed to meet him. He whipped around in front of me and shouted, "Put your arms around my neck!"

His voice sounded oddly familiar, but I didn't get a good look at his face. He was young. And strong. I clung to his back through a wave and he swam us toward the boat.

"Thank you," I yelled into his hooded ear as my eyes darted left and right to see where the next fin would pop up.

But my jaw dropped when he suddenly stopped in mid-stroke and jerked me off his back, still a good 8 feet from safety.

"What are you doing?!!" I screamed.

He grabbed me by the shoulders and looked me in the eyes.

"No fucking way!" he shouted.

I shuddered.

"B-but h-how?" was all I could stutter before I pushed away from his grasp and dove underneath the water. The cold didn't even bother me anymore. I just dove and dove, ready to die — either by shark or lack of oxygen. I was done with this world.

However, the sight of a great-white shark under water, maybe 15 feet away, made me change my mind in a frozen heartbeat.

I shot back up to the surface and swam for the stern with whatever energy I had left.

"Save her or we'll leave you both to die!" I heard Peter shout at Thomas "Lee" Harvey, his black hood bobbing in the water. The boat had moved slightly further away from us while I was under.

It was too late anyway. One of the sharks circled us both on his menu, mercifully choosing Thomas as the appetizer.

Yet Thomas refused to be lunch. When the shark's head came up toward him at an angle, he reared back with his right arm and punched it hard near the eye. That caused the shark to swerve sharply away from us, enough so that I exploded toward the boat, thrashing violently until I reached the outstretched hand of our tormenter, Peter.

"That a girl!" he had the gall to say as he yanked me up with ease and placed my hypothermia-ruined body on the lower deck. At least I was still in one piece, I marveled to myself.

Peter tossed a warm blanket over my quasi-corpse, and then shouted toward the water, "Great job, Tom! There's hope for you yet."

"Fuck you!" Thomas shot back, refusing Peter's attempt to assist him as he got back on board.

"Hey, shut the hell up and get yo ass back up here!" Roy shouted down from the top deck. "This ain't some pussy prison."

"No shit, I just punched out a shark."

"A baby shark, really," Peter pointed out, extending his arms as the boat dipped between waves. "Only about 3 meters long."

Thomas shot him a homicidal stare, one I knew well. Peter just smiled, daring him to take a swing. Roy descended the ladder a few rungs and towered over both of them, but he glowered at Thomas.

"OK thug. Get back up there... or take your shot at a great black and see how that goes down," Roy challenged him.

"And I wouldn't call Roy a baby," Peter quipped.

Thomas kept his mouth shut, started unzipping his wetsuit and dripped his way up the ladder following Roy. Thankfully, he never looked down at me, still a miserable heap on the deck.

Peter, on the other hand, flashed me his best anchor-man smile and, of course, a wink. I hissed and pulled the blanket over my head.

Thomas "Lee" Harvey — who should still be in prison on the other side of the world until 2039 for shooting me and Adam Upton because we derailed his plot to shoot up our New Hampshire high school — somehow had been reinserted into my real-life nightmare. He also had stared down a great-white shark and survived.

Looking at it another way, The Bridge had sprung my would-be killer out of jail and tricked him into rescuing me so they could apparently torture us both even more.

Perhaps succumbing as a chew toy for a "baby" shark would have been a more merciful fate after all.

NEARLY FIVE MONTHS EARLIER...

CHAPTER 2: HEAVEN AND HELL

**Nikki Janicek**

August 11, 2019

Cape Town, South Africa

My eyes fluttered open and I did not trust them.

Bill Oz loomed over me, a smile growing on his weary face. Impossible. He's dead. He drowned in Hurricane Felicia.

Or _am I dead_... and reuniting with him on the other side?

"Bill?"

"Yes," he whispered, and then kissed me softly on my dry lips.

I had to fight through numbness to feel his kiss and to kiss him back, but tears flowed down my cheeks with ease.

When I attempted to hug him, I immediately felt the pain in my neck and collar bone, but Bill smothered me gingerly to restrict my movement.

"How?" I rasped. "And... where are we?"

"It's a long and horrible story. And... the S.S. Cape Town," he said, referring to one of the many secretive Bridge centers around the world designed like a knock-off of the S.S. Enterprise from Star Trek.

"What?!"

A flash of memory seared my brain and my gut.

"Oh no, my father," I gasped and shuddered, trying to hold back the sobs.

Bill held me as tight as my pain threshold would allow.

"What about him?" he asked.

"The police stopped him... in the middle of the night," I said. "Then he was gone. Someone else drove off with me in the rental car. I couldn't..."

I paused to cry for a moment, struggling with the emotions of losing a father and regaining a boyfriend all at the same time. Bill kept holding me.

"I was so useless," I finally said. "I couldn't do anything to stop it."

"Nik, I'm sorry. I wish I knew what happened to you... and your father. I'm just so happy to see you again after everything that happened in the storm."

He kissed me again. I caressed his stubbly cheek with the hand that I could lift.

"I thought you drowned after you jumped. Did you find Max?" I asked.

He shook his head sadly. We both thought about his abducted 6-year-old son. Then Virgil's voice interrupted us from somewhere beyond the bed where I lay.

"Jumped is the key word," my immediate supervisor with The Bridge said over an intercom. "You both jumped from The Bridge and look how things turned out for you."

I turned my head to the right and it killed, but there he was, behind the glass, watching us.

"Has he been here the whole time?" I asked Bill.

"No, but I'm sure they've been listening the whole time."

The door in the corner of the claustrophobic room opened and was filled by Roy, my former bodyguard. He had saved me from drowning in Miami after I'd jumped into the storm surge in pursuit of Bill. Now he was in charge of making sure I'd never flee The Bridge again.

His wild hair a mess as usual, Bill straightened up and stared back at Roy, while Virgil resumed speaking to us from behind the glass window.

"You both failed to live up to your commitments to The Bridge despite the considerable trust and financial resources we showered you with."

"So now you lock us up on the other side of the world?" Bill asked. "Where's _my son_?! Where's Nikki's dad?"

"And where's Adam?" I added.

"These are all worthy questions," Virgil replied, his hawkish face gravely serious — nothing like the giddy, half-drunk old man I remembered from the galas we used to attend together. Of course, that was back when I was a rising star in his eyes. "But I'm afraid the answers will be lacking, just as you two have been lacking."

I ignored Virgil and focused on Bill, marveling that he was actually still alive. I rejoiced in that for a moment.

"How did they get you?" I asked him.

"I got clobbered with something during the storm as I swam," he said. "Somehow I made it out of the deep water and tried to walk, but I was too woozy. I passed out on the steps of a church, I think. The next thing I remember was being in the hospital. And the nurses kept calling me Howard."

"Howard?" I chuckled.

"I tried to tell them, 'No, I'm Bill,' but they just ignored me. Then one time I woke up and saw Dr. Peter, the asshole, standing over me. He must've drugged me. Got me out of there at some point. Flew me here somehow. Just like you."

"After they stole me back from my dad," I added.

"Human trafficking via private jets," Bill said with a sneer, looking at Roy and then Virgil. "You guys are racking up quite a list of international crimes."

"Is making outrageous allegations really the best way to show us some gratitude for even allowing this reunion?" Virgil shot back with a hostile tone. "I guess that's all the time they'll get, Roy."

The big man had Bill in a headlock before he knew what hit him. I screamed and Bill flailed, but he was gone and the door slammed behind him in an instant.

_At least he's alive_ , I reminded myself. _Focus on that._

Eventually, the door opened again, and tall, lanky Virgil soon stood over my broken body. He sighed and then gave me a long, disappointed stare.

"So now what?" I finally asked him. "How do I get my father back? Bill back? Adam and Max back?"

"You'll honor your commitment to us and go to Mars," he said. "When that happens, your circle will be released, or perhaps some of them will earn the opportunity to join you one day."

"That could take _years and years_... if it ever happens at all!" I shouted at him, shaking from the rage now consuming me.

Virgil remained calm, pissing me off even more.

"On the contrary, you'll have the opportunity to go to Mars much sooner than our earlier projections."

"What? More lies, lies, lies!"

"Truth, truth, truth!" he finally snapped. "David will give you the details in time, but you've got a lot of work to do to dig yourself out of the hole first. You were the one who skipped out on me at the Fort Lauderdale airport. You were the one who went to see Bill in defiance of David's orders. You were the one who attempted to rant against your own company during a live TV report on the hurricane."

"Effing seven-second delay," I seethed. "The truth always comes out, my ass. Not if The Bridge is there to zap it! Assholes!"

"And it's that attitude that will get you nowhere but isolation," Virgil pounced, his bony finger pointed right at my face. "We had such high hopes for you, Nikki. We unveiled you as a member of our first mission to Mars. That's how much faith we placed in you. But you turned out to be nothing but a deserter."

"And you guys turned out to be nothing but liars and kidnappers, so who's worse? You and David and Peter!" I shouted. "Get out of my face!"

"Gladly," he said. "You will be held here in solitary confinement for the rest of this year. On January 1st, after your body and hopefully your attitude have healed, your training will begin. You'll also meet your new partner on the Mars mission. We've selected him for you since you were so incapable of deciding before you jumped. However, if you complete the training to our satisfaction, we may give you the option to choose from other qualified candidates. Bill and Adam will have the opportunity to train and be among those candidates."

My jaw dropped open. Imprisonment. Mars. Bill and Adam. The whole scenario ripped at my insides.

"What about my father?" I asked. "Where is he right now? What did you do to him? And how did you track us down on that highway in the middle of the night?"

"I won't comment on operational matters, but your father will be given a similar opportunity," Virgil said. "So far, I am not optimistic he will attempt to take advantage of it."

"Can you blame him? He's got a wife and two little girls at home wondering where the hell he is," I said, referring to Jamie, his second wife, who lives in North Carolina. "It's so fucking maddening that you hunted us down like that!"

" _I_ didn't," he protested.

"You bribed the police to pull us over then."

"Police?" Virgil shook his head and seemed amused. "Let's just say not every flashing light in the night is what it appears to be."

Then I shook off the cobwebs and remembered where I was.

"It must've been your X squad from the God Complex. Is that where you've got me now? Did I finally make it out of COM?" I asked, my bitter sarcasm intensifying with every word.

The top "flying saucer" level of each Bridge center is divided into the sections GOD, COM, PLE and X. I had always been confined to performing useless public relations tasks out of COM at the Bridge center in Waterbury, Connecticut. I also once took part in a TV panel, anchored by Dr. Peter van Wooten, about a potential Mars mission, and that show was taped right here in the COM wing at Cape Town.

Virgil whined his response, drenched with fake pity.

"Yes, but you've gone about it all wrong and now look at you. A broken woman... confined to the tiniest room in the GOD level... who has all but run out of chances. If Peter didn't like you so much, you'd be..."

I mock-laughed loud enough to cut him off.

"I don't think I said anything _funny_ ," he snarled.

"Two things," I hissed. "One, don't ever lecture me about right and wrong. Two, I've got a level for you: R-I-F-H."

He tried to say something and I cut him off again.

"Rot In Fucking Hell!"

CHAPTER 3: CALL CENTER

**Adam Upton**

August 22, 2019

San Diego, California

The Bridge office phone rang at my desk. The Waterbury line was blinking so I punched the button.

"The Bridge, Waterbury. How may I help you?" I said, moving my sheet of prepared responses next to the phone.

"Hi, this is Steve Pearson of the Brass City Bulletin. I'm trying to reach Nikki Janicek, director of information," the guy said.

I tried not to think about Nikki. I just looked at my sheet and recited what it said to match the question, just as I'd been told to do.

"I'm sorry, but Nikki has been transferred to a different department. Can I help you with something?"

"With whom am I speaking?" the guy asked.

"Adam Upton, the temporary director of information," I said. I didn't need to read that response.

"Adam Upton?"

"That's me."

"Your aunt, Donna Stanton, just told me you disappeared after getting out of jail. You might want to give her a call. She's very worried about you. Are you really in Waterbury?"

I had rehearsed this response, but I read it just to make sure.

"I'm alive and well, working at a regional call center for The Bridge. I just got promoted actually. Donna and I had a bit of a falling out the last time we talked."

"Really? She didn't seem to indicate that. She said she thinks you and Nikki may have been abducted by The Bridge."

I moved my index finger down to the "accusations of kidnapping" section of responses.

"My aunt worries a lot. Obviously I'm fine and so is Nikki. We work for The Bridge."

"Then where is she?"

"Nikki is undergoing special training," I read.

"For Mars. Right. Where?"

"At an undisclosed location," I read.

"And Nikki's father, Roger? He's in training, too, I suppose? Nikki's mom says he just disappeared without a trace. Hasn't even called his second wife and twin girls in North Carolina in over two weeks."

I squinted closely at my sheet, reciting the prepared response word for word.

"Nikki selected Roger to accompany her to Mars. He also is in training at an undisclosed location, but he will return home to North Carolina when the initial training phase ends."

"When will that be?" the guy asked.

"I cannot comment any further on operational details."

"How about this? Can you comment on the police investigation into the disappearance of yourself, Max Osborne, William Osborne, Nikki Janicek and Roger Janicek?"

"Well, obviously I haven't disappeared," I said, forgetting to look at the sheet for a second.

"Where are you then? Can I interview you in person?"

"I'm in California," I said.

"Seriously?"

"Yes."

"Is someone holding a gun to your head by any chance?" the guy asked. It didn't sound like he was joking.

"No," I said, though Virgil's goons did do that to me once, when they kidnapped Max and, because of my big mouth, me, too.

Weirdly, the guy seemed to read my mind, asking me about Max next.

"And where's Max? A 6-year-old boy. His mother, Shelly, just got seriously injured in a one-car crash down in Florida, likely out of grief over his disappearance. Any comment on his whereabouts?"

I moved my finger to the "Bill and Max" section of the sheet.

"William is in training and Max is with him," I said. "They are both doing well and excited about what's ahead for them. Max is receiving the education of a lifetime."

"Where is this undisclosed location of missing souls training for a life of captivity on this planet or Mars?" the guy asked.

"I cannot comment on operational details."

"They've got you trained so well. Is Max even aware of his mother's car crash?"

I searched the sheet and found no answer for that question. As instructed, I went back to the top and read what it said.

"I don't know the answer to that question, but I'd be happy to find out and get back to you."

"And who'll write that response for you?" he nagged.

That's when I hung up. I didn't want to fuck up again.

CHAPTER 4: THE X FACTOR

**Thomas "Lee" Harvey**

September 1, 2019

New Hampshire State Prison For Men

Only pity me cuz I didn't go out in a tornado of gunfire. Yet.

That's the book that should've got told.

So... go fuck yourselves.

Just kidding.

All of my actual thoughts are under lock and key... just like me.

Now bow to the King of D-block, lowly fuck sticks!

September 10, 2019

Rumor has it I might get the fuck out of here.

But I hate lawyers. Gotta be a lie.

And just when I was falling in love with prison.

But K sure could use a Q, lowly J-offs.

September 17, 2019

Xtreme 180 Corp.

They want the King... overseas!

5 years of hard time served for a crime I never got to commit.

5 more with the X Factor and they'll suspend the other 15.

I gotta say it: thank you America for your amazing, overcrowded prison system.

I love you, I'll miss you and blow me again anytime!

Peace out, T-Lee out

September 19, 2019

Shackled on a jet to ?

"You ain't never flown before?" the biggest black dude I'd ever seen asked me (no, there ain't a lot of _them_ in New Hampshire, not even in lockup).

"How can you tell?"

"Because you're even whiter than I am black up in here," he said. "Ebony and extra fucking ivory."

"No... I ain't never been anywhere. I almost made it to Vermont once. Asshole troopers caught me a couple of miles from the border."

"This should be one hell of a trip for you then."

I just looked out the window. I couldn't see shit. It was dark. And the damn jet kept rattling around, making me queasy and shit.

"How long is this flight?" I asked the negro. He wouldn't tell me his name.

"Too motherfuckin' long."

"Got any valium or..."

"Hell no," he said, looking at me all pissed off.

"What you people want with me anyway?"

"You'll find out when we get there."

"Where's _there_?"

"South Africa."

"South what?"

"You heard me."

"No offense, but... is that where you're from?" I asked.

"Hell no. I'm American, just like you."

"Will I be the only cracker there?"

The big negro laughed at me.

"Hell yeah. You'll never see another one of yo kind ever again."

I just looked back out the window. I was sick of his ass already.

Flying fucking sucks!

Now I get why people want to blow up planes and shit.

**CHAPTER 5: SECOND CHANCE**

Nikki

December 24, 2019

Cape Town, South Africa

The Bridge hid me away in a windowless room inside a motionless flying saucer for more than four months. That's one-third of my 23rd year spent in solitary confinement for insubordination, attempted breach of contract and enlisting my father's help to escape from South Miami Hospital.

The tiny room where I briefly reunited with Bill became my cell, which was nothing more than a bed and four walls. The small window where Virgil had observed us disappeared behind an automatic compartment.

They buzzed me out three times a day to go into an adjacent room, where an awful meal awaited me on a small table next to an uncomfortable chair. These also were the only times I was allowed to use the bathroom, located in one corner of the adjacent room. I was allowed only two showers per week.

A red digital countdown clock on the wall told me how much time I had in the meal room before I needed to get back to my cell. I always made it under the 30-minute limit. I didn't want to find out what the next worst punishment would be after solitary confinement.

I literally never saw anyone. They only opened and closed the door between the two rooms by remote buzzer. Bare essentials, an occasional change of clothes, toiletries and one new book every week were left for me in the meal room.

The books ranged in topics from astronomy to physics to botany, but the one I enjoyed most was "A Case for Mars," by Robert Zubrin. It helped give me a sense of purpose for all of the bullshit I was going through. The gist of the book was we landed on the moon in 1969, yet here it is all these decades later, and we still haven't set foot on Mars. Sure we've sent some rovers there, but we've wasted a lot of time not picking up the torch that was handed to us by a better, more gutsy generation. Zubrin really blasted some of our U.S. presidents and NASA leaders for not putting enough money and commitment toward colonizing Mars.

So when I wasn't falling asleep and having nightmares about "the police" stopping my father in the middle of the night on a highway in northern Florida or southern Georgia, I actually fantasized about being part of that first colony on Mars. I could not deny that a part of me still wanted to go, regardless of the horrible company that planned to get me there. I thought about how ridiculously bizarre it would be for someone like me to reach Mars while the U.S. and NASA were still dawdling.

What if I did go through the training, the rocket did get off the ground, and I did survive months and months in space? What if we didn't burn up entering the thin Martian atmosphere and actually did touch down on the red clay? I'd be the Nelly Armstrong of the 21st century!!

Of course I was delirious. These mirages toyed with me for weeks and weeks as I waited for the end of 2019 to come.

Then at last, my cell door opened.

What little hope I had was steamrolled immediately by the sight of David Michael — my No. 1 tormenter, and the leader of The Bridge on Earth as soon as Peter departs to lead The Bridge on Mars.

He just stood there in his perfect navy-blue suit for a moment and burned me with his stare. I had started to sit up when the door opened, but he wasn't worth the effort so I slumped back down into a lying position on the bed.

"Nicole. Get up," the short, stout man said sharply.

I just rolled my eyes.

"Join me for breakfast," he quickly added, hooking his thumb toward the meal room.

I bit my tongue and got up; a little too fast, however. I nearly blacked out, but David grabbed my arms and steadied me with his vise-like grip — my hand still hurts at the thought of our first handshake in 2018, when I was an intern news reporter covering a Bridge groundbreaking.

I recoiled from him as quickly as I could, we sized each other up for a second and then he waved me toward breakfast.

The tiny table had two chairs set up across from each other. At least his was the same kind of uncomfortable chair I had. This meal actually smelled edible, so I slowly submitted to a breakfast date with David. It wasn't like I had much of a choice. I just focused on the real eggs, bacon, toast and jelly, home-fried potatoes and hot _coffee_!

I didn't ask for permission to start eating and David, thankfully, didn't try to start a conversation right way. He began eating and sipping his coffee, too. I also noticed the countdown clock on the wall didn't flash any red numbers. Apparently, there was no time limit for the first time in months, but that didn't mean I ate any more slowly. If it weren't for David sitting across from me, this would've been the best meal of my life. That's how good it tasted compared to the crap they had been feeding me since August.

"Today is Christmas Eve," David suddenly announced as I nearly finished my breakfast. I had no idea what day it was. I had stopped trying to figure that out months ago.

"One year ago today, I called to congratulate you for committing to a full Bridge Inter Planetary membership with our company," he continued. "Do you recall that conversation?"

I nodded and sipped my coffee, suddenly wondering why I hadn't already doused David with the hot liquid. Clearly he had distracted me with the gourmet breakfast.

"I told you we had high hopes for you and there was a 99 percent chance we'd select you for a Mars mission. Do you recall that?" he asked.

I nodded again.

"And I said only _you_ could screw that up. The other 1 percent rested in your hands. Do you remember?"

I nodded a third time, playing along with his stupid lecture. At least the breakfast was worth enduring whatever bullshit he had to say.

"You ditched Virgil in Fort Lauderdale after agreeing _to my face_ not to go see Bill," he said. "You filed only one report for our network during the hurricane and concluded that with a shameful, slanderous and inaccurate rant about the company that had hired you. When Virgil ordered you to fulfill your director of information obligations during Bill's ex-wife's visit to your hospital room, you failed to do your job yet again, and then colluded with your father to escape in the middle of the night."

We just stared at each other, neither blinking.

"Does that sound like a person who has lived up to her 1 percent of the deal?" he asked.

Our stare-down continued. I thought about the times he had used me like a stage prop during his grand speeches at the two Bridge galas. I truly hated David, probably more than Virgil and Peter, though it was a close three-way race. But I also wanted to see the sky again. And breathe fresh air again. And maybe at least see my father again, if not Bill and Adam and Max.

"No," I finally said, still meeting his stare. "I let my emotions take over and I failed to live up to what I had agreed to do... what I had been paid well to do. I see that now... and I'm sorry."

David nodded. "Is that how you really feel or are you just telling me what I want to hear?"

"This is not easy for me to talk about... given all that has happened since," I said bitterly, before softening slightly. "But I can look at the situation from your perspective, The Bridge's perspective, and see how I screwed you over."

"Then perhaps your time in solitary has not been a waste. I view the sum of your transgressions as one giant mistake — a byproduct of youth and romantic inclinations. We at The Bridge do believe in second chances. We still believe you are capable of great things. We already unveiled you as one of the extremely lucky few who has been chosen to go to Mars and start a colony there. Do you still want to go to Mars?"

I decided to compartmentalize my answer, which was yes — just not on a mission led by this shady, criminal cult.

"Of course I do," I said.

His haughty brown eyes probed my face for a moment.

"With us?" he asked.

I got creative.

"You're the only company that can get me there."

He smiled.

"That's actually not true. The Dutch Mars One project has moved up its manned launch to September 7, 2022."

My eyebrows shot skyward.

"But we just successfully tested a new thruster last month," David continued. "We're planning our launch for October 28, 2021, with an arrival on Mars on August 24, 2022."

My heartbeat picked up speed, and not from the coffee.

"We want to get there _first_ ," he said, with a tone that left no room to argue.

I did anyway.

"But what about what Judith said?" I countered, referring to mission specialist Judith Feld's warning during our TV panel discussion in February that going too soon would be a mistake. "She made it sound like even 2025 would be too soon, too dangerous."

"That was then. This is now," David said firmly. "There are many variables, all of which can change on a daily, weekly and monthly basis, especially as new technology and resources become available."

"Judith was named to our mission," I pointed out. "Is she still going?"

"No."

"So she's against it?"

"Yes."

"Wow," was my reply. I finished off what was left of my coffee and shook my head. "What are my options... _if_ any?"

"You can begin training on New Year's Day for an October 2021 launch from the half-built mission center just north of here... _or_ you can continue to remain here in solitary until you feel you are ready to train for a later mission," he said. "The next training window begins on January 1, 2021."

I exhaled while trying to remain as stoic as possible.

"So train now or rot in here for another year.... _Or?_ "

"Or nothing," he said, shaking his thick, neckless head. "You go to Mars sooner or you go later. Either way, you'll stay here until you figure out what living up to your end of a commitment means. That could take a week, a year or the rest of your life. You decide."

I refused to cry in front of him. I would not give him the satisfaction. I just had to get out of solitary as soon as possible, so the decision was easy.

"I'll begin training on New Year's Day then," I said.

"Good," he said, immediately standing up from his chair and extending his hand.

I stood up and reluctantly shook it, and he crushed my hand as usual. I tried not to flinch. I figured I better get used to pain, and God knows what else, with training looming and Mars somehow in my future.

"Don't fail us again, Nicole," he warned. "You've got one more week in here to get your head on straight for the amazing second opportunity you've been given. Make the most of it. Your meals over the next week will be far more appetizing and designed to start getting you back to full strength. Your commitment will be tested early and often during your training. Do well and you will help improve the situations for the people you care about — Bill, Roger, Adam and Max — while also improving your own situation. We are all connected through The Bridge, just as one day in 2022, The Bridge will connect the human race on Earth to a new one on Mars. You are, and always will be, part of The Bridge... or you will be _nothing_ to _no one_. Do you fully understand this conversation and what is required of you this time?"

Slowly, I nodded. His relentless eyes clearly wanted a verbal response.

"Yes I do," I said. "I shook on it and I mean it."

"Welcome back, then... and Merry Christmas," he said before buzzing himself through the door.

CHAPTER 6: ROOT BEER LOLLY

**Nikki**

January 1, 2020

Off the coast of South Africa, near Dyer Island

The hypothermia had subsided, but the nausea and the anger had not. Still wrapped in a blanket, I had to stand up and face the horizon because that was the only way to combat my sea sickness.

Looking south, all I could see was shark-infested ocean. And yet the boat carrying me was infested with the likes of Thomas, Roy, Peter and his sea hag mother. Fortunately, Thomas remained on the top deck after Roy played bouncer with him.

But now Peter descended the ladder and strolled over to me. The waves didn't throw off his swaggerly gait or his stylish graying-blond hair one bit. He extended his hand toward me and I was surprised to see an unwrapped lollipop.

"A root beer lolly for your sea sickness," he said with his suave South African accent.

I just glared at him and he retracted his hand.

"Trust me. It'll help."

I laughed. " _Trust you?_ "

"Extreme training for an extreme adventure," he said. "This is only the beginning."

"I should be dead thanks to you."

"But you're not, thanks to your old acquaintance."

"He's not my acquaintance. He shot me. He's supposed to be in prison for a long time!"

Peter just smiled with a twinkle in his eye, like he was proud of the stunts his wretched company could pull off, no matter who got hurt in the process.

"How do you think Thomas feels? He still wants to kill you, but now he's committed to being your bodyguard or we'll have no use for him," he said, somehow keeping a straight face. "It's important to have a useful role."

His poorly veiled threat hung in the salty air as the boat suddenly rocked way too much. I lurched to the left and got sick over the rail again.

A moment later, Peter offered me a second chance at the lollipop. This time I snatched it, mostly to get the horrible taste out of my mouth.

"Now you're adapting," he chuckled.

I sucked it hard and it tasted good while I fantasized about gouging Peter's eyes out.

"Are you going to tell me how you pulled off this torturous and fucked-up rendezvous or not?" I finally asked him.

"We have some leverage in a company called Xtreme 180 Corp. They have contracted with a number of overcrowded prisons in America and elsewhere to help relieve those situations by putting potentially redeemable inmates through an extreme and experimental rehab program. The inmates won't return to their country of origin until they complete the program. Thomas has served five years since his arrest for shooting you and your friend, Adam. He became eligible."

"More like my _missing friend_ , Adam. Abducted by you assholes."

He just shrugged it off.

"Adam was given a second chance just like you. He's doing fine now and working for us in California at the moment."

"Right. Just as you probably told him I'm fine and _working_ for you in Cape Town. Meanwhile, I'm part of your mother's recipe for a shark's lunch. Nikki... with a side of fish heads. So delicious!"

Peter had the audacity to laugh, of course.

"This is all one big joke to you," I snapped. "Screw with people's lives for your own enjoyment. Do you ever think that at some point, it could come back to haunt you?"

"Never," he bragged. "And believe it or not, this is all just a strange means to a wonderful end. Give it a chance and you'll see."

"Strange? Wonderful? Try _psychotic_... and _criminal_ ," I said. "You, your mother, David, Virgil."

He smiled again. I crunched my lollipop with violent intensity and strongly considered punching him.

"Is it helping?" he asked, nodding toward my mostly eaten pop.

Dammit. Of course it was. I threw the little white stick at a passing sea gull in mid-shriek.

"Send me and my father and everyone else home. That would be helping."

He shook his pretty and suddenly pouty face. "That's not an option. You've got an amazing mission to fulfill."

"A suicide mission."

"If it were, I certainly wouldn't be going," Peter said, looking at me intensely now.

"Judith Feld bailed out and she knows what she's talking about. You're just in it for some kind of twisted glory," I said.

"Judith is a hell of a scientist, but she's not an adventurer. Going to Mars is not for the weak."

"Not necessarily for the free either," I pointed out. "So what's Thomas doing here then? Is he here to toughen me up some more? Maybe shoot me a few more times? Or just kill me if I don't play along?"

Again, he just shrugged off my concerns and played a violin for Thomas.

"He's just as upset about this awkward high school reunion as you are, but he'll get over it and so will you. The three of us have a lot to talk about back on shore."

Too mad to even form a word, I just walked away from him — as far as the damn boat would allow.

CHAPTER 7: MEN'S ROOM FIGHT CLUB

**Thomas**

January 1, 2020

Hermanus, South Africa

"You know I'm gonna kill her," I told the rich white dude with the crazy accent.

"You may get your wish... _if_ she screws up again."

"What if she don't?"

"Then _your job_ is to make sure she _doesn't_ get killed or harmed in any way. It's a very black-and-white situation."

"That's completely fucked up."

"Better or worse than prison?"

"Worse."

"Then I guess we better send you back."

I didn't respond either way. I went into a stall to take a piss.

"You won't find a gun in there... like your American movie, 'The Godfather,'" he cracked.

"Fuck off," I said.

When I finished pissing, he was standing by the sink, arms folded across his chest. He was taller than me by an inch or two, but I was most definitely sure I could pound that smirk off his pretty-boy, has-been face.

"Do you want to be a fuck-up for the rest of your life to match your first 23 years, Thomas?" he asked me.

My blood boiled.

"Or do you want to be a real person with a real purpose? We're here to give you that chance. We believe in you. How many people have told you that in your life?"

"Zero," I said through gritted teeth.

"Doesn't that count for something?"

"Not if you want me to play bodyguard for _her_."

"You've got to stop obsessing about _her_. So what if she fucked up your plans. That was high school. Get over it."

"Fuck you. You don't know me. You don't know shit. You just brought me here to use me for some sick-fuck practical joke. This whole thing is one big mind fuck for your entertainment."

He smiled. "Oh, it's going to be a lot more than a mind fuck. I promise."

"Just send me back then."

"Why do you quit so easily?"

"Because I won't be the fucking lab rat for your experiment."

"Oh stop being so dramatic. Another whiny, spoiled American punk with no balls, no goals, no vision."

I stepped right up to him. "Say that again."

"If you were tough, you would've already hit me," he snapped. "Like I said, that great white you punched was just a baby. I'm a man. What are you?"

"If you were tough, you wouldn't need that big black dude always shadowing me!" I shouted, pointing in his face.

"Roy's not here right now, so why don't you give it a try? If you kick my ass, you don't have to have lunch with me and Nik..."

Before he finished her name, I swung at the motherfucker and hit him square in the jaw, but he just took it. Sure he moved a little, but not much. He just stared at me and did nothing.

"Why ain't you fighting back?" I asked.

"I'm still waiting to get hit."

"Piece of shit!" I yelled and clocked him again, this time in the nose.

He rubbed it a little and still didn't fight back. Then he fucking winked at me like a fag!

"Do you feel better yet?" he asked me.

I went to swing a third time, but he nailed me right in the gut before I connected and the air got sucked right out of me. I doubled the fuck over.

"Shall we go have lunch now... or shall I fill your gut with more of my fist?" he razzed me.

I sucked some air back in and sprung alive again to swing wildly at his face, but he was ready for it, slapping my shot aside and nailing me again, this time in the fucking forehead. The old fuck could fight. Fuck!

"Had enough yet?" he asked again, not even breathing hard or anything like I was.

I nodded and tried not to act woozy as my forehead turned purple in the bathroom mirror.

"You quit too easy," he said. "Must've been a real country club, that prison of yours."

"Fuck off."

"I ain't even that tough. Wait till you meet my father. He's 63 and he can still kick my ass, so imagine what he could do to you."

"Why would I meet your father?"

"Well, let's just say he'll be an integral part of your training... and Nikki's training."

"Training for what? Fucking fight club?"

He just laughed.

"Come," he said, walking away and waving me toward the door. "Let's talk about it over lunch. My treat."

CHAPTER 8: BIENTANG'S CAVE

**Nikki**

January 1, 2020

Hermanus, South Africa

Roy and I sat next to each other at a wooden table on the edge of Walker Bay. Bientang's Cave was an outdoor cafe carved into the hollow of a sea cliff.

We had walked three flights of stony stairs to get from the street level of Hermanus, a coastal whaling town 60 miles southeast of Cape Town, down to water level.

I sipped lemon water, listened to the surf crash into the rocks to our right and scanned the platform full of empty tables. The only other person visible in the cafe was a 40-something waitress near the bar to our left.

"Such a beautiful place," I mumbled.

"What?" the big man grunted, scanning his phone.

"How come no one is here?"

"This is a _private_ function... for obvious reasons," Roy replied, looking down and then sideways at me now, with plenty of disgust. His muscles refused to be contained by his XXL white T-shirt.

He used to be kind of cool, but not since I caused him to have to hunt me down at Bill's place during Hurricane Felicia. Not since I ranted about The Bridge while he was holding the TV camera. Not since I forced him to risk his own life to save mine in the storm surge.

"How much longer are we going to have to wait for them?" I asked with a huff.

"As long as it takes."

"You should've let me drown in Miami. That could've saved all of us a lot of trouble."

He nodded and thought about it.

"Well, I did my job, that's all," he said. "Stop bitchin', start doing yours and maybe you won't feel so goddamn suicidal."

"They must be paying you pretty well."

"None of your god-...

"To kidnap people and fly them all over..."

"Get motherfuckin' used to it! You've only just begun to fly, girl!" he barked, with enough power to end the conversation. The waitress didn't even look over from the bar.

The sight of Thomas and Peter marching down the stone steps would've cut me off anyway. I quickly noticed they both had facial bruises as they approached our table. Peter extended his hand for Thomas to sit down first, directly across from me, of course.

Thomas hesitated, but Roy glared at him as only Roy can, and he took his bay-view seat.

My former assailant avoided eye contact with me, but I glanced at him long enough to become convinced that he had just been involved in a fistfight with Peter. Thomas had a nasty reddish-purple cut on his forehead, above his left eye and in stark contrast to his blond buzzcut. I struggled to process that because to do so would've set me up to feel an ounce of empathy for Thomas.

"Good afternoon," Peter announced to anything but the choir. Then he signaled the waitress. "A pitcher of Fosters, please." Then back to us, "We're all gonna need at least one, I'd wager."

Something _much_ stronger than that. _Cyanide might do_.

The waitress approached. A black woman with a business-like demeanor, she set down a pitcher and four plastic cups off her tray, and departed just as quickly. She never made eye contact with any of us. Any thought of screeching "Help!" in her direction seemed futile.

Peter smiled as he poured beer into each of our cups. Thomas and I continued to avoid looking straight ahead at all costs. Roy surfed his phone in between quick glances at each of us. This was going to be the strangest lunch in the history of mankind. The scenic view was a colossal waste on us.

The waitress returned and placed menus in front of each of us. Finally, something else to look at.

As she left, Peter raised his cup.

"A toast," he began. "To new beginnings in new lands — a bridge from bad times to amazing adventures."

Roy raised his cup because he was paid to. Thomas and I just sat there.

"Oh come on now," Peter scolded us. "Cheer up and have a drink."

I certainly didn't rub cups with him, but I did take a swig of beer. It tasted so good.

"That's the spirit!" Peter cheered me on.

Then I thought of my father, recalling the time we shared a pitcher back in New Hampshire after I turned 21, and it killed the taste. I still had no idea where he was or what The Bridge did with him. Probably in solitary just like I'd been.

Thomas eventually gave in and downed two-thirds of his cup in one gulp.

"Welcome to the party, Thomas!" Peter declared, seemingly oblivious of his strawberry-colored nose or his puffy, purple jaw.

Thomas ignored him like he wasn't there and focused on his menu. So did I.

Peter rambled on enthusiastically, like he was our South African tour guide.

"Southern Right whales migrate between Walker Bay and Antarctica," he said. "Unfortunately, they aren't here in January or you'd see some breach the water from this very table.... You three are about to have something in common with the Southern Right whale... because Antarctica will be your next stop... well, after you change planes in Christchurch, New Zealand, of course."

"Antarctica?!!" I asked, all bug-eyed.

"Yes indeed," Peter confirmed with a wink.

It was all I could do not to throw my beer in his face for the wink alone, but I didn't want to get a vicious backhand from Roy.

"You're sending us to a place where no one lives... where it's like 100-below?" I protested.

"Plenty of people live there... and it won't be 100-below when you arrive next week," Peter replied. "It's still summer there until late February or so."

"Unbelievable," was all I could say.

"If you don't want to go, say it now," Peter said firmly. "But be sure to consider your alternative. I believe David presented that to you very clearly."

"Are you going to drug me for the flight again?" I asked.

"No, but if you give Roy any trouble, you'll get to fly without an airplane and without a parachute. This will be a one-way trip... unless you complete your training."

While I seethed in silence over the threat, Thomas finally stared at me with his predatory blue eyes. I could tell he enjoyed someone else making my life miserable almost as much as he did. When he smiled, I had to look away.

"I fucking love the cold," he said, slamming the rest of his beer.

That figured.

Peter laughed. "That's the spirit!" he bellowed, refilling Thomas' cup.

The waitress returned. "Everybody ready to order?"

"Can you give us a minute?" Peter replied. "We're having such a great time catching up that we haven't even looked at our menus."

I cursed them all under my breath and tried to focus on what could be my last lunch.

"Load up," Peter instructed us as he studied his menu. "The object is to add some blubber... like the Southern Right whale."

"Why Antarctica?" Thomas asked.

Peter gazed at him like a lost sheep that had returned to the flock, and seemed to relish the question for a moment. Since when was beating the shit out of each other a bonding fucking experience?!

"Because she's like an alien world," he said. "Because parts of her are cold and dry like Mars, and because whatever baggage you arrive there with will be blown away forever. Antarctica will change you... for the best. She's the perfect reboot for the soul."

CHAPTER 9: THE POINT OF NO RETURN

**Nikki**

January 8, 2020

Christchurch, New Zealand

Some people have to wait for several days for the weather to be hospitable enough to fly from New Zealand's major airport in Christchurch to McMurdo Station, the main base on Antarctica. We got lucky, I guess.

Just seven hours after landing on the flight from Cape Town, Roy was sitting between Thomas and me on a bouncy shuttle bus as we drove along the tarmac toward a U.S. Air Force plane that looked too heavy to get off the ground. It was a C17 Globemaster, Peter had told us over lunch.

I'll just run to the cockpit and tell the Air Force I've been abducted.

But Roy had repeated Peter's warning to me, adding, "I already saved your life once. So I owe you one the other way if you pull any bullshit."

He told me he didn't even want me to speak for the entire trip.

I assume he had a similar arrangement with Thomas, but he actually seemed like he wanted to go. I couldn't believe how much Peter and Roy, and perhaps prison, had curbed his compulsive anger and fuck-that attitude.

Our huge orange duffel bags already had been checked and loaded, so now we just exited the bus with our oversized red winter parkas, savored our last few steps in the true summer sunshine and boarded the plane to the frigid unknown.

We sat with our backs to one side of the plane, facing inward toward massive crates of cargo that climbed to the ceiling. It was bizarre not being able to see the passengers on the other side of the plane. There were round windows behind our heads if we really wanted to snap our neck muscles to see outside, and we were issued ear protectors for what promised to be a noisy and rough three-and-a-half-hour flight.

There would be no conversation and, given my company, that was fine with me. Thomas and I had yet to utter any words to each other directly since... well, since right before he shot me in 2014 if you're counting in person, and since our Skype conversation from his prison cell in 2018 if you're counting Bridge-manipulated online confrontations. Roy, meanwhile, mostly blasted music into his ears to tune us both out.

Every seat within my field of vision was occupied, mostly by men, particularly older and foreign-looking types.

My heart raced as the jumbo plane lumbered down the runway for what seemed like forever, but sure enough, the massive thing with wings got off the ground and eventually left mountainous New Zealand behind. It was a shame I didn't get to tour that beautiful island, but I tried to focus on what was to come — the first real phase of training for Mars.

Instead, my brain careened from one stressful topic to the next, and my gut roiled with all of it: the abductions of people I cared about; my own months-long imprisonment; my last chance to make good on my commitment to an evil company; my inexorable trajectory toward leaving this planet and everything I'd ever known; and my increasing odds of an early death.

Flying still scared the shit out of me, but even that fear seemed insignificant right now. I should've been an up-and-coming journalist engaged to be married to Derek, my high school sweetheart. Instead, I had signed on for a detour over The Bridge to spectacular disasters. There would be no simple, quiet life for me now; only complicated and deafening, like this plane, with a maze of dead ends and scary opportunities.

A couple of hours into the flight, the first scary and surprising opportunity presented itself. I noticed Roy had fallen asleep to my right. I slowly unclipped my seat harness and leaned far enough over to see past Roy's huge body. Holy shit! Thomas had nodded off, too, with his mouth hanging open. I didn't know how they could sleep with all the racket this plane made, but I stood up in super slow motion and pretended to stretch; in truth, it was a test to see if they noticed me. When they didn't stir, I side-stepped up the narrow aisle, practically hugging the central cargo pile as I went.

My heart rapped against my rib cage, especially when a junior-looking Air Force officer spotted me from his seat just outside the cockpit. I guess he was a security person/flight attendant of sorts, not that they came around with a cart of peanuts and drinks on this trip. His intense look told me I shouldn't be walking around, and he quickly unhitched himself and got up to meet me against the front section of the stack.

"Bathroom's in the back," he shouted over the din. "But we discourage moving around on this flight, and we're past the point of safe return."

I found out later that was a euphemism for the point of no return — the place beyond which we no longer could turn back toward Christchurch, even if a blizzard hit McMurdo, because there wouldn't be enough fuel.

There was so much I wanted to scream in that moment of hesitation, but I totally and miserably choked.

And "But I..." was the sum of what I managed to say.

"Go back!" he snapped, cutting me off like a bratty kid who couldn't seem to follow instructions. "Nobody's allowed to stand around up near the cockpit!"

With that, the young military man showed me his back, and I slinked and side-stepped my way through an awful, tear-filled retreat.

Roy and Thomas slept through it all, and I returned to my seat, bracing for an impact that never came to save me from myself.

CHAPTER 10: FILLING THE CREVASSE

**Nikki**

January 8, 2020

McMurdo Station, Antarctica

We landed with an ungraceful series of thuds in the late-night sunshine and somehow did not crack the sea-ice runway of Pegasus Air Field.

A huge-ass C17 Globemaster did not crack the ice in _summer_.

Glaciers may be melting into the sea in West Antarctica, but East Antarctica apparently was still plenty frigid enough year round.

We followed the herd of red parkas off the plane and onto the crusty ice, where the air was so cold and dry that it was hard to breathe through my nose. Fortunately, we soon boarded a huge red bus with gigantic tires, and the collective body heat of dozens of passengers steamed up the windows in no time.

The bus rumbled over the flat ice toward what looked like a grubby hub of activity on the volcano-darkened dirt of Ross Island. McMurdo Station, also called Mactown, was dwarfed by Mount Erebus, a 13,000-foot peak and the most southerly active volcano on the planet. Only its peak was shrouded in clouds and venting gas on this otherwise clear "night."

A helicopter thumped and whirled overhead as the bus dropped us off in Mactown. Planting our boots on Antarctica proper for the first time, Thomas and I must've looked like two wide-eyed New Hampshire kids next to their unlikely big black dad Roy, but even he seemed small under the endless sky on the bottom of the world.

"This way, Martians!" an old man suddenly shouted while other passengers laughed and walked past us.

He was serious, with a stern face and a sturdy frame for a gray-bearded man. All he wore was a long-sleeved shirt, cargo pants and boots in what had to be zero-degree weather or worse.

"I'll show you to your dorms," he said, offering his hand to Roy first. "Welcome to hell, big fella."

Roy smiled for the first time in months and shook his hand.

"Flip some heat on down in here," he said.

"This is hot. Hasn't even snowed the past couple of weeks," he told Roy while giving me and Thomas the eye next. "Nothing but muddy streets round here. I can't wait to get to the Pole and feel normal again."

Roy shook his head. "You as crazy as everybody says, Mr. V.W."

"Call me Willem, Roy. Are these the two beauties my son airmailed to me?" the old man asked, nodding in our direction.

"A couple of American troublemakers, yes sir... Nikki Blue Janicek and Thomas Lee Harvey Oswald," Roy quipped.

"Code blue and a dead assassin. Perfect. OK Roy, go get some food and sleep."

"What building?"

"135... two down from the galley. Put your bag in Room 12 and grab a hot meal."

Roy nodded toward the old man and then toward us.

"Good luck," he said, heaving his orange bag over his shoulder and marching off toward a row of squat buildings.

Trucks in reverse beeped in the distance as Willem van Wooten, Peter's father, sized us up. He was 6-foot-2 or so, a little shorter than Peter, but he seemed more powerful in every way. And as his green eyes worked us over, I got the vibe that he knew way more about a lot of stuff than anyone else I'd ever met.

"Are you ready for this?" he asked Thomas first, stepping toward him and looking him in the eyes.

"I love the cold," Thomas replied, reciting his new chorus with conviction.

"Good. You'll bunk with me until we can hitch a Hercules to the Pole. You'll find all the cold you could possibly want there."

Then he stepped toward me.

"And are you ready?" he asked.

"So ready," I lied.

"Good. You'll bunk with my wife. I heard she tried to feed you to the sharks last week, but this guy saved you," Willem said, jerking his thumb toward Thomas.

Thomas allowed a grin when I glanced at him.

"He did," I acknowledged reluctantly.

"Did you thank him yet?" the old man asked.

"No."

"Why don't you right now?" he pressed.

Great. Didn't take long for the hazing to begin.

Thomas surprisingly interrupted like a teacher's pet. "That's not necessary. I was just doing my job."

My jaw dropped open and Willem studied me.

"You do know he _shot me_ once, right? That he still wants to _kill me_?" I pointed out.

The old man didn't really react at first. He remained pensive for a moment, and then smoothly pulled a small black pistol out of his cargo pants' pocket and offered it to Thomas. He was so nonchalant about it that it could have been a pack of gum.

I gasped and Thomas raised his eyebrows. The bus and all of the other passengers were gone. It was just the three of us and a gun in an unloading zone. _What could possibly go wrong?_

Thomas looked at the gun, but he didn't take it.

"Go ahead and grab it," Willem urged. "It's loaded. Here's your chance to blow us both away and be on your merry way if you'd like."

As my heart pounded inside my parka, Thomas seemed to sense this was a test. He still didn't reach for it.

"This is your last chance to be that person you were, Thomas," Willem said.

Thomas shook his head, glanced down at his duffel bag on the ground and then looked back up at the old man.

"I'm not him anymore," he said. "I'm not going back to that."

I fully exhaled for the first time in a long time.

"Are you satisfied with his answer?" Willem asked me as he put the gun back in his pocket.

"Yes," I forced myself to say, though I was far too much in shock to deal with the reckless stunt he just pulled.

"Good. Now shake hands on it and we'll call it a fresh start between the two of you," Willem declared.

Thomas and I slowly turned toward each other, flicking our eyes up for a glance and then down at our hands. We shook on it.

Willem seemed pleased.

"See that. Another crevasse in relations filled and crossed by The Bridge," he said before waving at us to follow him toward the dorms of Mac town.

CHAPTER 11: TABLES TURN

**Thomas**

January 9, 2020

McMurdo Station, Antarctica

They let me walk around on my own down here. Even to the outhouse, a few hundred yards away from the main dorm buildings. I'd forgotten what it was like to take a private shit. Peaceful. Wicked cold, but peaceful. I'd take the trade any day.

The old man Willem was gone from his bunk across from me when I woke up at 6:30. Tired or not, it was hard to sleep with the sun always out.

Willem had told me the galley was in Building 155, so I headed for breakfast. I hadn't seen Roy since the night before, so I guess they finally had called him off me. Apparently not grabbing the gun and smoking Willem and Nikki had earned me some good-behavior perks.

I walked through the cafeteria line like a zombie and loaded my tray with some decent-looking, non-prison food. Then I went into an area with some round tables and hardly anybody sitting at them, but, of course, Nikki had to be there. She was alone, drinking coffee and reading a newspaper.

It didn't take her long to lock eyes with me. When I started to walk toward a different table, she waved me toward hers.

Fuck it. I was surprised, but I walked over.

"You're here _alone_?" she asked as I set my tray down across from her.

"Obviously. Haven't seen Willem or Roy so far this morning."

"Sit here, I guess," she said.

So I did. She just watched me as I tore into my breakfast, which was pretty fucking good.

"This can't be real," she said, nervously tugging at her hair, which was regular light brown, not half blue like she used to have it.

I shrugged and kept eating.

"You and me... sitting at the same table in a cafeteria... in Antarctica?" she continued.

I nodded. "Very fucked up."

"Where did all your hatred for me go?" she asked.

I stopped to think for a second.

"I still hate you... but maybe not enough to kill you," I said. "You caught me on a good day, I guess."

"You shot me. Called me the most annoying person on the fucking planet. Even called me a _unicunt_."

She kept staring at me while I ate, making me feel guilty and shit. I can't lie. Part of me thought she was pretty hot. I was enjoying my partial freedom and this new adventure in a strange, icy land. I pushed myself to be the bigger person.

"I'm sorry I shot you," I said, looking her right in the eyes. "How's that?"

Her jaw hit her coffee cup and I had to smile. Blind-sided her with that one.

"You apologized?"

I nodded and ate my toast with grape jelly.

"This is what happens on the bottom of the world? Everything gets turned upside down and inside out?" she asked herself. "Or maybe it's jet lag. That has to be it. You're tired and don't realize what you're saying."

"Why do you have to make it so difficult?" I asked. "I said I'm sorry. I meant it. I'm wide awake."

Then she sort of smiled.

"We are in hell... and it has frozen over," she cracked.

"You're still pretty fucking annoying," I pointed out.

She nodded.

"Yeah I know. I guess Antarctica can't cure everything.... but this right here is pretty amazing. I mean, we've come a long way from the cafeteria at Middlebrook High School."

"They expelled me and I never went back... inside the school anyway," I said, remembering the night I shot her and Adam outside the school. They definitely deserved it for fucking everything up. But that was also a wicked long time ago.

"Never go back," she said. "Only forward for you now."

"Don't get preachy," I said.

"Fine."

We didn't say much for a while as I finished up breakfast.

"I can't believe I have to share a room with Peter's mother," she finally said. "She snores and barely speaks any English... but she can say just enough to be a wise ass and fake apologize for pushing me overboard."

"I'm not sure Willem even sleeps," I said. "Seemed like he was gone all night. Then again, it's fucking hard to sleep when the sun is always out."

"That should change in a few hours. Snowstorm's coming in," she said, pointing to the newspaper on the table. "I guess it's unusual. They don't get much snow here in the summer."

"It must pile up dozens of feet in the winter."

She shivered and zipped up her hoodie. Then she looked at me again.

"Can I ask you a question?"

I nodded.

"How did you punch out that shark?"

I smiled. It was bad ass. I could see why she'd be impressed.

"No idea," I said. "My instincts just took over and I popped him pretty good. I'm just glad I aimed where I did and he didn't take my fucking hand off... or circle back around and bite my fucking leg off. I didn't want to get eaten. That's what it came down to."

"I totally froze when I saw it," she said, shivering again. "And then I saw the other one. I just figured that was it. I'm dead."

"But you're not."

"Thanks to you," she said.

"Don't get sappy on me now."

"Don't worry, I won't.... but what made you feel more powerful — shooting me and Adam that night... or saving me, us, from the shark?"

I shrugged and thought about it.

"Both made me feel powerful, I guess. But I'm glad, you know, that in the end... I didn't kill nobody that night... or the next day."

She squinted at me like she was studying some alien creature.

"I like this new Thomas," she said. "Tonight might be my best night of sleep in years, even with the sun out."

Someone cleared his throat. We both turned and saw Willem standing nearby, listening to our conversation. He smiled.

"Ah, but can you stay awake and not go insane when you don't see the sun for six months?" the old man asked us. "That's the real challenge."

CHAPTER 12: YELLOW ICE

**Nikki**

January 11, 2020

En route to the South Pole, Antarctica

Our stay in Mactown was brief — just two days of "snow school" in the higher elevations not far from base.

Thomas and I learned to dress properly for the elements, pitch tents, light small portable stoves and work radios in case of emergencies, which could easily mean death without a quick rescue anywhere on this vast and unforgiving continent.

On the third day, we boarded a Hercules aircraft with Willem and his wife, Ina, aka the sea hag. Roy already had caught a Globemaster back to Christchurch. Apparently, his only job had been to make sure Thomas didn't kill me until Willem offered him the same chance in such dramatic fashion upon our arrival.

Now it was assumed Thomas had been cured of his will to kill, and we could all fly happily to the South Pole.

Again we were strapped into seats facing piles of cargo, but this time there were no windows at all in the passenger section of the noisy plane. Antarctic turbulence rivaled and at times exceeded what I experienced on that awful flight to Cape Town with Virgil back in February 2019.

But that wasn't the only thing unsettling my stomach.

When they had us trade in our barely used red winter parkas for new extra-thick green ones before leaving Mactown, I noticed more than a few people give me and Thomas weird, almost surprised looks around base as we prepared to depart.

"Why are they staring at us like that?" I asked Willem.

He just smiled.

But Ina, with her permanent wise-ass expression and gruff voice, leaned toward me and tried to speak my language.

"You have green jacket... so the others are green vit enwee."

"Envy? Why?"

"Vinter polies," she cackled.

I turned to Willem, whose English was nearly perfect. Apparently he was Dutch and Ina was German.

"Care to translate?" I asked.

"The looks you are getting are a sign of awe and respect," he said.

"Why, why, why?"

He paused for effect.

"Because we're spending the winter at the Pole," he said. "That's what the green parka means. We need the heavier gear for the real Antarctic winter, the one that doesn't let anyone leave South Pole Station from the middle of February until late October."

"What?? We're just going there to become completely stranded?"

"Yes," Willem confirmed. "Splendid isolation."

"In a fucking tent?!" I cried. "In the fucking dark!!"

The sea hag howled with laughter.

Then Thomas chimed in. "Hey, as long as it ain't got iron bars."

"You've got to be shitting me," I pleaded with Willem.

"No tent," he said with a sparkle in his eyes. "There's a wonderful, fully stocked base at the pole... and only the lucky few get to winter-over. Congratulations and welcome to an elite club."

He was frigging serious.

I was too pissed off to respond.

The hag was still cackling.

And Thomas, of course, reveled at the prospect of more cold.

"I want to piss yellow ice in 100-below!" he rejoiced.

That's the image I was forced to digest as the Hercules hurtled us toward Earth's frozen ass pole.

### PART 2

CHAPTER 13: ENTER SNOWBOW

**Nikki**

January 11, 2020

South Pole... the last stop for a long time

"Good afternoon from the flight deck," the pilot announced over the intercom. "We are currently at 15,000 feet and preparing for our final approach into Amundsen South Pole airfield at 9,300 feet. We've got partly cloudy skies with winds at 15 to 20 miles per hour..."

Not too bad, I thought. Then came the punch line.

"And the current temperature is minus-22 Fahrenheit. Gotta love those balmy, late-summer January dog days at the Pole."

I cursed into the din of the plane while everyone else in a green parka smiled and laughed. Suddenly the warmth of solitary confinement in Cape Town seemed like a wonderful option compared to months of "freedom" in a permanently frozen wasteland that the rest of the world had forgotten about for good reason.

After the Hercules crunched down on the tundra runway, Thomas and I followed Willem, Ina and a few dozen other green parkas off the plane and into the frigid sunshine. The snot in my nose froze in one breath, and I immediately shoved my scarf higher with my double-gloved hand so only my eyes were exposed to the sea of white before me.

Snowcats with plows zipped around, smoothing the snow-way we had just churned up, and we hauled our big orange duffel bags toward the nearby base. It wasn't snowing, but the steady winds carried plenty of ice crystals that sparkled like diamonds in the sunlight as they drifted past us.

We all marched toward what looked like a giant E-shaped complex lying on its side, accented by an entrance building on one end that could've passed for a metallic beer can. In front of the beer can, clusters of red and green parkas anticipated our arrival. Hugging, back-slapping and loud talking commenced — no scarfs or half-frozen mouths could muffle this fraternity of 50-below fools that me and Thomas, of all people, were now compelled to join.

A couple of red-parka types gave us "we're not worthy" bows of deference as we passed by them and Thomas laughed. It seemed like his self-esteem rose the more the temperature dropped. I guess for him even banishment to the South Pole was a welcome alternative to prison.

Willem and Ina embraced two men in red parkas and began chatting with them in a foreign language — I couldn't tell the difference between Dutch and German, and apparently they each spoke both. They all kept looking at me and Thomas, so clearly we were the topic of conversation. Willem finally introduced us and we shook their gloves. I couldn't understand their names because their spoken English was even worse than Ina's.

"They are part of The Bridge vanguard," Willem said, nodding toward Thomas and me. "Chosen by my son, Peter. They will risk everything to do great things."

The other men nodded and smiled, but their eyes justifiably questioned the correlation between what they were seeing and what Willem was spouting off. I could care less. I just wanted to get the hell inside. Frostbite already was nipping at my extremities. But no, Willem and the two men kept on catching up.

Ina, meanwhile, was eyeing a snowcat driver who had slowly approached the base parallel to the line of green parkas. She smiled and suddenly whipped off her gloves so she could use her bare fingers to whistle at the driver. He turned, recognized her and stopped the snowcat. A strapping man likely in his early 30s, he took off his black-and-green ski hat and grinned with a face that reminded me of comedian Dane Cook, only with a beard. His green parka wasn't even zipped over his weather-beaten overalls.

"Ger-mama Ina," he shouted before giving the hag a hug. "What a sight for frozen eyeballs. Back for another tour and more of my frozen cocktails."

He sounded very _American_ , much to my relief.

"Bet your ass," she fired back, and they both laughed like it was something he taught her to say.

Thomas and I, now shivering, marveled at the odd-couple connection. Willem was still talking to his own friends off to the side.

"Who are these winter-over newbies?" Ina's friend asked, checking me out way more than Thomas.

I tried in vain not to shiver so much.

"Nikki and Toe-mas," Ina rasped, somehow managing not to butcher my name at least.

"Welcome to hell!" he said with a laugh, shaking our gloved hands. "Just kidding. You're gonna love it here. Trust me, after a few months, you'll never want to leave. I'm Sam Archambeau, but everybody calls me Snowbow."

"Have you ever seen a snowbow?" I asked.

"Definitely. Back-country skiing in Colorado. But even snowbows can't match the green auroras we get down here after the sun sets in March."

"Sounds beautiful.... We're American, too," I said.

"I figured that. What part?"

"New Hampshire."

"Ah, beautiful state."

Snowbow seemed like a real positive guy, which was refreshing.

"Once you guys get settled in and get used to the Diamox, we'll all get together for some extra-potent Antarctic slushies in the pub," he said.

"What's Diamox?" I asked.

"There's a pub here?" Thomas suddenly chimed in.

Ina and Snowbow laughed.

"Newbies, Aunt Germama... gotta love em," Snowbow gushed.

"Eh, you can have them," she scoffed with a dismissive swat of the air.

Snowbow kissed the hag on her hooded head and hopped back on his snowcat.

As he revved the engine and drove off, I realized I'd forgotten how effing cold it was.

CHAPTER 14: DISHES

**Nikki**

January 12, 2020

I woke up in a tiny room on a vast, barren and frozen continent, but at least it wasn't a tent, it was heated and I didn't have to share it. I lifted the shade on my one window and was relieved not to be blinded by solar glare. An overcast sky had given us a welcome break from 24-hour sunshine, which soon enough we would miss very dearly.

Snow crystals caked the bottom half of my window in a kindergarten-art-class sort of way; the top half looked out on a sea of white except for a cluster of satellite dishes and telescopes about a half-mile away. Hate The Bridge or not, it was a remarkable place to fine oneself stranded.

I popped my Diamox pill to combat altitude sickness — the flat surroundings made it easy to forget we were perched on a nearly 10,000-foot plateau of ice that grows a little higher each year — and washed it down with a cup of water. We were told to take it slow and easy for the first couple of days to adjust.

Thomas and I had been given a tour of the station the night before. The place was huge, relatively new and gave me the feeling of being in a dorm, factory or space ship depending on what area we went through. The areas that caught my attention the most were the music room complete with a full array of instruments for jam sessions; the workout room; the pool hall; the basketball court and, of course, the Bottom's Up pub — the only one of its kind for thousands of kilometers, as it billed itself.

The other jarring reality was that everyone we met on the tour — outside of the occasional chef or maintenance person — was a scientist. There were astronomers, physicists, seismologists and so on.

So what the hell were we doing here?

"Future Martians coming through," Willem often announced, parading us around like a proud peacock to more than one eye roll.

He carried himself like he at least partially owned the place. Perhaps he did. He hinted that The Bridge had helped pay for one of the new telescopes that probed the heavens for the earliest remnants of the Big Bang. Apparently he and Ina would be taking shifts manning the Dark Sector telescope, as it was called, when the real winter arrived, turning this place into an ice-box planetarium until the September sunrise.

"So what are we supposed to do here?" I finally asked Willem as he sat with me and Thomas in the galley.

We ate breakfast with a window view of the ceremonial South Pole — a barbershop pole topped with a mirrored ball and surrounded by flags from a bunch of countries, including the U.S. The altitude pill and the feeling that I'd probably never see America again made it hard to eat.

Willem sipped his steaming mug of coffee and smiled.

"You will learn to live in a place that can kill you in a variety of ways — physically, mentally and emotionally," he said, quite casually.

Thomas stopped chewing and hung on his every word.

"No place on Earth can prepare you for Mars better than Antarctica, but..." Willem stopped to shake his head before continuing. "This new South Pole station is too comfortable compared to the Dome," he said, referring to the partially deconstructed old station, which was half-buried by decades of drifting snow and ice. "So we will have to push you and test your survival skills with more time out there," he said, pointing toward the window.

"More outdoor time or not, what if we go crazy from being stranded here for nine or ten months? I mean... some of us may not be prepared for that," I said, all but nodding toward the kid who once shot me.

Willem grinned, scratched the white stubble on his chin and pondered my point for far too long.

"Never underestimate the ability of the human spirit to adapt and overcome," he finally said. "You will not be alone in this and you will find out what you are made of... stars."

"Excuse me?" I asked.

"You, me, Thomas... we are all made of stars, from as far away as the Big Bang that started it all. We are all here to prepare to go so much deeper in that exploration," Willem said.

"But we're not even scientists," I noted.

"Doesn't _matter_. Are you _made of matter_? Do you have a _working_ brain? Are you _human_?" he asked with a mix of amusement and condescension. "I believe you are humans sitting here with me. So you are eligible for this endeavor. But like I said, we will see if you come out of this alive or dead first, and then go from there."

"Wonderful," I said, slapping the table with sarcastic gusto. "With a pep talk like that, I can't wait to get started."

"Good. Your journey begins in the kitchen with chef Michael," Willem said, nodding toward the cafeteria line behind us.

"Doing what?" Thomas asked.

"Washing dishes," the old man replied with a smirk. "Isn't that the first job of every star?"

CHAPTER 15: 10-BELOW BARBERSHOP

**Thomas**

January 12, 2020

The food here was way better than in prison. I could tell chef Michael was the shit around here. Everybody made sure to say hi to him as they came through the galley line.

Me and Nikki mostly washed and dried huge pots and pans in a couple of massive sinks. We just kept our mouths shut and did our jobs, right through the breakfast and lunch serving times.

Toward the end of our lunch shift, chef Michael — a friendly Canadian dude with glasses who was probably 50 or something — waved us out toward the dining area.

"You guys gotta come see these crackpots," he yelled with a grin.

I followed Nikki out to the tables and a clump of people were staring out the big window toward the South Pole flags for some reason.

"Snowbow is getting his hair cut next to the barber pole in minus-10-degree weather, which is a hot day by our standards, but still," Michael told us as we joined the others at the window.

Sure enough, old Ina was trimming Snowbow's hair with mittens and scissors as he sat in a fucking lawn chair.

We cracked up over it, and then Nikki grabbed her parka off the rack and said, "Let's go."

I followed her and we headed for the beer can — that's where the exit was. Our boots crunched through the snow toward the barbershop on the bottom of the world. The sun was poking through the clouds and Snowbow was smiling as the old lady squared off his long sideburns.

"Looks like the new winter polies want a cut and blow," Snowbow announced upon our arrival.

"Meh," Ina grunted. "Five-vinter minimum before you get this treatment."

Nikki gasped. "Don't even tell me you've done that many winters here," she said to Snowbow.

"Actually, this will be my _seventh_... _in a row_ ," he bragged.

"Holy shit," me and Nikki said in stereo.

"That's insane," she added.

"Is it?" Snowbow shot back. "I bet I'm the most sane person here — unpolluted by the rat race, the endless talking heads, the addictive gadgets. I've been just about everywhere and I'd live here year round if they'd let me. The peace and beauty and camaraderie here are off the charts. For now, 10 months a year will have to do... until Ina here pulls a few strings for me."

" _No one_ can stay here year round," she said, shaking her head and cutting the back of Snowbow's head now. "Or you _vill_ go crazy."

"Not me," he said, leaning forward in the lawn chair and to check his look in the mirrored ball's reflection. Happy with it, he stood up and brushed himself off. He still didn't put a hat on or anything.

"Don't you get frostbite?" Nikki asked.

He laughed. "This is summer. I wouldn't try it in June though. Thanks for the cut, Germana Mama."

The old lady nodded, shoved her scissors back into her parka pocket and waddled back toward the beer can.

"Have you guys done your handstand yet?" Snowbow asked us.

"What handstand?" I asked.

"The one where you're hanging from the bottom of the Earth."

"No," Nikki said.

"Let me show you," he said.

Then Snowbow put both hands on the ball above the thigh-high barbershop pole and launched himself up into a handstand.

I had to laugh.

"I can't believe that'll hold you," Nikki said.

Then he jumped back down. "Are you kidding? I'm lean and mean under this parka. Go for it. It'll hold you guys if it'll hold me."

Snowbow pulled a small digital camera out of his pocket and snapped my picture as I managed to hang upside down for a few seconds.

"Good one, Tommy boy!" he said, high-fiving me. "Your turn, Nikki girl."

"I'm going to crash on my ass."

"Even better," Snowbow said. "You wouldn't be the first."

As Nikki prepared to spring onto the ball, Snowbow kept razzing her. "It was your daddy's job to keep you off the pole, but now it's my job to get you on it."

We all laughed and Nikki finally went for it. She managed to stay up for a couple of seconds and then fell into a heap on the snow to more laughs.

"Graceful," I jabbed at her.

She ignored me.

"You better have gotten the shot!" she yelled at Snowbow.

"Of course I did," he said, showing us the image after Nikki got her butt up off the snow.

Then Snowbow turned the camera around.

"See. Now young Nikki is frozen upside down, clinging to a tiny ball on the bottom of the planet and just waiting for an Antarctic blizzard to come along and blow her out into space," he declared with a laugh.

It was pretty cool. Then he showed us my photo upside down.

"Or," he continued, "young Tommy here is holding up the planet all by himself."

"Let's go with that one," I said.

"I prefer that caption for mine, too," Nikki agreed. "Much better than clinging to a tiny ball."

Snowbow howled at that one. "You guys are a riot. Just what this place needs. Some young, naughty blood. We've got more than enough over-the-hill science enthusiasts."

Then he studied us for a moment. "So how do you two know each other? Boyfriend and girlfriend? Husband and wife?"

I howled at that. Nikki made a raspberry with frozen lips.

"More like hunter and prey," she said.

"Yeah, I shot her once back in the day," I deadpanned.

The dumbass look on Snowbow's face was fucking priceless.

Who was frozen now?

CHAPTER 16: BOTTOM'S UP

**Nikki**

January 13, 2020

The scientists may have been tasked with more important work in the grand scheme of human discovery, but Snowbow pumped through and around this station like its heart and blood vessels. When he wasn't pushing snow or hauling fuel and supplies, he was mixing drinks in the Bottom's Up pub and knocking back a few himself.

Before he poured the contents of a mystery concoction from his shaker into the cocktail glass in front of Thomas, he eyed me and then the former inmate in the bar stool to my left.

"Hold up. Were you drunk when you shot her?"

"Stone-cold sober," Thomas said.

"So alcohol wasn't an issue?"

"Nope."

"I'm relieved at this happy hour moment, but a little freaked out just the same."

"And you weren't even his victim," I pointed out.

"How do you do it?" he asked me after a long stare.

"Do what?"

"Sit so calmly and drink next to the person who shot you? Don't you want to get him back?"

Thomas laughed and shook his head. I cracked a smile. It was remarkable how we had grown more comfortable with our past and each other since The Bridge basically forced us to hang out and deal with it directly over the past couple of weeks.

"No, I don't want revenge," I said. "I just want to feel safe again. He told me he isn't that person anymore and I'm in the process of trying to figure out if I believe him."

"What did she do to you that made you want to shoot her?" Snowbow asked Thomas.

He shook his head. "I don't wanna go there. Leave it in the past."

"Fuck it," Snowbow said, finally pouring his mystery elixir into Thomas' glass. "You seem like good people now. That's what matters."

Thomas admired the amber-hued drink for a second, took a gulp and smiled.

"Fuck yeah, that's good," he said. "What's in it?"

"Ah... if I told you, you'd have to shoot _me_ ," Snowbow said, totally perked up by our American presence despite our unusual backstory, of which we had only given him bits and pieces so far.

"What do you call it?" Thomas asked.

"The Holy Shit Shooter," Snowbow deadpanned, making us both crack up. "The key is the pristine Antarctic snow and ice crushed into it. Every drink down here tastes better."

He was right about that. I'd already been savoring every sip of my "Chocolate Milk," an easy-to-get-wasted-on combo of Kahlua, Bailey's Irish Cream and vodka.

Now that we both had our proper drinks, Snowbow turned his attention back to me and I liked that. A dozen or so other people, including a couple of female scientific types, dotted the large, dimly lit horse-shoe-shaped bar, but I could tell he took some special interest in the female rookie winter polie right in front of him.

With Bill Oz back from the dead one minute and taken away from me by The Bridge just as fast, I tried to keep it simple, and focus on the here and now.

Snowbow took a sip from his own drink and leaned over the bar toward us.

"So how is it that you two _came here together_? And how are you going to get along all winter with _no way out_?" he asked.

"We're here on a training mission," I said. "I guess Willem wanted us here so we'd get used to months and months of isolation and extreme cold. If we succeed, we've got a shot at going to Mars with Willem's company, The Bridge. Have you heard of it?"

"Are you shitting me? _Mars?"_

"He ain't never told me I was going to Mars," Thomas said. "This is just part of my extreme rehab after doing hard time."

"Wow. Well with Willem, I can't say I'm completely surprised that he's working on a Mars mission," Snowbow said. "He's definitely a big deal around here. I've never really heard of The Bridge, but I know he's huge into shipping and stuff. And the last few years, he's invested big-time at this station into space research and exploration."

I could've pointed out that his company also had invested big-time into kidnapping and human trafficking, but I held my tongue. There was no police force or anything within reach to come rescue me from my foolish decisions and contractual obligations down here at the South Pole.

Fortunately, my drink started to hit me and I managed to suppress all of that for now. Nevertheless, I had to ask the bartender a burning question.

"Do you think we'll go insane down here?"

Snowbow, he of the six straight winters, mulled that for a moment.

"I've seen it happen, but it's pretty rare. Usually, it's quite the opposite. People fall in love with this place, especially when they winter over for the first time. I know I did. It's such a bonding experience to be here for a long time in extreme conditions, surrounded by extreme beauty."

"Sure beats prison," Thomas chimed in before taking another sip.

Snowbow nodded and raised his glass. "Here's to that. Good for you, trying to turn your life around. No better place to do it than right here."

We all clinked glasses.

"Bottom's Up!" Snowbow shouted, waving his drink around. "Social!"

Everyone else in the bar repeated after him and took a drink.

Snowbow smiled with the pride of a capable host, set his glass down, leaned toward us even closer from across the bar and said, "This is the best fucking station on the best fucking continent on the planet, so she's got just what it takes to turn former foes into friends. Are you two ready for that?"

Thomas and I glanced at each other, and quickly looked back at Snowbow.

Surprisingly, Thomas answered first.

"Pour me another one of your Holy Shit Shooters and shoot, anything's possible."

CHAPTER 17: SUMMER WIND

**Thomas**

January 14, 2020

"Sam!"

Me and Snowbow froze in the middle of our drunken one-on-one basketball game. It was 2 a.m. and we had worked up a solid sweat on the court. Nikki had passed out on the nearby stretching mat about 45 minutes ago. What a lightweight.

Willem walked over to us and didn't seem pleased. He was all bundled up, too.

"Why are you corrupting my Martians?" the old man asked Snowbow while fuming at the sight of Nikki lying there in a heap.

"No offense, but they seem more like dishwashers than astronauts," he said, twirling the basketball on his finger.

Willem slapped the ball out of his hand and it bounced away, almost hitting Nikki. I don't think she would've felt it.

"Geez, take it easy," our bartender said.

"This is no time for these kids to get drunk and take it easy. They _are_ going to fucking Mars in less than two years. Their real training starts now. We've got some summer wind kicking up. How about you go fetch me a snowcat?"

Snowbow seemed stunned, but he just shook his head and walked out of the gym. I was surprised he took it like that, especially from a smaller and older dude. Maybe Willem really could kick some ass.

Now the old man aimed his scowl at me.

"Wake up sleeping beauty over there. You two have 10 minutes to strap on your full winter gear and meet me at the beer can exit."

"Speaking of beer cans, she's pretty wasted," I pointed out.

"I'm not worried about that. Antarctica will sober her up in a fucking hurry. And we're about to find out in the next couple of hours whether you two belong here or in a _body bag_! Now get moving!" he shouted.

***

I pretty much had to slap and shove Nikki around to get her functional enough to stumble back to our rooms and gear up in multiple layers of thermals, socks, gloves, scarves and all the rest.

We made it to the exit in 12 minutes. Willem was waiting for us in the driver's seat of the rumbling, big-ass snowcat so we climbed in behind him. The first thing I noticed was the digital temperature reading on the dashboard: minus 35. It didn't feel that cold to me yet because of the booze and all the heavy gear.

"Wear these," Willem said, handing us ski goggles.

Nikki finally had woken up enough to put words together.

"What are we doing?" she asked.

"Going for a little ride," the old man said, drowning out any possible further conversation by revving up the cat and driving us away from base.

It was still daytime at 2:20 a.m., but the sky was dark gray and the winds were swirling snow into little tornadoes as we drove along next to two lines of red flags. We had been told that the flags were the only way to walk from base to the Dark Sector telescopes during winter without losing your way; and losing your way meant death.

Willem drove us over the empty ski-way — they called it that because the Hercules actually did have ski contraptions on its landing gear, pretty cool — and toward the Dark Sector. The telescopes were on the right and then there was Ice Cube on the left. Snowbow had told us that Ice Cube — it really was shaped like one, but black and gray and sitting on top of the snow — probed down into the ice to look for shit instead of looking up into space.

Willem kept on driving right past all of that and into no man's land. He must've gone another two or three miles before he finally stopped the cat and looked back at us.

"Follow the cat tracks back and be quick about it," he said, still all pissed off. "The longer you take, the worse it'll be. She's only gonna blow harder. Keep your goggles clear as possible and don't fuck around. Just a little mild taste of what winter will be like.

"Enjoy Martians," he added, motioning for us to get the fuck out.

Reluctantly we did, and off he went, kicking up snow, whipping around and leaving valuable tracks behind.

I jumped into a slow jog, boots crunching the icy crust with every impact. The wind stung my chin it was so cold, and visibility quickly sucked. Willem's snowcat disappeared into the wild white mist right before my eyes.

"Stop!" Nikki yelled from behind me.

I stopped and turned around. She was like 20 yards behind me already. "What?"

"Do _not_ run!" she commanded.

"Did you hear him? He said be quick about it."

"This may seem flat, but we can't run at 9,300 feet and make it. We'll get too dizzy and collapse in the snow. Do you want to die of exposure?"

"Do you want to die from talking too much and moving too fucking slow?" I shot back. "Raise your scarves before your mouth freezes and let's go."

"Fine, walk fast, but don't run."

She finally quickened her pace behind me and we walked for what seemed like a mile in the Antarctic blast before the cat tracks were completely blown away. I had a major fucking headache and my fingertips — even with two layers of gloves — were turning numb.

Then Nikki tugged on my parka and wanted to talk again.

"What?" I asked, lowering my scarves and wiping my snow-caked goggles with my glove.

"You're drifting too far left of where the tracks were."

"How the hell do you know? I've marched straight ahead the whole time."

"Because I've been watching you. You've been curving away too much."

"Maybe because I'm the one taking the wind head-on."

"Fine, let me lead for a while and you draft behind me," she said, her lips chattering more than mine.

"No, you're too short anyway. That won't do me any good. I might as well lead."

"Lead us to death? No thanks. I'm heading more right. Do whatever you want," she said, and just marched on.

I let her do her thing, but I kept on my own path, about 10 yards to her left. What the fuck difference did it make? If one of us found the base, so would the other. If neither of us did, we'd both be dead in an hour or two. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that you can't live outside in this shit for very long.

We tried to keep moving as fast as possible, but the wind kept blowing harder against us and our limbs kept getting stiffer. It wasn't even a blizzard like we'd get in New Hampshire or anything. Snow wasn't falling from the sky. It was flying up from the ground and swirling across a dessert of white. Even though I thought Willem was totally bullshitting us about sending me and Nikki to Mars, I tried to picture what it would actually be like there, with a bunch of red sand whipping around instead of these total whiteout conditions.

Eventually, me and Nikki drifted closer together by a few yards so we didn't lose sight of each other — that's how much visibility sucked.

We made it another half mile or so and then she suddenly dropped to my right. I shuffled over to her and looked down. She seemed to be crying beneath her goggles as she tried to clear them off.

I lowered my frosted-over scarves to talk and she did the same. "What happened?"

"I need to rest a minute," she said.

"One minute max. We need to keep moving and find the flag lines."

"I know, I know. Fucking awful headache just won't stop."

I nodded. "Same here. Not enough Diamox on Antarctica to cure this one."

"Had to get drunk on top of it. Effing Snowbow," she said, her lips turning blue. At least that was her favorite color.

"If I don't make it, tell my father I love him and my mom I don't hate her," she added.

"If you die, I die, so let's go," I said. "Don't make me have to carry your ass."

"I'm frozen. I can barely move."

"Well you better move."

"Cover me or something. For just a minute. For warmth."

"Me?"

"Who else?"

"You want _me_ to lay on top of _you_?"

She stopped talking and started balling. I couldn't fucking believe it. She had to be near death if this was really happening. So I kneeled down next to her for a second and then I just laid on top of her. I could feel her shivering uncontrollably and wondered if this is how we'd be found — two frozen corpses on top of each other and not even getting it on. Yeah this was no place to fuck, but still, what a pussy way to go out.

"Fuck this!" I finally shouted, getting up. "Stop shivering and crying, and let's go. We're not dying like this!"

She sat up, but she seemed totally dazed and confused.

That's when I knew our survival was totally up to me. I yanked her scarves back over her mouth, picked her up and draped her over my shoulders. She didn't even protest.

Top-heavy and all, I started marching again into the white.

Thankfully about a minute later, I saw the lights of the snowcat coming to rescue us.

Apparently we wouldn't die from the "summer wind" after all.

CHAPTER 18: SIBERIA ON STEROIDS

**Nikki**

January 14, 2020

After a visit to the base's medical clinic determined we had low-grade hypothermia and some dehydration but no frostbite, Willem sat us down in the galley and grilled us.

Even swaddled in a blanket nearly an hour after being rescued, I continued to shiver, burning my lips as I tried to sip hot cocoa. I didn't care. I had decided I'd prefer to die in a fire than out in the freezing cold. I focused on death to avoid thinking about having to plead with Thomas to provide me with body heat; about being so weak, frozen, lost and desperate that he had to carry me before Willem arrived with the snowcat.

The old man continued to skewer me with his probing green eyes, just as he did when Thomas placed me in the cat.

"So what would've happened if I didn't rescue you?" Willem asked, his arms crossed over his chest. He wore a navy-blue hoodie and probably never shivered in his life.

"Less than a mile to go. We probably would've made it," replied Thomas, who no longer needed a blanket and opted for a glass of milk instead of cocoa.

Willem shook his head with vigor. "Too slow and off course. There's a strong chance you would've walked right past the base and never seen it... if you even got that far. You were already carrying her."

"I was hung over," I confessed. "The altitude and the cold were getting to me."

"No shit?" Willem shot back like a wise ass. "Maybe you'll remember this near-death experience the next time Sam plies you with alcohol."

"He wasn't _plying_ me. We were having a little fun. Socializing."

"And it almost cost you your life," Willem said with a stern glare. "What happens when there is no backup to bail you out? Will you be ready... or will you be drunk and stupid and unprepared like you were this time?"

"OK, I get it," I said.

"We'll find out soon enough," Willem said, rising out of his chair and leaving us in the empty galley at 4:45 a.m.

Rather than look at Thomas, I stared out the big window. The storm had passed and now the sun was glinting off the mirrored ball atop the barbershop pole.

We sat there in silence for a long awkward moment. I thought about all that had changed in just two weeks. It was way too much to process.

"Do you really want to be friends or was that just the booze talking?" I finally asked him.

He smiled, but it was one of those smiles that made me feel uncomfortable at best.

"Who knows?" he said.

"What does that mean?"

"I enjoyed our hug out there," he said, smirking now.

"Don't even go there," I said. "For warmth. For _survival_. In a ridiculous 40-below hungover hazing drill."

"I'm just saying..."

"Saying what?"

"You're single. I'm single. It's a cold, cold place and we're both a long, long way from home. Whatever happens in..."

"Just shut up already," I said, gathering my blanket and preparing to walk out of there. "A. You shot me. OK?"

"So that's a deal-breaker?" he had the gall to ask.

"Are you seriously asking me that? I will _never_ hook up with you. OK?"

I got up and looked down at him. Behind all his bullshit, I could sense there was a part of him that was serious. I wondered if he'd ever had a real girlfriend.

"And B. I'm not single," I added.

He squinted at me. "Who?"

"None of your business."

"Snowbow? Already? Wow, you're a fast..."

"Shut up. No. You don't know him and it doesn't matter. I'm going to sleep now."

He stopped me with his hand and I recoiled.

"Just tell me who he is and I'll never ask again."

I was tired. What did it matter? We were thousands of miles apart.

"Bill Oz, OK? Are you satisfied now?"

"Who? That's not even a real name."

I sighed. "William Fucking Osborne. How's that? I'm going to bed now."

I walked a few steps and Thomas actually said, "He's a lucky man."

I spun around and stared at him for a second. He was doing a good job of pretending to be serious.

"No, he's not," I said sharply. "He's a prisoner of The Bridge like us. They just have him locked up somewhere much, much warmer."

"I've been to prison. This ain't prison," Thomas objected.

I exhaled, happy only that I had finally stopped shivering.

"No, it's just Siberia on steroids. That's all."

He laughed. "Good one," he said.

"Good morning and good night," I said.

**CHAPTER 19: FROM HERE TO INFINITY**

Nikki

February 14, 2020

Hours before the final Hercules flight in and out of the South Pole — the last chance to escape winter's six-month black and icy veil — Snowbow and a dozen or so other equally insane souls played the "South Pole Bowl."

I guess it was the base's version of the Super Bowl, and a chance for some bonding before the summer polies bid farewell to the winter polies.

With the outside temperature dipping toward 45-below, I watched from the warm galley as Snowbow tackled someone in a red parka. Wearing a black jersey displaying a white infinity symbol over his green parka, Snowbow celebrated by scooping ice crystals with his gloves and throwing them up into the air.

I had never met a person with such a lust for life, and yet he was wasting all of that in a place so far removed from reality. It made me question why the hell I ever wanted to go to Mars. That would make Antarctica seem like a trip down the block.

The football game was short due to the brutally cold conditions, but Snowbow reveled in his green-and-black team's victory amid the elongated shadows of the setting sun. Each player appeared to be dwarfed by his own, impossibly stretched dark twin.

After the game and before Snowbow had to help get the ski-way ready for the last flight, he joined me at my table in the galley for a hot chocolate.

"I take it you won," I said.

"We always win."

He blew into his bare hands to get the feeling back despite having worn two pairs of gloves. "Winter polies are a superior race," he added. "I don't wear the number infinity for nothing."

"Is infinity even a number?"

"That and more. A limitless state of being," he bragged with a huge smile.

"You've seemed somewhat limited by Willem from time to time," I pointed out with a smirk. "Thomas told me he yelled at you something fierce while I was passed out in the gym."

"Hey, he's one of the big men on campus here. If I like living here, working here, I better make sure he's happy."

I sighed. "I should really get on the last plane out of here."

"Are you crazy? This is no time to get cold feet," he shot back, visibly alarmed at my thoughts of defection. "You're right on the verge of making the best decision of your life. Fuck. Listen to me, Nikki. Wintering here is a life-changing experience. You'll never be the same person again."

"Maybe that's what I'm afraid of."

"You must really like who you are now then."

"Not really."

"Then what do you have to lose?"

"About six months of sunshine, for one."

"Nah. You'll get used to the dark," he said, waving off my concerns. "Wait till your first full moon. This whole place lights up in such an amazingly different way. Plus, not long after the sun finally sets, the sky turns green. The auroras are like no other you'll ever see... then again, you're going to Mars so maybe this is just the beginning for you."

"Do you believe Willem when he says he's going to send me and Thomas to Mars?"

"Yes I do."

"Why?"

"Because he's a hard-core adventure guy. He's a billionaire. And he's had a hard-on, excuse my French, for Mars and space since I met him."

"When was that?"

"Probably nine or 10 years ago... at Mactown."

"Oh."

"Aren't you jacked up to go to Mars? You seem kind of on-the-fence about being here to train... about going there. Don't you realize how lucky you are?"

"Yeah, well, you don't know the whole story, so..."

"Fair enough. Maybe you'll tell me over the long winter."

"I can't."

"Why?"

"Because if I tell anyone the whole truth about The Bridge or my situation, I can forget about Mars... and a lot of other things."

Snowbow raised his eyebrows and exhaled. "Sounds like you've got a lot on your plate for a young woman."

"You could say that, but I guess I'm used to it by now."

"How's Thomas treating you?"

"He's OK."

"It really is amazing you guys can get along after what he did to you."

"Another wonder of The Bridge," I said sarcastically.

Snowbow stood up and stretched. "I've gotta help clear the ski-way before the last flight in."

"I know."

"If you ever need to, you know, get some stuff off your..."

I smiled when he hesitated.

"It's OK. You can say chest."

" _Breasts_... that's what I meant to say," he said, with a goofy grin.

I laughed. "I'm glad you're here. If it weren't for you, I probably would find a way to get on that last plane out of here."

Snowbow smiled. "I'm glad you're staying," he said, starting to walk away.

"Hey," I said, stopping him.

"Hey what?"

"Can I call you Sam?"

"Of course. Why?"

"Because Snowbow makes you seem like a clown... and though you are a clown, I can tell you're also a lot more than that."

His face lit up, even more than usual.

"Wow. I think that's the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me."

"I doubt that."

"Will you be my Valentine?" he asked, but he didn't seem serious.

"No," I replied so fast it appeared to stun him. He rolled with it just the same.

"I see. Build me up just to crush me."

"You don't seem that crushed."

"I am. Sam I am."

"Dr. Suess. Football. You're too young for me," I deadpanned.

He chuckled. "No, actually I'm ageless," he said, pointing to the ridiculous "number" on his jersey.

Then he blew me an exaggerated kiss and left.

It took a long time for the smile to fade from my face, and that felt good.

I think it was at that moment I realized I had moved on from Bill. Not necessarily because of Sam. But I had just moved on.

CHAPTER 20: RED FLAGS

**Thomas**

February 14, 2020

Me and Willem crunched through the snow, each of us straightening and securing parallel lines of red flags between the base and the Dark Sector telescopes.

Sure it was 45-below, but by now, that felt normal to me. The sun was sinking into the snow and winter was coming. Pretty soon, 45-below would seem like a warm and distant summer dream, the old man had told me.

As we began walking back from the telescopes with the flag lines looking good again, the sound of a Hercules began to reach my ears, even through all of the layers covering my head.

I stopped, turned and cleared some crystals off my goggles. Sure enough, there she was: a big, fat prop plane approaching from... who the fuck knows? Directions make no sense when you're standing at the South Pole.

Willem joined me in staring up at the last plane into base between now and late October. Then he lowered his scarves for a chat, so I did the same.

"You've done well so far," he said. "Now comes the real test."

I nodded. "The long winter. I'm ready."

He shook his head. "That's only part of it. There's someone on that plane you're not gonna like, but you better find a way to swallow your hate and shake his hand... or you'll be leaving here after that plane refuels."

My heart began to pound. Who else could it be?

"Adam Fucking Upton?!" I shouted.

"Yes."

"Fuck that! I'm not shaking his hand. He's a fucking rat! He's the reason I'm here in the first place. He bailed out on me and then sold me out to the cops!"

Willem just stared at me. "You disappoint me," he finally said.

"Don't give me that shit. You're not my fucking father!"

Then he got right up in my face. "No, I'm more than the fucking father you never had. I'm the only hope you've got. Do you want to be a hero... or a zero like you used to be? Hit me now and I'll have my answer."

I thought about hitting him for a long moment, but finally I backed away and pounded my gloves together instead.

"Smart move," he said. "We've got big plans for you and Nikki — the kind of plans only The Bridge can pull off — but it all comes down to this. If you go off the rails when Upton gets off that plane, you and Nikki and the whole lot of you will be getting right back on in a couple of hours. You can go back to rot at wherever you came from, and we'll move on to the next group. You'll be forgotten without a second thought."

My heart was still racing as the Hercules plopped down and slid along the ski-way. When the engines revved down a notch and I could hear again, Willem got in one last shot.

"And if you pull any shit after that plane leaves, we'll make sure you never find these," he said, grabbing a red flag pole, "on some night when it's 100-below. Do we have an understanding?"

I glared at him. "More or less," I said through gritted, chattering teeth.

Willem looked like he wanted to spit in my face.

"I'm not afraid to fucking die, if that's the way things turn out," I added.

"Then seal your own fate," he said. "Suicide by pride."

I watched as he marched ahead toward base without me. By the time I readjusted my scarves and goggles, I could see a bunch of green parkas exiting the plane and walking across the ski-way.

I honestly didn't know what the fuck I'd do when I saw that asshole face to face again.

CHAPTER 21: CARD TRICK

**Nikki**

February 14, 2020

I hate the way The Bridge shuffles the deck like we're a bunch of playing cards. I also hate the way they switch out who's dealing. It used to be Virgil trying to control me and Adam and Bill. Then it was David. Then it was Peter, who also flipped the Thomas card over on the table just to screw with me.

Now it's Willem's turn as dealer, with an assist from Ina and the cold, isolating bitch that is Antarctica.

So what does he do? Just as I've emotionally let myself move on from Bill and begin a previously unthinkable healing process with Thomas, Willem shuffles the deck again and flies in three wild cards from McMurdo: Bill and Adam, plus the enforcer, Roy.

All wearing green parkas.

My frozen jaw dropped. My heart sped and swerved.

Bill and me and Sam. Adam and Thomas. Together. For a South Pole winter. With no way out until late October. And very soon, no sun.

I tried to block all that out as I hugged Bill with tears in my eyes. He seemed just as surprised to see me.

"Nikki Blue!" he shouted, kissing my frozen lips and whirling me around. "I can't believe this!"

I kissed him back, but it wasn't the same. It would never be the same.

"On Valentine's Day, no less," he went on. "Who says The Bridge is heartless?"

"I do," I said, no stutter from the cold.

His huge smile faded enough. He knew I was serious.

"What's wrong? What have they done to you?" he asked as Adam and Roy approached.

"Made me get rescued twice by the man who shot me, and then brought back my once-presumed-dead boyfriend for the second time after I had given up on him," I said.

While Bill stood there stunned, I hugged Adam, who I hadn't seen since Christmas 2018. That was the night he ruined my girls' night out with my friend Candace by showing up at Chili's unannounced and having a confrontation with my equally unannounced ex-boyfriend Derek. How small and far away those troubles seemed now.

"Good to see you again, Nikki," he said, his brown eyes still wanting me too much to really be friends.

"Good to see you alive, Adam," I said, recalling my tense phone conversation with him from my hospital bed in Miami. Virgil controlled him as a captive and toyed with me about his fate, but it was Adam who foolishly had failed to heed my warning before all of that happened. "If only you had listened to me and gotten the hell out of Florida when you had the chance."

He nodded thoughtfully, before adding, "Florida looks pretty good right about now."

"You've got a point there," I said, wincing as I noticed Thomas approaching from the flag lines.

Adam followed my line of vision, quickly steeling himself for his first run-in with his former friend and former accomplice outside of a courtroom since that September night in 2014, when Thomas shot us both on the campus of our New Hampshire high school.

"Nobody warned me _he_ would be here... until _after_ we took off," Adam growled.

"I know the feeling, being blindsided by the return of Thomas," I said. "But he's actually been trying to change since they shipped us down here together."

Adam shook his head, his eyes still fixed on Thomas. "I owe him one for shooting us and another one for _trying_ to have two guys beat me up in prison last summer."

I put my hand on Adam's parka-covered arm. "Just wait a second. Don't make it any worse for yourself with The Bridge."

Then Willem seemingly appeared out of nowhere from the mob of green parkas nearby, and Roy backed him up with his monstrous presence. I retreated a step and shuffled closer to Bill, who looked at me with understandable cluelessness.

"This will be a new start for you both," Willem declared. "Or it will be the end for you both."

Thomas slowly stepped within striking distance of Adam and lowered his scarves. Adam looked ready to pounce if needed. He used to be much bigger, but Thomas had filled out quite a bit since they last saw each other.

All of our eyes were on the two of them as Thomas, silently and shockingly, raised his gloved hand toward Adam.

Adam thought about it for a long, icy moment, but at last his glove ascended to meet the one Thomas offered and they shook.

Yet another card trick by The Bridge.

Less than an hour later, the last Hercules roared down the ski-way and took off, leaving us stranded at the South Pole for at least the next eight months.

CHAPTER 22: UNBALANCED

**Nikki**

February 15, 2020

"How do you expect me to accept the fact that the asshole who shot you is now a training partner, drinking buddy, whatever the fuck?!"

"Shhh, keep it down," I told Bill.

Despite being jet-lagged, he'd kept his eyes open long enough for us to grab a hot coffee in the mostly empty galley and catch up on everything that had happened since we last saw each other in August. He, too, had been kept in solitary confinement for months, wasting away in a different part of the same Bridge center in Cape Town. He only had been allowed to see his equally captive son, Max, three times during that span.

"That's three more times than I've been allowed to see my father," I pointed out.

But when the topic turned to Thomas, Bill understandably came unglued. He shook his head and kept tugging at his new goatee, which I didn't really care for. Perhaps the gray hairs that now salted it were a wake-up call for me. He was 40 now; almost old enough to be my father.

"I'm telling you this so you know what's going on," I said. "I don't want you to go kick Thomas' ass or anything. That won't help the situation for any of us. All I can tell you is he's been trying to change. He's gone from trying to kill me six years ago to sort of helping me in dire situations over the past month or so. Obviously, The Bridge is coercing him into it, but that's the new reality and I'm learning to deal with it day by day."

"Only The Bridge would do something like this," Bill said. "Absolute insanity. How is he not in prison?"

"He was... for five years. Somehow they got him out and sent him here for an experimental rehab. The prison apparently had no idea The Bridge also sent me down here."

"Unbelievable. These people literally get off on thinking of ways to fuck with people."

"Thomas doesn't like it either. Do you really think he wants to be my rescuer, my bodyguard?"

"At least they don't discriminate," Bill said. "They fuck with the good, the bad and the incarcerated."

"Welcome to the bottom of the world."

"Well, we can't get any lower.... Are we really stuck here until late October?" he asked, before switching to a whisper. "Can't the National Science Foundation call in a rescue flight for us? I've heard about them evacuating sick people from here before. We're abductees. That's even worse."

I lowered my voice as well.

"We could try. The problem is Willem practically runs the show down here. If we try to raise any flags, he'll hear about it and we'll be screwed with no guarantee of any rescue. I may never see my father again. You may never see Max again. And Willem or Roy will just drive us off in a snowcat some night and dump us out there miles away in a storm," I said, waving toward the big window. "I already almost died on a training drill. I really don't want to find out what it's like when it's not a drill. And it's only going to get colder... and darker."

"Wonderful," Bill said with a sigh. "I've gotta get some sleep. Your bunk or mine?"

I looked down and didn't answer right away. He shook his head and stood up from the table.

"I don't think it's...," I started, but he quickly cut me off.

"You can stop now. I get it. I'm 40 now. It's over."

"It has nothing to do with age," I said, partially lying. "I can't keep pretending to have a relationship with you when we're not in control of anything anymore. It's not your fault. It's not my fault. But we're a long way from Miami. I just can't handle the emotional swings anymore. You're dead. Alive. Here. Gone. Here again."

"It's OK. I understand."

"I'm sorry," I said genuinely.

"No need to apologize. The winter will just be even longer, colder and darker."

And off he went.

I felt horrible, but I knew it was the right decision. Love and The Bridge don't mix.

***

"Why are we here?" Willem began, his intense eyes studying each of us in turn. "And why this particular group of somewhat unbalanced Americans?"

Willem had summoned all of us to a conference room with a rectangular table. He sat at the head of it with Adam, me and Bill on the left, and Thomas and Roy on the right.

No one answered Willem's rhetorical question, despite the pause.

"We are here because last year The Bridge selected Nikki to be one of six people to go on our first mission to Mars. There will be two astronaut pilots with science specialties, one engineer, one medical doctor — my son, Peter — and two commoners, who will do a little bit of everything. Nikki, if she succeeds in her training, and her top-qualifying partner will help make this mission relatable to every person on Earth. The Bridge wants a mix of people — not just scientists and doctors and astronauts — to be on Missions 1 through 4; to be among the first colony of 24 humans on the Red Planet."

Bill half-raised his hand. Willem nodded at him.

"Is there really no plan to bring us back if we go?" he asked.

"Eventually, we will have return-trip capability, but your mindset should be to go there and stay there for the foreseeable future. There are no guarantees of a return trip to anyone, including my own son, at this point. Our priority is to get there first and establish the first base on Mars."

"That's a big change from a year ago," I pointed out. "Even Peter seemed fine with waiting and doing it right, rather than getting there first."

"And I overruled him," Willem said sharply. "We will do it right _and_ get there first. Enough fucking around already. It's truly a disgrace that we have no human beings on that planet by now. We have the ability, the resources. We will train properly. All we need are people with guts; people who are committed."

An awkward silence settled over the room. It was kind of laughable to picture any of us on Mars, but this guy _was serious_. Roy, of course, was practically nodding off in his chair. What did he care? He wasn't going to Mars.

"This first phase of training will determine who is committed," Willem continued, "and who should be committed... to a mental ward."

Adam failed to muffle a snort. I cracked a smile. It was good to see him again, even under these bizarre circumstances. Thomas was visibly annoyed by his presence but kept his mouth shut.

"Laugh now, but wintering in this place will test each of you," the old man rattled on. "Extreme isolation and sensory deprivation — with zero means of escape for months on end — will change all of you. It also will prepare you for space travel and living in a hab on the Martian surface. Six months of darkness here can drive people mad. The sun will officially set on March 22 and won't rise again until September. Learn to take advantage of full moons and get outside, no matter how cold."

"That's insane," Bill mumbled.

Willem ignored him and carried on with his long-winded pep talk.

"Speaking of cold, the average surface temperature on Mars is minus-55 Celsius; that's minus-67 for you Americans. Fortunately, a winter here at the South Pole will take us well below that and harden us even better. There are nights when it can get as low as minus-100 or -110 Fahrenheit. The wind chills are even worse. The bulldozers don't work below minus-65 or -70, and the snowcats don't function below minus-80 or -85. But we humans can, must and will continue to work here, inside and outside, in those conditions.

"Flag lines must be maintained, Dark Sector telescopes must be fixed and used during optimal winter months, and science will go on here, no matter what. You will do grunt work, fall into routines to help combat the disintegration of your natural body clocks and be called upon to take part in surprise rescue drills. If you do well, you also may get the opportunity to accompany me to the Dark Sector and gaze deeply into the universe. Are there any questions?"

I raised my hand. Willem nodded.

"You started out by calling us somewhat unbalanced Americans. You obviously know the history of everyone in this room and some of the _tensions_ involved," I said, emphasizing the understatement. "How does it make any sense to put this particular group of people through this and expect success?"

Willem smiled. "Normal people don't do well here, we have found. Normal people fare better in normal society. It is better if you are a little crazy — these are the people who thrive here and rise to the challenge, more often than not. So congratulations."

"Gee, thanks," I said.

"I know I liked it here a lot more than where I came from," Thomas said. "Until that last flight came in anyway."

Willem glared at Thomas for his obvious shot at Adam, but he pressed on.

"I think you'll all find this experience far more peaceful and liberating than the fragmented and fast-paced society you previously were prisoners to," he said.

Bill perked up at that. "Interesting word choice from a company well-versed in the actual imprisonment of people of all ages, even little boys," he sneered.

Willem shot him an annoyed look. "Shall I call my defense lawyer or can I proceed with your training schedule?"

"No, please, continue to conquer this world and the next... all else be damned," Bill waved him on with both hands.

Willem did just that. He didn't give a shit about any of us. We were the equivalent of space monkeys who would probably just blow up on a test flight to Mars. I also had major doubts that Peter would have the balls to go on our mission when it actually came time to lift off. Why would they risk one of their higher-ups so early in the colonization attempt?

"Those who successfully complete this South Pole winter phase will move on to rover training, water drilling and scientific exploration in the McMurdo Dry Valleys when summer returns," Willem said. "After that, training will shift back to the Great Karoo launch complex in South Africa. You will do space suit training, learn to live in habs and domes, figure out how to grow crops in Martian-like soil, and flip around in zero-gravity simulators."

I had been to the barren launch site with Peter and Virgil about a year ago. I tried to imagine what it looked like now — a rocket pad and training complex rising up out of the dirt and shrubs.

"What are our odds of survival if we actually launch to Mars?" Adam asked.

I nodded at him, impressed with his pointed question.

"That's hard to say at this early stage," Willem replied.

"Can you at least give us an estimate, you know, before we get all invested in this brutal training for a mission we may or may not get selected for, and may or may not survive?" Bill persisted on behalf of all of us.

Willem rubbed the gray stubble on his chin and mulled that over for a moment. Unsurprisingly, he seemed to savor dangling our collective fates over a cliff of uncertainty.

"Well, the full name of this base is Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station," he finally said. "Amundsen and Scott were both explorers racing to the reach this pole first. Amundsen won and he survived. Scott lost and he died... on the _return trip_. But he did make it here. Both men and their groups reached this seemingly unconquerable destination more than a century ago."

"So what's your point?" Bill asked.

"My point is we have a 200 percent chance of success and a 50 percent chance of death," Willem said, his lips slowly curving into a grin. "Pretty good odds, I think."

Pretty easy to say _we_ when he's not the one going, I think.

CHAPTER 23: PEACE PRIZE

**Thomas**

February 17, 2020

Me and Snowbow were wolfing down some of chef Michael's wood-grilled pizza in the galley when Adam the Rat walked in with his tray.

Snowbow apparently had met him already and waved him over. "Right here, newbie," he said before I could punch him. That's how the guy was. Friendly to a fucking fault.

The Rat hesitated at the sight of me, but eventually he found the balls to come over and sit down across from me. He wouldn't look me in the face though.

"What's your name again, buddy?" Snowbow asked.

"Adam... Upton."

"Sam Archambeau, but most people call me Snowbow around here," he said, shaking hands with The Rat.

"Nice to meet you," The Rat said.

"You know Nikki, too, right?"

"Yeah. We went to high school together in New Hampshire."

"Another American. Cool," Snowbow said. "I'm from Colorado."

"Sweet," The Rat said, opening his Rat hole to eat some Rat food.

"So... you guys must know each other, too, right?" Snowbow asked.

Neither of us answered.

"Am I sensing a little tension here or is that just me?"

No answer again. We both kept eating and avoiding eye contact.

"OK, how about this? What would happen if I suddenly stood up and walked away?" Snowbow kept at it, the fuck.

"We'd try to kill each other," I finally said. "How's that?"

Snowbow raised his bushy eyebrows. "Seriously?"

The Rat nodded. Snowbow looked pretty uncomfortable all of a sudden.

"Hey guys, come on. It's a long winter. Can't we all just get along?"

"How would you feel if your friend stabbed you in the back?" I asked Snowbow.

The Rat just rolled his eyes and kept stuffing his hole.

"Not literally, right?" Snowbow asked me with a pained look on his face.

The Rat cut me off before I could respond. "How would you feel if your friend _shot you in the ass_ and then hired two goons to try to kick your ass in prison?" he asked Snowbow.

"Wait a minute...," Snowbow said, making a "T" for timeout with his hands and then turning to me. "You shot Nikki _and him_?"

"Yeah, that's right," I said.

"Holy wow," Snowbow said, his mouth hanging open. "You're hardcore, bro," he told me. "Remind me not to cross you."

"Don't fucking cross me," I said.

"Thanks for the reminder."

"Don't fucking mention it," I said, allowing a grin.

Then Nikki appeared, her eyes popping out of her head at the sight of the three of us sitting together. And my grin grew a little more.

"Um... how's it going?" she asked very, very slowly.

"I'm not gonna lie. It's been a little strange, even for the South Pole," Snowbow said.

"You deserve a peace prize just for trying," Nikki said.

"Yeah, well, this was more of an accidental lunch threesome," he said. "But before I exist for one more second, please answer me this: is there _anyone else_ at this station right now who was shot by Thomas?"

Nikki seemed to hold back a laugh. Only Snowbow could turn a fucked-up situation like this into a quasi-comedy.

"Um... not that we know of," she said.

"Good," Snowbow said, exhaling with plenty of exaggeration. "And God _bless_ America, for Christ sake, she needs your help."

CHAPTER 24: SHOCK

**Nikki**

February 20, 2020

One thing you learn pretty quickly at the South Pole, especially after coming inside from the outside, is to reduce your static charge as you walk around the station. If you don't regularly touch something metal, the next door knob you grab will give you a serious, painful shock.

Then there's the other kind of shock: the one when you turn a corner and see two people embracing who you never could've imagined doing so.

I slowed myself to all but motionless when I saw Thomas, of all people, hesitantly hugging the sobbing sea hag, Ina, in the hallway outside the communications room — one of several places Willem had denied us Martian trainees/abductees access to for obvious reasons.

"What happened?" I asked.

"ISIS," Thomas said, barely even looking at me as Ina stepped back from him and wiped her wrinkled face with a shriveled-up tissue.

It was just stunning for me to see her show a vulnerable side for once.

"What about ISIS?" I asked.

"Double suicide bombings in Berlin and D.C. at the same time," Thomas said.

Ina resumed sobbing and stumbled down the hall, her normally sturdy frame crushed inward from grief.

"Her twin brother got killed in Berlin," Thomas added when she was out of earshot. "She said Peter emailed the station to let her know."

"And she turned to _you_ for comfort?"

He shrugged and looked down. He seemed embarrassed, an equally rare sight.

"She was just bawling and I was the first person she ran into. I asked her what was wrong and she told me. It's hard to understand her, but I'm pretty sure she said _thousands_ killed."

I shook my head and tried to reconcile the irony of a former wannabe mass killer being the messenger at a time like this, but I could not.

With or without us, the cruel world we left behind carried on just the same. More senseless killing, every minute of every day, somewhere.

For a brief moment, I appreciated the isolation of Antarctica, even beside the likes of Thomas.

"And what do you think of ISIS?" I heard myself ask him without thinking.

He smirked, like he knew something no normal person could appreciate.

"Today is 02-20-2020... that ain't no coincidence. What's your twenty? Two twenty — two locations they bombed at the same time. Fucking towel heads got a way with numbers and shit," Thomas said before walking down the hall and leaving my head spinning.

I guess all killers think alike.

CHAPTER 25: RACE FOR THE HOLLYWOOD SHOWERS

**Nikki**

February 21, 2020

"You're out here early," I said, crunching up to Adam near the start of the flag lines.

He continued staring through his ski goggles toward the monthlong midnight sun, its fire slowly doused by the icy horizon — almost imperceptible to the eye, but not the soul. How would we handle the darkness? Would the stars be enough to fill the void, comforting us like night lights do for scared children?

Adam finally turned to look at me, lowered his scarves and cleared his throat.

"I don't know what's early or late down here. Time don't make sense anymore," he said, his voice hoarse from a cold.

"I'd like to say that you'll get used to it, but I'm still not and I've been here for over a month now."

"Pretty sweet sunset though," he said.

"Yeah. I used to think New Hampshire was impressive. This place is so bizarre and beautiful."

"Just like you," he quickly added, without looking at me.

"What?"

He didn't answer. I tugged at his parka until he stared at me. His brown eyes had that lost, hopeless look that I had seen once before — on the night I talked him out of shooting up our high school with Thomas.

"What's wrong... other than the fact that we've both been abducted by The Bridge and banished to the South Pole for the winter?"

"It doesn't matter," he said, looking at the sunset again.

"Adam, just let it out. We're at the fucking South Pole. Shout it out if you want to."

He hesitated for a moment and then ranted.

"I've been here for a week and do you realize this is the first time we've actually talked together alone?" he snapped. "Really? After all we've been through? Am I that repulsive to you?"

My lips were chattering too much, so I hid my mouth behind my scarves for a moment and thought about what he said.

"I guess that's a yes then," he jabbed.

I lowered my scarves.

"I'm sorry and, no, you're not repulsive. I had to cover my mouth for a second before it literally froze shut. You're right. I should've hung out with you sooner. But this whole situation is insane, so if I'm acting bizarre, good. I should be."

"I did call you beautiful, too," he pointed out.

"Yes, thank you, but how can you tell when I'm under 55 layers of gear?"

He nodded and forced a smile. His lips were turning blue.

"You better cover up," I said.

"Fuck that. I want to talk to you."

"That's why you came out before the drill is supposed to start?" I asked.

"Yup. I was hoping you'd be early, too, and for once, I caught a break."

"Did you hear about the ISIS attacks?"

"Yup."

"Kill, kill, kill. I'm so sick of the people on this planet," I said with a relentless shiver. "Look at this scene in front of us. Such an amazing, beautiful world, and all we humans do is destroy it and each other. We don't deserve to live here. It should only be for animals and plants... and snow and ice."

I covered up my own blue lips and noticed a group of green parkas marching in our direction.

"And now I guess they w-w-want us to go destroy Mars," Adam declared, despite quivering lips. Finally, he covered up, too.

A minute later, Willem congratulated us on getting out here early as Bill, Thomas and Roy trailed close behind him. Then he stopped and looked around at everybody.

"Today we're going to do a little team building and rescue training," Willem barked, with no apparent trace of grief in his voice over the death of his brother-in-law. "Nikki and Adam, you were out here first so you can be Team 1. Bill and Thomas, you're Team 2."

Bill shook his head in disgust at the pairing. I don't think Thomas had figured out yet that Bill was the boyfriend I had told him about. He had not seen us kiss when Bill got off the plane and we had not acted like a couple since then because we weren't anymore.

"One team member must carry the other to the halfway point between here and the Dark Sector telescopes," Willem instructed. "At the halfway point, you will find two sleds and you must switch places. The weaker team member, if you can't carry your partner, you must pull him or her in the sled to complete the second leg to the Dark Sector. Now figure out who will carry whom first."

"I'll carry you," Adam told me, stating the obvious.

"How am I going to pull you? What do you weigh?"

"210 or so."

"This sucks," I said, covering up my mouth again and preparing to be draped over Adam's shoulders.

"Do it!" Roy ordered Thomas and Bill as they hesitated and cursed.

"Did I fail to mention that the winners get Hollywood showers for a week when the winter rules kick in?" Willem said with a grin.

"What's that mean?" Bill asked.

" _Hollywood_ showers. Aren't I speaking _American_?" Willem replied. "Beginning next month, your current 5-minute showers will be cut to 2-minute showers twice a week next to conserve fuel over the long winter with no supply flights coming in. So the winners of this drill will get to keep their 5-minute Hollywood showers for an extra week. Trust me. You'll be happy you won today."

"You carry me," Bill told Thomas. "You're younger... with a stronger back."

Thomas shook his head, lowered his scarves to spit and hunched down. "Get on, old man."

Sure enough, Thomas was able to carry Bill, just as he did for me in the last drill that went horribly awry.

Then Adam grabbed me and made me his cargo with ease.

"Ready, set... go!" Willem shouted.

Adam had no problem lugging all 120 pounds of me, plus winter gear. He jumped out to an early lead and never looked back. I had to crane my neck at an awkward angle to see Thomas struggling to haul tall and lanky Bill. I fully expected Thomas to drop him at any time just for the fun of it, never mind how tough it was, but he must've really wanted those Hollywood showers.

Willem stomped alongside us as Adam reached the orange sled first and let me down. He did his part, giving me plenty of head start with a half kilometer to go to reach the Dark Sector.

Roy stalked Thomas as he slowly carried Bill toward their sled, but they were still about 30 feet behind us as Adam plopped his big body on our sled and I grabbed the rope.

I pulled with all my might. I slung the rope around my torso and tried to run. I got behind Adam and pushed his back. The sled did not budge.

Adam lowered his scarves, and began to laugh and snort.

"Oh shut up!" I yelled, while noticing Willem crack a smile.

While we were going nowhere, Thomas caught up and dumped Bill unceremoniously in the snow to our left.

"Hey!" Bill grunted as he landed.

"Your turn, old man," Thomas ribbed him. Then, after huffing and puffing for a few seconds, he looked at me and laughed derisively. "Good luck moving that fat ass!"

At that moment, as I jerked the rope with gritted teeth, the sled suddenly and miraculously moved with ease. That's because Adam had leapt off the sled and tackled Thomas in the snow. He jumped on top of him and started waling on him with punch after punch.

Roy was ready to pounce on both of them, but Willem yelled, "No! Let them go at it for a minute!"

Thomas managed to kick and wriggle free, and then wrestled Adam in the snow. He got Adam in a headlock and tried to strangle him.

Bill backed up next to me to watch the UFC Antarctica cage-free match.

"For the Pole bragging rights," he quipped to me.

I just shook my head, raised my scarves to prevent frostbite, and waited for the grappling and grunting to end.

Willem let them go for another minute or so. Adam had gotten out of the headlock and landed a couple more punches. Then Willem called it.

"Enough!" he shouted.

Roy quickly stepped in, tossing them away from each other like two green garbage bags. They both hunched over in the snow and gasped for air. It was far too thin down here to help much.

"Fighting at 9,300 feet isn't very smart," Willem sneered. "Now you've learned the hard way. You've also drawn a penalty at the halfway mark in our race for the Hollywood showers. Since you two bozos appear to need additional team-building work, we'll pair you up for the second half of the race."

"Fuck that!" Thomas managed to yell in between gasps.

Willem just nodded to Roy, who picked Thomas up like a Chucky doll and body-slammed him back into the snow.

Adam wisely kept his mouth shut, save for a spit, and then raised his scarves over his mouth and headed toward the sled next to mine.

"You've all got 30 seconds to get back in this fucking race to the Dark Sector or Roy will break all of you in half!" Willem shouted. "It doesn't matter who's pulling now, just finish the goddamn drill already!"

I quickly and happily jumped on the sled, and Bill grabbed the rope and started yanking me forward. A few snow crystals swirled in the breeze and suddenly it was like a scene out of a Christmas postcard in one lane of the race.

In the other lane, a dejected Thomas somehow submitted to the indignity of being pulled by Adam, but they were so far behind us it didn't matter.

Bill kept on chugging with me in tow, and we crossed the final red flags under the looming telescopes, which seemed to rise at least 100 feet into the air now that I got to see them up close.

"Yes!" I cheered, jumping up from the sled to hug my ex.

Roy and Willem chided Adam to move his weary body and finish the race. Two minutes later, he finally delivered Thomas past the last flag and collapsed. They both looked exhausted and pissed off.

Willem wasn't too pleased either.

"You all sucked today, but the Hollywood showers go to Nikki and Bill. Adam and Thomas, meanwhile, have a choice to make. Shake hands like men and move on, and I'll hail Snowbow and his snowcat to take us back for breakfast. Don't shake hands and you all get to push Roy back to base on a sled."

We all groaned and Roy actually chuckled. I don't think I had seen him laugh since our plane ride to South Africa two years ago.

Eventually, Thomas ignored what was left of his pride and shook gloves with Adam. Bill and I clapped.

"Who knows? On another planet, you bozos could wind up being friends," Willem said with a loud smack of his black gloves. "And it all started right here. That's the magic of Antarctica. Ain't she a beauty?"

Then Willem pulled a walkie-talkie out of his parka. Hey, it's not like they have cell service down here.

"Snowbow, come and get us," he said. "We've fought, we've bled and we've laughed together. Now it's time to eat."

CHAPTER 26: STOCKHOLM SYNDROME

**Thomas**

February 21, 2020

I'm not gonna lie. I felt miserable, even with a drink in my hand. Got my ass kicked twice. Lost out on the Hollywood showers. And I didn't even have a gun so I could blow all these people away and have some peace.

The only person who looked more miserable than me was Ina, who sat three stools away. ISIS had killed her twin brother, so here we all were, sitting in Bottom's Up, about to raise our glasses to toast an obliterated dead man thousands of miles away. Snowbow called this an Irish wake. What Ireland's got to do with Germany, I have no fucking clue, but I was more than willing to get smashed tonight. I just hoped asshole Willem didn't pull another one of his surprise drills during hangover time.

"To Karl!" Snowbow shouted.

"To Karl!" most people echoed, though I noticed old man Bill didn't raise his glass or shout. He just shook his head and sipped on his own.

He saw me looking at him and came on over. Nikki was busy schmoozing with Snowbow, who was doing a lot more talking than making drinks.

"Nikki's lost her mind," Bill said to me.

"Just because they forced me to carry you today doesn't mean we're friends," I said.

"Friends? You shot my ex-girlfriend."

I looked at the guy all confused and then it hit me. "Holy shit. You're _that_ Bill?"

"Why, are there other Bills around here, on top of the bartender who's hitting on her?"

"She said you were somewhere far way. She told me she wasn't single... that you were her boyfriend."

"I was far away. I was her boyfriend. And then I showed up here. And now I'm not," he said, taking another drink.

"And you want me to feel sorry for you?"

"Fuck no."

"Then what do you want?"

"I want to talk to someone who isn't showing signs of Stockholm Syndrome," he said.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means showing sympathy toward your captors. Everyone's raising a glass to the matriarch of The Bridge just because her brother got blown to bits," Bill said, sitting in the stool next to me now with his eyes all crazy and shit. _Could my day get any fucking worse?_

"I hugged her last night when she found out, so I guess I've caught the disease, too," I said with a shrug.

He just glared at me and then downed the rest of his drink. After staring at his glass for a moment and then at his ex-girlfriend, he started waving wildly at Snowbow for another round.

Snowbow broke off his chat with Nikki and the late-arriving Rat third wheel at the end of the bar, and walked over to us.

"Another Frozen Demon, Bill?" he asked.

"How about a Stockholm Syndrome? Can you make one of those?"

"What's in it? Never heard of that... as a drink anyway."

"Just make something up. You're good at that. Then pass that Syndrome around to everyone but me. I'll take another Frozen Demon. Yes."

Snowbow squinted at Bill and scratched his head, probably weighing whether to cut him off, and then just went about serving him up another Frozen Demon.

Bill downed half of it right away.

"Big drinker," I said.

"What else is there to do down here but get wasted and get dumped in the snow by the likes of you, who should still be in prison?"

I just smiled and I could tell he hated it, so I kept smiling.

"How did an old man like you hook up with Nikki in the first place?"

He gave me a fuck-you look and took another drink.

"I didn't shoot her, for one," he said with his smart-ass tone.

"Then how?" I asked.

"The Bridge. That's how. A tall, old, gangly fuck named Virgil played cupid at a lavish party and set us up. The rest is history. Now we're all stuck in this frozen hell. We either train here to go to a redder, more frozen hell with no air or they send us back to a closet to rot. And who knows if I'll ever get to see my kid again."

" _You've_ got a kid?"

"Why is that so unbelievable? You clearly think I'm old enough."

"Nikki hooked up with you anyway?"

He shook his head and took another drink.

"She's even more fucked up than I thought," I said, needling him some more, which made my day slightly less awful.

Then he stood up, slammed the rest of his drink and looked like he wanted to get the hell out of here.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"The music room. I always play better when I'm drunk and pissed off."

And off he went.

I guess that makes three miserable people.

CHAPTER 27: MAX THROTTLE

**Nikki**

February 21, 2020

I watched Bill leave Bottom's Up all of a sudden and figured he was mad at me for talking to Snowbow. Then again, he had just been talking to Thomas, so how well could that have gone? I didn't want to think about it.

"What's wrong?" Adam asked from the bar stool to my left.

"I don't see how we're all gonna survive being trapped here together for such a long time."

Adam shrugged his shoulders and took a drink.

"At least you're here," he said. "That helps."

"Wow... thanks. I'm glad you're here, too. Hopefully we can all help each other get through this somehow."

"Do you really think we'll end up going to Mars?"

"Well, I never could've imagined I'd be having a drink in Antarctica, so maybe I should start to believe that Mars is a real possibility."

A couple of stools to my right, Ina leaned over the bar and gave Sam a hug. He squeezed back and no doubt whispered some words of encouragement in her ear. He was nice like that.

Then Ina surprised me by coming over to my stool. She seemed different, perhaps a little softer, as she looked at me. I wasn't sure it had to do with her brother's death or not.

"I'm sorry... about Karl," I said, struggling to show sympathy to the same woman who had pushed me off a boat and ladled fish guts into the sea to attract sharks.

Ina nodded and seemed appreciative.

"It's tough," the German woman said, fighting back tears. "Being here. So far avay. Nothing I can do. No vay to say goodbye."

I nodded, but it was all I could do not to call her out for being part of The Bridge, which had cut me off from my family and friends — at least the ones not banished here with me.

Nevertheless, I bit my tongue and I was glad I did, because she stunned me with what she said next.

"Go. Follow Bill now," she said, hooking her thumb toward the door where he'd left moments ago.

"Why?"

"Villem has a surprise for him. A good one."

"Really?"

I glanced to my left at Adam.

"Go see," he said. "Let me know what happened."

So I waved bye to him and Sam, and off I went down the corridor.

I could hear Bill's voice coming from the music room nearby. I stopped at the open door, watched and listened. He was playing acoustic guitar and singing a Pink Floyd song I recognized, "Wish You Were Here."

I knew it was for his son, Max, and I felt the tears flood my eyes.

Then someone cleared his throat behind me. I turned. It was Willem, who quickly stepped aside to reveal two people behind him — Max! and a young woman.

"Max!" I screamed, hugging him. "Go race to your daddy!"

He did just that, and Bill dropped his guitar on the floor mid-note at the sight of his son. He wrapped the young boy up so tight in his arms, crying and laughing at the same time. I was doing the same.

"So good to see you again, Max. So, so good," Bill said.

After a long, wonderful moment of that, he put Max down and walked toward Willem.

"How? I thought we came in on the last flight?" Bill asked the old man.

Willem smiled as I glanced at the woman to his left. She looked American if I had to guess, with long brown hair and college age at most.

"You did," Willem said. "But Max and Alexis, here, arrived in December. They've been staying in a different wing of the station. Alexis is his personal sitter and tutor."

Bill stepped forward and shook her hand.

"Thank you for taking care of my son," he told her.

She smiled. "You're welcome. Max is a lot of fun and very smart."

Bill ruffled up Max's sandy brown hair and the boy giggled. It was so good to see them together again as I recalled our days hanging out together at Clearwater Beach in Florida.

"But how have we not seen him in the galley? And why didn't you let me see him when I got here a week ago?" Bill asked Willem.

"We bring all his food and beverages to him in his living quarters because children are not allowed at this station."

"But you brought him anyway," Bill said. "Why?"

"For you, for one," Willem said. "The Bridge breaks the rules for all the right reasons. But you needed a week to adjust and begin training before we'd allow regular visits with your son."

Bill's eyes were bugging out, mostly with glee.

"What can I say? I'm blown away," he said, bending down to bear-hug Max again. "This gives me hope. You have no idea."

"I can't breathe, daddy," Max said with a toothy grin, making us all crack up.

"I went from miserable to just so damn happy at the sight of him," Bill said, standing up again.

"Good," Willem said.

"How often can I see him?"

"Daily. We'll arrange it so you can visit him in his quarters. Who knows. Maybe we'll smuggle him outside, too, once in a while to see the auroras," Willem said.

"That'll put some hair on his chest," Bill said, rubbing Max playfully.

"Indeed. This will be the first time we have a child winter-over here. This station is all about science and research, and Max here is an important experiment. He will tell us much about what children can handle. I suspect it will be much more than we give them credit for."

Max piped up right on cue. "Can I go play the drums?" he asked, his eager brown eyes quickly scanning each of us in turn, hoping for a positive response from someone, anyone.

"Of course!" Bill yelled, not waiting for approval from Willem.

The boy raced for the drum set beyond Bill's fallen guitar and started pounding away with the kind of enthusiasm that could turn this pole right side up.

"There's no stopping him now," Bill said with a laugh.

Willem nodded and smiled. "And that is the spirit we all must have if we expect to go where we need to be. From now on, we should call your son Max Throttle."

"I like that," Bill said as we all chuckled and watched his son.

But then I thought about my father and I pulled Willem aside.

"Do you happen to have my dad stashed away down here somewhere, too?"

Willem's smile quickly faded. "No. Your father has proven quite stubborn in his resistance to our cause."

I hated to kill the mood of Bill and Max's reunion, but even with the sound of drums and cymbals filling the room, I would not let it go. If only briefly, my father had rescued me from that hospital, from Dr. Peter van Wooten, from The Bridge. How could I ignore that he was still their captive somewhere?

I got in Willem's face and growled, "My respect for my father goes up every day then. The Bridge thinks nothing of breaking the rules _and_ breaking up families. All the right reasons in _your_ mind or not, that's wrong."

"I'm sorry you feel that way," Willem said with little conviction.

"No you're not. Freedom and being apologetic don't exist in your world."

Willem just scowled at me and left the music room with Alexis in step behind him.

Bill had been close enough to hear the topic of our exchange, if not every word.

"Well said," he told me. "Just when I thought you had a raging case of Stockholm Syndrome, the Nikki I always knew returns."

"Go spend time with Max," I said. "And try not to think about the fact that The Bridge just _let_ _you_ see your son for the first time in months."

CHAPTER 28: MARS ISN'T ENOUGH?

**Thomas**

February 21, 2020

There was a knock on the door to my room. I just wanted to sleep after a shitty day. Was that too much to ask?

"Thomas."

It sounded like Willem so I got off my bed and opened the door.

"A word in private," he said, nodding for me to back up so he could close the door.

I figured he was going to bitch me out for starting the fight with The Rat.

"Your face looks OK. How's your pride?" he asked, eye to eye with me.

"What the fuck do you care?"

"I'll tell you why I care if you're willing to listen."

"You're gonna do whatever the hell you want anyway, so..."

"That's right. We are. My question is what do you want?"

"How about a gun?" I said, bracing for a punch.

He didn't seem surprised by my answer and didn't really react right away.

"I thought you weren't going back to being that person? Isn't that what you told me at McMurdo when I offered you the chance to blow me and Nikki away right there?"

"Yeah, well, that was before you ambushed me with Adam Fucking Upton for a whole fucking winter."

"Boo-hoo, a little adversity," the old man said. "Talk is cheap and guns are for cowards who can't settle things with their own hands... or their own brains."

I was so fucking sick of the yammering. "Can you just make your point so I can go to sleep before you spring another fucking drill on us?"

"OK. Here's the plan. I'll make you famous for all the right reasons — not for blowing away a bunch of people. There's nothing special about that anymore anyway; happens every day. Just ask my wife, who no longer has a twin brother."

Ouch.

"Listening yet?" he asked.

I nodded.

"If you do what I tell you, you'll get your fame, your riches, your adventures, your 'I fucking love the cold,' your freedom and your bragging rights over Adam. Hell, you might even get the girl," he said.

"What girl?"

"Who else?"

"Who says I want her?"

"Talk is cheap. Looks say much more."

"Just spit it out already," I said.

So he told me. _All of it._

"I don't have to tell you to keep this just between us because I'll definitely hear about it," Willem said.

"Mars isn't enough for you guys?"

"No, we at The Bridge like to tell the world a story and make the impossible possible as we pursue our grand missions. If you're going to do something, why not go all the way?"

"Why me?" I asked.

"It doesn't have to be. But if it's not you, then we're all just wasting our time down here. Because it's always been you since we discovered her. We chose you for this. So seize the opportunity, be a leader down here and make your destiny happen."

My head was spinning. It was a lot to think about. But I couldn't say no.

"I'm in," I finally said.

"Good," Willem said. "Your life matters now. Get some sleep."

### PART 3

CHAPTER 29: THE SHINING LIGHTS

**Nikki**

March 22, 2020

All chapters at the South Pole

Sam stood next to me as we watched the last spark of sunlight cling to the distant horizon.

"What if I never see the sun again?" I asked, exposing my lips to the 50-below air.

"I used to think that, too," he said. "But then she always returns to me for that incredible September sunrise. Wintering over makes you appreciate everything — especially being alive and how your life doesn't have to be ordinary or defined by anyone but yourself."

"How do you keep doing this year after year though?"

"Ask me that again in September and you'll have an idea. Sometimes you just have to walk a mile in someone else's bunny boots," he said with a smile before covering his frozen mouth.

I did the same.

Even with the extra furry "bunny boots" for deep winter, my feet and other extremities were starting to go numb. But I didn't want to miss the actual sunset. Anyone could watch from the heated galley window, and I wasn't just anyone anymore. I was in training to go to Mars, where it would be even colder.

Focusing on the mission helped me block out my hatred for The Bridge. My hope was that I'd get to use this experience some day by going to Mars with a different organization.

"There she goes," Sam declared as the sun finally fell off the long white table in front of us and the afterglow took over.

I decided to keep my mouth covered and greet the new night with silence. I focused on the remnant trails of light and managed not to cry.

Sam instinctively seemed to know I needed a hug at that moment and gave me a big, warm, friendly one. That helped a lot.

"Just surrender to it and this place will never leave you," he said. "One long, unforgettable day followed by one long, unforgettable night. The rest of the planet has no idea what it's missing down here. Welcome to the club."

***

Bill appeared in the galley after having visited Max. He seemed happy until he saw Sam and I sitting together.

Sam waved him over to join us, but Bill gave us a half-nod, half-smirk and entered the food line.

Adam and Thomas were on dish duty together for chef Michael. Surprisingly, they had not come to blows again since the race for the Hollywood showers. I couldn't wait for my 5-minute shower in just a few hours!

Eventually, Bill hauled his loaded food tray in our direction and joined us. I had given Sam some of our backstory, but I continued not to tattle on The Bridge to him. I didn't want to put him in that position, caught between us and Willem. I didn't think it was fair and, more importantly, I didn't think there was anything he could do to help our situation, especially between now and late October.

"How's it going?" Sam asked Bill.

"Wonderful, and you two?" he sassed back.

"We just watched the only sunset this place has for a year."

"And did you seal it with a kiss?" Bill kept on with his jealous streak.

Sam chuckled awkwardly and my eyes rolled.

"Go ahead," Bill said. "Whatever happens at the South Pole stays at the South Pole, right? I mean Vegas is one thing, but this place... it's like it doesn't even exist. You could go fuck out in the snow right now and who would ever know?"

"Will you just stop already?" I finally said.

"We didn't kiss, Bill," Sam said.

"It's OK. We broke up. She's all yours."

"Um... don't I get any say in the matter?" I said.

"I think this is my cue to leave and let you two catch up," Sam said, standing up. "I've gotta clear some snow and move some fuel around anyway. I hope you two are gonna join us tonight for our first winter movie night."

"Sure," I volunteered us. "What movie?"

"What else for a bunch of people trapped in isolation together for months surrounded by nothing but snow, cold and the occasional snowcat? Stephen King's 'The Shining,' of course," Sam announced before bounding off.

***

I had seen "The Shining" once before and it scared the shit out of me. Now I got to see it again while trapped at the South Pole alongside a boy who once tried to kill me.

Amazingly, Thomas and Adam had never seen the movie before. Of course they loved it, especially the scene where the naked woman stepped out of the tub and seduced Jack Nicholson's character only to turn into a laughing ghoul.

With some nudging from Sam, Thomas and Adam actually seemed to be bonding over the movie. Leave it to Stephen King to bring former accomplices back together again.

Bill sat next to me and seemed distracted. I think processing the return of Max and the loss of me as his girlfriend at virtually the same time was the ultimate in bipolar extremes, and to have to go through that literally at one of the poles made it even crazier.

The whole movie situation started to make me feel uncomfortable, and when Jack began chasing Wendy around with the ax on the flat-screen TV in front of us, I had seen enough. I wasn't really in the mood for attempted murder, even though I knew she would get the best of him in the end.

I just got up and quietly walked out.

Fortunately, nobody followed me.

I put on my winter gear, slipped into my bunny boots, grabbed my ski goggles and exited the heavy door of the beer can.

The icy wind smacked me so hard, but I kept on trudging into the clear, otherworldly night.

I got far enough from base to feel like I was totally alone. That's when I began to understand what Sam was talking about.

The whole universe seemed to be right there, enveloping me and drawing me toward it with some invisible cosmic undertow. The darkness allowed all of these other lights to shine — lights I never would have seen anywhere but here.

In that dazzling moment, I realized Earth wouldn't be enough for me. I needed to travel through space and set foot on another world, or my life would be incomplete.

As I searched the sky for the Red Planet, I didn't see it, but I now hungered to experience it in a way no humans ever have.

CHAPTER 30: $19 MILLION BURNT RUG

**Thomas**

April 14, 2020

Finally, the Dark Sector.

I followed the old man up the snowy stairs and into the tallest, newest telescope at the South Pole. Snowbow had given us a lift in a snowcat because it was 60-below and dropping fast.

We entered the circular building at the base of the rotating telescope. The shell of the thing stared into space at an angle.

Once we got inside and shed some layers of winter gear, Willem showed me around.

"Where is everyone?" I asked.

"It's my shift and you're my assistant," he said. "I gave my regular assistant the night off."

"Cool."

"Better than washing dishes, eh?"

"Hell yeah."

Willem grabbed a bunch of ropes tied together and yanked them to one side. Then he hit some buttons on a console, causing the whole clam shell to rotate toward us in the center until it locked into place right above us. After admiring it for a second, Willem used a step ladder to climb up and open two handles on what looked like a big white cabinet that was facing down at us. He swung both doors of the cabinet all the way around so it was fully open. Then he stepped down the ladder, removed it and flipped on a light.

"Have a look," he said, waving me on.

I moved under the opening and stared through the inside of the massive telescope. It went up and up and up, with windows near the top and darkness above it all. It looked like you could fit a small rocket inside it — that's how big it was, narrowing at the top.

"Cool," I said.

Willem practically spat at my response. "Cool? That's $19 million worth of cool!"

"You must get some sick close-ups of the moon."

Willem shook his head in disgust. "Don't they teach you anything in your pathetic American schools? We ain't looking at the _fucking moon_ with a massive instrument like this."

"What then?"

"Have you ever wondered, Thomas, where we all come from? Where this whole universe we live in got started?"

"Not a whole lot."

"Well, I figured that so let me try to get you up to speed."

"Shoot."

"The universe started about 14 billion years ago with a huge release of energy called the Big Bang. To give you some perspective, Earth is about 4 and a half billion years old. With this telescope, we can see the light and other waves of energy produced before the galaxies, stars and planets were even born. We can see what space looked like when the universe was very young."

"How young?"

"If the universe was 100 years old today, this telescope can show us what it looked like when it was about 8 minutes old."

"Holy shit."

"That is some holy shit. We're studying what is called the cosmic microwave background for signs of the Big Bang's earliest ripple effects. We're also learning more about the 95 percent of the universe that we cannot see — dark matter and dark energy."

"Is that why they call this the Dark Sector?" I asked.

"Maybe you do have a brain in that skull of yours. That's one reason. Another is this telescope does most of its work during winter, when it's dark all the time."

I nodded and walked over to a bulletin board, which was plastered with all kinds of information and photos on it.

"Yes, study that and learn more about what we do here while I perform some routine maintenance tasks," Willem said.

"Have you shown Nikki or Adam or Bill this place yet?" I asked.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because they haven't earned the right to see it yet and you have," he said, strolling over to a computer on the far side of the room.

_Me? Head of the class?_ That's 14 billion jolts of Big Bang-style explosive shock right there.

I leaned in and looked closer at the bulletin board of telescope stuff. One wicked weird photo caught my eye.

"This image shows a section of the universe 14 billion years ago, as mapped by the South Pole Telescope. The image shows 1/100th of the sky."

That was the note in small print underneath the photo.

Then I squinted at the picture for an even closer look. No moons, no stars, no planets and no galaxies. To me, it looked like they zoomed in real fucking close on a piece of burnt rug.

Hell, I could've gotten them a shot like that for free and pocketed the $19 million myself.

CHAPTER 31: LOVE OR MARS?

**Nikki**

May 10, 2020

As the outdoor temperature plummeted to such insane lows as 70-below, Willem began locking us up in pairs inside the station for what he called "double isolation" training.

Basically, he wanted to see how we'd coexist for four hours at a time — just two people, two chairs and nothing else to look at but each other in a tiny room.

To no one's surprise, he paired me up with Thomas first. He also told us we were being observed and not to screw with the small camera affixed to the ceiling light or he'd consider it a failed drill.

Failing a drill these days meant no shower at all for a week and an immediate jog/walk of the flag lines to the Dark Sector and back, no matter what the conditions. Tonight that would be a special kind of torture because the wind was gusting to more than 50 miles per hour, making it feel worse than 100-below out there.

So there Thomas and I sat, just a few feet apart in The Bridge's downsized version of a rubber room. There were no windows; nothing to look at but each other.

"We can turn the chairs back to back if you don't want to stare at me for the next four hours," I suggested, reflecting more my own preference than whatever his was.

"Oh, I want to stare," he said, deliberately being creepy to unnerve me. Fortunately or unfortunately, I had grown used to his act by now and was no longer terrified of him like I used to be. Nevertheless, four hours like this would be a grueling test.

"You seem happy to be here," I said.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"No, like there's more to it or something."

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

"I don't know. It's just a feeling I have... that Willem already picked you to go to Mars."

"Why would you say that? And, by the way, he's probably watching us right now."

"I know that. I don't care.... It's like you're his boy now or something. Have you been kissing his ass?"

"I don't kiss anyone's ass," he snapped.

I just shook my head. "This is gonna be the longest four hours of my life."

"This is nothing. Try sitting in a prison cell for..."

"I have," I said. "The Bridge had me in solitary confinement for months."

"Boo hoo. Try five years in a real prison."

"You talk about trying to be friends after all you put me through, but then you still talk to me with this edge in your voice like it's my fault you shot me and you got sent to prison."

"If you had just minded your own business...

"What? You just would've shot me the next day, along with God knows how many other people. You also would be dead from a cop's bullet or your own."

He shrugged his shoulders and looked at the floor. His arms were crossed over his chest.

"Have you ever even had a friendship that didn't involve a school shooting plot or a prison inmate or a drug deal?" I asked, referring to his early days in high school. He had been clean since prison as far as I knew.

Thomas thought about it. "No."

"Well, we both want to go to Mars and we both have a chance to go. So there is some basis for a possible friendship there if you honestly treat me with some respect. Is that possible... for you to treat a woman with respect?"

"I think so."

"Have you ever had a girlfriend?" I dared to ask.

He laughed, but I could tell he was uncomfortable by the way he was fidgeting with the cuff of his shirt sleeve.

"Someone you actually loved and treated well?" I pressed. "And who really loved you back?"

His smile faded pretty fast.

"I've had sex if that's...

"That's not what I asked you."

Awkward silence.

"I'm not trying to embarrass you," I said. "I'm just trying to figure you out — the real you."

He put his head in his hands and made a bunch of noises. For some reason, maybe because we had plenty of time and nowhere to go, I didn't let him off the hook.

"Have you ever been in love? I guess that's what I'm asking you."

Finally, he looked me in the eyes, all pissed off. "No! OK? Do I look like happily-fucking-forever-after to you?"

"Do I? I'm not in love with anybody right now. It's nothing to be ashamed about. You're only 24. I'm almost 23. We're not supposed to have it all figured out yet — God, I sure hope not."

"Is love that important?" he asked.

"I have no idea really, but if it's real, then yes, I guess love should be important."

"What's more important to you — finding love or going to Mars?" he asked me.

I was so stunned by the depth of his question that it took me a while to focus on an answer.

"Honestly, if I had to answer that right this minute, I'd say going to Mars is more important to me," I said. "I'd rather do something amazing with my life that I can always be proud of... not just something that depends on another person. Because the only person you can totally trust is yourself, and even that's iffy when I think about some of the decisions I've made."

Thomas appeared to be listening. For once, he seemed genuine. No walls of hatred or anger. No edge. Just him.

"What about you?" I asked. "Love or Mars?"

He leaned back in his chair, with his hands locked behind his head, and stared at the ceiling. "They're both alien to me. But if you're gonna do something, why not go all the way? I plan to find love on Mars. In fact, I plan to be the first person to fuck on Mars."

That raised my eyebrows.

"I'll literally be a fucking legend. What do you think about that?" he asked with a loaded grin.

I remained calm. I knew who I was dealing with — a fragile, inexperienced, obnoxious man-boy.

"Let me put it this way: Earth is sex and Mars is love," I said. "And just because you have a rocket doesn't mean you'll ever get there."

***

A few hours later, Sam and I braved the insane cold to marvel at the wispy green auroras, stretching out before us like they were blazing an aerial trail to heaven.

Sam suddenly flopped on the frozen ground and started doing snow angels, so I repeated after him, but I flapped my limbs much faster despite all the layers. He laughed through his scarves and picked up speed to match me.

It was a new, wordless ritual we started that "night" — of course, every minute of every day was night now — but we always saluted the auroras with snow angels whenever the opportunity presented itself.

"Auroras and angels," I later dubbed it.

"AA," he shortened it soon thereafter.

This from the guy who served us our drinks.

CHAPTER 32: SOUTH BY SOUTH POLE

**Nikki**

June 20, 2020

Much to my relief, Sam and Bill quickly cast aside any potential rivalry over me — I never crossed the friendship line with Sam and I never wavered on staying broken up with Bill — and they became good pals by the time the real winter took hold. While the temperature flirted with 80-below outside, they spent plenty of time jamming together in the music room.

This collaboration spawned one of the highlights of my stay at the bottom of the world: a musical performance they dubbed South by South Pole, a tip of the cap to the South by Southwest festival held in Austin, Texas, every year.

After a couple of rounds at Bottom's Up, nearly all of the four dozen or so people at the station (Willem and Ina were among the few no-shows) crowded into the music room to watch Bill, a former dueling pianist in Miami, on lead vocals/guitar/keyboards; Sam on drums, cowbells, etc.; and staff physician Dr. Chuck on bass, plus a virtual conga line of liquid-courage backup vocalists.

Others, including me, Adam and Thomas, were simply shamed and goaded into the karaoke caravan by the people with the microphones.

The set list for this extravaganza focused on the appropriate themes of winter, darkness and space. Some of the songs included "She's So Cold" by the Rolling Stones, "Space Oddity" by David Bowie and "Cold As Ice" by Foreigner.

My first favorite song was when Sam called on me, Adam and Thomas to sing backup on "California Dreamin'" by The Mamas and The Papas. What kind of fucked-up parallel universe was this? Me, Adam and _especially Thomas_ gathered close together around a microphone attempting to harmonize on the echo parts of this classic song:

" _All the leaves are brown (all the leaves are brown)_

And the sky is grey (and the sky is grey)

I've been for a walk (I've been for a walk)

On a winter's day (on a winter's day)

I'd be safe and warm (I'd be safe and warm)

If I was in L.A. (if I was in L.A.)

California dreamin' (California dreamin')

On such a winter's day"

I don't think we sounded that great, but it didn't matter. It's such an awesome song and everybody was in such a festive mood that we all had a blast with it. I also couldn't help but notice that big Roy had videotaped our performance, probably to be used against me later.

My second favorite song was "Rainbow in the Dark" by Dio, mostly because Bill really sang it over the top, and changed the lyrics in tribute to our favorite South Pole ringleader:

" _No signs of the morning coming_

You've been left on your own

Like a Snowbow in the dark

A Snowbow in the dark!"

Sam loved every minute of it, flashing a huge smile as he pounded away on the drums, and it quickly became impossible not to sing along with gusto. Yes, that one got a massive applause at the end because everyone, it seems, loves Snowbow. After a half-dozen winters or so in a row here, I should hope so.

Finally, after goofing around with a laugh-out-loud mini jam of "Ice, Ice Baby" by Vanilla Ice, the South by South Polers played my third favorite song of the night. Alexis, Max's sitter/tutor, shocked us all when she left the excited boy's side (yes, he was allowed to attend his father's show) and took over lead vocals on "Cruel Summer" by Bananarama. No offense, Bill, but she was the best singer of the night. She also changed the lyrics of the chorus to fit our frigid situation:

" _It's a cruel, cruel winter_

Leaving me here on my own

It's a cruel, cruel winter

Now you're gone"

With a much-needed, morale-boosting festival like this, winter at the South Pole suddenly didn't seem so cruel.

CHAPTER 33: THE 300 CLUB

**Thomas**

August 4, 2020

The full moons of May 7th, June 6th and July 5th were all amazing because they gave us a break from the never-ending darkness. The whole base and everything around it just glowed for miles. All of our moods swung from foul and shitty to fun and wild, at least for a few days.

But the full moon of August 4th put all the others to shame.

Why? Because most of us met Snowbow's challenge to become members of the ridiculously exclusive 300 Club — experiencing a 300-degree temperature change in a matter of seconds while mostly naked.

It all began in the station's sauna, normally a place Willem denied us access to, but this was a special occasion. Nikki, Snowbow, Adam and me, plus two foreign female scientists, all stripped down to nothing but white towels and baked at 200 degrees for like 15 minutes. The female scientists — one from Denmark and the other from Norway, both with names I couldn't pronounce — helped talk Nikki into stripping and streaking. Yes, the only way you could join the club was to drop the towels and put on nothing but bunny boots for the run outside to the barbershop pole and back.

All of our boots were lined up near the door as we got steamed up and waited for Dr. Chuck's announcement that the outside temperature had dropped from 99- to 100-below. Dr. Chuck was a skinny dude from Canada who seemed to enjoy watching people shock the fuck out of their bare-ass bodies.

"99.5-below right now. Get ready!" he said as he stuck his head in and out of the sauna.

"Loosen your towels, ladies," Snowbow instructed, loving every second of it.

So was I. So was Adam. But Nikki looked nervous. The European chicks, not at all. They were probably both in their mid 30s and seemed like they had done this kind of thing before. Nikki was the hottest of the three so she knew all eyes would be on her — not just from us, but also the others waiting outside in full winter gear to cheer us on. Apparently this was quite a mid-winter tradition here at the South Pole.

Bill, Nikki's ex, had told us he'd be one of the spectators. Maybe he needed a fresh mental picture of what he'd lost.

Then Dr. Chuck stuck his head in again.

"100-below! Go!" he yelled.

Nikki whipped off her towel and bolted for her boots wicked fast, while we men stopped to stare at her for a solid second. Adam looked completely fucking paralyzed for much longer. The three chicks were out the door first, and we all struggled to focus and get our boots on.

"This is fucking awesome!" Adam shouted a little too loud.

"No shit!" Snowbow echoed.

"Wait til you hit the 100-below, dip shit!" I told Adam.

We followed the three naked women in furry boots down the hall, past a laughing Roy and Ina, and out the exit through the beer can.

The women screamed like banshees as their bodies got blasted by the 100-below air first. Then it was our turn to shout and groan while dozens of people watching laughed, hooted and hollered. Free-balling under a full moon with a soon-to-be-frozen cock, I picked up speed toward the barbershop pole about 25 or 30 yards away.

"Go Nikki go!" Bill yelled as I caught up to her near the pole and smacked her bare ass with my frozen hand.

"Ow, you asshole!" she screamed, while I rounded the pole, slapped the mirrored ball on top and faced Nikki for an eyeful of full-frontal nudity.

"I couldn't resist that hot, frigid ass!" I hollered.

"You better run before I kick _your_ ass!" she snapped.

I laughed and felt the need to get the fuck back to the sauna ASAP, so I sprinted. I gave one last look over my shoulder and saw Adam still fat-assing behind Nikki. Snowbow, of course, had been skipping in his bunny boots, first next to the European ladies, then with Adam and finally alongside Nikki. He was having a ball with his balls out.

The whole scene was one for the ages.

I raced back to the sauna and was the first to begin reheating. The rest of them soon followed. We all shivered and chattered in our towels until the 200-degree heat helped us recover.

"That was fucking insane, wasn't it?!" Snowbow shouted with glee.

"Yeah, I'll never do _that_ again!" Nikki yelled. "But dammit, I did it."

"Cross that off my bucket list!" Adam hollered.

"Fucking sick!" I screamed.

"Damn proud of all of you!" Snowbow added at the top of his lungs.

It sure as hell wasn't a moment for whispers.

Then Dr. Chuck poked his head in again. "How's everyone doing? Any frostbite?"

"My f-f-fucking tits are f-f-fucking numb!" the scientist from Denmark yelled with her funny accent.

We all laughed our asses off.

"Good. They should be," Dr. Chuck said. "Welcome to The 300 Club."

CHAPTER 34: JUST ONE KISS

**Nikki**

August 5, 2020

After the madness of The 300 Club, it sure felt good to be back in a million layers, protected as much as possible from the deadly Antarctic air.

Run through that gauntlet naked for a minute or so and you are a different person. You are bold, crazy, interesting, exhilarated — _and_ a target for unwanted sexual advances.

I knew the risks and I did it anyway. Why? Because I was never coming back here again. Whether I went to Mars or not, I wouldn't follow in Sam's footsteps and spend winter after winter in darkness.

I needed the sun.

But I also needed to just go for it for once. I wasn't going to let anything or anyone stop me from experiencing the South Pole to the fullest. If that meant stripping and streaking for a 300-degree climate-busting cluster fuck, so be it.

The next night, Adam, Sam and me stared up at the full moon as the temperature had "recovered" from 100-below to about 80-below. We wanted to take advantage of the full moon before darkness overpowered everything for another month, so we went outside to soak in that precious moonlight.

Sam walked over to an area to the left of the flag lines and pointed to a snowdrift that rivaled his height. Then he lowered his scarves.

"Sastrugi," he said, his glove tapping different layers of the drift that had been formed over months of wind gusts and dry, frigid air. "That's what they're called. So beautiful."

We nodded and approached for a closer look.

"Enjoy. Another example that this place is always alive, always changing.... I've gotta make a fuel run in case the temp drops again," he added with a wave.

I waved back and off he went, jogging toward the heavy equipment area of the base.

A moment later, Adam tugged on my parka with his glove. He lowered his scarves and looked at me intently through his ski goggles.

"What is it?" I asked, after exposing my mouth to the elements, too.

He seemed nervous so I had a feeling what was next. At least I wasn't naked on this night.

"I want you," he said.

"It's _80-below_ out here, Adam. Not the time or the place."

"It's _never_ the time or the place. I want us to be together."

My lips were barely operational.

"That's not going to happen," I snapped, raising my scarves with the hope he'd shut up, too, before we both died of exposure.

"Why not?" he pressed.

I ripped the scarves back down and got mad.

"Because I'm single now and I don't want a boyfriend!"

"Why is it never my turn?"

"What am I? A game? Everybody gets a turn? We're _friends_ , Adam. That's it. Can we go inside now before we freeze to death?"

He looked up at the full moon all frustrated. I guess it was partly my fault for teasing him with my nakedness the night before. "I'm sorry if I misled you."

"Kiss me once and give me a chance," he begged, looking me in the eyes.

"Our lips might freeze together out here," I said, failing miserably to inject any levity into this icy, awkward drama. "I'll only be misleading you even more."

I tried to walk away, but he stopped me again with his glove.

"Just one kiss, Nikki, and I'll never bother you again," he pleaded.

Anger took over more than anything at that point. I pulled his hooded head toward me and kissed him hard on the lips. No tongue. Just really hard, frozen lips to frozen lips, for like five seconds. He seemed stunned.

Then I pushed him even harder and stormed off toward the station.

The whole scenario made me feel awful, especially as I recalled something Peter once told me during our awkward dinner "date" in Cape Town: "Every relationship has boundaries that should never be crossed."

Yeah, well, that kiss was more like a kiss-off so my boundaries are secure. Go haunt somebody else's thoughts, Dr. van Wooten!

CHAPTER 35: SUGAR SNOW

**Thomas**

August 6, 2020

Pounding at my door.

I ignored it.

More pounding.

"Asleep," I grunted.

"Open it before I do!" Willem shouted.

I scrambled for the knob and turned it. "What?"

"Get dressed and fast."

"Why?"

"Adam took a snowcat for a joy ride and disappeared, and Nikki took off on foot — apparently to go find him," the old man barked.

"What the fuck?"

"Exactly. It's currently 90-below. The cat might've been operational when he left base, but it ain't now. He could be dead already. So could she. Come join the search, Mr. Bodyguard."

"He must be suicidal," I said, quickly throwing on my heavy gear.

"It's about time we put our drills to a real test anyway," Willem said. "We'll see you out there."

***

Snowbow marched to my left, Willem and Bill to my right. We all walked in a straight line about 10 feet apart. The full moon was now blocked by clouds and blowing snow. We were beyond the Dark Sector and losing hope of finding them.

Then Willem waved his arms and appeared to want us to huddle up. He lowered the scarves covering his mouth. I couldn't even see his eyes until he wiped the snow and ice crystals off his goggles. I did the same, even though it seemed like I had just done that moments ago. I could feel my extremities going numb and my head getting dizzy.

"Five more minutes and we turn back around," the old man said. "Otherwise, we'll all die with them. Spread 20 feet apart this time. Last chance."

So we did. About two minutes later, Snowbow came charging at me out of the snowy fog and yanked me to the left.

"They're this way!" he shouted.

"OK, I'll tell the others."

I ran to my right, and stopped Willem and Bill in their tracks. Then I led them to where Snowbow had gone. Before long, we found the stranded snowcat, partially buried in a drift.

"He got stuck in sugar snow!" Snowbow shouted while pulling Adam out of the driver's seat. "It's like Antarctic quick sand."

"Where's Nikki?" Bill yelled.

"Not here!" Snowbow hollered back.

"Oh no!" Bill freaked out.

"I'll find her," I said, sounding confident for no particular reason. I guess I just sensed that she was still alive and I'd bump into her.

I could hear them still yelling behind me, but I just took off on my own.

I knew from past experience Nikki wasn't a fast mover in these fucked-up conditions, so I backtracked toward base on a different path than what we took heading out. I gambled that she never even reached Adam's position well beyond the Dark Sector.

My feet ached from the cold, but they weren't useless yet so I kept moving as fast as I could and kept wiping crystals off my goggles. The wind howled and I wondered if the temperature was crashing toward 100-below again. Naked and laughing one night; fully layered and searching for frozen corpses the next.

How would I react if I found Nikki dead?

My stomach hurt at the thought. That feeling confused me. I had tried to kill her once. None of this shit made any sense.

And the dizziness was knocking me to my knees. A gust of wind finished the job. Suddenly I was flat on my back and wondering if I'd be the next frozen corpse.

"Fuck that!" I shouted into my scarves, slowly getting back up. "The station is this way," I told myself.

I took three steps, more diagonal than straight, and stumbled over something, falling down again. I brushed the something off and there she was.

"Fuck!"

Nikki Blue looked more like Nikki White, but her lips were blue even beneath her scarves, and her eyes were closed as I brushed her off face and goggles.

I covered her with myself for a minute just like I did when she asked me to hug her during our drill in January, February, whenever the hell that was. I purposely tried to crush her a little to see if she felt it. She groaned.

"Nikki!" I shouted. "It's Thomas. I'm gonna carry you back now!"

She didn't respond, but I hauled her over my shoulders and steadied myself as best I could. I waited for a brief lull in the wind and then started walking as fast as I could toward what I hoped was the station. We had one shot not to miss it or we'd both be dead.

About 10 minutes later, when I was all but done physically and mentally, I saw a red flag flapping and it was the best fucking feeling ever.

"We're close!" I yelled into my ice-crusted scarves. My mouth was so fucking frozen I couldn't have said three words in a row at that point.

I followed the flags to base and entered the beer can door.

Dr. Chuck was there waiting with a stretcher. I pulled Nikki down and placed her on it.

"Good work," he told me, in totally serious mode unlike during The 300 Club. "I'll do my best."

And off he rushed her to the medical lab.

CHAPTER 36: MAYBE ON MARS

**Nikki**

August 6, 2020

I came to flat on my back in a hospital room. My whole body was wrapped in a heating blanket. Only my eyes weren't covered. All of my fingers and toes itched and burned. I turned my head to the right and saw that the other bed was occupied. Someone bigger than me was all wrapped up, too.

That's when it all came rushing back to me: the kiss that wasn't really a kiss; Ina later telling me that Adam had commandeered a snowcat and sped off, not returning for at least a half hour; me putting on all my heavy gear and going out to search for him because I felt responsible for his state of mind and didn't want him to die; me not finding him, stride after stride, as the full moon gave way to blowing snow, zero visibility and plummeting temperatures.

Dr. Chuck suddenly appeared over me.

"Nikki, you're awake."

"Yes," I said, my lips severely chapped but functional.

"You've got hypothermia, but I think you'll be OK," he said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his pointy nose to focus on me.

"How... did I get back?"

"You don't remember?"

"No."

"Thomas, your American friend. He carried you back. Truly a heroic rescue. A few more minutes out there and we wouldn't have been able to warm you back up," the doctor said. "Your core body temp was dangerously low. Fortunately for you, you were dressed very well. You might not lose any fingers or toes to frostbite."

It was hard to process everything he told me, especially the part about Thomas saving my life again. Punching the shark, the drill and now this, which was anything but a drill. I forced myself to focus on the frostbite.

" _Might_ not?"

"Too early to tell, but I like your chances... better than your friend, Adam, over there," Dr. Chuck said, nodding toward the other bed.

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"He was out there longer than you and he wasn't layered up as well as he should've been. He could lose at least one foot to frostbite."

"Are you serious?"

"I'm afraid so. Antarctica shows no mercy to those who venture out unprepared and alone, especially during a month like August. He clearly didn't practice what he learned during training in Mactown."

"Neither did I then," shaking my head and feeling like an idiot.

Dr. Chuck certainly didn't rush to disagree.

"The fact is, you'd both be dead right now if the search teams didn't find you when they did."

A tear rolled down my half-numb, half-stinging cheek. Part of me wished Thomas had never found me.

The only thing that kept me going mentally at that point was a relentless desire to see another sunrise.

For that, I'd have to make it another month.

***

"Bill and Sam want to see you," Dr. Chuck told me about an hour later. "Are you feeling up to visitors?"

I did feel a lot better and warmer, so I sat up on the bed.

"What about Thomas?" I asked.

"Do you want to see him?"

"Yes. Just him first."

Dr. Chuck nodded and left the room.

A moment later, Thomas walked in wrapped in a blanket. He glanced at Adam and then looked at me. He seemed understandably exhausted.

"You look better than him," he told me.

"Thanks to you," I said. "Keep saving my life and, as obnoxious as you can be, I just might believe you're a good person deep down."

He shrugged his shoulders under that blanket somewhere. "Just doing my job. The Bridge sprung me out of hard time to be your bodyguard."

"I never saw myself as needing one, but clearly I was wrong."

"What happened?" he asked, his eyes rolling toward Adam's bed.

"Not here. Not now. He's on a ton of painkillers, but he could be partially aware."

"You actually wanted to see me before Snowbow and Bill?" he asked.

"Why not? You've saved my life three times now. I _should_ be dead this time. You somehow found me in that shit weather and hauled me all the way back to base. I owe you so much. What can I do for you?"

He shook his head and smirked. "I can't answer that."

"Does it have to be like _that_?"

"Like what?"

"You know," I said.

"When I saw you naked the other night, of course I wanted you," he said, staring at me now. "And I still do. That's my honest answer, whether you like it or not."

I nodded, accepting Thomas for who he is.

"I'm sorry. I don't just give out sex, even to those who save my life."

"I didn't expect you to say yes. I just answered your question."

I sighed. "I should've never streaked. It's only caused trouble."

"He flipped out because you turned him down, didn't he?"

I nodded.

"You're pretty popular," he said.

"Oh please. We're all trapped here together. Look at the ratio of men to women down here. I'm among the tiny minority."

He just smirked and turned to leave the room. Then he hesitated and pivoted back to look me in the eyes.

"I just want you to know, the thought of finding you dead in the snow made me feel sick to my stomach," he said, sincerely as I could tell. "So..."

He stopped.

We stared.

"You've said a lot, Thomas. You've done a lot, too. The bad. The good. All of it together... I don't know what to make of it... of you," I said. "But I will give you an honest answer. Shooting me is no longer a deal-breaker. I won't tell you there's never a chance for you and me because there is now. I think you've earned that with what you've done for me so far this year."

He looked as stunned as I felt saying it.

"For real?" he asked.

"For real."

"What kind of chance are we talking about?"

"It's pretty low," I said. "Probably on par with us making it to Mars alive."

"A date on Mars then?" he asked, smirking again.

"We'll see. Keep on keeping me alive and you've got a shot. Not on this planet, but maybe on Mars," I said with a smile.

He smiled, too.

CHAPTER 37: TOASTY

**Nikki**

August 6, 2020

Adam stirred, and I was able to get up and stumble over to him. I sat down in Dr. Chuck's swivel chair, next to Adam's bed.

I pulled the zipper of his heat wrap down so he could talk better.

"Where am I?" he asked.

"Recovering in the medical lab, just like I am."

"How did I get here?"

"Thomas told me Snowbow found you and brought you back. Do you remember taking off in the snowcat and getting stuck?"

His eyes focused on me now, the source of trouble as usual.

"I'm a fool," he told me.

It was hard to argue, but I still felt bad.

"So am I. Neither one of us should've been out in that," I said. "How did you drive that cat anyway?"

"Snowbow showed me how a couple of weeks ago. We were just tooling around out by the Dark Sector."

I nodded. "Adam, just because I don't want to be your girlfriend doesn't mean I want you to disappear and die. We _are_ friends. We've been through too much together."

He took a deep breath and tried to move his legs under the wrap. "I can't even feel my feet," he said.

I winced.

"Tell me what's going on, Nikki."

"Severe frostbite. I'm sorry."

"So what does that mean?"

"I'd rather have Dr. Chuck tell you."

"No, I'd rather my _friend_ tell me than some doctor I don't really know," he said.

I nodded. "He told me you could lose at least one of your feet. I hope he's wrong, but that's what he said. Do you want me to go get him? He said he'd be back in ten minutes."

"No," Adam said, staring at the ceiling now.

"I'm sorry if I caused all of this. I never meant to," I said.

"I know. I never should've pressured you to kiss me... or be someone you don't want to be."

"You can't force love," I said.

"No one will want me now."

"That's not true. Even if you do lose a foot, they have amazing prosthetics now. You'll learn to use it and become a better, stronger person from this."

"I won't be able to go to Mars like that," he said, shaking his head on the pillow.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that. The Bridge seems to get off on sending people with a story to tell or a challenge to overcome. You could move right up the list, but first you'll need to recover and rehab. Try to stay positive."

Adam sighed. "I'm just so damn tired of the dark," he said. "Part of me wanted to drive that thing until I found the sun."

"I can understand that. One full moon a month isn't enough. We're all dreaming of the sunrise now."

***

Sam didn't even come to visit me while I was recovering in the medical lab, so I tracked him down when I was finally up to it. He loved to eat, so where else? The galley.

"There she is," he said, looking pissed in between bites. "Living dead girl. Do you remember that White Zombie song, 'Living Dead Girl?'"

"No," I said, slowly sinking into a chair across from him at the table.

"Yeah, well..."

"Why are you so mad at me?"

"Because I thought we were friends."

"We are."

"Yeah, well, friends don't let friends not know what the hell is going on. Friends don't keep friends in the dark when they try to commit suicide by conducting a search on foot for some other joy-riding, suicidal fool in 90-below weather. Whether the snowcats were running or not by the time you found out, I could've helped you. The both of you _deserve_ to be dead right now. Antarctica is beautiful, but she also doesn't give a fuck if you're just plain stupid. Especially in winter."

I had never seen him so angry before. I probably would've got mad back at him if it weren't for two things: I knew he was right and I knew he actually cared about me.

"I'm sorry," I said. "When Ina told me Adam drove off, I just reacted. I felt... _responsible_."

"What? Why?"

"It's a long, embarrassing story. I didn't really want to get anyone else involved."

He just nodded in his typically animated way, but I felt I owed him more than that.

"Adam has had a... _thing_ for me for a long, long time. He wanted to kiss me and that didn't go very well.... He's always been a moody kind of loose cannon."

"Maybe he's getting toasty," Sam said.

"Toasty?"

"That's our expression for someone who is slowly going nuts. It usually happens in July and August down here."

"Well, in Adam's case, he already had some issues... and The 300 Club certainly didn't help," I pointed out.

Sam allowed half a grin at that. "Say no more. I get it."

But then he turned serious again. "And now he's going to be short a couple of feet."

"Maybe."

"Yeah, well..."

"If you're looking for someone to blame for that, it's Adam's fault. Not mine. Not yours."

He glared at me.

"That's why you're so upset," I said. "You're blaming yourself for teaching him how to drive a snowcat."

He exhaled with a pained expression. "I do feel responsible when people, especially new winter polies, get hurt down here. It drives me crazy... to the point of toasty."

"It's not your fault, Sam," I said with as much conviction as I could muster.

"I should've explained the danger of sugar snow better," he countered.

"I doubt Adam would've listened. I'm sure he was mostly enamored with the snowcat. That's just how he is."

"Yeah, well..."

"Enough with the 'yeah wells.' You guys saved us. We'll learn from this and move on."

"Correction. _Thomas_ saved you."

"I know."

Sam shook his head. I immediately grasped his emotions about that.

"Hard to reconcile that, isn't it?" I asked.

He shrugged his shoulders.

" _Yeah, well_... welcome to my upside-down world," I said.

CHAPTER 38: HERE COMES THE SUN

**Nikki**

September 20, 2020

It seemed like the longest month and a half of my life waiting for the sun to rise, but at least I didn't have to suffer through an amputation of my left foot and two toes on my right foot like Adam did. He got around on a wheelchair inside the station, and had to be pulled by sled to watch the coming dawn.

Adam wouldn't get fitted for a proper prosthetic until the first plane got us all out of here at the end of October. Jet fuel turns to gel when the air is too cold, so that's the earliest they could send him to New Zealand for proper treatment and a full rehab.

In the meantime, at least we would finally have the sun again.

It was 55-below and 10 o'clock at night, but nearly every winter polie at the station made the trek outside to catch that first precious glimpse of the Antarctic spring.

Sam, Bill and little Max walked directly ahead of Thomas and me, as we teamed up like a couple of sled dogs to pull Adam. Caressed by a surprisingly gentle wind, we gathered with all of the others around the flags of nations and the barbershop pole to face the pink horizon.

To no one's surprise, Sam led the cheer when the weeklong glow finally ignited into the first true ember of sunlight.

Thomas was the closest to me, so I hugged him first. "We made it," I said.

"Good _morning_ ," he quipped with a smile and I laughed.

"Good morning indeed."

Then I slouched down to give Adam the biggest hug because he needed it the most. "I'm proud of you... being so strong with this," I said. "You've found your long-lost sunshine now, so keep it up."

He nodded and tried not to cry in front of me.

After engaging in exaggerated bear hugs with each other, Bill and Sam did the same with me, Thomas, Adam and Max until we all laughed hysterically. Sure our mouths were becoming chapped and frozen, but no one raised their scarves. We were all too damn happy to be muzzled at a moment like this.

"I could not have survived the darkness without you," I confided to Sam and quickly kissed him on the lips, surprising him. "Thanks for being you and being here."

"Hey, hey, hey, it must be spring," he said with a huge smile.

"I saw that," Bill chimed in, playfully not jealously. "I suppose you're gonna deny that, too."

"Nope," I said. "A no-strings-attached peck. I'm still single."

Sam beamed even more than usual. It looked like he wanted to make a speech.

"Antarctica takes a little something from us all, but she gives it back tenfold for the rest of our lives," he said loudly, though he directed a lot of his eye contact at Adam and then me. "You'll never forget her, no matter where you go from here, even if your destination is as exotic as Mars. And now I have just one more thing to say before we head back inside:

" _Here comes the sun (doo doo doo doo)_

Here comes the sun, and I say

It's all right"

Of course, we all quickly joined in singing the Beatles' classic, ranging from Bill at the top of his lungs to Thomas mumbling a few words:

" _Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter_

Here comes the sun (doo doo doo doo)

Here comes the sun, and I say

It's all right

Little darling, the smile returning to the faces

Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here

Here comes the sun (doo doo doo doo)

Here comes the sun, and I say

It's all right

Sun, sun, sun, here it comes

Sun, sun, sun, here it comes

Sun, sun, sun, here it comes

Sun, sun, sun, here it comes

Sun, sun, sun, here it comes"

As we headed back toward the station, Sam and Bill kept the sunrise show going with another fitting classic, a fast-tempo tune by the Violent Femmes:

" _When I'm out walking_

I strut my stuff

And I'm so strung out

I'm high as a kite

I just might stop to check you out

Let me go on

Like I blister in the sun..."

I'd never felt so good and so cold at the same time in my life.

The bad news, which I didn't know at the time, was that I'd still have to wait exactly one year to see my father again.

### PART 4

ONE YEAR LATER

CHAPTER 39: YOU'RE ALL I HAVE LEFT

**Nikki**

September 20, 2021

Cape Town, South Africa

Planned Mars launch: Oct. 28, 2021

Under Willem's direction, Thomas and I had completed all of our Mars training in the McMurdo Dry Valleys of Antarctica, and now we were wrapping up final launch preparations with the other four members of our mission, including Dr. Peter van Wooten, at the rocket complex in the Great Karoo of South Africa.

Though they were still up for consideration for a future mission, Bill and young Max currently were on hiatus from active training. They were being kept together at the brand new Bridge center in Christchurch, New Zealand, the same place Adam was undergoing rehab for his frostbite injuries.

Thomas and I were focusing on zero-gravity assimilation, and being given a series of injections to prevent muscle atrophy and radiation damage during the 10-month voyage. We and the rest of the crew also still had some TV appearances to make on The Bridge Network to hype the mission as the historic launch date neared.

But first, I finally had earned a face-to-face visit with my father, Roger Janicek, who had been held captive at the Bridge center in Cape Town, and likely other locations, since "the police" pulled us over on the night my dad helped me escape from South Miami Hospital. I had not been allowed to see him since then because he refused to cooperate with anything The Bridge wanted him to do, including training for a future Mars mission. It appears The Bridge's strategy is to imprison troublesome people indefinitely or eventually ship them off to Mars, so either way they'll never get to talk to the authorities about what they endured.

My old boss Virgil arranged the meeting with my father, but only on the condition that he be brought to my old solitary confinement cell in Cape Town. I think it was The Bridge's way of reminding me that I could still be sent back to "jail" at any time if my father's visit rubbed off on me and I didn't follow orders.

Roy led my father into the eating room adjacent to my old cell and removed his handcuffs. We both hugged and cried as Roy closed the door and left us alone. My father is a big guy, but he looked like he had lost at least 30 pounds in solitary. He also had grown a salt-and-pepper mustache and beard.

After we embraced for what seemed like five minutes, we sat down opposite each other at the same little table where David and I once had breakfast; where he had given me one more chance to train for Mars or be locked away for years.

"This right here is the _only_ thing that has kept me from hanging myself," he said. "I had to see you again before you fly off to Mars."

"Please don't talk like that," I said. "Believe me, I understand you feeling that way. I did, too. But I don't want to talk about that now."

"So... what have you been doing for the last two years and change... since this whole nightmare began?" he asked.

"Doing as I was told. Training for Mars. Making the best of a fucked-up situation. It was either that or go back in there," I said, nodding toward the door behind me.

"In Antarctica, right? That's what David and Virgil told me, anyway. But I figured if they told me Antarctica, you were probably in the Arctic instead."

"No, they didn't lie about that at least. I spent about ten months at the South Pole. We wintered-over there, mostly in complete darkness. Then I trained in the Dry Valleys for a few months before they moved operations to the rocket complex just north of here ever since. That's where we'll launch from next month."

"I can't believe you're really going to go," he said with tears in his eyes. "You're all I have left."

"How do you figure that?" I said, grabbing his hand with mine.

"Jamie gave up on me and found someone else," he said, choking up about his second wife. "The twins already have a stepdad."

"What? How do you know that?"

"Virgil told me."

"Couldn't he be lying... just to get you to give up hope and do what they want?"

"Well, I'll never do that. My only hope..."

"They told me they'd release you once I launched for Mars," I said.

"I don't believe that. They'll know I'll report them and take them down. My only hope is that they've done this to enough people that they eventually get busted, raided, whatever. The truth has to come out sooner or later, especially now that they'll be in the spotlight with this Mars mission you're going on."

I nodded and whispered in his ear. "I know my journalist friend Steve was working on an investigative story about The Bridge."

"How long ago was that?" he asked, not bothering to whisper.

I exhaled. "A long time ago."

"I'm sorry I'm getting all emotional," he said, wiping his eyes. "It's good to see you again. Focus on Mars. It's an unbelievable opportunity... even if it's a despicable company that's sending you there."

"You won't believe who they've chosen to be my partner on the six-person mission."

"Not Dr. Peter, I hope."

"He's going, too, but no."

My dad shook his head. "Who then?"

"Thomas Lee Harvey."

His jaw dropped. "Are you shitting me? The punk who shot you and Adam?"

I nodded.

"They just keep dropping to new all-time lows, these Bridge assholes," he snapped, not caring who was listening. "How is that even possible? Wasn't he in prison?"

"They sprung him out after five years and qualified him for extreme rehab. The Bridge flew him down to South Africa and forced him to be my bodyguard."

"The kid who wanted you dead?"

"Yup. How perverse is that?"

"For you and him."

"But I've gotta say, they actually did turn him around. He rescued me once in South Africa and twice at the South Pole. And he never tried to kill me again. We're even sort of friends now. He's all trained up just like me and ready to go."

"Do you feel safe?" he asked.

"I haven't felt truly safe in a long time, but I no longer fear Thomas. So that's something."

My dad rubbed his red, weary eyes with his hands and took a deep breath. Then he just looked into my eyes and seemed to savor our brief reunion.

"I'm proud of you," he finally said, forcing a smile while putting his hands on mine. "Dealing with all of this bullshit and somehow training to go to space... _with the kid who shot you_ , no less. That's a remarkable accomplishment just getting to this point."

"Thanks dad," I said, struggling to keep my lips from trembling. "I'm so glad I got to see you again."

"Me too, Nikki, me too."

We resumed crying and hugging, and I regained a fresh hatred for The Bridge for what they'd done to my father. It was not lost on me that they scheduled our reunion on the eve of the first promotional TBN broadcast for our mission. It was like The Bridge dared me to say something damning about them on the air — just like I did during Hurricane Felicia — so they could lock me up again.

One last hurdle for troublemaker Nikki.

I guess I'd just have to swallow my anger and play the good astronaut.

But I didn't like the odds of my mouth cooperating with that plan.

CHAPTER 40: AWFUL AWESOME

**Thomas**

September 21, 2021

Cape Town, South Africa

I hadn't been on TV since the cops caught me for shooting Nikki and Adam in 2014.

Now I'd be famous for something totally different — one of the first six human beings to blast off for Mars. Sure, we could blow up in mid-air for the whole fucking world to see in a few weeks, but for now, people wanted to see our faces and hear us babble on.

They put the six of us — me, Nikki, Dr. Peter, Aussie mission pilot Barry Winters, South African mission specialist Gabrielle Ohms and German engineer/builder Steffi Sturm — at a table in front of the white hot spotlights in the COM wing. David Michael, one of The Bridge's bosses, sat in front of us and was ready to grill us. There were dudes working huge cameras all around us to capture every angle.

"Hello and welcome to 'Mars Mission 1 Countdown' here on TBN," David announced. "I'm your host, David Michael, and we've only got 37 days until The Bridge and H20 Corporation make history with the launch of Bridge Red 1 from the Great Karoo in South Africa. This will be the first of four such missions over the next several years to establish an initial colony of 24 humans on the Red Planet. If all goes according to plan, BR1 will launch on October 28th and arrive on Mars on August 24th, 2022."

Then David introduced each of us and I tried not to crack up when he got to me, with all of the cameras watching my every move. I wanted to turn around and moon the whole world so bad, but I chickened the fuck out. I'm less than half the bad ass I used to be.

The breakdown for our mission was three men and three women, and me and Nikki were the youngest and least qualified by far, but we had been doing nothing but training for so long now that I figured we we're as ready as we could be. The Bridge included us on this mission for a lot of reasons, one of which I knew about and Nikki didn't. Willem had told me the whole story at the South Pole and I wasn't allowed to tell Nikki or we'd both be fucked. We also were the only Americans on board, so it felt pretty good to represent our whole country on such a rad trip.

"Peter, let's start with you," David continued into the camera. "How is training going?"

"Very well, all things considered. I think I can speak for all of us when I say zero-gravity training is the most fun and botany is the most challenging. Fortunately, three of the four supply probes have been successful so far, so we'll have an excellent head start as long as we land in the target zone."

"How are the flight simulations going, Barry?" David asked.

"I've done so many that I'm dreaming about them at night," the Australian said, getting a laugh out of David.

It was like a battle of the crazy foreign accents on this show. Next it was Gabrielle jumping in with hers, the sexy female version of Peter's.

"We're just so pumped up and ready to go," she said. "The next 37 days are going to be the longest."

"What about the ten months to get to Mars?" David asked.

The German lady, Steffi, took a whack at that.

"That'll fly by," she said, "because we'll actually be in space and on our way somewhere. Staying stuck on the ground here in South Africa is the hardest part."

David smiled, nodded and turned to me next. My heart started sprinting like a cheetah.

"Thomas, I think your journey to get to this point is the most remarkable of all," he said. "For those viewers who don't know, tell us where you were a little over two years ago?"

"Prison," I said.

"Yes, New Hampshire State Prison for Men in the United States. Why was that?"

"Because I was a fuck-up," I said, causing everyone to laugh out loud, even Nikki to my right.

"Can you be more specific and less graphic so we don't have to bleep you out?"

"Sure. I was arrested for shooting two people, including Nikki sitting next to me."

"And why did you shoot Nikki and your mutual friend, Adam?" he asked.

"Because she talked Adam out of our plan to shoot up our high school. And then he ratted me out to the cops to get off with a f-... slap on the wrist," I said, catching myself this time and getting a small grin out of David.

"While you served five years in prison, right?" he said.

"Yup."

"Did you feel rehabilitated and good about yourself after those five years in lockup?"

"No, not at all."

"So how did you go from that person to the Mars mission-ready person who sits before us today?"

"The Bridge, man. You guys believed in me and gave me a second chance. You gave me something to shoot for. You sent me to Antarctica and changed my whole way of thinking and looking at life. Once I had a mission, I got my... crap together and never looked back."

Peter smiled at me, no doubt remembering how he beat the shit out of me before sending me to his father. I still owed him one for that. I planned on getting him back, either on this planet, on the trip through space or on Mars.

David smiled, too. They just loved it when I played the good soldier.

"Thank you, Thomas, for sharing your story of redemption. I think it proves that everyone is capable of turning his or her life around. And look at you now, sitting alongside your former victim and preparing to be her team member as a Martian colonist. You should be proud of yourself."

Peter led a round of applause. I just sat there and felt freaking embarrassed. Nikki's clap was pretty half-assed, I noticed.

"Just to show how far Thomas and Nikki have come thanks to The Bridge, we've got some before-and-after videos that will provide a little context," David continued. "First, the before, from a little over three years ago."

Cameras zoomed in on a flat-screen TV nearby that showed me and Nikki bitching each other out back in 2018, when The Bridge made her Skype me while I was still in prison. They didn't show the part when I called her a "unicunt," but it was a pretty nasty exchange and they didn't bother to bleep anything out. Nikki started seething and swearing under her breath next to me as they rolled the clip:

Nikki: "My belief is that no one, including you, would want to kill anybody if you really got to know your targets first. It's easy to kill strangers or people you don't really know. But people like you see everybody as the enemy."

Me: "I think if I spent more time with you, I'd want to kill you even more. You're already pissing me off with your fucked-up opinions. Here's the fucking reality, darlin'. People like me are still killing people every day and 'heroes' like you don't make one goddamn bit of difference."

"Now an _after_ video," David said, setting up a ridiculous clip of me, Nikki and Adam singing backup on "California Dreamin'" during South by South Pole last year.

"That's the kind of camaraderie that wintering-over together at the South Pole can create," Peter chimed in.

"Indeed," David said. "Here's another _after_ video from late last year."

They showed me and Nikki riding around on quads together during training in the Dry Valleys, about a month or so after we left the South Pole. Of course they got a shot of us laughing at something. How could we not laugh? We had a fucking ball wheeling around on those things when Willem finally let us out of the claustrophobic hab once a week for all-terrain riding and water drilling.

When the videos stopped, Peter grinned ear to ear and led another round of applause.

"Truly an amazing and inspiring change for the better, don't you think?" the doctor beamed.

"All made possible by The Bridge and especially Peter's father, Willem van Wooten, who directed the training and team building of these two young Americans. They now stand on the cusp of making history, long before any of NASA's astronauts are ready to plant a red-white-and-blue flag on Mars."

These people really knew how to fucking gloat, even before we left the launch pad! David led the cheers this time, clapping hard before turning to Nikki. I could tell she was still fuming.

"And Nikki Blue, who now fittingly wears a streak of red in her hair in honor of Mars, what are your thoughts about Thomas and his metamorphosis throughout this lengthy training process?" David asked.

When she didn't answer for a second, I knew she'd lose her cool and say something to piss them off.

"What can I say? The Bridge is an _awful_ company that has forced me to do great things...," she began, causing a lot of people to gasp, but she kept on talking, totally loud and unstoppable. "Even alongside my former would-be killer. Thomas should still be in prison. Instead he's embraced an opportunity to make something of his life, and now maybe he can help make another world better than the one he was born into."

Needless to say, they stopped taping the show after that.

"What the _fuck_ was that?!" David stood up and screamed at Nikki.

"What do you mean?" she had the balls to play dumb.

"You just called The Bridge an awful company on the air!"

" _Oops, I did it again_ ," she sang, Britney Spears-style. "Did I say awful? I meant to say _awesome_. Sorry."

Holy fucking wow. She was being a unicunt to The Bridge now.

CHAPTER 41: GET LUCKY

**Thomas**

September 21, 2021

Cape Town, South Africa

They took Nikki one way and me another, through a door that said GOD on it.

"What happens now?" I asked the tall, creepy-looking guy named Virgil.

"Come in here," he said, escorting me into a little doctor's office-type room. "Have a seat in the chair."

The chair was actually pretty comfortable and I sunk right into it. Then Virgil hit a button on the wall and a flat-screen TV popped down from the ceiling. He dimmed the lights and used a remote control to put on a channel with two hot naked chicks going at it hardcore.

"Holy shit," I said with a laugh. "This must be my lucky day. Is Nikki getting this kind of royal treatment, too?"

"Enough about _her_!" the old crank snapped, flipping me a cup with a twisty top. "Get lucky with yourself and jack off into that cup!"

I laughed again as one chick moaned on the TV.

"Then leave your deposit on the table, go back to your temporary room and keep your mouth shut," Virgil ordered.

"Aye, aye, sir," I said, waiting for the door to close before raising my drawBridge.

CHAPTER 42: TOO LATE

**Nikki**

September 21, 2021

Cape Town, South Africa

"So what are you going to do to me?" I asked Peter.

"Continue your treatments for muscle and radiation resistance," he said, suppressing his anger and trying to remain suave as usual.

"I'm still going?"

"There's no turning back now. It's too late to replace you. There just won't be any more promotional appearances for you personally."

I was stunned.

"Do you feel better now that you've gotten that off your chest?" he asked. "Have we really been that awful to you?"

"Other than abducting and trafficking my father, me, Adam, Max and Bill, no, you guys have been wonderful."

"That's a pretty narrow way to view it. We take contracts seriously, even if you don't. And after all we've done to bridge the gap between you and the source of all your nightmares, Thomas. This is the thanks we get?"

I nearly choked on my mock laugh.

"I never asked for that. I never wanted to see him again in my life and you guys forced us together for your own purposes and entertainment. Then you show the whole world our Skype interview and all these other videos on live TV?! That's pretty _sick_ if you ask me. You expect me to just choke that down and not say a word. But I guess there's no stopping The Bridge from playing God with people's lives and then having the gall to ask us about the experience on a TV show."

"Are you done now?" Peter asked, his angry eyes boring a hole through me.

"I think so."

"Good," he said, suddenly covering my face with a warm, foul-smelling cloth and making me pass out in the exam chair.

CHAPTER 43: PEN AND PAPER

**Thomas**

September 22, 2021

Cape Town, South Africa

I didn't sleep well in my closet of a room here. I liked our quarters at the launch complex much better.

But that wasn't the real reason I slept like shit last night.

The truth was I had come to respect Nikki, so not telling her the whole truth for so long was really starting to eat at me — especially now. I knew why Virgil wanted me to jack off into that cup.

All the shit we had gone through, all the training and now we were on the verge of going to Mars together.

Tell her the truth and we don't get to go. The Bridge will lock us up and throw away the keys... or worse.

Say nothing and she'll hate me forever.

I never would've cared about that seven years ago.

But now I did.

They told me to keep my mouth shut, so I found a pen and paper instead.

CHAPTER 44: UPSIDE DOWN

**Nikki**

September 23, 2021

Great Karoo, South Africa

Peter never told me why he put me under because he wasn't there and neither was I.

When I woke up, Roy was driving me from Cape Town back to the launch complex in the Great Karoo. He had laid me down in the back seat, just as my father had done after he helped me escape from Peter in Miami.

The difference this time was Roy was keeping me captive.

And somehow, I was still headed for Mars.

"I think Peter raped me," I suddenly blurted out.

Roy didn't even turn his massive fucking head. Just kept on looking at the road and driving.

"Did you hear what I said?!"

"Ain't true," Roy replied flatly, his eyes still straight ahead.

"Then why did he put me under this time? And why do I feel... like I've been _violated_ , if you know what I mean... if you have one _shred_ of humanity inside that huge-ass body of yours?"

Roy just shook his head. "Ask your doctor. I'm just the driver."

"Yeah, well you went to the Hitler helper's school of driving then. Thanks for doing nothing while they suck the life out of me and blast me off toward a Martian landfill!"

***

There was no sign of Thomas, my zero-gravity training partner, so I started without him and floated up through the long, vertical cylinder that simulated our space hab.

While flipping around, I felt a wad of paper stuffed in one of the pockets of my hab suit. I pulled it out and unfolded it. Fittingly, I was already upside down when I read the note:

Nikki,

Sorry I waited this long to tell you the truth, but Willem warned me never to tell anyone, and the truth will fuck up something we both want to do — go to Mars.

Those treatments you've been getting are complete bullshit. They're NOT for muscle and radiation therapy. They are shots to jack up your hormones and prep you for IVF! They want to stealth-mode rape you with my kid for a pregnant-in-space experiment!

They want us to have the first Martian baby together! They had me jerk off in a cup yesterday, right after you mouthed off on the air.

So this shit is getting fucking real now.

I have no clue what to do other than I thought you should finally know the whole fucking truth.

Your friend,

Thomas

I had no clue what to do either because my mind was too busy picturing myself stabbing Dr. Peter van Wooten with a needle over and over again.

CHAPTER 45: WITH YOU

**Thomas**

September 23, 2021

Great Karoo, South Africa

I just waited until she emerged from the zero-gravity chamber. I didn't want to be in there when she read my note.

When the door opened, I was sitting on a bench in a long corridor.

"How long have you been here?" she asked.

"Awhile."

"Why?"

"I wanted you to read the note first... and I'm pretty sure any further training is pointless."

Then she stood over me and I could tell she was either ready to punch me or go kill Peter. Her face was red, and her eyes were wet and wild.

"Let's take a walk," she commanded.

So I followed her out the exit and toward the launch pad, which was about a quarter-mile away and surrounded by security fencing. The red-and-white Bridge Red 1 rocket must've been 500 feet tall, the only skyscraper around in this otherwise unpopulated area of rolling hills and sage brush.

She didn't stop until we reached the fence. She looked so hot in her tight-fitting hab suit. I wanted to give her a kid the right way, but the only slim chance of that happening was if we made it to Mars. The look in her eyes shot that option right out of the sky with a cruise fucking missile.

"I _need_ to get that asshole," she said, somehow bottling her rage.

"Which one?... There's quite a few," I pointed out.

"I'd like to start with the doctor."

"OK."

Then she started talking kind of slow and awkward and shit.

"If what you wrote is true, he put me under to collect... my eggs... so he can mix them up with your... you know."

I tried not to crack up given the situation. I just nodded.

"That means he's going to have to put me under again in the coming days to impregnate me," she said.

Then she exploded and punched the fence. "To _fuck_ me... _rape_ me!" she whispered, fighting tears.

We both knew they could be watching us from the security cameras around the complex, so she had to keep a lid on her boiling temper.

"What do you want to do?" I asked.

"You were in prison for five years. You tell me. I want to hurt him... _badly_."

"I'll come up with something."

"Good."

Then she looked up at the rocket. So did I. We stared for a long time.

"Thank you for letting me know," she finally said, still glaring at Bridge 1 as it aimed for the clear blue sky.

"I should've done it sooner."

"Yes... but at least you did it."

"What about Mars?" I asked.

She turned to look at me now, her fury and passion as red as the streak running through her wind-blown hair.

"I still want to go," she said. "With you. Not these criminals."

CHAPTER 46: AROUSED

**Nikki**

September 28, 2021

Cape Town, South Africa

"Wow, your blood pressure is way up today," Chandra told me, finally releasing the vise on my arm. "The doctor will be in shortly," she added, before leaving the room.

Dr. Peter's nurse normally gave me my daily injections at the launch complex, but today I was driven by Roy to The Bridge center in Cape Town. That meant it was time for THE INVASIVE PROCEDURE with Dr. Peter, so I came prepared.

And so, no shit, my heart was _pounding_.

I checked the hair clip holding my hair back one last time and faked a smile as Peter entered the small medical office in the GOD wing.

"Good morning, Nikki," he said, radiant as ever while gazing down at me. I was partially reclined in the exam chair.

He showed no initial sign at least that Roy had told him about my accusations on the car ride several days ago. For once, Roy's utter indifference to anything but doing his job and getting well-paid could pay off for me.

"Good morning," I said.

"I love the swept-back hair today. That's a great new look for you — whether here or on Mars," he said, laying it on thick with his lady-killer accent.

"Thanks," I said, glancing around the room, wondering where he kept the stirrups. He must've moved me to another room before he probed me and stole my eggs while I was under the last time.

"Why do you think your blood pressure is up today?" he asked.

"I'm not sure about that, but I've been feeling different in other ways lately since I've been getting these space-prep injections."

"Really?" he said, pulling over a swivel chair and sitting closer to me. "What other ways?"

I paused for effect, even forcing a blush.

"You can tell me, Nikki. I'm going to be your doctor for the next month here, the next 10 months in space and maybe even the rest of your life on Mars."

I tried not to gag as he said it with such a straight, earnest face.

"Well, for one thing, I'm feeling a little more aggressive, so maybe that's why I called The Bridge an awful company during that broadcast," I lied.

Peter nodded, but I could tell he was confused, which was my intent. "I see," he said, "but I sense there's more to it than that. How else do you feel differently?"

Again I dragged out the silence a bit. "It's embarrassing," I said.

"Please, just tell me... so I can help you."

"OK, well... I'm... extremely... _aroused_ ," I said softly, innocently, but with what I hoped was a tiny splash of seduction in my voice.

Peter smiled — the same charming, squinty-eyed, dimple-chinned, anchor-man face he had used on me during my first trip to Cape Town in 2019; and again when he hit on me at The Bridge gala in Waterbury, Connecticut, a few months after that.

"Are you putting me on and deliberately trying to make me turn red?" he asked, still grinning like the happiest guy around.

"No, I swear," I said, starting to raise my blue exam gown to reveal more of my thighs.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his eyes darting between my thighs and my eyes with playful excitement.

"I can't stop thinking about _it_ , day and night," I said with as much sincerity as I could muster. "I didn't even wear any panties today."

First his jaw dropped, and then his eyes popped wide open when I pulled my gown up all the way to my nipples. "No bra either," I added.

He was speechless until he focused on what I had written in black marker in small capital letters a few inches above my vagina: YOU CROSSED MY BOUNDARY!

"What does that say?" he asked, leaning in perfectly for a closer look.

Just the moment I needed to release the hair clip with my left hand and grab the shortened toothbrush shiv hidden inside it with my right hand.

By the time Peter looked up at me again, I slammed the Thomas-sharpened handle of the brush into his left ear as hard as I could.

"Ahhhh!!!!" the doctor screamed in pain, falling off his swivel chair and spouting blood onto the floor.

I jumped off my chair and kicked him in the balls until he rolled over to protect himself.

"Every relationship has boundaries that should never be crossed!" I yelled. "Now you can choke on your own words, asshole!"

Then I reached into the pocket of his white medical coat and grabbed his smart phone. I already knew the emergency number in Cape Town is 107, not 911, so I punched in those three numbers and tried to breathe.

"Cape Town general emergency line..."

Chandra suddenly opened the door and looked alarmed. "Get the fuck out!" I yelled, still clutching the shiv with my right hand as I held the phone with my left.

She left the door open and no doubt ran to tell on me.

"Cape Town...," the dispatcher repeated.

"I'm being held against my will and sexually assaulted," I shouted.

"Can you give me an address?"

"The Bridge center... it looks like a goddamn space ship... you can't miss it... just off the N1 in Cape Town!"

Peter started to get up, so I yanked down my gown the rest of the way and raced into the next room.

"Who's holding..." the dispatcher began.

"Just get here fast and send a lot of police! My father's being held, too. These people are crazy!" I yelled.

When old beanpole Virgil opened the second door and looked at me all pissed off, I was so happy it wasn't Roy that I screamed "yoo hoo" and chucked the phone, which had a hard shell, right at his head. He was too slow to duck in time and cried out when it struck him square in the forehead.

"I hope it hurts, you bullshit artist!" I shouted, brandishing the shiv and waving it around until his eyes were glued to it. "Come at me and I'll stab you like I just did to Peter."

"Nikki! What the hell..." Virgil whined.

That's when Peter approached from behind me, so I bull-rushed Virgil. He had recovered enough to grab my arm, but I stabbed at his hands and he recoiled.

That was all I needed to sprint through that second door and exit GOD wing entirely.

CHAPTER 47: SKYWAYS,  
STAIRWAYS & CORRIDORS

**Thomas**

September 28, 2021

Cape Town, South Africa

Virgil had been prepping me for my next promotional appearance with the Bridge Red 1 crew in his COM office, but when he took off like a bat out of hell, I figured Nikki had put my shiv to good use.

The nice thing about COM in contrast to GOD, PLE and the top-secret X wing was it featured the lowest level of scrutiny and screening of movement at The Bridge center. I was able to walk out of there and into the circular, top-level corridor without anyone giving a shit.

I quickened my pace when I heard voices and commotion behind me. I knew what Nikki's plan was, but with her in GOD and me in COM, there was no way to know if she had succeeded without trying to find out for myself. Then it would be up to me gauge the situation and figure out whether it was worth it to blow my cover by visibly aiding in her attempt at mutiny.

I raced down the long, oval-shaped skyway with the tinted glass, then slowed as I reached the landing that led to the stairway down to the lower level. Roy, gun in hand, had just exited that stairway and run out of view, followed by two other armed guys.

"Holy shit!" I whispered to myself, quickly processing the fact that Nikki apparently succeeded in calling the cops.

"Don't let those fuckers in!" someone yelled behind me. It sounded like an out-of-breath David.

I started running down the stairs to stay ahead of David and possibly other people with him, but I froze in place when I heard Nikki scream, "Enjoy prison, you piece of shit!"

The thundering of steps stopped and I sprinted back up the skyway until I saw David and two dudes in blue suits facing Nikki, who was about 10 yards further up than them.

"You did this?!" David shouted. "Get her!"

While his two goons raced toward Nikki, I surprised David from behind and tackled him.

"Who the fuck?" he cried out.

"Me the fuck!" I yelled, stabbing him in the back with my own drill-bit shiv that I'd made at the launch complex.

He rolled over in wicked pain and I stepped right on him in pursuit of the two goons chasing Nikki back up the skyway. When I reached the circular corridor again, I saw that she was trapped by a wounded Peter and both goons. She was desperately slashing at the air with her toothbrush and cursing, but she had no chance.

"Stop picking on girls, you pussies!" I shouted.

When they all turned to look at me, Nikki wisely squirmed past the goon on the right and ran toward me.

"Let's go!" she hollered, and we both booked it back down the skyway.

All this running back and forth was making me fucking dizzy and insane.

But by now David was back on his feet and going mental. His eyes and the arteries in his neck were bulging out at the sight of us.

Then I saw the two cops behind him with their guns drawn, followed by other cops. "Everybody drop to the floor and put your hands behind your backs! Do it now!"

"Yes!" Nikki hissed as we all did as instructed.

"Who called to report multiple abductions and sexual assault?" the cop asked.

"I did!" Nikki shouted from the floor of the skyway.

"Who are you accusing?"

"Everyone in this building except Thomas here right next to me. They've got my father locked up here somewhere, too, and three more Americans being held at The Bridge center in Christchurch!"

"She's a liar!" David yelled.

" _That's_ a lie!" Nikki snapped. "Hmmm. Who to believe? Me or the cult captain of this ridiculous fucking space ship?!"

The cops, of course, had the last word.

"Everyone shut the hell up and we'll sort it out!"

The bottom line was we weren't headed to Mars in a month. We were headed back to America in a matter of days.

ONE MONTH LATER

CHAPTER 48: '60 MINUTES'

**Nikki**

October 28, 2021

Middlebrook, New Hampshire

After all I had been through, the last thing I would have expected to be doing on the date of the now-scrubbed Bridge Red 1 Mars launch was sitting on a sofa in the house I grew up in, flanked by my divorced parents.

The dysfunctional trio of Roger, Lynn and myself were reunited and ready to watch an episode of "60 Minutes."

But this would be no ordinary episode. I knew. Because I had already been at the taping of the show in New York City a week earlier.

My former newspaper colleague, Steve Pearson, had lit the spark with his initial exclusive story about me and The Bridge in the Brass City Bulletin. The New York Times, Buzzfeed and HBO's documentary show "Vice" soon followed with expansive reporting on the good, bad and ugly aspects of The Bridge.

Federal authorities in the U.S., South Africa and New Zealand conducted a series of raids at Bridge centers in those countries. Leaders of The Bridge were now facing indictments on charges of kidnapping, human trafficking, impersonating police, tax evasion and the development of biological weapons.

And now "60 Minutes" would do its take on The Bridge with a segment hosted by my old pal, Anderson Cooper. He had interviewed me on "AC 360" in 2014, after I'd disrupted Thomas and Adam's shooting plot at our high school. I was still recovering from my bullet wound to the abdomen at the time.

Seven years later, Anderson interviewed me again, but this time I was not alone.

After several minutes of recapping The Bridge's extraordinary rescue efforts during Hurricane Felicia, its aggressive plan to colonize Mars and its recent troubles with the law, Anderson launched into a segment that focused on those of us who got manipulated, abducted, drugged, trafficked, imprisoned, violated and trained by The Bridge. It was a Q&A with me, Thomas, Adam, Bill, Max and my father. We were all sitting in two rows of chairs: Thomas, me and Adam in the bottom row; my dad, Max and Bill in the top row.

Anderson sat on a stool and faced the six of us with cameras and bright lights all around us.

"Let's start with you, Nikki," he said. "If The Bridge had not been exposed, you would probably be on a rocket to Mars right now with the young man to your right, Thomas, and four others. What's going through your mind?"

I took a deep breath and nervously played with my hair, which I had dyed with fresh streaks of red for the occasion.

"I'm just so grateful that we're all safe and this nightmare is over," I said, though we'd still have to testify in court against the likes of Peter, David, Virgil and Roy. They hadn't found a way to nail Willem and Ina just yet. "The hard part is Thomas and I really did train to go to Mars for more than a year and a half, and we still want to go some day."

"Hence the red hair?" Anderson asked.

"Yes," I said with a smile.

"What's particularly remarkable about your story is that Thomas shot you and Adam outside Lakeview High School seven years ago. And now here you are, all sitting next to each other, all victims of a company with such huge ambitions, and yet, this alarming dark side. How did you all get from that point in 2014 to where you are today? Thomas, let's start with you."

"The Bridge, man. They just targeted Nikki and a lot of us around her. They loved that we hated each other and they wanted to force us to coexist like some crazy lab experiment."

The show then cut away from the Q&A to recap our high school backstory, and even included a clip from my 2014 interview on "AC 360," when I said, "The hardest walk I ever made was very short and flat — the one from my table in the cafeteria to the table where Adam and Thomas sat about 25 feet away. As soon as I did that, everything changed... mostly for the worst."

Switching back to the Q&A, Anderson asked me, "Nikki, would you still make that walk today?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because we're all friends now."

"How did you become friends with the young man who shot you... the two young men who once wanted to kill your teachers and classmates?"

"When Adam backed out of the plot and told the truth, I decided I could be friends with him. But The Bridge gets credit for my friendship with Thomas. Like he said, they forced us to deal with each other face to face and train together in Antarctica. When you winter-over with someone at the South Pole from January to late October, a lot can change. I changed, Thomas changed and our relationship changed. He ended up saving my life three times — once off the coast of South Africa and twice at the South Pole. That helped me believe I could trust him and that he wasn't the same awful person he was in high school anymore."

"So The Bridge is not all bad?" Anderson asked.

"They helped me," Thomas said, "but I know they could be brutal if you didn't fall in line with their plan. And then they'd just go too far."

"What do you mean?"

"Going to Mars wasn't enough. Rehabbing me wasn't enough. They wanted me and Nikki to have a kid together and Dr. Peter was going to deliver the baby during the 10-month trip. They wanted the first kid born in space, the first Martian child, the first everything."

"Hey, _I_ was the first kid to winter-over at the South Pole," Max piped up, drawing a chuckle out of everyone, including Anderson.

"We'll get back to your story, Max," he said, before they cut to a clip about Peter van Wooten and his father, Willem.

Then they focused on me again.

"Nikki, did they tell you about this plan to have a baby in space?" Anderson asked.

"Not at all. Peter lied to me that the injections he gave me were to prevent muscle atrophy and cancer from radiation during the trip. Instead they were giving me hormone shots to prep me for in vitro fertilization."

"Roger, how do you feel about what your daughter went through?" Anderson asked.

"Sick. How else could I feel? Angry."

"How long did The Bridge hold you captive, separately from the others?"

"A little over two years."

"Did they give you the chance to train to go to Mars?"

"Yes, but I turned them down."

"Why?"

"I had a wife and twin girls at home in North Carolina," my dad said, fighting his emotions. "I didn't want to go to Mars, especially on a rocket owned by a bunch of crooks. But those two years away cost me. My wife moved on without me. Who could blame her?"

Anderson nodded empathetically before turning to Adam.

"And Adam, your experiences cost you a foot," he said as the camera focused on Adam's prosthetic foot and then his face.

"Yeah, the long winter was tough at the South Pole. I managed to get a snowcat stuck in a drift and probably should be dead right now if it weren't for Bill here... and a great guy named Snowbow. They rescued me."

"Snowbow?" Anderson repeated with a grin.

We all laughed.

"That's his nickname," I said. "His real name is Sam. He's one of the good guys down at the South Pole."

"Before I move on to Bill and Max, I just wanted to ask Thomas and Adam something. Given the state of the world today, where school shootings and terror attacks are so commonplace, what would you guys say to a kid right now who is thinking about going down the same path you guys almost took at Lakeview High School seven years ago?"

"Don't do it," Adam said. "Don't throw your life away for nothing and hurt other people."

"Thomas?" Anderson asked.

He thought about it for a moment.

"It's hard. Being 15, 16, 17. You get so angry. You want to do something with that anger. I guess try to find some other way to let it out. Don't kill people. Don't kill yourself. Let yourself grow up a little. Then you might start to think differently about things. You might get new opportunities to do something with your life that you never thought possible as a teenager."

"Well said," Anderson replied.

"He's come a _long_ way," I added, lightly elbowing Thomas.

He allowed a small grin.

"Bill, I understand you and Max were abducted separately and reunited at the South Pole. Is that right?" Anderson asked.

"Yes, well in South Africa first and later at the South Pole," Bill said. "They didn't let us see each other for months at a time at first."

"Did The Bridge want to send you both to Mars, too?"

"Possibly. It was hard to figure what those control freaks wanted to do next. But I think they probably wanted to wait until Max was a little older and send us on separate missions so they could show father and son reuniting on Mars. Another Hallmark card moment, brought to you by The Bridge."

We all chuckled.

"Max, how does it feel to be back home again in Florida after all that time?" Anderson asked.

"Good. I really missed my mom," Max said. "She was really worried about us and now she's happy."

"That's great to hear," Anderson said.

Then our host gave us a look like he was up to something.

"Speaking of Hallmark card moments, we have a bit of a surprise announcement for Nikki and Thomas," he said.

"What?" I gasped.

"The Dutch Mars One project has extended an invitation for the two of you to continue your training with them to represent the United States on a six-person mission to Mars," he said.

"I can't believe this," I said.

"Bleepin' cool," Thomas added.

"The projected launch date is Sept. 7, 2022, with arrival on Mars in 2023," Anderson said with a big smile.

"Amazing," I said.

My father put his hand on my shoulder and looked down at me with tears in his eyes. Apparently, he already knew about it.

"Godspeed kid," he said. "Make us all proud."

I turned off the TV and hugged both of my parents, who cried along with me.

It was so hard to let go of them.

TEN MONTHS LATER

CHAPTER 49: RED CONFETTI

**Thomas**

August 20, 2022

Middlebrook, New Hampshire

They actually held a send-off pep rally for me and Nikki at our old high school — the same place I was expelled from nearly eight years ago.

The scheduled launch was a little over two weeks away and we had to fly back to the Netherlands tomorrow from Logan Airport in Boston.

But in the meantime, we were treated like heroes.

After a bunch of people spoke about us and the whole gymnasium cheered for us, they wanted me and Nikki to say a few words, especially to the younger kids in the crowd. Even though school didn't start for a couple of weeks, the gym was packed with kids of every age from our hometown. I guess they wanted to catch a glimpse of a couple of ridiculously unlikely astronauts who had a chance to make history.

Nervous as hell, I stepped up to the microphone first.

"I'm living proof that the impossible can come true. No matter how bad things are or how bad you screw up, you can turn your life around if you keep living, if someone helps you and if you help yourself. Don't take the coward's way out like I almost did. Choose life, not death, and give yourself a chance to be someone," I said.

Everyone clapped real hard and I felt pretty good. Nikki, with more red streaks in her hair than brown these days, clapped the loudest right beside me. I smiled and spoke a little more.

"I used to hate this girl, Nikki, when I was in high school. But now I like her a lot. We've helped each other through the ups and downs of training for Mars, and now we're ready to go into space together. So if someone reaches out to be your friend in the cafeteria one day, make sure to meet them halfway. Don't reject them like I did — even if they have blue hair, red hair or whatever."

Nikki laughed and so did the whole gym. Then everyone gave me a standing ovation!

I felt on top of the world, and I was pumped that I was leaving it on top, in the spotlight, not in darkness.

Nikki gave me a big, warm hug and a kiss on the cheek. Then she took her turn at the podium, I stood beside her and everyone quieted down.

"I'm just so proud of Thomas and how far he has come," she said. "A lot of his troubles in high school stemmed from the fact that he was bullied by an older boy and that he was shunned by nearly all of his classmates for being different, poor, trailer trash, whatever hurtful label you want to use. It was pretty much him and his friend, Adam, against the world.

"If there is one piece of advice I can leave for all of you before Thomas and I fly off into space, it's this: open yourselves to each other and accept; do not close yourselves and reject. Rejection hurts, the hurt builds up and eventually it gets spread around — too often with bullets. I'm glad I had the guts to step in the way of that when I was 17. I'm glad I was lucky enough not to die and that others didn't have to get shot like me and Adam did. But it should not have to come to that. Yes, one person _can_ make a difference, but imagine if _everyone_ tried to make a difference. This world would be too good to leave, even for Mars."

All the people in the gym, including me, gave Nikki a super-long standing ovation. She blew kisses to the hundreds gathered on the gym floor and in the bleachers.

"Goodbye, Lakeview," she said, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I will miss you all. I'll make sure to carve Lakeview High School into the red dirt on Mars, and I hope some of you will join us there one day."

When Nikki stepped off the podium, we embraced and then waved to the crowd as confetti fell like red snow all around us.

CHAPTER 50: LET GO

**Nikki**

September 8, 2022

Den Helder, Netherlands

Strapped horizontally into our acceleration couches inside the cone-shaped crew module, the six of us waited for the heavy-duty thrusters to catapult us off the North Holland peninsula.

Clad in orange zero-gravity spacesuits and clear, bubble-shaped helmets, Thomas and I flashed each other a thumb's up and an electric smile that couldn't be matched in wattage by 100 kids on Christmas morning and 100 newlyweds combined. All of that Earthly stuff was so trite compared to this: the first humans to blast off for Mars or die trying.

Two Dutch, two Americans, one German and one Australian. And yet, as the rocket began to quake beneath us, my mind focused on a man in Antarctica.

I thought about Sam "Snowbow" Archambeau waiting for the September sunrise to reach the South Pole. I smiled recalling him getting a haircut in a lawn chair next to the frozen barbershop pole. And then my eyes welled up remembering him snapping my photo as I clung, upside down, to a mirrored globe on the bottom of the world.

It was time to let go.

I closed my eyes and we blasted upward, blazing a trail of hellish fire and heavenly, white smoke toward a new world just waiting to be discovered.

The End — Book 3

About the author

Jack Chaucer lives in Litchfield, Connecticut, with his wife and twin 5-year-olds. He is a 1991 journalism graduate of Marquette University and has worked in the newspaper industry for 26 years. His previous novels — the adult sci-fi thriller, "Queens are Wild," the YA drama, "Streaks of Blue," and its sequel, "Nikki Blue: Source of Trouble" — are available in paperback and e-book formats at major online retailers.

Photo by Christopher Massa

Connect with Jack Chaucer online at his blog:

queensarewild.wordpress.com

On Facebook:

facebook.com/jackchaucerbooks

On Goodreads:

goodreads.com/author/show/6445477.Jack_Chaucer

On Twitter:

@JackChaucer

