On the other side of the globe, he heard his sister’s voice, stifled with tears. “A neighbor of theirs told me all about it. It happened instantly. They didn’t suffer. Just a week before that, I managed to get in touch with them, and tried to convince them to come and stay with us at the farm. Mom laughed. She said Madison was their home, and nothing would happen to them, and they would be perfectly safe there…” she blew her nose loudly. “I should have tried harder to convince them,” she added in a faltering voice.
“It was not your fault, Laura. Once Mom had her mind set on something, nobody could convince her otherwise. You know that.”
There was silence, yet the connection was uninterrupted.
“Laura?” Scott said with a fresh jolt of dread. “Do you have anything else to tell me?”
“Scott,” her voice sounded weak, as if she barely willed herself to go on, “I hate to break it to you like this, but I don’t know when we’re going to have the chance to talk again, let alone see each other. Many houses in Madison were ruined by the bombings, you know. Yours was one of them.”
“Oh,” Scott said, feeling unexpected relief. “Well, it’s just a house, I don’t really—”
“Brianna was inside.”
“Brianna — no. No.”
“I’m sorry, Scott, I’m so sorry. Those bombings were brutal… it took them five days to recover all the bodies. Once she was identified, the rescuers let her parents know, and they carried her home to the West Coast to bury her.”
Scott felt a stab of irrational, disproportional anger. “They had no right. Not without consulting me. I am… I was her husband.”
“I spoke to them, tried to tell them as much. But there was no getting hold of you, you know, and… and they knew that things have been… rocky between you guys lately, so…”
“They knew Brianna had filed for divorce.”
“Yes,” Laura admitted after a pause, “they did.”
“Thank you for telling me, Laura. I guess I will… I will go and think about all this for a while.”
“Hang on, Scott. I… I plan to visit Mom and Dad’s grave the first chance I get. Do you want me to bring something in your name?”
Scott thought about this for a moment. “Daisies,” he finally said, willing his voice not to break. “If you can get them. Mom loved them. I’ll… I’ll talk to you later, Laura. Soon, I hope. Take care of yourself and the kids. And… say hello to Harry from me when he’s home. Tell him I’m very, very happy he made it back safe and sound.”
After that, Scott sat for a long time with his head in his hands. So many things were over for so many people. Mom and Dad. I will never see them again. And Brianna… somehow, something deep within him had still hoped all this time. While the divorce papers were unsigned, all could yet turn out well. It is over. All over. The life he had built for himself at Madison vanished in one deathly wave of the bombs.
Had he taken the next day off, nobody would have wondered, but something prompted Scott to remain silent about the conversation with his sister, and join the helicopter crew the following day as planned.
Ne Tarveg flat out refused to be carried down the trail into the valley, but allowed Scott and his father to support him while they descended. Once they approached the village, they were engulfed by an excited crowd of people that came forward to greet them. What with his wound, and his heroic fight against Victor Nash, and his encounter with the frozen beast, Ne Tarveg was enjoying more popularity than he had in a lifetime, and was led away to his home by a circle of fervent admirers, who wanted to hear his story over and over again. Omrek and Manari greeted Scott with the warmth of relations, and little Egan kept passing from the arms of his uncle to Scott’s. Then, the young couple stepped aside to allow Scott to speak with Tahan, and the two of them walked away in the direction of her house, her little boy between them, pulling each of them along by the hand.
“Careful, Egan,” his mother chided, “or we will all slip. I am glad, so glad Ne Tarveg appears nearly recovered,” she added. “Otherwise… it would have been a terrible blow for his father.”
“He was in very skilled hands.”
“Yes. So I imagine. Come in, Scott, and have something to eat and drink,” she drew the entrance flap aside. The stone house was warm and cozy as usual, the little cooking fire burning at the center. “How are things at the village?” Scott asked. “Did you have any trouble with the prisoners?”
“No, they have been quiet enough. All is well. Manari was shaken for a couple of days, but she is fine now.”
“And the… beast from the ice? Have you seen any sign of it?”
Tahan shook her head. “No. Nothing. As far as we know, it had gone out to the open sea. I can only hope we never see it again. Do you want me to reheat some stew?”
“No, thank you,” Scott said, sinking down upon the grass mat and closing his eyes. Suddenly, he felt very, very weary. “Just… a drink, if you will.”
Her eyes, light and soft and penetrating, were fixed upon him. Tahan was not fooled. “What happened?” she asked quietly.
“I… I received news from home. From beyond the sea. You remember I told you about the war? It was… a deathly war. My parents, they are… they are gone. And my wife. I mean, I’m not sure she was still my wife, but you know… only death is final.”
Tahan bit her lip and nodded. “I grieve for you,” she said. She wanted to say something else, but instead she came closer and sat next to him and wrapped her arms around him, and for a few moments, he allowed the tears to stream freely as his cheek rested against her shoulder. Egan, wide-eyed, watched them without really understanding.
“My sister is fine, and her husband, and their little children,” Scott added in a choked voice. “This is something to be thankful for.”
“There is always something to be thankful for,” Tahan whispered in his ear. Then she got up, offered him her hand, and pulled him up to his feet with easy strength. “Come, Scott. I know what will do you good right now. Let us go to the Cave of Spirits.”
Chapter 23
Over the next weeks, the internet connection had stabilized somewhat, and Scott was able to talk to his sister a few more times. These conversations made him realize how fortunate he was to have at least some remaining relatives in the United States. Many states have been subject to utter devastation, and the government was desperately trying to regroup. The Antarctic Program headquarters weren’t answering calls or emails, and it didn’t look as if anyone particularly cared for McMurdo right now.
New Zealand was better off. Remote and untouched by war, the impact it suffered was mostly economical, and its infrastructure was intact. Scott now kept in regular touch with the New Zealand representatives, who commended him for his management of the station during this difficult winter, promised that airplanes and ships would reach Ross Island shortly after the first sunrise of the next season, and put his mind at ease as to supplies. The two-minute shower rule was still in order, but the cooks at the galley were allowed more leeway with food, and meals had become more satisfactory.
One evening after work, Scott made his way to the greenhouse for his now customary drink with Jerry, but stopped at the door. Unexpectedly, the door was locked, and the voices he heard indicated that both Jerry and Zoe were inside, and most likely wouldn’t appreciate being disturbed. Grinning from ear to ear and shaking his head, Scott turned quietly away and walked to the bar, where he spent the evening with Petri Karhu and Stanley the pilot.
He looked at the bottom of his glass of weak whiskey and water — very little whiskey with a lot of water — and fleetingly wished he could drown himself at its bottom. Poor Brianna. I wonder what her last thought was as the heap of rubble and glass that had been our house collapsed on top of her. Did she regret not coming to McMurdo after all?