Free Trial by Ice by Casey Calouette Page A

and handed him a bar. “Eat. I said I’d take care of you, right?”
    “Where?” Nur asked.
    “Never let a catastrophe go to waste.”
     
    * * *
     
    The final rise of the day brought a surprise as the dropcap containing the striders came into view. The crumpled shell looked like the rest except for the metallic skeletons locked onto the outside. During a drop they would be released by explosive bolts and scatter around the capsule. Now they hung limp and wrecked like broken marionettes.
    The capsule had some damage from the VTOL. Cratered holes pockmarked one edge. Blasts on the inside were far more destructive. The entire mass was a shrapnel cut mess of sharp edges and bent steel.
    They set camp within sight of the capsule but not nearby. They were fearful that the VTOL would return. Men could barely stand as the hypothermia slowly crept in. Feet acted as radiators, slowly seeping warmth through wet boots and pants back into the cold. Everyone not setting up the tent sat, or tried to lean, on the heated sled.
    William found Eduardo sitting on a lone sled looking at the wreck of the capsule. Snow had drifted on the leeside—it looked sad and forlorn. He stood in silence next to Eduardo for a moment.
    “Is anything left?” asked William.
    Eduardo was silent.
    William waited an uncomfortable few seconds. He looked over to make sure Eduardo was awake. His eyes were closed but his lips moved slightly in the dimming light. Eduardo prayed.
    Behind him the tents grew and the men entered. The reactor was disconnected and hauled inside by Sebastien. O’Toole, Eduardo’s assistant, followed closely behind with a heating fin cradled in his arms. The men streamed in behind as if following the crucifix to mass.
    “Maybe,” said Eduardo. He stood slowly and brushed off his pants.
    William looked over at Eduardo. He never noticed how small he seemed, even in the heavy clothing.
    “The first time I saw snow was with my papa, on the edge of the Pyrenees. I said to him, ‘Papa, why do the hills have hair like Grandpa?’” He tucked his hands under his arms. “It seemed so magical, that the hills had white hair. I wanted to touch it to see, but it was too far.”
    William smiled. The wind began to bloom as the dying light crossed the horizon. “We’ll go look in the morning.”
    Eduardo was silent. His eyes stared at the cold capsule.
    The two turned and walked in silence back to the tents. The night passed with the same routine. The heating coil pinged and twanged with men barely able to sleep. Wet clothes thawed in the tent, but never warmed enough to dry.
     
    * * *
     
    Sleep came in fits. One man would stir in a coughing fit. Everyone else would would toss and turn and be reminded that they were not only cold and tired, but wet as well. The only thing that burned was the ache in their legs and backs. Though the cold still gnawed at empty stomachs.
    The word whispered in the tent was two days. Two more days. Only two more. Two more days of wet slop filling boots. Two more days of ice building on toes. Two more days of soggy pants. Two more days of hunger that sat like a cold rock.
    The next day they scoured the strider capsule but found nothing of use. The VTOL had paid a visit and given the same welcome as the other capsules had received. The striders themselves were wrecks, mangled shadows of what they once were. Von Hess stood in silence, ignoring his wounds, and looked lost.
    The weather firmed the snow in the morning. The top turned into a raspy crust with a frigid core. Every step was painful as the crust scraped the leg. Each step brought them closer to the sea, but each step dropped the essential core temperature a fraction. Hypothermia was coming.
    William stressed through the sticky snow, the electrical cord numb in his hands and burning on his shoulder. The pull went in spurts as each man took a step and the others had to bear down harder. It was harder than before. They were growing weaker.
    He looked down to