Free EDEN by Dean Crawford Page A

rest our gear to the Alert base and live there permanently. There are more resources, the fuel tanks are larger and we’ll be able to monitor the airwaves using their equipment. We can only hope that somebody’s still out there that can make some kind of rescue attempt.’
    Nobody had argued.
    ‘We’ll re-route all power to the smallest accommodation block to conserve fuel. Everything but the snowmobiles can freeze to hell for all I care. Brad? How much fuel does the base hold?’
    Bradley had shrugged. ‘Two or three month’s when full, about half that right now.’
    ‘Good,’ Jake said. ‘That’s for the whole base. We might last a year or more if we conserve it down to a single building. We’ll need to create an inventory of the remaining food and then take a good look at some of the snowmobiles they’ve got there. It’s a long shot but maybe, somehow, we can figure out a way to drive them far enough south to get us out of here once the winter breaks.’
    ‘I thought you said that was impossible?’ Charlotte had asked. ‘That we couldn’t carry enough fuel?’
    ‘It is,’ Jake had admitted, ‘at the moment. But staying here indefinitely is what’s really impossible. Maybe we can jury rig one of the vehicles to carry enough fuel to get us down to Eureka.’
    Cody had mentally pictured the outpost of Eureka, hundreds of miles away on the southern tip of Ellesmere Island. No longer permanently occupied, it would likely hold stores and supplies, perhaps even fuel.
    ‘Let’s get to it,’ Jake had clapped his gloved hands in the darkness, the sound echoing out into an icy oblivion, and in that one motion had condemned the team to a winter north of the Arctic Circle.
    *
    The interior of the storage facility at CFS Alert was utterly black as Bradley Trent unlocked a side door and slipped inside, Sauri close behind. The door slammed shut with an echo that chased around the big metal building.
    Bradley flicked on a flashlight and the beam sliced through the darkness, illuminating ghostly tendrils of diaphanous mist that swirled on the freezing air and glistening ice clinging to the interior walls like galaxies of tiny stars. Crates and boxes were stacked high on pallets, marked with labels that denoted the contents: jackets, boots, snow chains, bathroom necessities.
    ‘Where’s the food stored?’ Bradley asked.
    Sauri gestured toward the far side of the building, where ranks of empty metal racks stood near a wall that faced the accommodation block. Bradley hurried over, his flashlight sweeping the empty racking.
    ‘Jesus, they cleared us out.’
    Sauri said nothing as Bradley hunted up and down the racks and rifled through nearby cardboard boxes. The soldier lifted a tin from one of the boxes and stared at it in disbelief. In the darkness and in the harsh beam of the flashlight, his sudden laughter seemed almost demonic.
    ‘They left us the biscuits!’ he roared.
    Sauri said nothing as Bradley turned and hurled the tin against the wall of the building with a crash of cold metal against cold metal. The tin rattled to the floor as Bradley hammered a gloved hand against his head.
    ‘Why didn’t they come and get us?’ he shouted. ‘Why leave us here to rot?’
    Sauri looked at his companion for a few moments. ‘We won’t rot. Much too cold.’
    Bradley stared at Sauri for a long beat. ‘Well thanks genius, glad to see your cup’s still half goddamned full.’
    Sauri looked at the boxes of biscuits. ‘How many tins?’
    Bradley glanced down at the pallet of five cardboard boxes.
    ‘Twenty five,’ he uttered.
    ‘Between eight people,’ Sauri replied. ‘Three boxes each. We can have raffle for last one.’
    Bradley shook his head and began chuckling to himself. Sauri said nothing. Bradley’s chuckle faded away as he looked at the biscuits.
    ‘We’ll keep the biscuits.’ He looked across at Sauri. ‘Just you and me.’
    ‘But the others will need… ’
    ‘They’re not our