Free The Icarus Project by Laura Quimby Page B

into the library. “Someone’s unlocking the door!”
    “Shut the fireplace!” I cried.
    Kyle swung the fireplace closed, and we scrambled to hide under the model table. I dropped to the floor and crawled like a crab. My heart banged against my chest. It was hard to be stealthy and brave when you were about to get caught for breaking the rules. We were in big trouble.
    I slowed my breathing, trying to calm myself. Kyle and I stared at each other as we heard the secret fireplace panel creak open, and then footsteps scuffed across the floor. A voice hummed a tune right there in the room with us. To me, it sounded like Katsu. Kyle put his finger over his lips, and then he held out his hand. A tiny mammoth sat in his palm. He had forgotten to put it back! I hoped Katsu didn’t notice that one of the herd was missing.
    My nose itched. I sniffed. Kyle’s eyes widened. I held my breath, trying not to sneeze. Who knows the last time someone had dusted here. The humming stopped. All I could see were large boot toes poking under the table.
    The sound of dogs barking drifted into the room. Katsuhurried from the room, and we heard the door slam behind him.
    Kyle and I were in the clear. I let out a gasp.
    “They can’t be back yet—it’s too early,” Kyle whispered. “What do you think has happened?”
    “I don’t know. They’re supposed to be at the site all day.” Suddenly, panic flooded through me. Digs were dangerous. Anything could have happened. What if Dad was hurt?
    “We’ve got to go see,” Kyle said.
    Even though we were alone, we tiptoed quietly out of the secret room and then out of the small library and into the hallway.
    There was only one sled in the compound. I looked through an ice-crusted window and saw that Dad was already off the sled and running into the building. He disappeared into the changing room.
    Kyle and I followed him over to the lab building. The door banged open, bringing a gust of icy air shooting through me like a dozen arrows. Immediately I could tell that it had been a bad day at the dig site.
    And I had a feeling it was about to get a lot worse at the station.

 
    The air in the lab was warm and muggy. I coughed, hoping Dad would turn around and tell me what had happened at the site to bring him back so early. But he just paced around the lab. He was fuming. He yanked off his hat and threw it to the floor. His goggles had left marks around his eyes, making his face look scarred and wild. His face was so red, it was practically a new shade. Red was the color of conflict, heat, and anger. Mars was the red planet, named for the Roman god of war. Zoey had told me the two moons of Mars were named fear and panic, and as I circled my dad, I felt like a small moon.
    “I should have known! I should have seen something like this coming. Money must rot the brain—must make people do crazy things.” His eyes roamed the room, unfocused. His fists were balled up. I had never seen Dad this mad.
    “What’s wrong?” I eased up beside him. “Did something happen at the site?”
    He didn’t answer. It was like I wasn’t even in the room. I could feel the anger radiating off him.
    “What’s happened? What happened with the mammoth?” I asked, resting my hand on his sleeve.
    When he finally looked at me, his eyes were sad, dark pools. “The worst thing possible.”
    The worst thing that I could think of was that the mammoth was rotten, having been exposed to the elements and then thawing. Or that scavengers had torn it to shreds and carried it away. I had heard Dad talk about expeditions where scientists went on grueling treks into the brutal Arctic landscape of Russia, returning home heartbroken, with only a piece of wrinkly gray skin the size of a doormat with a few wiry red mammoth hairs attached, because that was all that was left of the animal. All that work for a scrap of old, stinky flesh. Maybe all that was left of our mammoth was a clump of hair or a pile of bones. I wished he