MELT: A Psychological Thriller (21 page)

 

Carl prepared himself for a fight.

It was time to rest.

Chrissie and Victoria won't want me sleeping with the group.

Since the bottle revealed his secret he’d felt like some primitive outcast needing to rejoin the tribe or die on its outskirts.

Anger flared in his gut. He hadn't hurt these people. He'd only helped them. He'd wrecked his own teeth so they could dig for food and water. He'd earned his place. If Victoria or Chrissie wanted to challenge him, let them try.

They can't stop me. I'll sleep wherever the hell I like!

Part of Carl wanted to be challenged.
Let those bitches try to stop me and we'll see what happens.

Carl rubbed his palms together. They itched like hell. Probably from carrying ice all day. Another pain in the ass he'd had to endure since they found his bottle.

I'm the same man today as I was yesterday. If they have a problem with that, then I'll make it their problem, not mine.

He scanned the ice above their sleeping area, making his sleeping intentions clear.

The ice melted faster during their 'night'. He'd rather avoid a chunk of stone or metal or God-knew-what landing on his head.

'All clear?' asked Alex, choosing his place to rest. 'I couldn't see anything, but you're taller.'

Glen had been the tallest. Carl felt in his pocket for Glen's gum. Without Glen’s help, Carl would be in much worse shape.

That's why I feel so angry
, realized Carl.

Why did the ice choose Glen?
Chrissie chose that spot to dig. She should be buried under the loose ice, not Glen.

'Carl?' prompted Alex. 'Does it look safe?'

Carl snapped from his dark thoughts.

'It looks fine,' he replied.

He glanced toward his bottle. The newspaper clipping was gone.
Chrissie probably took it. That's her style.

Carl felt nauseous.

In fact, now he thought about it, he'd felt increasingly nauseous for hours. He scratched his palms again, feeling some of the skin flake away.

'You okay sleeping on the edge again, Carl?'

Alex had provided Carl an opening.

Carl glanced at Victoria and Chrissie. Chrissie was adjusting her eye mask. Victoria had taken the umbrella. Megan sat carefully tucking in her clothes, insulating herself. She'd barely spoken since Glen died. The dark circles under her eyes were darker since they'd buried him. Her movements looked slower.

Carl quickly hunkered down shoulder-to-shoulder with Alex. His legs pulsed with relief. He'd never endured so much constant movement before in his life.

'Thanks,' Carl whispered.

Alex's hood covered his eyes. He lifted his hood discreetly, locating the others.

'It could have been any of us,' whispered Alex. 'Your secret just came out first.'

'What?'

'Glen figured it out.'

'Figured what out?' asked Carl.

'He figured out why we're here. He wanted to tell you. We couldn’t tell Victoria or Chrissie.’

Alex dropped his arm back over his face. Time was up.

Chrissie and Victoria chose their sleeping spots.

'What are you whispering about?' demanded Chrissie.

Here it comes,
thought Carl.
She heard us.

'Glen,' answered Alex without hesitation. 'So mind your own business.'

'I heard my name,' said Chrissie hotly.

Alex lifted his hood to stare at Chrissie. 'Because you've got Glen's eye mask.'

'He gave it to me,' said Chrissie, suddenly defensive. 'Why don't
you
mind your own business?'

'Happy to oblige,' said Alex, dropping back the hood.

And simple as that, Alex deflected Chrissie's attack. He'd maneuvered Chrissie into a defensive position, distracting her from their whispering or Carl's sleeping arrangements.

I'm glad Alex is on my side
, thought Carl.

Alex was sharp as a razor. Glen wasn't stupid either. If those two discovered something, then Carl needed to know about it. So many questions overlapped in Carl's mind that sleeping felt impossible.

Why would they trust me after the newspaper clipping? They know who I am and what I've done. It doesn't make sense to trust me.

Yet Carl felt they did. Or had done, in Glen's case.

Alex will have to use the drain sometime. I'll ask him then.

With that settled, Carl began his breathing exercises. He'd learned the technique in prison. Even if he couldn't sleep, he'd feel better afterwards.

Carl repeated the breathing routine three times before he heard it.

He heard the ice.

Talking.

Not so a human could understand, but with a combination of dripping, trickling and cracking sounds. The dripping sounded constant. The melting ice water running down the drain occasionally altered pitch as the flow changed, but the solid ice talked the loudest.

It crackled.

Like twigs breaking or something stalking you in the dark. It sounded like the ice murmuring to itself in some ancient glacial tongue. Plotting to itself.

Two dead, five to go.

Chapter Fifteen

 

Victoria's scream brought Carl fully awake
.

What the fuck!

Surging to his feet, still sleep-dizzy, he dashed around the ice.

Victoria was gone, but Alex, Chrissie and Megan stood where she'd been. They stared at the burial mound. Or what remained of it. A lot had melted away during the night.

'What's wrong?'

Chrissie pointed at the mound.

Glen’s head and torso lay exposed.

His eyes were open.

Wide open as though he'd woken to find himself buried under the ice.

'We buried him alive!' cried Victoria from around the ice. 'He was still alive!'

Megan looked up at Carl. 'Did we?'

Carl groped for an explanation, but Chrissie jumped in first.

'Of course we didn't,' she snapped. 'The cold pulled his eyelids open.’

Chrissie sighed and went after Victoria.

'Did Chrissie just make that up?' asked Megan.

‘No,’ answered Alex. ‘It’s true.’

'He was dead,' said Carl.

'But we couldn't touch him,' Megan said. 'We didn't check his pulse. What if he was still alive?’

Megan covered her mouth.

Carl scratched his palms.

'They planted the Trojan horse to kill someone,’ said Carl. ‘Not to
almost
kill someone. The evil bastards probably used enough poison to kill Glen ten times over. You heard him dying. You saw him. No one could survive that.'

Carl hoped he sounded convincing.

Megan backed from the body. 'But no one checked. There wasn't even much blood.'

'I checked,' murmured Alex.

'What?'

'I checked he was dead,' replied Alex. ‘Twice.’

'How?' asked Megan.

Alex pointed to Glen’s watch on Megan’s wrist. 'When I took the watch I checked his pulse.'

'You said twice,' prompted Carl.

'I used the glass bottle,' Alex explained. 'I held it to his nose and checked for condensation.’

‘From his breathing,’ realized Carl. ‘That’s how they check sleeping babies.’

Alex nodded. ‘My mother used her make-up mirror when I was a baby to check me.’

'Thank you, Alex,' said Megan.

Carl nodded his thanks.
We didn't bury him alive. But now we have to rebury him.

 

 

#

 

 

'We'd better get to work,' said Carl.

'Wait,' said Megan. 'How did the ice covering Glen melt so fast?'

‘I’m not as cold as yesterday,’ said Alex. ‘The temperature must have increased?’

‘We need Ericsson’s watch,’ said Megan. ‘It has a thermometer.’

They found Chrissie already checking the watch.

‘Six degrees Fahrenheit,’ she said, predicting their question. ‘The temperature has increased six degrees since this time yesterday.’

‘Something doesn’t make sense,’ said Carl. ‘I heard the melt water pouring down the drain last night.’

‘It’s still flowing fast now,’ agreed Alex.

Carl pointed up the ice. ‘But the height of the dome hasn’t dropped much. Look.’

‘Hardly any lower at all,’ agreed Chrissie.

‘I’ll pace it out again,’ said Alex. ‘Then we’ll know the height.’

‘How’s your leg?’ asked Megan.

Alex put one shoulder to the ice. ‘Better than I expected. Walking actually helps. Just not too much of it.’

Megan started her phone as Alex carefully paced the dome’s circumference.

‘Thirty-three steps,’ he reported back.

Megan entered the number and then frowned over her phone. ‘Hardly any change at all. It’s still 5.24 meters high. It’s only dropped 41 centimeters.’

Something doesn’t feel right,
Carl thought.

He didn’t doubt Megan’s math. He could see for himself that she was correct.

But with the amount of water pouring down that drain I would have expected at least a third of the ice to be gone by now.

'Enough ice melted to expose new artifacts,’ said Alex.

'Show me,' said Carl, wary of traps. ‘But don’t touch any of them.’

It took Carl a few moments to recognize the first object.

'An abacus,' said Megan. ‘The earliest calculator.’

Victoria was staring at the abacus.

What is she thinking about?

The abacus looked old, but functional. Only half of its wooden frame had emerged from the ice. It didn’t look trapped.

Carl looked up to the top of the ice and then back down to the abacus.

He couldn’t shake the feeling their calculations were overlooking something important.

Does Victoria know?

'Look at this,' called Chrissie.

Carl left Victoria staring at the abacus.

The next object jutted from the ice like a sun-bleached Frisbee.

'Look underneath,' urged Chrissie.

Carl crouched.

'An old plate. I see a lion's head. A man’s foot. Maybe a spear or a sword.’

Chrissie said, ‘I think it’s a gladiator fighting a lion.'

They found Alex and Megan at the third object.

'A toy train,' announced Carl. 'I had one like that.'

Carl stepped closer, peering at the toy still half-embedded in ice.

It’s exactly the same as mine.

The uncanny resemblance was unnerving. One of Carl's few childhood photographs showed himself and his younger brother, Joshua, with their new toy trains at Christmas. The toy in the ice looked identical. Carl wanted to check his name wasn't scratched into its undercarriage.

'Don't touch it!' warned Megan.

Carl snatched his hand back.

What am I doing? This could be deadly.

He took a startled step backward, alarmed at his own carelessness.

'Is it dangerous?'

Megan nodded. 'It's another trap.'

'How do you know?'

Megan looked around at them.

‘I know because I’ve discovered the purpose of the ice.'

 

 

#

 

 

Megan left everyone speechless.

She pointed into the ice.

'The ice contains a record of human achievement through time. Each artifact represents an important human invention or discovery.'

Chrissie rolled her eyes.

Alex and Carl exchanged doubtful glances.

Megan persisted.

'Just listen. We found the oldest artifacts at the surface. Like the bone needle and the Mayan calendar. The deeper we've dug, the more technologically advanced the objects have been.'

Alex asked. ‘You think the objects are emerging from the ice in the order man invented them? Is that right?’

Megan nodded. ‘You said it better than me.’

‘That’s ridiculous,’ scoffed Chrissie. ‘Half the objects are completely out of order.’

'Exactly!'

Megan pointed at Chrissie. 'Those are the traps. The objects we find out of order are either trapped or dangerous.'

Everyone glanced backward and forward between the ice and the artifacts.

'Even the food fits,' Megan added quickly. 'First we found hunter gatherer food in a leather pouch. Then we found smoked fish wrapped in flax. They both fit the historical timeline.'

‘What period of history are we in now?’ asked Alex.

Megan pointed to the artifacts on the calendar. ‘Whenever sundials were invented. That’s the last safe artifact we’ve discovered. I don’t know when they were invented.’

Carl said, ‘That means the bomb was a trap. It’s way out of order.’

Megan nodded. ‘You were right, Carl. It’s not defused. If we’d dropped it, we’d all be dead.’

Alex said, ‘The Trojan horse was plastic. Plastic is modern. It’s way out of historical sequence. If you’re right, that’s why the Trojan horse killed Glen.’

Megan looked down. ‘If I’d figured this out yesterday, Glen would be alive.’

‘If you’re right,’ said Chrissie.

'She's right,' said Victoria. ‘She’s completely right.’

Victoria hadn't spoken since finding Glen's eyes wide open.

She waved at the artifacts. 'How did I miss this? It's obvious now. It was right in front of me.'

'We hadn’t discovered enough artifacts before now,' said Megan. 'The abacus and plate revealed the pattern to me this morning.’

Victoria shook her head and pulled something from her apron pocket. ‘You didn’t have all the artifacts. I found this.’

‘What is it?’ asked Megan.

‘A piece of pottery. It reminded me of my garden, so I kept it. I didn’t think it mattered.’

‘Does it fit?’ asked Megan. ‘When did you find it?’

Victoria rubbed her fingers over the palm-sized shard. ‘Pottery was invented in western Asia around 6500 BC. I found it after the bone needle but before the fish wrapped in flax. Flax was used right through Mesopotamia from around the fourth century BC, so this pottery fits your theory perfectly.’

Alex raised an eyebrow at Victoria.

Megan quickly asked, ‘Do you know when sundials were invented, Victoria?’

‘Yes,’ replied Victoria. ‘Around 800 BC.’

‘What about the Trojan horse?’ asked Alex.

‘The Trojan horse was thought to have existed around 1200 BC,’ replied Victoria. ‘So even if the horse was made of wood, it was still out of order. It would still have been a trap.’

How does she know all this?
wondered Carl.