A Fiction: Part XIX

VII

The deck of Angel’s Head lurches to my left, and I slide face-first toward the thin wood edge wall. I tuck just in time to avoid my head taking the full blow, but I hit the wall hard, and am winded. At first it’s just hand tools and debris that follow my slide, but the slope of the deck steepens, and the larger equipment starts to slide in my direction.

Despite the danger, I am transfixed by the scene before me: The men that had been trying to get into the control room have now broken the glass and are piling into the room. As the ship tilts, men fall from the high deck to the icy water below. There is another group that has descended upon the snowmobiles and arctic supplies. The clear favored prizes are the vehicles of course, but there is heavy fighting for the boots, jackets, ropes and tools. One man is able to start the one closest to me, but he is pulled from the machine, dragged to deck and beaten as another takes his chance upon the beast. This cycle continues with men fighting to get position in the seat, but being torn down before the throttle can be engaged. Now the men have lost all hope as the snowmobile edges down the sloping deck towards me. They jump aside and begin their own slide toward the icy doom below. I wake from my observational haze and throw myself to the side as the speeding behemoth barrels past me. With a deafening crash, the wall and railing I have been lying on break away, and I fall into the stark white silence of ice and snow.

For a moment, as I fall, there is no sound. My mind races with thoughts of my life and impending death. My expectation of icy water is proven false when my descent is broken by piled snow. My left shoulder takes the brunt of the fall, and I am sure it is broken. In the moment I take to recover, I look up to see the snowmobile, which has landed on its back end, towering above and teetering to fall upon me. I roll to my side, and fall into a large crack in the ice and find myself sliding feet first into darkness. My back and legs are torn as they rip across the jagged ice. But as soon as it started, the slide ends and I am again falling through bright white space and land hard on solid ground. I look up at the sheer ice cliff above, and for a moment take in its pure beauty. The sun glistens off its uneven walls and I am reminded of the cathedral where my grandfather’s funeral service was held - stoic and elegant, with an air of unearthly peace.

Looking up, I notice a puff of ice and snow blown out from the top of the cliff. Then I see jagged shards of ice separating from the wall followed by a large, dark mass. Unable to support its weight, the glacier is passing off the snowmobile once more in my direction and I watch as it falls in a shower of shimmering ice. Again, I get my wits and scramble to my knees. I throw myself across the ice and claw my way as far from the cliff base as I can before the impact.

The snowmobile crashes into the ice floor with an explosive reverb, shattering the ice in all directions, and throwing a spire of water 50 feet into the air above me. A crack appears all around me and I find myself alone on a wobbling plate of ice as it breaks free from the larger floor. I grab the plate’s edge in a desperate attempt to float through the maelstrom, but it tilts up into the air and over, and I find myself below the ice, in freezing water – blackness below and clawing at the light above. My fingers search for an opening, but to no avail. I slam my fist against the ice but only push myself further down into the icy depths. Don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic, …