Icy Wasteland

Wan moonlight bathed a stocky man’s pale arms as he leaned against the metallic rails, whistling a simple tune. “Anton, stop making that awful racket!” The sporadic notes stopped as Anton twisted his head and pushed against the railing. “Norman, the silence is eerie.” Anton marched across the deck and swatted the consol. “Why don’t you have a radio or satellite on this boat?” “You weren’t hired to be entertained.” Norman released his grip on the yoke and pointed at an indention in the massive frozen cliff. “I enlisted you to assist me with my cargo. Besides, there aren’t many options available when you’re this far removed from civilization.” “Whatever, Norman,” Anton said, waving his hand as he sauntered back to the rail, staring at the looming glaciers. “Can you explain why we fled the civilized world?” Anton chewed his lips as he wrapped his fingers around the metal bar. “Specifically, why you are steering us right into a hunk of ice.” “We’re out here to dump my cargo in my decontamination facility.” “Out here in a glacier?” A dark smile spread while Norman throttled the ship’s engine. As the craft approached the icy wall, he spun the wheel, guiding the ship into the gap, plunging them into darkness. “Fortunately, out here the world’s pesky regulations don’t exist.” Distant howls ripped through the tranquil atmosphere, chasing a shudder down Anton’s spine. With shallow breaths, his whitening fingertips dug into the boat. Closing his eyes, Anton took a few deep breaths and twirled his hand toward the star-filled sky. “It’s creepy navigating through all these massive chunks of ice. With the pale light, those cliff-faces look like giant gravestones.” Norman turned off the engine and pulled a slender stick from the console. With a crack, a sickly green illumination leapt from the tube, chasing away the darkness. With a series of quick motions, Norman cracked another rod and tossed it on the approaching dock. Norman sauntered to the bow and twisted a section of rope off the cleat. When the vessel crept alongside the small metal wharf, Norman hopped on, securing his craft. “Privacy, is as precious as gold in most cases.”

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