“What did you say about the creature itself?” Logan asked.
“I told them about the Callisto Effect. How the creature could well have been a genetic mutation, or perhaps something as simple as an unknown species. And I told them about the creature’s hyper-developed white blood cell line, how it would promote healing that was almost instant. How beneath the fur it had a chitinous exoskeleton, but scaled almost like a snake, allowing for rapid and flexible movement—and the deflection of bullets. And its unique neurological makeup: even high doses of electricity didn’t disrupt its nervous system or stop its heart. Yet, ironically, sound—of a certain amplitude and frequency—was lethal: aided, perhaps, by weakness brought on due to starvation.”
“So that explains everything,” said Logan.
“Everything—and nothing,” Faraday added.
Logan frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Because everything I just told you—except for the blood work—is mere theory and speculation. The fact is, strange types of ice, like ice-fifteen, require a great deal of pressure to form. The fact is, the creature survived being frozen in ice—whatever kind of ice—for thousands of years. It was transcendentally strong. It was impervious to even high doses of electricity…” Faraday shrugged.
Marshall looked at him thoughtfully. The biologist had just constructed a plausible explanation to everything—and then, quickly, pulled the rug out from under it. “Maybe Usuguk was right, after all,” he said.
The two men looked at him.
“Are you serious?” asked Faraday.
“Of course—partly, anyway. I’m a scientist, but I’d be the first to admit science can’t explain everything. We’re a long way from civilization. This is the top of the world. A different set of rules is in place here, rules we don’t have the least idea about. This isn’t man’s environment—but the men who are here have seen a lot more than we have, and we should listen to them. If any land could be called the land of the spirits, wouldn’t it be here—this strange, sacred, distant spot? Do you really think the way the northern lights winked out just when the creature died was utter coincidence?”
The question hung in the cold air, unanswered. In the silence that followed, Marshall heard the distant whap-whap of helicopter blades.
“That would be my ride,” Logan murmured. He hoisted the duffel at his feet.
“What about you?” Marshall asked.
“What about me?” Logan slung his laptop over his shoulder. “If either of you are ever in New Haven, look me up.”
“That’s not an answer. Which theory do you subscribe to—the scientific or the spiritual?”
Logan looked at him for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly. Instead of answering, he asked a question of his own. “Where did you grow up, Dr. Marshall?”
This was the last thing Marshall expected to hear. “Rapid City, South Dakota.”
“Have any pets?”
“Sure. Three dachshunds.”
“Ever go on long driving trips as a kid?”
Marshall nodded, mystified. “Practically every summer.”
“Ever lose any of those dachshunds at a roadside rest stop?”
“No.”
“I did,” said Logan. “Barkley, my Irish setter. I loved that dog more than just about anything. He ran off at a picnic ground in the middle of Oklahoma nowhere. My family looked for three hours. Never found him. Finally, we had to leave. I was inconsolable.”
The helicopter was landing now outside the security perimeter, beating up diaphanous skeins of powdery snow. Marshall looked at Logan, frowning. “I don’t understand what losing a pet has to do with—”
All of a sudden Logan’s implication hit home. Marshall blinked in surprise as the light dawned. “Except that the travelers you’re talking about were from much farther away than Rapid City, South Dakota.”
Logan nodded. “Much, much farther.”
Marshall shook his head. “Is that what you believe?”
“I’m an enigmalogist. It’s my job to exercise my imagination. As your friend Faraday here said—mere theory and speculation.” He grinned, shook their hands in turn, then walked toward the waiting helicopter. As the pilot opened the passenger door, he turned back.
“It’s a hell of a speculation, though—isn’t it?” he called over the whine of the engine. Then he clambered in and closed the door. The helicopter rose; wheeled over the Fear glacier—blue against the blue of the sky—and then turned sharply south, toward civilization, away from the land of the spirits.
ALSO BY LINCOLN CHILD
DEEP STORM
DEATH MATCH
UTOPIA
WITH DOUGLAS PRESTON
THE WHEEL OF DARKNESS
THE BOOK OF THE DEAD
DANCE OF DEATH
BRIMSTONE
STILL LIFE WITH CROWS
THE CABINET OF CURIOSITIES
THE ICE LIMIT
THUNDERHEAD
RIPTIDE
RELIQUARY
MOUNT DRAGON
RELIC
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2009 by Lincoln Child
All Rights Reserved
Published in the United States by Doubleday, an imprint of The Doubleday Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
www.doubleday.com
DOUBLEDAY and the DD colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Child, Lincoln.
Terminal freeze : a novel / Lincoln Child.—1st ed.
p. cm.
1. Scientists—Fiction. 2. Archaeological expeditions—Fiction. 3. Eskimos—Folklore—Fiction. 4. Prehistoric animals—Fiction. 5. Arctic regions—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3553.H4839T47 2009
813'.54—dc22
2008042908
eISBN: 978-0-385-52923-5
v1.0
Lincoln Child, Terminal Freeze
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