The Glaciermen #8: Mists

Early access prepublication manuscripts of "The Glaciermen"

Let’s jump right in today, shall we.

(Link to the previous entry, in case you missed it).

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Mists

Silence lingered in the cavern for a few seconds until a woman’s shriek broke the stillness. A man huddled next to the woman, presumably her husband, and moved to console her. Soon the cries lessened into muffled sobs.

Lee slumped next to Sandy, who was now quietly mouthing prayers with folded hands. Lee, still dazed from the boom flash of energy, stared wide-eyed at the smoldering corpse of the old man who had been more than he seemed. For a few moments when he had confronted the skull-headed man, there had been a glimmer of light in the icy darkness of the last two days, but now the last vestiges of a hope drifted away with the smoke from his crisped corpse.

With the departure of the shaman, several of the tunlaq guards had risen from their posts. Large wrought-iron braziers were carried into the cavern and set around the pit. The top halves of the braziers were filled with stones, while the bottoms held cauldrons filled with some kind of oil. Torches were held to the oil, and a half dozen new blazes filled the cavern with whooshing whispers of flame.

Lee watched as a guard carried a pair of buckets to the brazier nearest his end of the pit. The guard set the buckets next to the brazier and produced a carved bone ladle from a girdle around his waste. He dipped the ladle into the bucket and lifted it over the brazier, drizzling the stones with fluid. The liquid immediately vaporized upon contact with the heated stones and a cloud of steam began to rise from the brazier.

The same process was repeated with the other five contraptions around the pit. The steam from the combined effort rose into a thick cloud against the icy ceiling of the cavern, where it began to cool and then sink as a mist into the pit.

“It’s poison gas!” someone gasped.

Several of the prisoners attempted to cover their mouths with sleeves and pulled-up shirts as the mist descended upon them. Lee simply watched as the mist sank, raising a hand to wave it through the microscopic droplets. When the mist came in contact with the fabric of his glove, Lee could see beads of moisture begin to form on the woven material.

The woman who had been shrieking earlier now began to gag loudly, and fell to the ice, coughing and gasping. Her husband, with his shirt pulled up over his mouth and nose, knelt next to her as she rolled on the ground. Useless to help her, he tugged down his shirt and pulled a deep breath of the mist into his lungs, resigning himself to join his wife in her fate. 

He waited.

Then he took in a several quick breaths back to back, lips pursed as he sucked in the misty air. He smacked his lips a few times, tasting it. Then he reached a hand down to shake his wife’s shoulder as she continued to thrash.

“You’re fine,” he scolded. “It’s just regular old water—stop choking. It’s not poison you dolt.”

The woman paused mid-gasp, realizing that she was not, in fact, choking to to death, and she sheepishly sat back up.

The man shook his head. “There you go again with that hypochondriac bullshit. You made me think I was gonna die there when you started with your hysterics.”

The woman shot him a harsh look before snapping back. “Oh yeah, well I wasn’t the dumbass who shouted ‘poison gas,’ was I?”

Soon the couple was embroiled in a ridiculous tiff, insults and blame passing back and forth. Lee smiled at the silly interchange, glad for the diversion, before turning his attention back to his glove. The mist was still condensing, and now the water was beginning to soak into the fabric. He could feel the chilly sensation as the water found its way to the back of his hand. With a flick of his wrist, Lee whipped the water droplets from the glove to prevent more from soaking through.

But then a cold feeling on his thigh grabbed his attention. Beads of moisture coated his jacket and pants, and the water was already beginning to soak through to cling to his leg. The mist similarly condensed on the cold outer layers of clothing of the rest of the prisoners. Soon ice-cold moisture was soaking into any exposed fabric. Wet gloves were removed to keep hands warm. Jackets had to be taken off to keep the wearer from getting soaked in the onslaught of chilling condensation.

The desired outcome was not achieved, however, as now the prisoners were left wearing quickly dampening undershirts and soaking pants in the still frigid air of the ice pit.

“Lee…”

It was Sandy. Lee turned to her. She was sitting hunched over, leaning precariously to the side, hugging herself in a soaked blouse. Her eyes were watery, though not from the condensation, and her lips were dark purple.

“Lee, listen to me,” she said through chattering teeth. “I tried, kiddo. I tried to take care of you… to be a good partner.”

She smiled weakly, then hacked a raspy cough before continuing. 

“But this is it. We’re not going to make it through this. I don’t know if you believe in God, but I do, and it’s time for me to make my peace with him. You could try that too, and maybe we’ll see each other again in the next place.”

Sandy tried to smile again but broke into a fit of coughing. When the coughing passed, she was too tired to try again and slowly slumped over onto her side. Lee took her hand and gave it a squeeze. There was the lightest squeeze in response.

Lee’s grandmother had told him about God and praying, but his mother never brought him to church or prayed with him, so he did not really know what to do, but he figured it couldn’t hurt to give it a try.

He shivered as he attempted to talk in his mind to whoever may be listening. Around him the captives were in much the same condition as Sandy. Some had already collapsed onto the ice, shivering in puddles of condensation. A few of the others were still upright, but they did not look like they were going to hold up much longer.

Lee waited to hear another voice answer him in his mind, but there was no reply. He did feel better, though, and happy memories of his grandmother began to play in his mind. After a short while his thoughts drifted to the last moments with his mother, back on the plane. She had been curt with him, which was normal when she was stressed, but he knew she loved him.

What would she tell me now? He wondered. ‘Leeland, I’m tired. I’m going to take a nap with Sandy here, so don’t bother me unless it’s important.’

He chuckled to himself. His mother had always been protective of her sleep. 

What was it she would say whenever I had started complaining? ‘Be a big boy, focus on your breathing, and try to feel better.’

Lee shivered again. He was getting very cold now too, and he could no longer feel the tips of his fingers. He held up his hands in front of his face, surveying the sensationless digits. They were bone white, and when he pinched he could see but not feel his fingertips touching, while the rest of his hands burned with cold.

Then Lee had an idea. The old man from before, he had not looked as cold as everyone else, and he had sat by himself and breathed through his nose with that steady, slow rhythm. He must have been focusing on his breathing and making himself feel better. He was probably taught that by his own mother.

Lee figured it was worth a shot, so crossed his legs so he was sitting like the old man, then he closed his eyes and focused on breathing and feeling better—warmer. The breaths came in and out of his nose, and nothing happened. But he kept trying. He had to know if this could work. Then he could tell Sandy and she could feel better too, and after that everyone else. He could save everyone after all!

So Lee focused with all his might on feeling better, urging, begging, wishing to feel warmer. After a few minutes still nothing had happened, but Lee had a mission, and he fixed all of his mental focus on the center of his core. His breaths began to stretch out, to deepen, and his heartbeat slowed. Minutes passed.

Then somewhere deep in his chest below his belly, almost undetectable, there was a sensation, a tingle, a ripple. Lee searched for it again, feeling, sensing. There it was, but stronger this time, and he could tell what it was. Warmth.

Lee redoubled his focus, and his breaths became deeper, more aggressive. He could feel the warmth building now, spreading around his torso. He laughed out loud, but when he did so he felt the warmth ripple weaker, so he cut off the laugh and returned to the breathing.

His torso felt like a miniature furnace now, but his limbs were still freezing. Lee shifted his focus from his core to his fingers. He wished, intended, commanded the warmth to heat his fingertips, and soon he could feel the warmth begin to spread down his arms towards his hands and fingertips. He stole a quick glance before re-shutting his eyes. His fingers were now flush with red, steaming on their own in the already moist air.

He did the same thing with his legs, toes, and ears. Soon his whole body felt not just warm but even hot. Lee was overjoyed—it worked! He mentally thanked the old man, his mom, and even God, if he was listening. Now he just had to share his newfound skill with Sandy and the others.

Lee opened his eyes and tugged at Sandy’s hand, excited to share the good news. But her fingers were stiff. He squeezed again, his heart dropping as he realization dawned on him. Her hand was frozen solid. Her face, crusted over with ice, held a peaceful smile, but there was no life behind her shuttered eyes.

Lee pulled his hand back. He had only been warming himself for a few minutes, how could she have gone so fast? Then he looked to the others. The rest of the captives were scattered around him, motionless on the ice. They were stiffened in various positions, skin and clothing long frosted over. He saw the couple who had been arguing, frozen solid in a final embrace.

The mist was gone and the braziers around the pit had been removed. Lee realized he must have been in the warming himself for much longer that he thought—it must have been some kind of trance. He looked around him again, first at Sandy, then at the others, then above to the walkway around the pit. There were no guards, just the whispering tongues of the torch flames. It was just him and the frozen dead.

Lee was alone.

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And that’s it for now folks

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