Arctic Gauntlet Read online

  ARCTIC GAUNTLET

  D. J. Goodman

  Copyright 2017 by D. J. Goodman

  www.severedpress.com

  Sometimes horrible and strange things happen without reason. People can debate for years afterward what caused it, and might even come close to some semblance of the truth, but they will never know for certain. What’s about to happen in the Arctic is just such a case, and no one in the world will ever have definite answers.

  But if you are the kind that absolutely will not be satisfied without some clue as to the greater scheme, then know this:

  There are certain places throughout the world, places that have been set up in secret. Interested parties might be able to find a map of these places elsewhere, but for our purposes most of them don’t matter. One, however, does.

  Somewhere in the Arctic Circle, deep below water that most humans wouldn’t be able to survive in thanks to the cold, and formerly under a patch of ice that has only recently melted away after existing for untold years, there is a box. Perhaps “box” is not the right word for it. That might imply something small, something made of cardboard that your Amazon order comes in. No, this is large, not that anyone will ever see it to describe its specific size. After today, the various mechanisms that keep it suspended in the deep will fail and this cube will sink, vanishing in the darkness to rot for an unknown number of years.

  This you can guess about the size, though: it’s large enough to comfortably house four things. Four very large things, in fact. The top and the bottom of the cube are featureless, but the remaining four sides each have a door. The doors have large, faded numbers on the outside, the paint stripped away to almost nothing, but still faintly readable at this time. On one side of door number one, there is a tiny puff of air and water as a small explosive device goes off, releasing the door’s lock.

  Door number one does not immediately swing open. Instead the thing inside continues to swim around in its confines, completely unaware that it is now free.

  As we wait for the thing behind door number one, door number two experiences a similar change. Unlike number one, though, the currents pull the door open slightly, allowing the thing inside to realize it’s free. Still, there is a moment of hesitation, as though the occupant thinks this might be a trick. Then it nudges at the door, finds that the door is no longer barred against it, and tentatively heads out into the open ocean.

  The noises from the room next to it finally alert the occupant of door number one that something has changed. Rather than carefully check to see if it can escape, this one slams directly into the door, as if trying to punish it for the occupant’s incarceration. This gives the thing behind door number one a particularly explosive exit, and even if anyone were around to witness all this, the creature behind door number one would be gone before anyone could see it and describe it. Like its neighbor behind door number two, this one vanishes into the deep blue.

  The lock blows on door number three. This time the door opens with no hesitation at all, as though its occupant had been aware this was going to happen. It leaves with slow but intentional purpose. It knows that two others came before it. It knows that they will prepare its way. It knows that when it joins the others, they will all have much sport.

  The fourth and final door does not open.

  From inside, something smashes against the door. Any observer, if such a person hadn’t already left out of terror at the sights that came out of the first three doors, might interpret the deep, heavy thuds of the last occupant as angry, like perhaps it knows the others have gone. Maybe it is even smart enough to realize that, whatever force there might have been that put these four creatures in the box, this force knew that the last one must never be unleashed, that whatever horror and chaos the first three might release on the world, the unimaginable terror of the fourth was too much even for their standards.

  Something smashes at the door again. A visible dent appears. Another will appear soon. And another. Door number four will not hold out for much longer. The door will fail, and the occupant will escape.

  You do not want to be here when it does. You will be some distance away, watching events unfold, but you will know this is happening. You will know something is coming. You will know that the events you’re going to watch will be catastrophic.

  But before you go, one last detail. Upon closer inspection, you see that the top of the box is not as featureless as you first thought. Much like the numbers on the doors, there is something painted here that has lost most of it definition in the frozen elements. It’s not a number, though. It’s some kind of curving, twisting shape in silver and blue.

  Is that supposed to be a paperclip? You think it might be, but that doesn’t make any sense. What would a paperclip have to do with any of this?

  This is not a question you will have answered, at least not just now. Perhaps if you search in the right places, the right stories, at some point in the future you might eventually know.

  But for now that is enough. You have other events you need to witness.

  And then, sometime very soon, you will have carnage.

  Chapter One

  Quinne gripped the cold metal of the railing, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath through her nose. The scent of salt water assaulted her nostrils, along with something else. She knew this scent, had in fact grown up with it as a young girl living in small-town Minnesota, yet she had no name for it. No one did, as far as she was aware. People who had never lived in colder climates wouldn’t even know that there was a scent for this. Except it wasn’t really a scent at all. It was more like the absence of a scent. The hairs in one’s nostrils, or whatever the hell it might be that sensed odors, felt like they froze in the cold. It was the smell of frozen wind, icy tundra, and air dry from the moisture hardening before it could permeate the air.

  To most people, this wouldn’t be their definition of perfect vacation weather. To Quinne Quiver, it was heaven.

  Not that anyone here on the cruise ship would officially know her by that name. Her ticket, her credit card, her passport, were all under her legal name, Laurie Schnellmann. She still kept that name for all her mundane needs, but that wasn’t how she thought of herself, and when she was in company that she thought would be receptive, she introduced herself as Quinne. Sometimes people would recognize the name, but most of the people who might be familiar with her wouldn’t truly recognize her with her clothes on.

  And her clothes were definitely going to be on for the majority of this trip. This was day three of the Lucky Lady Duck’s ten-day cruise of the Arctic, and even though it was in the middle of summer, that didn’t matter this far north. Even with massive amounts of ice melting, this was still one of the colder parts of the planet. Any time she went outside, she would need her heavy coat and gloves. The bulky winter-wear covered up her lanky form and massive number of tattoos. The only hints of her trademark style that were still visible were her midnight black hair and dark makeup. It set her apart from most of the other passengers on what was typically known as a squeaky-clean cruise liner. Parents kept their children away from her, and although a few single guys had made passes at her, there was still something intimidating about her manner that kept all but the boldest away.

  Which was actually kind of a problem right now, since night was starting to fall and Quinne had gone for almost a whole week without sex. She was really horny about now.

  She supposed she could go and find one of the many bars in the Lucky Lady Duck’s mall-like corridors and get herself a companion for the night, but for now the view on deck was a more powerful lure than her libido. Most of the passengers had gone in for dinner, leaving Quinne alone with this amazing sunset—which, she had to remind herself, wasn’t actually a sunset at all. According
to their itinerary, the sun would actually begin setting again in the final days of their trip, but then only for extremely brief periods of time before it rose again. During summer in the Arctic, there were days so long they technically didn’t end at all. It provided a view at all hours of the day, and just the day before, Quinne had taken advantage of this, coming out in what was supposed to be the small hours of the morning and getting an amazing view all to herself of whales breaching in the middle distance. If she were lucky, she might see something again if she were only patient enough.

  Her ears picked up something very quiet from behind her, and she knew she was no longer alone. She stiffened, but wouldn’t turn around. Old habits would dictate that she immediately be on alert, especially since she was effectively alone with whoever this might be. But she’d worked very hard not to let such small things set her on edge. Not everything was an impending disaster, and not every random person was going to attack her.

  Still, there were enough of her old habits left that she carefully listened to the person’s every tiny movement, tracking them as they walked around behind her. Her best guess was that the person was female, and probably rather small, maybe even smaller than Quinne’s petite frame. Whoever it was, she was practiced at being quiet, unobtrusive. Someone timid, maybe. Quinne knew what it was like to be like that. She worked hard to do the opposite now. Timidity wasn’t exactly an asset in her line of work.

  Quinne didn’t turn to look at the person as she took a position at the railing farther down the deck, but after several seconds she made a quick glance in her direction. She was right that it had been a woman, although maybe girl would have been more accurate. At twenty, many people considered Quinne practically a baby herself, but this one was young enough that Quinne couldn’t actually be sure if she was an adult or not. She also had a significant difference in the way she dressed. Oh, she was in all the proper outerwear for the weather, but she also wore a hijab. In fact, Quinne thought she might have seen the young woman around on the ship. She’d also seen random assholes whisper behind the girl’s back when she wasn’t looking. The girl had appeared to be travelling alone, which probably only gave the shithead gossips more fuel to work with.

  Quinne pulled out a cigarette and lighter from her coat pocket. The Lucky Lady Duck was supposed to be strictly smoke-free, but in just a few days Quinne had grown quite adept at sneaking in her habit while no one was looking.

  “Hey,” Quinne said. “Want a smoke?”

  The girl jerked around to look at her, like Quinne had suddenly appeared next to her out of nowhere. “What?” the girl asked.

  “A smoke,” Quinne said, holding the cigarette up. “Want a cigarette?”

  “Um, no. Thank you. I don’t smoke.”

  “Well, I’m going to smoke. If it bothers you, just let me know and I can find a place somewhere else on the deck.”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s not supposed to be allowed.”

  “And I’m pretty sure you’re right.” Quinne stuck the filter in her mouth and lit the cigarette. She took a deep drag, then angled the smoke out the side of her mouth so she wasn’t blowing it directly in the girl’s face. She thought for a second that the girl would indeed ask her to move, and if she did Quinne would do it with no problem. Smoking was a rather new habit for her, something she had taken up almost by accident in order to pass the down time when she was waiting on yet another flaky male talent to show up at the set. Having watched her mother die of lung cancer, she was very much aware of why others might not want anything to do with smokers. But she knew others who did a lot worse than just smoke, so she figured she was doing pretty good.

  The girl didn’t say anything, though. She didn’t even take a step away from Quinne. In fact, she leaned forward just a bit. After several seconds the girl said, “Actually, can I try one after all?”

  Quinne raised an eyebrow but said nothing as she pulled her pack back out of her pocket and shook another one out. She handed the girl both the cigarette and the lighter, but she looked at them both as though she didn’t have the first clue how to start. Quinne pocketed the lighter again, then lit the second cigarette on her own and handed it to her.

  “Thanks,” the girl said. The cigarette looked awkward in her hand, like she’d never held one before, and Quinne fully expected her to erupt in coughs when she took her first drag. She didn’t, though. The girl held the smoke in her lungs for several seconds before letting it out. “Kind of burns, doesn’t it?”

  “It can,” Quinne said. “I’m Quinne, by the way.”

  The girl gave her a long, appraising look, the kind that people clearly gave Quinne when they felt a spark of recognition and were trying to picture her butt naked just to be sure. Quinne cocked an eyebrow again. Maybe she wasn’t as much the innocent as she had first appeared.

  “Amani,” she replied.

  “Pleased to meet you, Amani.”

  Amani took one more drag, then handed the cigarette back. “That’s all I really needed for now. Thanks.”

  Quinne nodded, pinched off the ash, and then put the rest of the partially smoked cigarette back in the pack. “I take it that’s not usual for you?”

  “No, it’s just… You just looked… I don’t know. So calm smoking it.”

  “Needed some calming down?”

  “Yeah, I guess I did.”

  “And did it work?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” But Quinne could tell that there was no maybe about it. All of the quietness and hesitancy she’d seen when Amani approached was gone now.

  “Want to talk about it?” Quinne asked.

  “No.”

  Quinne nodded, then turned back to look out at the icy open ocean. She couldn’t help but notice the way Amani stood closer to her now, just outside Quinne’s personal bubble.

  After several minutes of silence, Amani spoke again. “You here with anyone?”

  “I’m with you, ain’t I?”

  “I mean here on the cruise. On the ship.”

  “Nope. Just me. Personal vacation. What about you? You alone?”

  Amani tensed. “Yes. Is that a problem?”

  “Why would that be a problem?”

  “People see someone like me, with my clothing and my colored skin, and then they find out that I’m travelling alone, they start to back away from me. You know, or start to report my every move to ship security.”

  “Seriously?” Quinne asked. “Man, fuck people. People suck.”

  Amani smiled.

  There were several more moments of silence where Quinne thought out her next actions. There would be nothing wrong with it, she decided, as long as she was respectful if Amani wasn’t interested.

  “Amani, are you eighteen?”

  Amani frowned. “That’s kind of an odd question.”

  “Well, I know you recognized me. Technically, most people shouldn’t recognize me if they’re not legally an adult.”

  Amani looked away, clearly embarrassed. “I’m sorry.”

  “What’s to be sorry for?”

  “For staring. It’s not every day someone meets a… you know.”

  “You can say it. The words won’t bite you.”

  “A porn star.”

  “Actually, I would say that I meet other porn stars quite often. But that’s kind of beside the point. You still didn’t answer the question.”

  “Eighteen isn’t the technical age for adulthood everywhere, you know.”

  “I know. But just because we’re in international waters doesn’t mean long-trained habits on my part just go away.”

  “Okay. Yes, I’m eighteen. I still think that’s an odd question.”

  “I asked because I don’t invite anyone back to my room if they’re not eighteen,” Quinne said.

  Amani did a double take at her. If she’d been drinking something, Quinne was sure it would have sprayed out of her mouth and into the Arctic Ocean.

  “If you’re not interested, that’s cool,” Quinne said. “You don’
t need to feel awkward about saying no.”

  “Do you often ask total strangers to sleep with you?”

  “I wouldn’t say often. But I’m not afraid of looking for what I want, either.”

  “Oh. Well, uh, I’m not…”

  “Gotcha. No worries. I just thought that if you recognized me, it would be more likely from my girl-girl work.”

  Amani was silent for a long time. Finally she said, “Actually, that is where I recognize you from.”

  Quinne nodded. “Not something you’re used to admitting to strangers, is it?”

  Amani went quiet again. Quinne knew exactly what she was seeing. Hell, she’d had to go through this once herself. Amani here was a baby gay. She was still trying to come to terms with whatever she might be, whether it was lesbian or bisexual. She was curious, she knew what she wanted to do and try, but she was scared. Maybe she had family that wouldn’t approve. That might account for why the girl was on a trip like this alone. This was about soul searching. Of course, when Quinne had needed to come to terms with being pansexual, her own searching had been in the backs of pickups rather than on a family cruise liner.

  “Look, if you’re not ready or you’re just not interested in me in particular, that’s okay. Trust me on this: you don’t want to push it. But if you do change your mind, I’m sure you’ll see me around the ship.”

  Quinne stubbed out her cigarette, tucked away the filter where she could later properly throw it away rather than chucking it in the ocean, and started to head back inside. She wasn’t terribly surprised, though, when Amani caught her by the arm.

  “Wait. Maybe… maybe we could just go back… I mean, head to your room and… well, you know.”

  “Just see what happens?” Quinne asked with a smile.

  “Yeah.” Amani’s voice was quiet, almost reverential, like she thought this was going to be some huge, unforgettable moment in her life. Quinne made a mental note, if this did go all the way tonight, to do what she could to make it memorable for her.

  “Okay then,” Quinne said. “If you’re ready to go back…” Her voice trailed off as she saw something in the distance. “Wait. Look!”