Page 20 of Broken Bonds

Gnashing my teeth in frustration, I stand, wanting a better look at the nesting mothers. There’s a narrow, icy ridge looking over a shallow ravine that acts as a natural bridge between where I am and the nests. I crossed it once before when I was collecting samples, so I begin to carefully make my way across again. I don’t know if I’m overly confident because I’ve done this once before, or just that upset that I’m not thinking straight, but whatever the reason, I’m not completely focused on crossing the ridge. My mind keeps wandering back to Dr. Pyrrhos, and I’m so distracted that I take a misstep. My foot slips, and suddenly I’m tumbling down into the ravine.

I let out a startled scream that causes the birds to start squawking in panic so the air is filled with their noise once I hit the bottom of the ravine. For several moments, I don’t move. I try to let the shock of my fall pass so I can assess if I’m seriously hurt anywhere. Slowly, I move my hands, arms, foot, and leg, and to my relief, nothing appears broken. Bruised and tender, sure, but that’s about it. I let out a breath and slowly sitting up, continuing to pay attention to my body as I move. There’s a pain in my left side where I landed on the radio I had strapped to my coat, but that doesn’t seem serious. I’ll probably have a nasty bruise, but that’s all. I begin to slowly stand, relying on my leg to carry my weight until I’m able to get the prosthetic back under me. When I’m standing enough that I can shift my weight more evenly, I do so, but my prosthetic starts to immediately shake and buckle beneath me.

With another startled cry, I lose my balance and fall back onto my butt on the snow-covered ice. I grab at my pantleg and yank it up over my prosthetic and I see a large crack compromising the knee-joint. Flinching, I roll the pantleg back down and try once more to stand, favoring my leg over the artificial one. By the time I’m upright, I’m practically hopping on one foot. My prosthetic just can’t bear hardly any of my weight with the joint cracked. I gaze around, looking for some way out of the predicament I find myself in.

The ravine is shallow, but the walls are icy. They’re not completely smooth, and I could potentially climb out…but not with one leg.

Damn it, I think I’m stuck. I don’t let myself panic, though, and go to unclip my radio. I click the button to talk into it, but I don’t get any static to let me know it’s connected to any signal. Frowning, I release the button than hit it again.

“Hello?” I say. “Hello? Can anybody hear me?”

I wait, but the total silence that follows my question tells me that something is wrong with the device. Crap! Did I break it somehow when I landed on it? I turn it over in my hand and inspect it. Nothing vital looks damaged on the outside, but it’s possible something got dislodge on the inside from the impact of the fall.

Now the panic is starting to take hold. I hit the radio’s button again.

“Hello? Hello? Please! Anyone. I’m trapped and need help!”

Still, there’s nothing. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

Dropping the useless radio, I hop over to the ravine wall and grab onto a couple small ledges of ice and try to pull myself up. I jump a little to try and get my foot into some kind of divot in the ice, but my hands can’t hold my weight and I lose my grip. I fall again, landing on my back with a moan.

I lay there for a bit and stare up at the clear blue sky. It’s going to be dark before too long, I realize. There’s no way I’ll survive if I’m stuck in this ravine overnight. I’ll freeze to death before morning.

Dr. Pyrrhos’ concerned expression and his cautious words that I shouldn’t come out here alone flash through my head. As it turns out, he was right, but I was too stubborn and upset with him to give him the benefit of acknowledging that there was some merit to his words. Now, all I can do is hope that he realizes when I’ve been gone too long and comes looking for me before it’s too late.

Otherwise, he’ll be rescuing my corpse.

Aleixo

There’s a bad feeling twisting my gut, but I don’t know what’s provoking it. I try to ignore it and focus on my work. I returned to my lab as soon as Samantha went out on her exhibition and I haven’t left it all day. Sleep seems impossible right now, because if I let my mind wander in the slightest, I instantly begin to worry about Samantha.

I wish she hadn’t gone out alone. I know she’s done it before, but she really shouldn’t have. I’m kicking myself because I should’ve gone with her, both this time and the previous time. Of course, I was being an ass the first time and hiding away in my lab, so she likely didn’t even have the chance to ask me because she never saw me.

I tell myself, though, that she’s a grown woman, and I have no hold over her to try and tell her what she can and cannot do. Still, I just can’t help my worry.

That bad feeling in my gut is still there and seems to be growing stronger and stronger with each passing moment. No matter how hard I try, I can’t ignore. It’s like this sensation of impending doom that’s pressing down on me harder and harder until it’s almost suffocating.

With a start, I realize what it is. It’s the bond. The bond is trying to warn me about something. I give in and allow myself to feel exactly what the bond is trying to tell me. I’m overwhelmed by feelings of danger.

Samantha is in danger.

I don’t know what kind of danger and I don’t know where she is exactly, but all I know is that the bond is demanding that I go and rescue her. Every protective instinct I possess is screaming to life. I stop fighting my instincts, abandon my work and rush out of my lab. Hurrying through the facility, I get to the storage area where the outdoor equipment is kept and quickly grab a suit, boots, goggles, and gloves. I quickly throw everything on and rush to the main door of the facility, yanking it open and stepping out into the sharp cold air. The sun is starting to set, which means the temperature is going to drop severely. Even bundled as she’d been when she’d left, there’s no way that Samantha will survive a night out in this wilderness if she’s stranded somewhere.

Running to the shed where the snowmobiles and other winter vehicles are stored, I climb onto one and start it up, gunning the engine in my hurry. One snowmobile is missing, no doubt the one that Samantha had taken herself when she’d first gone out. I have a rough idea of where she went, since she’d told me the area that her birds were nested. Thankfully, it’s really not far from the facility, and I find the area within fifteen minutes or so.

Bringing the snowmobile to a stop, I hop off and quickly look around as I begin sprinting toward the flock of strange-looking, reptilian-like birds. They squawk at me in agitation as I wander among them, but I ignore their furious gazes and flapping wings. My head is on a swivel as I search for Samantha. I spot her snowmobile on the edge of the flock and some of her equipment, but she’s nowhere to be seen.

“Samantha?” I shout, startling the birds further. “Samantha, where are you?”

The damn birds won’t shut-up and I’m afraid she won’t be able to hear me, or I won’t be able to hear her if she responds. I walk a little further, shouting her name several more times, growing more panicked with every second that passes.

Finally, I hear a soft call of, “Help!”

I freeze, spinning around and shouting, “Samantha! Where are you? Talk to me!”

“Help!” she cries again, louder this time, but I can hear the strain in her voice. I still can’t see her, so my panic is in no way subsiding.

“Samantha, I need you to tell me where you are,” I instruct her. “I can’t see you.”

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