MELT: A Psychological Thriller (13 page)

'Maybe we have been,' said Megan. 'In our heads. I know I've been thinking about it.'

Carl offered Glen his hand. 'Thank you, Glen. You've just saved all our lives.’

Glen accepted Carl’s hand and shook it properly. The way two close friends shake. Glen couldn't remember ever having someone shake his hand like that. Not even his father.

Carl said, ‘I have no idea how you kept that bomb from falling by yourself, but we'd all be dead if you hadn’t.'

'Adrenalin,' admitted Glen. 'Pure fear-fueled adrenalin.'

Everyone surrounded Glen to repeat Carl's sentiment.

Glen realized this was the most alive he'd ever felt. He felt like his candle was burning at three ends.

 

 

#

 

 

Carl wiped his hand over the fuselage, revealing black writing.

 

G.P.

500 LB.

AN-M64

 

Lot 11758

EXPLOSIVE

U.S. BOMB

 

'Well?' asked Chrissie.

Carl looked soberly around the group. 'It's a general purpose five hundred pound high explosive bomb. The Allies used them in World War Two to destroy bridges and railroads.'

'Maybe it's defused,' said Victoria.

Carl shook his head. 'This bomb was packed with two hundred and sixty seven pounds of TNT, Amatol or Composition B. Probably TNT. Judging by the weight, that explosive is still in there. It's very much alive and dangerous.'

Holy shit
, thought Glen.
And I was holding that thing. If I'd slipped....

He couldn't describe how it felt to stop a five hundred pound bomb from exploding between his legs.

Megan began photographing the bomb. Alex studied the hole in the ice. Victoria began piling the loose ice over Ericsson's corpse.

'I need a cigarette,' said Chrissie.

'Should we just leave it here?' asked Megan.

'It can't stay there,' said Victoria. 'Someone might accidentally set it off.'

'Against the wall then?' suggested Carl.

Glen waved everyone over to help. 'Come on. We'll slide it.'

'Wait,' said Alex. He rubbed some ice over the floor.

'What's that for?' asked Megan.

'So the bomb slides easier,' explained Alex. 'Ready.'

Megan and Chrissie knelt at the front of the bomb. Alex and Carl knelt where the bomb tapered into the tailfins. Victoria watched.

Everyone looked to Glen.

He nodded. 'Ready? Go.'

Everyone pushed.

The bomb shot from Glen's grasp. The tailfins cut past Alex and Carl like a shark through the surf.

Shit!

The detonating nose-cone sped toward the wall.

Only Chrissie and Megan had time to react.

Both women dove on the bomb. Chrissie at the side and Megan at the back.

Megan hit the tailfins first, skewing the bomb sideways.

Chrissie slid off the twisting bomb, landing between it and the wall.

The bomb hit Chrissie instead of the wall.

Oh, God,
thought Glen
. Did I just crush Chrissie?

When the bomb didn't explode, Chrissie's head popped up from where she'd landed.

'You idiots! You three nearly killed us!'

'Holy shit,' said Alex. 'And I was worried it wouldn't move.'

'Ouch!' cried Megan, lifting herself off the tailfins. 'Who pushed it so hard?'

Everyone looked at Glen.

'It wasn't me!' said Glen, hoping that it wasn't. 'Rubbing that ice on the floor made it too slippery.'

Now everyone looked at Alex.

'This thing weighs five hundred pounds,’ said Alex. ‘It shouldn't slide like that.'

'We should have tested that first,' said Carl. 'None of us have any experience in this type of thing.'

'No one in the world does,' said Glen.

'I'm starting to shiver again,' complained Chrissie. 'Can we just get this done?'

They did, but this time Glen gripped the tailfins firmly. They maneuvered the bomb sideways against the chamber wall.

'Now, no one kick the detonator,' said Carl. 'That would spoil my day.'

'Can we cover it?' asked Chrissie.

'Let's bury the nose in ice,' suggested Megan.

'We need the loose ice to cover Ericsson,' declared Victoria.

'Okay,' said Carl. 'First Ericsson, then we'll cover the bomb.'

Our first group decision without a huge argument
, thought Glen.
Maybe we can work together after all.

 

 

#

 

 

‘Could you pace out the circumference of the ice again, Alex?’

Megan had her phone ready. She’d started some kind of algebra equation.

Alex turned from chipping the ice. ‘I already have. I’ve been doing it every two hours.’

‘Show her what you worked out,’ prompted Glen.

Alex pulled out his phone. ‘I’ve been checking how quickly the ice is melting.’

‘That’s what I want to know!’ said Megan.

Alex nodded at his calculator. ‘After twenty-four hours the dome will be 11.3 meters across. That’s 35 centimeters of ice loss all over.’

‘Hardly anything,’ said Megan. ‘Are you sure that’s right? There’s a lot of water running down that drain.’

Glen did some quick mental math.

If it’s six meters tall and melts thirty centimeters a day, it will take about twenty days to melt. That does sound about right actually.

‘Dad left this algebra app on my iPhone,’ said Megan. ‘You said the diameter will be about 11.3 meters?’

Alex nodded.

 Megan typed that number into her phone. ‘Then it will lose around seventeen thousand gallons of water.’

‘Christ!’ said Glen. ‘That’s a lot of water. How does that help us?’

‘You can never have too much information,’ said Alex.

Glen nodded, and at the same time smelled something new.

He smelled smoke.

That's not my imagination. I can really smell smoke.

Megan asked, 'Can anyone else smell that?'

'The bomb,' yelled Carl, dashing to grab Megan’s arm 'It’s smoking. Everyone get back!'

Alex walked over and squatted beside the bomb.

'Get away from it!' yelled Carl.

Alex raised an eyebrow. 'To where? I won't be any less dead over there. I want to see what happens.'

Glen agreed. Dead was dead. Plus the smell was wrong. He joined Alex, but leaned forward to smell the detonator.

‘Careful, Glen,' warned Megan.

'It's not the bomb,' decided Glen.

Alex jumped to his feet and strode around the ice. 'I know that smell.'

Glen knew it too.

Around the ice they found the culprit blowing clouds of smoke toward the ceiling vent.

Chrissie.

Smoking a cigarette.

She took a long drag and studied the glowing ember as they approached.

'Where'd that come from?' Alex demanded.

'Ericsson.'

Smoke chased the answer from Chrissie's lips.

'I found three in his sunglasses case.’ Chrissie uncrossed her arms to flash a red Bic cigarette lighter. ‘And this.’

Glen felt his lungs tightening.

Smoke triggered his asthma.

'You can't smoke in here,' said Glen.

‘Watch me.’

'I have asthma, Chrissie. I don't have any ventolin.’

'Smoke doesn't cause asthma attacks,' said Chrissie, inhaling again. 'Asthma causes asthma attacks.’

Megan stood beside Glen.
'You can't just start
smoking
in here, Chrissie. We're all stuck in here. Don't you get it?'

'Let's vote,’ said Chrissie, pointing the cigarette at them.

'Here's my vote.'

Glen slapped the cigarette from her fingers.

Orange embers exploded off the wall.

Before the embers hit the floor, Chrissie reacted.

Slaaaap
!

Glen didn't see the attack coming, but he sure felt it. Chrissie's slap had years of practice behind it. Even her fingernails made contact. The last woman to slap Glen was his sister, less than a week ago.

'Keep your filthy hands to yourself!' Chrissie yelled.

Glen snatched her wrist, trying to get the lighter.

Without fire, her smokes are useless.

'Let go!' shrieked Chrissie.

Glen snatched her other wrist.
Try slapping me now.

Chrissie kicked.

Straight toward his balls.

Glen twisted his hips. Chrissie's shoe smacked his inside thigh.

Push her. While her leg's in the air.

Glen shoved Chrissie hard, thoroughly satisfied at her panicked expression.

Chrissie collapsed backward, landing awkwardly.

That’s what you get for attacking me, bitch.

Carl dashed between them. 'That's enough!'

The scuffle had taken only seconds.

Victoria rushed to help Chrissie.