Polar Meltdown (7 page)
“Let's be methodical,” said Ben. “We can see where we've been from our footprints.
Let's keep the moon behind us and move forwards up the spur. But it's going to take a while.”
They seemed to trudge for ages, getting colder by the minute. No matter where they looked, nothing showed on their thermogoggles.
Zoe stopped to stamp her feet and clap her hands to warm herself. “Why is there a purple glow ahead on the horizon?” she called to Ben. “It can't possibly be dawn â that's the wrong direction.”
Before their astonished eyes, the glow grew brighter and an arc of vivid green light streaked across the sky.
Ben and Zoe watched, mesmerised, as long shimmering curtains of light wove their way through the dark sky. The colours swirled and flashed above their heads.
Zoe clutched Ben's arm. “What's happening?” she breathed. “It's so weird!”
To her surprise he was grinning from ear to ear. “Don't be scared. It's the aurora borealis.”
“The northern lights!” cried Zoe. “Of course! This is awesome! I've always wanted to see them â but I never thought they'd be like this.”
They gazed up as luminous yellow ribbons danced across the sky, followed by waving beams of red and green. At times the children could almost see giant faces and shapes in the billowing colours.
“Now I can see why there are stories about them being gods in the sky,” murmured Zoe.
“They're actually caused by particles from the sun colliding with the oxygen and nitrogen atoms in the atmosphere,” Ben told her.
“Thanks, Mr Walking Encyclopaedia,” joked Zoe. Then she caught her breath. “I think I know why our BUGs stopped working,” she said thoughtfully. “It must be all this electrical activity.” She scanned the area. “But look how well it's lighting up the terrain.”
“You're right,” said Ben, pointing eagerly. “I didn't see that tall bank of snow ahead.”
Zoe nodded. “Could be the very place for a polar bear den.”
They jumped on to their RATs and set off for the snow bank, which shimmered with the reflected glow from above.
“Thank you, northern lights,” Zoe yelled up at the sky. “We can see really well now. It could be day. Sorry we haven't got time to watch the whole show.”
They skidded to a stop where the bank began, sending up a shower of snow.
“It's much bigger than I thought,” said Ben. He looked up and down the long ridge through his thermogoggles. “It'll take hours to search this lot.”
“Got an idea,” said Zoe. “If it's the weird electricity of the aurora borealis that's interfering with the BUGs then it might only be their satellite function that's affected.” She held her BUG out in triumph. “I was right,” she said. “Look, the scent disperser's OK and the animal cry analysis.”
“Great, then we can set that to pick up the cubs' call,” said Ben. “It has a much wider range than the thermogoggles.”
“The lights are getting fainter,” said Zoe, looking up to see a fading red glow in the distance. “It'll be dark again soon. We must search as quickly as we can while there's still some extra light.”
They moved along the bank, scanning every centimetre of snow with the goggles and checking their BUGs for an indication that the cubs were nearby. But the glow in the sky was fast disappearing, and soon they were relying on their headlamps and the pale moonlight to find their way.
Zoe stopped and held up her BUG. It was flashing. “Polar bear cub cry,” she read excitedly.
“Where's it coming from?” said Ben.
“That's strange,” said Zoe, frowning. “It can't be coming from a den. The cry's well away from the bank.” She spun round and pointed at a jagged point of ice that rose up from the snow. “Behind there, I think.”
Ben set off quickly, his boots sending up sprays of snow as he ran.
“Slow down,” warned Zoe. “You don't want to scare it.”
As they rounded the point of ice, Zoe saw something in the beam from her headlamp.
It was a tiny bear cub.
The little white bundle of fur lay curled up in the snow.
“The poor little thing,” gasped Zoe. “It must be one of our orphans. It's left the den looking for its mum.”
“Is it still alive?” asked Ben anxiously.
Zoe peered closely. “I can see its chest moving,” she said with relief.
She quickly pulled the fleecy sling out of her backpack. “Help me get it in, Ben.” She bent over the cub. “We've got to warm you up, haven't we,” she told it in a gooey voice.
“You'd be better off growling at it,” said Ben, unfolding the sling. “We've got to be like its mum, remember.”
Zoe lifted the little cub up. As Uncle Stephen had said, it was about the size of a large cat, with dark eyes that blinked at Zoe. “It's a girl,” she said. She laid the cub on to the fleece and gently wrapped it around her. The cub gave a small mewing sound and nuzzled into the fur.
Ben helped Zoe fix the sling on so that the bear was secure against her chest.
All of a sudden, Zoe felt something tug at her glove.
The little cub was sucking noisily at the end of one of the fingers.
“We'll get you some food as soon as we can,” she said. “But first we're going to check your den to see if you've got any brothers or sisters.”
“Pass me your BUG,” said Ben. “I'll set it to give off a female polar bear scent so that Junior here thinks you're her mum.”
Zoe handed it over and as she did so, she caught sight of something in the snow. Tiny prints with five claws were clearly visible, leading away across the snow towards the far end of the bank. “Look, here are her tracks,” she said. “The long ones are the front paws. Five pads and claws on each.
She must have come out after the storm.”
They started to follow the trail. The prints led towards the ridge in a wobbly line.
The little cub began to wriggle and grunt. “I think she's warming up,” said Zoe. “And that's made her realise she's hungry. We'll have to feed her soon.”
After a few minutes they came across a dip in the bank. Looking through the thermal part of their goggles, they could see a faint orangey-purple glow, deep inside the snow.
“I think we've found another one!” exclaimed Zoe.
“There's a tunnel here,” said Ben, brushing away the snow. “I'm going to explore.”
“Don't get stuck,” said Zoe.
“No chance,” grinned Ben. “It must be wide enough for a polar bear, remember. They're a lot fatter than me.”
He got down on his belly and shuffled into the hole until Zoe could only see the soles of his boots. Then his feet disappeared inside. Zoe watched anxiously at the entrance. Eventually, Ben's beaming face appeared.
“Got it,” he cried. “It's very weak, but it still tried to bite me just like the fox.” He examined his glove. “Good old Uncle Stephen. Not only are these gloves ultra-thin, they're fang-proof as well.”
He began to go back down the tunnel, feet first. “It's warmer in here than out there,” he called. “Just the place for feeding time.”
Zoe crawled quickly after him. There was room for her to go on her hands and knees so she didn't have to undo the sling. The tunnel gave way to a small chamber. Ben was putting the new cub into its fleece.
“It's another girl,” he told Zoe. “She's smaller than her sister and not as strong.”
“But we've got them!” squealed Zoe in delight. “I was beginning to think this was one Wild mission that was going to be impossible.”
“It's not over till we've got them back,” replied Ben.
“And they'll need food before we set off,” said his sister. She unpacked the bottles and dried milk. Stuffing snow into a bottle, she melted it with a small battery-operated element.
When it was warm, she added a portion of dried milk. The cubs got the scent and began to squeal and wriggle. Zoe quickly attached teats and handed one of the bottles to Ben.
“Better give it to them slowly,” she warned, as her cub sucked frantically.
“It will be a shock to their empty tummies.”
“I'm going to call this one Guzzle,” said Ben, as he tried to release the teat from his cub's mouth. “She slurps every time she sucks. She may be small and weak, but she's determined to survive.”
“My one won't stop poking its nose into everything I do,” said Zoe, scratching her furry head. “Nosy is the name for you.”
