The Icarus Project (7 page)

Next a series of pictures flashed slowly across the screen. I had to admit that Jake was pretty good. The images of the tusks and the dig site were awesome.

Dad’s attention was riveted to the screen. “Who found the mammoth?” he asked.

I saw Randal’s gaze dart over to Jake for a quick second before he answered. “A local Inuit, who would like to remain anonymous. Superstitious, doesn’t want any attention drawn to him or his family.”

“Oh, I see,” Dad said.

Randal cleared his throat. “A secure dig site has been established at the mammoth and is protected against poachers and wild animals. The carcass is safe and sound.”

Both Dad and Karen nodded.

The thought of animals eating a dead carcass that had been frozen in the ice for tens of thousands of years made my stomach roll over.

“I don’t see a carcass,” I whispered to Dad. “How will wild animals get to it if it’s buried in the ice?” I asked.

“Shh, Maya. Let the man speak. Randal knows what he’s doing.”

In all the pictures that Jake projected, not one of them showed the actual mammoth. The tusks looked cool, but I wanted to see the woolly creature inside the ice, and so far all we had gotten were dramatic aerial shots of the excavation site and those giant curling tusks.

“Maintaining the integrity of the site has been of the utmost importance,” Randal said.

Then he told us that we would be going to the site tomorrow “to inspect the find and assess the process moving
forward.” He concluded by saying, “Our goal is to remove the creature for study.”

Dad was taking notes in a small field notebook. His brow was knitted and his lips were pursed. I had a feeling something was wrong, but I didn’t want to ask in front of everyone. I nudged his arm. He sighed, deep in thought.

“How about we gather in the laboratory to discuss tomorrow’s events further?” Randal said. “Perhaps the young ones would like to explore the games in the recreation room. No need for them to listen to all the details, since they will be staying here at the station.”

“Not going?” I whispered to Dad. My stomach sank. How was I supposed to experience my first expedition if I was stuck here at the station? I needed to get to where the action was—and playing video games wasn’t the kind of action I was hoping for.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Dad said. “You and Kyle can stay here and man the fort. Now head on over to the game room.”

I don’t know why I was surprised to learn that Kyle and I were not going. We had to stay behind and
man the fort.
This was the most annoying statement ever and clearly was code for
stay out of the way and fill your time with meaningless tasks like watching movies, playing games, and having fun.
I didn’t want to sit around with a guy I didn’t know and “have fun.” I wanted to go on an adventure. I wanted to be a part of the discovery, feel the excitement.
How was I supposed to prove myself if I couldn’t even get to the expedition site? That’s what I came for—not to stay behind.

Dad gave me one of his stern don’t-argue-with-me looks. Complaining was not an option. Neither was begging, and whining was utterly forbidden. No matter what I said, Dad wasn’t going to let me go.

“It’s not fair,” I blurted out. Kyle and I had been banished to the recreation room, which wasn’t total torture. There was a dartboard and a pile of board games, but after the tenth game of Ping-Pong—I was winning, 6—4 (though I suspected that Kyle threw a couple of those games to be nice)—I was done playing games. “What’s the point of being here if Randal won’t let us near the site?” I said, and collapsed down onto the sofa. “We could be helpful. We’re like free labor and can be assistants.”

“Patience. It’s just the first day.” Kyle scooped up a pile of darts and sent one sailing toward the board.

“I bet Randal doesn’t take us seriously. He doesn’t realize how important this is to us,” I said, letting my body sink into the sofa cushion.

“Just wait. We’ll get our chance out there.”

“How can you be so sure?” I asked.

“Because when an expedition starts, everyone goes by the book—follows protocol and stuff. But expeditions take time, and once people are settled in, protocols
relax. Then we’ll be able to go to the site.” Kyle nodded reassuringly.

“I hope you’re right.”

“I’m always right.” He aimed and launched another dart, and this time he hit the bull’s-eye.

I sat up with a spark of energy. “Hey, we could do some work in the lab while they’re away, to prove that we’re willing to work hard. Pay our dues. That kind of thing.”

Kyle’s eyes went wide. “Hold on.” He put his hands up. “I’m staying away from the lab and any kind of work for as long as possible. Who wants to stay cooped up in a lab all day?”

“Well, if we can’t go to where the action is, then I do.” I wanted to prove to everyone that I was serious about this expedition, and I knew I could do that with work.

“Knock yourself out, bookworm.” Kyle pulled the darts out of the board.

“I will,” I said. “And what’s wrong with liking books?”

“Nothing. I just didn’t know a bookworm could survive in the Arctic.”

I rolled my eyes, refusing to let him get a rise out of me. “Do you think it’s weird? That we know so little about who found the mammoth and how?” I asked.

“Scientists are territorial, especially with finds. That mammoth could be worth a lot of money. Randal’s a businessman, so, no, I don’t think it’s strange at all.” A dart sailed into the board.

“But Randal is a billionaire. It’s not like money matters to him.” I slipped off my boots and curled up on the sofa.

“Maybe he wants to do something important that’s remembered and written about. Fossils are sometimes named after the person who finds them. He wants glory.”

“Like the Adams mammoth.” I had to throw in some of my mammoth knowledge, so Kyle knew I was serious. “He’ll call it the Clark mammoth.”

“Right,” Kyle said.

“Are you into mammoths?” I asked, before realizing that was the nerdiest thing ever. I hoped he said no. Not that Dad was a dork or anything—not that
I
was a dork, either.

“They’re pretty cool, I guess. Finding a whole one would be pretty wild.” He looked over at me and tilted his head.

“Tell me about your hand,” I said before he could ask me a question. “What happened? It wasn’t really a shark attack, was it?”

Kyle was silent. He twirled the darts in his good hand. “It’s nothing.” He looked away. “Just a car accident. I don’t want to talk about it.” He turned his back on me and tossed a dart at the board. It bounced off and landed on the arm of the sofa.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No problem. I still managed to kick your butt in Ping-Pong.”

“I knew you were letting me win,” I said.

Karen appeared in the doorway. “Hey, you two. Having fun?” She smiled wearily. Her eyes were glassy. “Time for bed.”

“Mom,” Kyle said, “it’s early.”

“Time to go to your room and at least pretend you are sleeping while you read or play a computer game,” she said.

“All right.” Kyle sighed and started to put the darts away. “For you, Doctor Gardner.” He kissed his mom on the cheek.

“Maya, your dad asked that I tell you to settle in also. He’s speaking with Randal, lining up the schedule for the dig tomorrow. He said tomorrow you could try and contact your mom on the computer if you wanted.”

“Great. See you tomorrow, Kyle.”

The month was just beginning, and I hoped Kyle was right—that there would be plenty of time to make discoveries.

When I woke up the next morning, my body
felt as stiff as the Tin Man’s in
The Wizard of Oz.
Overnight, the cold had seeped in and chilled my bones. I creaked out of bed. I wanted to hurry and wish Dad good luck on his first big day. Luckily, the room I shared with Karen had its own bathroom, and within seconds I was standing under a hot shower.

I had given up on tagging along—I couldn’t figure how to stow away on a dogsled. By the time I got to the lab, it was buzzing with activity. Dad was running around, organizing gear and directing West and Justice on what to pack next on the sleds. The dig area was accessible only by dogsleds or snowmobiles. Two huge sleds waited outside, each with a line of dogs yapping next to it. They looked much skinnier than the huskies I had seen on television. Justice loaded up some boxes on the back of one of the sleds. He raised a hand and waved to me, and I waved back.

“What can I do to help?” I asked Dad.

“No need,” he said, winking at me. “We’re almost ready to go.”

“Are you sure? I can get the lab ready for when you get back. Research, prep work—just write me a list,” I said, pushing forward through a pile of gear.

“No, thanks. Have some fun. Explore the station,” Dad said.

“But I want to help. Are you sure there isn’t something I can do?” I asked, but Dad had already walked away, his attention on the task at hand. There was nothing I could do but observe the scientists packing up their gear.

Dad, Karen, and Justice were on one sled, and West, Ivan, and Randal were on the other. Katsu was staying behind, which I found a little odd. Why come all this way and not go to the dig site? I would’ve gladly taken his spot.

The dig site was about ten miles away from camp, and the group didn’t expect to return until late in the afternoon. As the sleds slid away from the station, I found myself crossing my fingers and hoping really hard that Dad would find the mammoth that he had spent his whole life seeking. But if he wasn’t going to put me to work, then I was on my own.

Kyle had plans to work on the helicopter with one of the mechanics. I watched as he followed a black-clad worker to the hangar where the helicopter was kept. It must be nice to have a helicopter, a hangar, and mechanics of your own.

I cracked open my field notebook and selected a studious
blue pen. I wondered if ink could freeze and realized what a great experiment that would make—trying to determine the exact temperature that freezing occurred. In the meantime, I made a mental note not to do any writing outside.

Day One: Explore the station and take pictures for my presentation to the class.

Mom filled her field notebooks with scribbled thoughts, observations, and drawings in the margins. Pressed flowers and leaves would fall out when I flipped the pages. Once, a dead bug fell out, though I wasn’t sure if she had meant to keep it or if the poor bug had accidentally crawled in … and hadn’t crawled out. But ice and snow did not mix well with paper, so I would have to take pictures instead.

I drew a map of the station in my notebook and started snapping photos of each area. The first pictures I took were of my room and Dad’s room. Next, I hit the lab and the medical facility. I was starting to feel a little like Jake, snooping around every corner, taking pictures of anything that might be interesting. Maybe my project was a little like a documentary, except so far I only had still-life photos of the station.

When I stepped outside, I reached down and grabbed the blue guideline. Hanging by each door were hooks attached to nylon belts that we were supposed to wear and
then clip on to the guide rope, but it wasn’t that windy and there was no storm forecasted, so I just held the rope loosely under my gloved hand and walked along. Still, I was glad the line was there.