Whirls of ice dust spin across the plateau of the glacier. In the distance, the midnight sun casts pale rays over the black mountains. The mouth of the cave yawns. Around it, excavation equipment lies frozen and abandoned.
In the cabins, Marcus watches the darkness of the ingress with blood-shot eyes. The wind rattles the thick windows and the motions of the smudges on the glass combined with the bleary light play tricks on his eyes. A mug of steaming coffee is placed before him.
Katrina gives a tired smile. The colour has been drained from her face and her skin is drawn tight across the skull.
‘Anything?’
‘Nothing,’ he says, inhaling some of the steam from the coffee. It's like getting a hot shower for his brain.
‘Marcus, what do you think it was, down there? An animal?’
Of course, all he has thought off these last three days is that thing and its origins. What else is there to think about? Some undiscovered creature? Some machine? An experiment? A cover-up? Or something even more beyond imagination than that. Something far older.
‘I am not sure, Katrina.’ Marcus sips the coffee. ‘You know, I have not thought about God for many years. Doesn’t really go with the job. But I find myself thinking about Him a lot, these past few days.’
‘Oh? What about Him?’
Marcus gazes into the mouth of the cave. ‘I do not think God intended for us to find this place.’
Paddy Dobson
18th November 2020