Icebound by Dean Koontz Read Free Book Online

is it?”
    “During that shaking, I guess…did the snowmobiles do a lot of moving around?”
    “Hell, yes, they bounced up and down as if the ice was a damn trampoline.”
    “Just up and down?”
    “What’s wrong?”
    “Not sideways at all?”
    “What?”
    “Well, I mean, is it possible they slid around, sort of swiveled around?”
    Harry turned his back on the wind and leaned closer to Pete. “I was holding tight to one of them. It didn’t turn. But what’s that have to do with anything?”
    “Bear with me. What direction were the snowmobiles facing before the tsunami?”
    “East.”
    “You’re sure?”
    “Absolutely.”
    “Me too. I remember east.”
    “Toward the temporary camp.”
    Their breath collected in the sheltered space between them, and Pete waved a hand through the crystals to disperse them. He bit his lower lip. “Then am I losing my mind or what?”
    “Why?”
    “Well, for one thing…” He tapped the Plexiglas face of the snowmobile’s compass, which was fixed to the hood in front of the windshield.
    Harry read the compass. According to the needle, the snowmobile was facing due south, a ninety-degree change from where it had stood before the ice was shaken by the seismic waves.
    “That’s not all,” Johnson said. “When we parked here, I know damned well the wind was hitting this snowmobile from behind and maybe even slightly to my left. I remember how it was hammering the back of the sled.”
    “I remember too.”
    “Now it’s blowing across the flank, from my right side when I’m behind the handlebars. That’s a damned big difference. But blizzard winds are steady. They don’t change ninety degrees in a few minutes. They just don’t, Harry. They just don’t ever.”
    “But if the wind didn’t change and the snowmobiles didn’t move, that means the ice we’re on…”
    His voice trailed away.
    They were both silent.
    Neither of them wanted to put his fear into words.
    At last Pete finished the thought:“…so the ice must have revolved one full quarter of the compass.”
    “But how’s that possible?”
    “I have one good idea.”
    Harry nodded reluctantly. “Yeah, so do I.”
    “Only one explanation makes sense.”
    “We better have a look at the compass on my machine.”
    “We’re in deep shit, Harry.”
    “It’s not a field of daisies,” Harry agreed.
    They hurried to the second vehicle, and the fresh snow crunched and squeaked under their boots.
    Pete tapped the Plexiglas face of the compass. “This one’s facing south too.”
    Harry brushed at his goggles but said nothing. Their situation was so dire that he didn’t want to have to put it into words, as if the worst wouldn’t actually have happened until they spoke of it.
    Pete surveyed the inhospitable wasteland that surrounded them. “If the damn wind picks up and the temperature keeps dropping…and it
will
keep dropping…then how long could we survive out here?”
    “With our current supplies, not even one day.”
    “The nearest help…”
    “Would be those UNGY trawlers.”
    “But they’re two hundred miles away.”
    “Two hundred and thirty.”
    “And they’re not going to head north into a major storm, not with so many ice floes to negotiate.”
    Neither of them spoke. The banshee shriek of the wind filled their silence. Furies of hard-driven snow stung the exposed portions of Harry’s face, even though his skin was protected by a layer of Vaseline.
    Finally, Pete said, “So now what?”
    Harry shook his head. “Only one thing’s certain. We won’t be driving back to Edgeway Station this afternoon.”
    Claude Jobert joined them in time to hear that last exchange. Even though the lower part of his face was covered by a snow mask and though his eyes were only half visible behind his goggles, his alarm was unmistakable. He put one hand on Harry’s arm. “What’s wrong?”
    Harry glanced at Pete.
    To Claude, Pete said, “Those waves…they broke up the edge of the