SSSD - Accompany Linda

“I have your back,” Ro says. It doesn’t come out sound very cool; she’s shaky, breathless, and close to tears. What else can she do? This isn’t a situation that she can opt out of.

“Good.” Linda beckons briskly and takes off at a run.

Ro hustles after her, doing her best to keep up. Linda heads straight for Marit’s tool stash in the supply closet, where she finds a claw hammer and a pair of bolt cutters. With those in hand, she makes for the exit. Ro braces herself and faces the storm one more time. She feels like she should call out for Niv, but she can barely speak, let alone yell. She is the smallest person on this continent; she should not be the one with the flamethrower. It’s too massive. Lurching through the snow, she reaches the Snow Cat, where Linda’s busy inside.

“What are you doing?” Ro demands raggedly.

“We cannot let anyone leave,” Linda shouts back. “It is too dangerous.”

Dazedly, Ro blinks and turns to stare at the swirling darkness without really seeing it. But doesn’t wrecking the vehicles also cause some problems? What if they need to go somewhere?

Linda doesn’t care. She hauls herself out of the Snow Cat. She isn’t bothering with her scarf or goggles and her face is rosy from the cold. They push through the wind to disable the remaining Snow Cat.

“Do you see anyone?” she calls from inside as she works.

Ro winces as she hears the wail of a metal panel being wrenched off.

“Nothing,” she replies. It’s the truth. She can barely see ten feet in this. How long until dawn? It doesn’t matter. Dawn won’t help unless the storm clears, and that doesn’t seem likely right now.

Ro starts to speak but stops, squinting. Was that a dot of red out in the storm? She takes a crunching step forward, then another. It’s gone now. She tightens her grip on the flamethrower and rallies as a gust of wind threatens to send her tumbling into the ditch. She turns back to see Linda climbing out, flashing a thumbs-up before hurriedly pulling her mittens back on.

Linda hurries through the snow, stumbling. She grabs Ro, who heroically stays on her feet and supports her.

“Back to the other entrance,” Linda calls out over the wind.

“The long way? Why?”

“The radio room. That thing wanted to get inside. It wanted to call for help.”

“We need help!”

“We need to warn them.”

Consumed by a chill that has nothing to do with Antarctica, Ro doggedly pushes into the storm. The Outpost only provides cover from the wind on their left as they make their way.

The exterior lights go out all at once and the darkness is absolute.

“Oh, god. No,” Ro squeaks, stopping in her tracks.

There’s a hiss and a flash. Harsh, red light bathes her as Linda holds up a flare dripping sparks.

“Generator?” Ro asks, ready to sob.

Linda shakes her head, pointing at the shutters. There’s a faint yellow glow; the lights are on inside. Someone’s just shut off the running lights, and that includes the guide lights that lead to the exterior buildings.

“Where do you do this?” Ro shouts at Linda’s back as they move again.

“Breakers. Basement!”

Great. Ro’s favorite place.

Linda reaches the door but doesn’t open it. Ro turns around with the flamethrower, warily scanning the dark. She’s still seeing green spots from the lights before they went out.

“What’s wrong?” she shouts over her shoulder.

“Locked!”

“What?” Ro demands, disbelieving. She turns to see Linda ram the bolt cutters into the doorjam, then throw her weight into the handles. There’s a loud snap, and she throws the door open. She destroyed the deadbolt inside, not the door itself. It’ll still shut, but can no longer be locked.

Ro falls to her knees inside, gasping. The warmth of the interior is rejuvenating, but she’s quickly running out of strength. Linda slams the door shut against the wind and peers into the corridor.

“We gonna go get the lights back on?” Ro asks dejectedly, gazing at the coats hanging on the pegs.

<No. We have to get to the radio.> Linda is so stressed that she’s forgetting to speak English. Luckily, Ro can keep up. Thanks, Duolingo.

Linda helps Ro up and they move into the hallway. The Outpost is weirdly quiet after the rage of the storm, which sounds far away now. Ro can hear the ticking of the lightbulbs and whispers from the vents. Their wet boots squeak on the finished concrete.

Linda stops short of the radio room, in the junction with the long hallway. She’s looking down there.

Ro joins her. Wordlessly, Linda lifts a finger to point.

Water gleams about halfway down. Not just water: snow. Someone has come in from outside, and it isn’t the two of them. They must’ve come in through one of the west entrances.

Linda gestures and Ro nods. As quietly as they can, they head down the hallway. Ro keeps the flamethrower at the ready, her half-frozen hands prepared to use it.

There’s an unmistakable squeak from the kitchen: a wet boot on tile.

Ro swings around the corner, Linda beside her with her claw hammer.

Deathly pale, still in her cold-weather gear, Alison stands by the island. She turns to see them, breathing through her nose. She looks half-frozen.

“Oh my god,” Ro says.

Linda doesn’t even have words.

Alison takes in Ro, the flamethrower, and the hammer in Linda’s hand.

“Where were you?” Linda asks.

Ro’s taken aback; Alison clearly needs help, but… Linda is cautious. Several knives lie on the countertop; the knife block has been knocked over. Alison doesn’t look very steady on her feet.

“What happened with the Americans?” Ro asks.

Alison slowly shakes her head. “There were no Americans.”

“Where is Signe?” That comes from Linda; Ro is still trying to process what Alison just said.

Alison just shakes her head again. “We got separated. The storm. We ran out of fuel.”

Linda balks and Ro swallows. Alison is claiming that she walked here? Through that storm?

Trust Alison?

Or don’t trust Alison?