SSSD - Go with Marit to the shack

“I’m with you,” Ro shouts to Marit, who nods.

Hand in hand, they plunge into the snow and slog. Even in full gear, there’s a limit to how long people can be out in this weather, and Ro doesn’t have much body fat to protect her. It’s fighting their way up the hill that’s the worst, and Marit has to all but drag Ro to the shack, where she fumbles with keys to get the door open. She’s swearing in Norwegian, as though she didn’t expect this door to be locked.

The wind is at their backs when it opens, and they spill into surprising warmth. Ro falls to her knees from sheer exhaustion, but not Marit.

“Birgitte!” she shrieks, dashing awkwardly forward in her heavy boots and parka.

The shack is cramped and humble is too kind a word; it’s old and visibly neglected, but at one time it must have been meant to sustain life. With appropriately Nordic sensibilities, it is the Arctic research equivalent of a micro studio apartment.

A space heater glows in one corner, emitting a powerful stench of ozone.

Birgitte kneels in the middle of the room, her back to them. Marit gets around in front of her and grabs her shoulders, then her face, speaking rapidly in Norwegian. Ro doesn’t get the words, but Marit must be asking if she’s OK.

Relieved, Ro picks herself up from the little pile of snow that’s quickly growing as it blows in through the open door. She muscles it closed.

<Stay with her,> Marit says, fumbling with her coat and lurching to her feet. She pulls out a flare gun and heads back out into the snow.

Ro goes to Birgitte worriedly. The cook still hasn’t reacted to their arrival. She hasn’t spoken or moved. Her eyes are wide. She’s alive, obviously, but pale, and the really terrifying thing is that she’s wearing her pajamas. No cold weather gear. On her feet are the sturdy, sort of moccasin-like slippers that many of the Norwegians wear around indoors, but her extremities are still incredibly ****. Ro’s afraid to touch.

“Birgitte? Are you OK?” It’s a stupid question, but Ro doesn’t know what else to do. She doesn’t understand what’s happening.

The door stays shut and the wind howls outside. Birgitte doesn’t look severely frostbitten, but she’s in rough shape. Ro hesitantly touches her shoulder.

“Birgitte?”

Nothing. Birgitte doesn’t blink. Ro turns to follow her gaze, but Birgitte is just staring at the wall.

Ro shrieks in terror as the door bangs open.

It’s Marit with Niv. They have a stretcher and an enormous medical bag. Ro hurriedly gets out of the way as Marit assists and Julie quite professionally bundles Birgitte and straps her to the stretcher. Within minutes, they back outside. Their journey up the hill dug a temporary furrow in the snow which makes it easier to get back down, although doing so without dumping the stretcher is a challenge.

Ro rushes ahead to get the door open for them, and they bring Birgitte straight inside. Linda’s waiting in medical with scissors and warm blankets.

Ro stays out of the way and Julie assists. They swiftly cut Birgitte’s clothes off and cover her in the infirmary bed, monitoring her breathing and inspecting her for cold damage.

Everyone is speaking in Norwegian and Ro hardly gets any of it, although much of it amounts to this as the others arrive at medical:

<Where was she?>

<The shack,>

<What was she doing there?>

<We don’t know.>

Birgitte says nothing. Even with several women touching her body, she does not react.

<Birgitte,> Golda says firmly, leaning over and looking directly into Birgitte’s eyes. <Birgitte, you need to speak.>

<You cannot do this,> Julie tries to say, but Golda waves her off.

Niv steps in, catching Golda’s eye and giving her a look.

“Is she OK?” Ro asks Linda, who nods.

“She is…” Linda pauses, unsure of the English word for ‘stable’. “She is OK. I do not know why she does not speak.”

Everyone is silent, standing around the silent cook in the bed. The light flickers, clicking softly. Ro has volunteered with Gurlberg’s shelter for victims of domestic **** on occasion. She’s never seen this particular look before, but she’s seen things like it. She licks her lips.

“It’s like something scared her,” she murmurs, but it’s not clear that anyone’s paying attention to her. No, Linda is. Ro returns her gaze, and Linda turns to go.

Julie’s eye twitches.

<Linda!>

Linda halts.

<If someone did hire her to steal your work, what did she find?> Julie asks bluntly. <Did she break the glass case in your lab? Why?>

<We cannot speak about this,> Golda counters.

<We are speaking about it,> Julie replies. <Birgitte could have died. Linda.>

Linda still stands in the doorway, her back to them all.

<I found a tissue attached to a metal piece.>

Ro is aware of the tiny metal scraps, most of them no larger than her fingernail that seem to be so important to the Norwegians.

<It behaved oddly under the microscope. I put it in the containment unit with Iskald,>

Ro has heard of Iskald: the old mascot of this lab, a pet rat.

<You said that Iskald died,> Marit accuses, visibly pissed.

<Oddly how?> Julie asks. Linda ignores that.

<I turned off the lights in the lab one night, and there were two Iskalds. I think.> Linda trails off, still gazing into the hallway. <I don’t know. I had drunk vodka. I don’t know. The next morning there was only one. I imagined it.>

She’s silent for a long time. Golda’s about to speak, but Linda does so first.

<But he did not respond to his name. Or do tricks,> she adds.

<You were keeping Iskald and the sample in the containment unit? You froze them? Why?>

<I…> Linda’s shoulders rise as she takes a deep breath. <I don’t know.>

<Birgitte went to take pictures. She damaged the freezer. Maybe there was a plan to get her out and something went wrong. The storm,> Golda suggests.

Niv looks skeptical, and Ro only feels like she’s halfway keeping up.

<Linda, where are you going?> Julie demands.

<I want to find my rat,> Linda says darkly, leaving Medical.

Swearing, Marit goes after her.

Should Ro go with Marit?

Or stay in the infirmary?