Lost Contact (The Bridge Sequence Book One) by Nathan Hystad (ereader iphone .TXT) 📕

in front of the glowing sun. It was peaceful, despite the harsh climate.

“I think we’re in…” Tripp stopped mid-sentence as the van tilted at a sharp angle and stopped with a loud clunk. He attempted to steer out, pressing the gas again, but the tires didn’t catch. “Damn it. We’re hung up.”

None of us had seen the hole, which had been half-covered by snow drifts, catching the van.

“This is just great,” I said sarcastically. “We’re half a mile from the Token.” I pointed to the window. The Token seemed like it would be in the middle of an open field, flat and devoid of anything.

“As good a place to hide it as any. Nothing around here. No markers. Nobody would ever stumble upon it,” Tripp mumbled. “I have no idea how long we can make it out there before we freeze our asses off.”

“Hunter set us up for the weather.” I patted the jacket, insulated with the best goose down money could buy along with the four layers underneath. My hat was wool, and I pulled it lower onto my forehead. My boots were lined and stiff, and I had on thermal socks underneath. Tripp fiddled with the fleece lining on his parka and flexed his fingers.

“It’s going to be cold, and this wind is no joke. We stay together. I’ll leave the car running. Veronica will be close.” Tripp started for the exit, and I grabbed his arm.

“Hold up.” I removed the radio from the console and tested it. “Veronica, come in. Hunter, do you read?”

It crackled, and we sat in silence for an excruciating ten seconds before I heard her voice. “Rex, what’s the ETA?”

“We ran into an issue with the vehicle, but we’re a half mile from the objective. We’re targeting it now,” I informed her.

“Twenty minutes?” Veronica asked after I didn’t really give her a direct timeline.

“Normally, I’d say yes, but… make it thirty.” I looked at Marcus, who was shoving the water bottle into his pack.

“Roger. How is the terrain?”

“Flat, but could be some hidden dangers, not to mention the ice. Might be tough.”

Tripp snatched the radio from my hand. “Veronica, Tripp here. Come in from the north. Wind is trouble, and that will give you the best cover and allow you to ride it, not fight it,” he said.

“Roger.”

And it was set. Marcus was the first one out, and I went next, instantly feeling the bite of the wind. I wrapped the scarf tighter and started forward. White flakes kicked up the moment I walked past the modified van, and Tripp was shouting curses as we strode in the direction of the Token.

Normally, a half-mile would take a couple of minutes at a jog, but we were walking into the wind, with a foot and a half of snow around our boots. Each step was a struggle, but we went on, determined to find the Token before Veronica arrived. I didn’t expect it would be straightforward to land or take off from these plains, but I kept my worry to myself.

Marcus was the fastest of us, trudging through the elements like he’d done this a million times. Once again, I was impressed by his resilience and determination. The last Token. It was challenging to believe we’d only learned of those coordinates a few weeks ago, and here we were, seeking our last one.

I continued on, my eyes aching under the goggles. I squinted, almost keeping them closed, and tried to think about Beverly and Fred at home with the kids, warm in our childhood home with the Christmas tree lights on and the smell of a turkey baking in the oven.

Then I remembered hearing about Haja and Hasin, and the fire at Brian Hardy’s condo in New York, as well as Castro’s place. I’d been so stupid. If the Believers knew about me, they were definitely aware of my sister. I’d left her alone and vulnerable without a second thought.

I needed to warn her. To tell her to get to somewhere safe. Was it Christmas Day, or was that tomorrow? With the constant sunlight and the relentless traveling, I’d lost track of time.

“How much farther?” Tripp pulled me closer, his voice dying in the wind.

I pulled out the GPS device, but it fell to the snow. I plunged my glove in after it, wiping the flakes off the screen, finding it dark. “It’s broken!”

Marcus had stopped farther ahead, hands on his hips as he waited, and Tripp plucked the tool from me. He rotated it, checking the underside, and hit it against his palm. The lights returned, and I could tell he smiled by the crinkling of skin around his eyes. He shoved it to me, and I signaled ahead. “Almost there. Marcus, a hundred yards that way!”

I returned it to my pocket and continued to think about Bev and her family. If anything happened to them… What about Marcus’ parents in Florida? How deep would these Believers cut to obtain what they were after?

Marcus ran as the sound of the plane’s engines echoed over the field of ice. We’d risen in elevation slightly, and the snow thinned, making the walk easier.

Veronica and Hunter had arrived, and that meant we needed to hurry. I imagined our pursuers were close, and I fully expected the cultists to be armed and prepared to leave our frozen corpses in the middle of nowhere Antarctica.

I stopped to check the GPS, and this was as accurate a location as we had. “It’s here. Somewhere.”

The ground was rocky, with ice chunks settled between any raised earth, and I spotted the bag sticking up from the shallow ice. “I got it!”

The plane flew low, the sound loud as I kneeled at the piece of burlap reaching for the sky. It was stuck, but Marcus already had something pulled from his pack. It was a slim pickaxe, one he’d found hanging in the garage. I took it, hacking at the frozen ground, trying to avoid the rocks as best I could.

“Rex.” Tripp’s