Diamond Dust

Diamond Dust

By Victor De Anda

Bill steps on the clutch and cranks the Muskeg’s shifter into third gear. It spits out a noise like a mouthful of broken teeth chewing on ice cubes. It’s not enough to drown out Jason’s babbling from the shotgun seat. All day long, Jason’s said three words and now he won’t shut the fuck up. Instead, Bill focuses on the frozen ground ahead, on the fiery red ball hanging low against the horizon of this Antarctic hellhole.

The tractor treads thrum along the crunchy snow as Bill checks the odometer. Another 13 miles to McMurdo and he can stop pretending to listen to Jason’s bullshit. But it doesn’t end there. Tonight, he’ll have to listen to Deb’s tirades about the shitty food on base, or about all of the ways that Maureen, the new geologist, is a conniving bitch. The chatter never ends.

Jason’s rambling on about the shitty lab equipment they have to work with when Bill spots the cloud in the distance and smiles. It bounces along the ice and snow about a quarter of a mile away. From here, it looks like an elephant-sized tumbleweed skipping along the frozen terrain. Bill hits the clutch and shifts gears. The Muskeg lurches and Jason grabs hold of the oh shit handle.

“What the fuck are you smiling at?” Jason says. “I’m serious about the lab, can’t you talk to someone about—“

Bill points ahead at the cloud he’s driving them towards. “You see it?”

Jason turns his head to look and shrugs. “It’s just diamond dust, what’s the big fucking deal?”

Bill shifts again and steps on the gas. “You can’t see this shit anywhere else in the world,” he says. “You should appreciate it.”

The Muskeg is gaining on the cloud when the wind kicks up and pushes it away. Bill swerves to the left to catch up to it. Jason straps his seat belt on.

“We’ve got to get back to base before nightfall, you jackass,” Jason says. “Quit fucking around.”

“Almost there,” Bill says. They’re close when another gust pulls the diamond dust cloud in the opposite direction. “Damn it.” Bill cranks the steering wheel to the right.

Jason rubs his eyes. “Quit wasting fuel,” he says. “Or we’re not going to make it.”

“There’s a full can of gas in the back,” Bill says.

Jason checks his side view mirror. “If we run out, I’m not refilling the tank, you are.”

The Muskeg is nearly on top of the diamond dust cloud. “We’ve got plenty of gas,” Bill says. He punches the accelerator again and they finally enter the cloud with a whoosh.

Thousands of tiny ice crystals pelt the windows and tractor chassis with a sizzling sound. Bill revels at the sight. It’s like they’re inside of a snow globe that’s been shaken up, the glass-like flecks swirling all around them. The fading sunlight gets refracted by the particles, resulting in a kaleidoscopic light show of burnt oranges and yellows.

“This shit never gets old, does it?” Bill says.

The Muskeg takes a bounce. “What was that?” Jason says.

“Probably just a rock,” Bill says. He cracks his window open and sticks his tongue out. A puff of diamond dust swirls around the inside of the tractor cab.

Jason grabs the steering wheel with one hand. “What the hell are you doing?” he says. “Deb was right, you are a stupid child.”

Bill turns to Jason, a frown on his face. “What did you say?” He rolls up the window and yanks Jason’s hand off the steering wheel.

They clear the diamond dust when the Muskeg takes another bounce. The onboard walkie-talkies both spring to life with a burst of static. A woman’s voice fills the air. “McMurdo to Tractor Two. Repeat, McMurdo to Tractor Two. You copy?”

Before Bill can pick up a walkie, Jason grabs the other one and presses the transmit toggle.

“Tractor Two to McMurdo, we copy,” Jason says. “What’s happening Deb?”

Bill keeps his eyes on the ground ahead.

“Hey Jason,” Deb says. “What’s your ETA? Big storm heading our way. The other tractors have all reported in, you’re the last one.”

Jason checks the odometer and presses the walkie switch to talk. “Copy that, Deb. Wind’s picking up here. ETA’s about ten minutes. Over.”

The walkie squawks. “Alright, be careful out there and get your asses back in one piece,” Deb says. “Base out.”

“Roger that. Tractor Two out.” Jason puts the walkie back in its charging cradle.

Bill spies the goofy grin on Jason’s face. “You think you’re real cute, don’t you?”

Jason stares out at the frozen landscape scrolling past.

“I can hear it in your voice every time you talk to her.” Bill taps the steering wheel with his thumb.

Jason turns and glares. “What are you getting at? Deb’s nice,” he says. “You of all people should know that.”

Bill lets out a slight giggle. “She’s a royal pain in the ass.”

“Funny,” Jason says, “She feels the same way about you.”

A blast of wind knocks the tractor around. Bill tightens his grip on the steering wheel to keep them on course. “So Jason, just how long have you two been fucking?”

Silence.

Jason looks out the window instead.

“You heard me,” Bill says. “No use in pretending.”

It looks like Jason’s about to say something, but instead, he just sits there.

“Fine,” Bill says. “I’ll ask Deb about it when we get back. Can’t wait to hear her side of the story.”

Jason turns around to face Bill. “Now wait a goddamn minute—”

Bills smirks and checks the rearview. His eyes go wide and his expression drops, the color leaving his face. “Oh, fuck.”

He steps on the clutch, downshifts, and takes a hard left. Jason gets pushed up against the passenger side window. The rig fish-tails for a moment, then straightens out.

Jason grabs his door handle for support. “What the hell are you doing? Why are we going back?”

“We’ve got bigger problems.” Bill motions to the frozen ground now ahead of them.

Off in the distance, a long, thin crack the color of a bruise stretches across the ice and snow like a wicked smile.

Jason squints to get a better look and his mouth falls open. “Oh my God,” he says. “We missed it while you were busy chasing your goddamned diamond dust.”

“Yeah, and instead of keeping a look out, you were sweet-talking my wife,” Bill says.

“Fuck off,” Jason says as he scans the horizon line. “Just get us the hell out of here.”

Bill wags his head and straps on his seat belt. “I’m working on it.” He steps hard on the accelerator.

Jason readjusts his seat belt and studies the ground rushing past. “I’ve never seen a crevasse up this close.”

“Me neither,” Bill says.

Jason reaches for a walkie-talkie. “I’m going to radio the base.”

“Not yet,” Bill says. “This whole damn ice shelf could go down and take us with it. They’ll never find us. Wait until we get back on solid ground.”

“Fuck that.” Jason grabs the walkie.

Bill puts a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “No use getting Deb all riled up for nothing.”

Jason hesitates and nestles the walkie back in its cradle. “I hope you’re right.”

Bill’s palms are slick on the steering wheel, so he wipes them on his snow pants. Jason’s not so talkative now. It’s nice and quiet. Nothing but the sounds of the Muskeg’s treads barreling over the ice and snow.

They’re a hundred yards away from the fracture line and gaining when a gust of wind pounds the side of the rig, pulling them off course.

“Christ. Watch where you’re going,” Jason says.

“You try driving in this shit.” Bill cranks the steering wheel hard to get them back on track.

The sun’s lower in the sky now. Soon it’ll be darker and even colder. Not a place to be stuck in this Godforsaken place. Another blast of wind makes the rig veer to the right.

Bill turns the steering wheel. He can picture Deb’s face when he asks her for a divorce. She’s not going to mind at all, or even put up a fight, he figures. Then again, she might tell him that he’s crazy, that he’s the only one for her.

The fracture line’s now fifty yards away and closing.

Jason looks at Bill. “Can’t you make this thing go any faster?”

“I’ve got my foot in the gas tank,” Bill says. He checks the rearview again when a tearing sound fills the air like a giant piece of paper’s been ripped in half.

Bill’s eyes dart to the rearview and his blood runs cold. Another fracture line stretches across the frozen ground and opens up.

Bill upshifts again to get more speed.

Another burst of wind jostles the rig, blowing snow and pummeling the windshield. A thunderous, wet crumpling echoes all around them. Bill and Jason watch the rift ahead of them tear itself apart, a gaping mouth ready to swallow them whole.

Jason grabs onto the dashboard handles. “We’re not going to make it, are we?”

Bill steps on the clutch and upshifts again. “Just hang on.”

More deep rumblings.

The rift opens even wider, almost welcoming them. “Shit, we’re not going to clear it.” Bill lets go of the accelerator and slams on the brake pedal. The treads lock up, sending the rig into a power slide across the ice and snow. “Brace yourself.”

Another tearing sound reverberates everywhere. With a lurch, the ground underneath them drops twenty feet below the horizon line like a runaway elevator. Bill’s stomach is in his throat for a long moment until they finally come to a crashing stop.

The ice and snow underneath them bellows, then dips toward the gaping fracture in front of them. The ice shelf tilts closer to the crevice like a seesaw.

Bill unfastens his seat belt. “We’ve got to get out of this rig.”

The Muskeg slides closer to the yawning crevasse ahead and picks up speed. Bill taps on the brake, but all that does is cause them to slide even more. He takes his foot off and stares into the looming darkness filling their vision. This is what the inside of the world looks like.

Jason grabs his door handle with both hands. “Mother of God.”

The open crevasse emerges in front of them when the rig comes to a halt with a groan. They’re wedged between two outcroppings of snow and ice. It’s holding for now, but another collapse and they’ll disappear into the blackness below. The blowing winds die down and suddenly the air is still.

“You alright?” Bill says.

Jason checks his seatbelt. “I think I pissed myself, but yeah, I’m okay.”

“We’re getting the fuck out of here.” Bill peeks out his window at the rift below. There’s nothing but blue ice and black the color of India ink. “No telling how far down this thing goes,” he says.

Jason looks out the front windshield. “I don’t want to find out.”

Bill snatches a walkie and barks into it. “Tractor Two to McMurdo, Mayday. Repeat, Mayday. We’re stuck in an ice crevasse about five clicks northwest of base, do you copy?”

Static.

Jason’s voice is unsteady. “This is all your fault.”

“Just take it easy.” Bill perches onto his seat. The cab teeters. “I’m going to open up the top hatch and see if I can throw a line out. Don’t move.”

“We’re going to die,” Jason says, gasping for air.

“You’re hyperventilating,” Bill says. “Just try taking some deep breaths, can you do that?”

Jason nods in the affirmative. His eyes are wide open, he’s not blinking at all.

Bill grabs his climbing rope and slowly stands up on the driver’s seat. The rig lets out a groan. He unlocks the top hatch and pushes, but it won’t budge.

“Damn thing is stuck,” Bill says.

Deb’s voice rings out over the walkie. “Tractor Two, this is McMurdo. We got your Mayday. Do you copy?”

Jason grabs the other walkie. “We copy. Send help.”

“The snowmobiles are heating up as we speak and we’ve got a lock on your position,” Deb says. “What’s your status, anyone hurt?”

Bill sits back down carefully, the ice and snow crackling all around them. He speaks into his walkie. “We’re okay. The top hatch is banged up pretty good, so we’re stuck in this arctic ass-crack. The rig’s holding, but not for much longer.”

Static fills the air for a long moment. “Help is on the way, ETA ten minutes,” Deb says. “You guys picked a hell of a time to do this.”

Jason almost kisses his walkie and presses the talk button. “Deb.”

“Yeah, what is it?” she says.

Jason takes a deep breath. “In case we die—I just want to let you know that I love—”

“That’s not going to happen,” Deb interrupts. “We’ll be laughing about this over a beer tonight, I’m buying. Hang tight, and let’s keep this channel clear, over.”

Bill presses the talk button on his walkie. “Copy that. Over.” He collects Jason’s walkie and sets them both on their cradle.

Head in his hands, Jason sobs.

Bill reaches over with one hand and yanks Jason backward by the hood of his parka. “Quit being such a pussy,” he says. “I’m only asking you one more time—how long have you been fucking my wife?” The rig groans as the ice below crumbles away. Jason’s side of the cab inches closer to the chasm. Bill releases his grip on Jason and the rig settles again.

Jason frowns at Bill, his eyes squinting. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You heard me,” Bill says. “When did all this start?”

Jason turns away to stare into the icy dark of the crevasse.

“It’s a simple question,” Bill says.

More silence.

Bill grabs a handful of carabiners from the toolbox on the floorboard. “Stay here and cry all you want, I’m getting the hell out of here.” Another metallic groan fills the air. Bill clutches the driver’s side door handle and braces himself before he opens the door.

Jason reaches for Bill to stop him. “Why the fuck do you even care what Deb and I have been doing?”

“She’s my wife,” Bill says. “Are you that stupid?”

Jason sits up straighter. “Two months. I fucked her the week I got to McMurdo. We’ve been messing around ever since.”

“I knew it.” Bill turns and shoves Jason backward towards the passenger door. More cracking sounds and the rig slides another foot closer to the icy darkness below. Above them, the sky grows darker, the sun all but hidden below the horizon.

A smile creeps onto Jason’s face. “Deb loves me. And I love her.”

Bill grimaces. “You think she gives a fuck about you?”

Jason grins even bigger.

“She’s just using you.” Bill says.

Jason’s eyes blink more tears away. “It’s not like that.”

Bill lets out a deep sigh. He just wants to shut out all of the talking and the lies and the bullshit. The surrounding ice and snow looks inviting and ready to embrace him. “She’ll get bored,” he says, “You’ll see.”

The doubt grows on Jason’s face. “That isn’t true.”

“Just wait until the new guy shows up on the next rotation,” Bill says. “She’ll toss you out like a used Kleenex. I’ll bet you she’s already thinking about it.”

“No, we love each other,” Jason says. “I’d die for her.”

“You sure about that?” Bill shoves Jason again. More ice cracks echo around them.

“She doesn’t love you anymore,” Jason says.

“How the fuck do you know?” Bill sucker-punches Jason in the face. More snow collapses. The rig creeps even closer to the widening fracture beneath them.

Jason wipes the blood from his mouth and studies the red wetness on his palm. “I suppose I had that coming to me. But you don’t deserve Deb.”

Bill stares hard at Jason’s smug face, the veins throbbing in his head. “Deb doesn’t deserve anybody, much less you.” He grabs a walkie and smashes it against Jason’s temple with a crack. Jason reels from the impact.

The rig groans as it inches even closer to the crack in the world below. Crimson drips from the cut on Jason’s brow. He blinks the blood away and presses a glove to his forehead to stem the flow.

“Not such a pretty boy now, are you?” Bill says.

Jason spits a bloody gob in Bill’s face. “Fuck you.” He unfastens his seat belt and grabs Bill by the throat with both hands, tightening his grip. “What did Deb ever see in you?” Jason says.

His pulse pounding, Bill locks his hands onto Jason’s face. His thumbs poised to gouge out Jason’s eyes. Jason relents and let go of Bill’s neck. Bill catches his breath. “You fucking talk too much, you know that?”

Bill punches Jason in the gut and again in the face. More ice and snow crack around them.

“And you got lazy,” Jason says. He takes a swing and connects with Bill’s cheekbone.

Bill recoils, then lunges, his fists pounding Jason’s body like a slab of meat. The rig lurches even closer to the abyss below. Bill stops to catch his breath when he notices Jason isn’t responding.

“Don’t play possum with me.” His heart pounding and breath ragged, Bill reaches for the passenger door handle and turns it. The door springs wide, gravity pulling it open. The cold air slaps Bill in the face as he takes hold of Jason’s parka and shoves him off the seat head first towards the open door.

Another push and Jason’s eyes pop open, his lungs gasping for air. He wraps his hands around Bill’s neck like a python and doesn’t let go. They both inch closer to the open rig door and death below. “We’re both going to die now,” Jason whispers.

“I—don’t—think—so.” Bill grunts loudly and head-butts Jason in the face, the wet sound of smashed cartilage filling the air.

Jason screams and grabs at his nose, but all he finds is a pulpy, broken mess. He cries out again, his fingers soaked with blood.

Moving quickly, Bill leans back and grabs the oh shit handle for leverage. He uses his legs to shove Jason out of the rig. Jason sits up as he slides out, grabbing a hold of the running board on the tractor. His feet dangle over the ice below.

Bill catches his breath and wraps a safety belt around his arm to keep from falling out.

Jason cranes his neck to look up at Bill, his grip loosening. Blood runs down his smashed face. “Tell Deb and the baby that I love them both,” he says.

Bill’s heart skips a beat as Jason’s words wash over him like a hot shower. A long second later and his chest starts pounding again. His muscles tense up and almost instinctively, Bill’s left leg flexes and releases, kicking Jason square in the face.

Jason tumbles onto the ice below. He claws wildly for something to grab onto, but it’s too late. He slides into the chasm below, the darkness swallowing him whole.

The rig groans again as the ice shifts. Bill looks up through the cab’s driver side window at the fading light above. Everything is still and quiet again. The cold air creeps into his skin. He takes a deep breath when another cloud of diamond dust blows towards the tractor, spotting against the windshield and freezing in place.

After a pause that seems like forever, the wind whistles again, swirling around the rig. The high-pitched whine of snowmobile engines echoes from above, growing louder.

The spare walkie-talkie crackles to life on the rig’s dashboard. “Rescue One to Tractor Two, you copy?” Deb says. “We’re almost there, ETA one minute. Jason, you there? Me and the baby love you so much.”