Tabula Rasa

Only the whimper of the dogs let you know they were close. We had heard the first reports from the deep-ice drilling site 3km north from our position. An unusual wall of ice, driven up by two colliding ice sheets. They were boring into it when they hit an unexpected cavern. That's when it started. Experienced miners went missing in the night, found dead from exposure at the drill site. Other tracks would lead straight to the bore hole and disappear, as if our companions had climbed straight in. Now it was winter and there was no daytime reprieve. The ever present whisper of desire, of longing, calling you out into the constant night. Coaxing you towards the North. Toward the hole in the ice. On dark nights like tonight, you could sometimes see figures in the half-light. Shifting and glinting at the edge of your vision. Was this who was calling us? Now it was just me. The radio was broadcasting SOS but with no response; food and fuel were dwindling. The soothing call lulled me to leave. Leave all this behind. Let's leave this wretched place. Let's go to your friends. Just follow us.