“Ah! Aah-shiieet!” Was her answer to Alex’s voice over the speaker as Kiki rubbed the top of her head, and then her neck, slowly turning her head to the sound of her joints popping. The cold must make it worse, she reasoned. Maybe it seemed louder because of the quiet that ensued after the announcement. Maybe her head just really, really hurt from hitting it on the bunk. Kiki gave a little groan and swung her legs out from under her covers and quickly pulled on loose fleece pants over her merino wool leggings, then her boots. As she did, the meaning of the signal settled in a little, and she could feel the excitement building, making a little grin spread across her face.
She started walking as she pulled her wool
knitted sweater on over her
warm, longline sports bra. She freed her long her hair out from the collar as she rounded into the kitchen. It appeared Kiki was the first to make it this far, so she prepped a large bowl of eggs, giving them a stir and throwing in some of the thawed vegetables for a fast omelette. They’d only been here a few weeks and Kiki was over omelettes, but they were the easiest answer to breakfast at the south pole, particularly because they were pre-scrambled and frozen when they arrived. She put hot sauce on hers, for a “something different” vibe and quickly ate, despite the chatter as the rest of the on-duty team filed in.
After most of the team was fed, Kiki headed to the staging area and equipment bay, which connected to the insulated storage and garage. Each of the crew had what passed as a locker there, as you didn’t want to keep the sometimes wet, dirty outer gear in your room or bunk.
The brunette did her signature jump-and-wiggle routine into her straight-legged
moleskin pants and the gray water- and wind-proof
outer shell to the amusement of the others nearby. She’d gotten used to the stares by now – she had her own way of doing some things, but she returned their look with a pointed one as she sharply fastened the waistband.
“As long as it gets the job done,” she reminded them, and her professor laughed as he zipped his parka.
“All right you two, let’s get moving, Alex must be waiting for us!” The professor prompted, directed at herself and her peer. There’d only been four slots for students to accompany the professor this summer (though “summer” in Antarctica was November through February, and temperatures rarely made it above freezing, if ever), so two students were always on duty. Kiki hustled to put on the rest of her gear – a thermal neck gaiter, which could double as a face mask, snow goggles resting around her neck over it, her
parka, shoving her heavy-duty mittens into her pockets and slipping into the thinner, more dexterous fleece ones onto her hands then and there. She pulled on a knitted hat over her dark hair and darted after the professor, through the storage and into the garage, where most of the on-duty team was already gathered.
The door was open to the garage, which significantly dropped the temperature.
“Geez, I can’t imagine spending August here,” her classmate commented, and Kiki cast him a side-long look.
“Och, it’s only twintie degrees Fahrenheit, nae problem!” A thick Scottish accent cut through her thoughts and she blinked over her shoulder at the meteorologist – Charles Baird, who stood in the doorway to the garage in his socks, a knitted hat with a highlighter-green pompom on top, black salopettes over a colorful flannel shirt and sunglasses, holding a mug that smelled more of whiskey than coffee.
“Right,” amusement laced Kiki’s tone, “What Baird said.”
She gave him a thumbs up and moved out to where the snowmobiles were nearly prepped.
Bookmarks