Heartbeat in Ice

6720 words

Maren’s gloved fingers scraped against the ice core tube, the cold biting through the layers into her knuckles as she tilted the cylinder under the harsh fluorescent of the lab. The black vein inside pulsed—slow, deliberate, like a heartbeat caught in amber. She held her breath, the air in the room heavy with the tang of metal and frost, watching as the dark thread seemed to shimmer, just for a split second, before settling still again. Her eyes burned from staring, from the long hours hunched over samples, but she couldn’t look away. It wasn’t right. Ice didn’t do this. Ice didn’t move. “You’re still at it?” Harker’s voice cut through the quiet, boots crunching on the grit tracked into the lab from outside. He stood in the doorway, parka half-zipped, a thermos dangling from one hand. His breath clouded in the chill, even inside, where the heater rattled but barely kept up. “Thought you’d be done staring at rocks by now. We’ve got a schedule.” “It’s not a rock,” Maren said, her voice low, almost to herself. She straightened, setting the tube back into its cradle with a clink, but her eyes stayed on it. “And I’m not done. Not even close. This—whatever it is—it’s changing.” Harker snorted, stepping in, the door creaking shut behind him. “Changing. Right. You...