Burnt Black Suns: A Collection of Weird Tales Read Online Free Page B

remaining men stood in uncomfortable silence. Wendell worried they had made a grave mistake.
    “I’m sure they’ll be back before we know it.” Dr. Hanson tried to sound upbeat and reassuring; Wendell wondered if he was as unconvinced as he sounded. “But in the interim, we have the equipment, and we’re at the primary site. I know the situation is not as fortunate as we would have liked, but let’s see how much we can get done before Gauthier gets back. We are here for another three days, so let’s take the time to gather the information necessary to salvage this expedition.”
    The three of them trekked out from the base camp on Dr. Hanson’s suggestion despite all they’d seen, right into the bleakness of Melville Island. Trapped, they needed something to occupy their minds, distract them from disturbing sights like the severed finger, like the worrying sea of bodies that had mysteriously surrounded them as they slept. The only thing the three could do was resume their search for the elusive evidence of ichthyosaurs in the Arctic Ocean. They spent what hours remained in the day scouting those locations Dr. Hanson highlighted, turning over rocks, chipping through ice and permafrost, doing their best without tools, a researcher, and a pilot. And with each hour that passed they discovered nothing, no sign of the ichthyosaurs they were certain had once swam there. Dr. Hanson grew increasingly quiet as he brimmed with frustration, and Wendell decided to stay out of his way until they finally retreated to the base camp. Dogan, however, was the braver man. Or more foolish.
    “Dr. Hanson, I have to tell you, I’m concerned.”
    “Oh, are you? What could possibly concern you?”
    Dogan didn’t hesitate.
    “I’m concerned for our safety. I’m concerned our emergency transportation has left, that we’re undermanned, and that neither Wendell nor I truly have any idea where we are. We’re just following you blindly. I’m worried about our safety.”
    “Well, don’t be, Dogan. Let us return to the base camp. We will reassess our plans there. Perhaps you and Wendell can help determine our next course of action. There is something on Melville Island worth finding no matter what the cost. I intend to stay until we do.”
    But when they finally reached the base camp they discovered what that cost was. It had vanished. Along with it, any trace of their presence, including their footprints. It was as though they had never been there.
    “Are you sure this is the right place?”
    “Of course I’m certain. Don’t you recognize the shape of rocks? Or the nook we used for shelter? This is most certainly the right place.”
    The three stood watching the snow for a few minutes, as though the sheer force of their collective will would make the camp re-materialize, and when that too failed to yield results Dogan sat down on the snow, spent, a heavy-browed doll whose strings had been cut.
    “Maybe we should go back to the landing strip,” Wendell suggested. “Gauthier and Isaacs may not have left yet.”
    Dr. Hanson shook his head. “We’ve barely begun, we can’t leave.”
    “But, Dr. Hanson, our camp—look around us. We can’t stay here. Whatever it is that’s—”
    “Enough!” Dogan said, struggling to his feet with a concerning wobble. “I’m not waiting to be hunted by whatever is out there. At least at the landing strip, we’ll be ready to leave once Gauthier gets back. I don’t give a shit about ichthyosaurs or Mesozoic migration patterns or just when the hell Melville Island formed. All I want right now is to get off this iceberg and back to civilization where it’s safe. And Wendell, I’m betting you feel exactly the same. So, are you coming or not?”
    Wendell liked neither solution. Dogan was right: staying seemed like idiocy—something was watching them, stealing from them, and had left them for dead. And yet, his solution made no sense. How did he know whatever was following them wouldn’t