Project Hannibal by Kathryn Hoff (good english books to read TXT) 📗

understand what those Washington pencilnecks can’t: protecting the permafrost isn’t some environmental nice-to-have. It’s essential to keeping carbon locked up underground. If the permafrost thaws—if even a fraction of the permafrost thaws—we’ve lost our planet as we know it. Mammoths are one way to help keep the permafrost solid. They live at the edge of the tundra, right where trees start to grow. There on the fringe, anywhere the permafrost starts to thaw enough for trees to set down roots, the mammoths will move in, take out the trees, compact the soil, tread the snow into ice.”

“We already got caribou. Elk, bison.”

“Those are grass-eaters. To destroy trees, you can’t beat an elephant—an elephant adapted to arctic conditions. We need mammoths, whether the army wants them or not.”

Kanut grunted. “Sounds like you need a honking great herd of them to do all that.”

“We will. I’ve got to get them out in the open where they can breed.” He carefully folded away the bar wrappers to be packed out with the rest of the trash.

“Yeah, well . . . it’s all above my pay grade.” Kanut yawned. “We might as well get some sleep. I don’t suppose you got an extra sleeping bag?”

“Afraid not.” Let the bastard freeze his ass off.

“That’s all right. I got an emergency blanket in my pack.” He pulled out a small packet and unwrapped a thin, silvery heat-reflecting sheet that would crinkle with every move.

Shit. The best thing about Brandon’s leaving was that Luis would have the tent to himself. He hoped the cop didn’t snore.

Crinkle, crinkle as Kanut wriggled to find a comfortable position.

“I’m married,” Kanut said, out of the blue. “That is . . . well, I got a wife. Two kids.”

“Mazel tov,” Luis murmured.

“I mean . . .”

“You’re not gay, I get it.” Luis closed his eyes. “The thought never crossed my mind.”

He’d never understand straights. We’re stuck with a herd of mammoths in the middle of a volcano eruption, and he’s worried I’ll try to kiss him.

CHAPTER 23

Grounded

The Cessna’s cockpit tilted left about ten degrees, far enough that Estelle would have slid out of her seat if not for the seat belt. The wing seemed to be leaning against a bank of ice boulders. To the right, outside Annie’s window, the plane tilted up too far to see the ground below.

Through the windshield, Estelle saw only forbidding rock hills and ominous gray clouds. Already, a light coating of ash clung to the plexiglass.

“What exactly happened?” Sera quavered. “Shouldn’t we be evacuating or something?”

“We hit an ash cloud from a volcano,” Estelle said. “Stay where you are for the moment.”

Now that they were on the ground, the biggest danger was fire. Avgas was extremely flammable. She’d turned off the power in the plane, but a spark could ignite any spilled fuel or even vapor. So yes, they should be evacuating—but leaving the shelter and warmth of the plane might be even more risky, especially for Annie.

The fuel tanks were tucked into the wings near the body of the plane. The tip of the left wing had dug into the gravel, but she didn’t see any leaks. Cautiously, Estelle unlatched her side window and leaned it open an inch. The acrid smell of ash wafted in—was it covering the smell of gas?

She opened her door until it struck rock. Chill air blew in.

“I’m going to check for damage. Sera, hand me the satphone from my purse.”

Estelle braced herself and unhooked her seat belt, nearly falling. Got her feet out the door and onto something solid.

Ash sifted down like a snow flurry. Estelle pulled her scarf up over her nose as a makeshift filter.

Left wing tip damaged, but no sign of fuel leakage. Propeller bent.

With small steps, holding onto the wing strut, Estelle circled to the rear. The left landing gear was corkscrewed, the tail skid bent, and the rudder hung by a thread. The right wing seemed undamaged but tilted up toward the sky.

“Thank you,” Estelle whispered, patting the plane’s scraped side. The Cessna would never fly again, but it had performed admirably, keeping them alive.

Now to get help. On the third try, she made a scratchy connection to Alaska Eagle Med headquarters.

Robin answered right away. “Estelle! Thank God. Where are you?”

“On the ground. No serious injuries, but we were in the air when the ash cloud hit. I had to land wherever I could—that turned out to be on a glacier. I’m sorry, but the plane is totaled.”

“Holy shit! Forget about the plane, as long as you’re all right.”

“We need a lift. Can you get someone to us? There’s nowhere for a plane to land—it’ll have to be a helicopter.”

“Of course, don’t worry. I’ve got your GPS coordinates from the satellite. We’ll get someone to you ASAP. Just stay put and make yourself as comfortable as you can. It may take a while, but we’ll get you home.”

Estelle shook ash out of her hair, trying to stay calm. Make yourself comfortable? How? They had no tent, no sleeping bags, just the food and luggage they had with them.

And it was getting cold. She shivered. Night was coming on, with a drop in temperature even if the sun never really set—and she was standing on umpteen feet of compacted ice. Within the plane, they’d have shelter, but no heat: she couldn’t start the engine with a bent prop, and without the engine there was no heat.

This is nuts! I’m a doctor, not a mountaineer. But she was a doctor trained to deal with emergencies.

Right. Her med kit was already in the passenger cabin, behind Sera’s seat. What they needed were blankets, food, and water.

She opened the cargo compartment in the rear of the fuselage and stacked their suitcases on the ice where she