The Cold Beneath Read Free Page B

for these so-called adventurer clubs. “They were into all sorts of things. Hunting big game all across the Ivory Coast. Pushing the U.S. borders further west while combating the natives for control of the land. Even seeking out and mapping the wild Pacific Islands.”
    “Sounds perfectly dangerous,” I said.
    Lightbridge snorted. “Sounded perfectly boring to me. I did all of that and more in my service to this country. No offense meant, young man, but in all my years, I’ve seen things that would shrivel a constitution as delicate as yours.”
    “Don’t apologize, sir, there is no offense taken here.”
    One truth about myself of which I have always been well aware and ready to admit upfront is the fact that I am an unabashed coward. Men such as Lightbridge were cut from an entirely different cloth than that of a man like myself. He, a heavy canvas, rough and ready, made for action. While I, a light silk or taffeta, never intended for anything more than show.
    Lightbridge continued, “Those blasted hypocrites had nothing new for me. There was no challenge. I wanted something more. Something dangerous. Something daring. Something, perhaps, even considered impossible.”
    “Impossible?” I didn’t like the sound of that at all.
    “Yes, impossible.” Lightbridge’s boyish eyes twinkled with wonder as his expression took on a distant look. “I wish to do something that has either been dubbed a total impossibility or has, at the very least, bested all who attempted it. I want to leave more than just a footnote in history; I want a whole chapter dedicated to my deed.”
    “I see.”
    My interruption seemed to return him to the moment, leaving him to slump against his chair with a loud sigh. “There are, of course, many solutions to this problem. I considered scaling great mountains, seeking legendary animals, even searching for the real-world location of what should have been mythical places. In the end, it was my beleaguered wife who first suggested joining the race for the Pole.”
    By now I was thoroughly confused. “The what for the what?”
    “The race for the Pole. The North Pole, to be exact.”
    My eyes went wide as I realized what he was speaking of. “You mean you want to seek out the location of True North?”
    The man nodded, his calm expression a beacon of serenity. Either that or a sure symptom of his madness.
    Even I, who read very little of the passing news, knew of the infamous battle among explorers worldwide to reach the North Pole first. My manservant had, on a number of occasions over the past few years, brought to my attention the full details of the failed expeditions. Bradley, like much of the rest of America, seemed to revel in the juicy details of such disastrous results. I had to admit, it was an interesting topic, but a bit gauche for my tastes.
    “Why?” I asked. “So many have died in the fruitless pursuit. I would have thought after DeLong’s tragedy, people would have given it up.”
    “Do you jest, sir?” Lightbridge asked.
    “I’m perfectly serious.”
    “Isn’t it obvious?”
    “No. It’s not.” Nothing about this scheme, or this man, was anywhere near obvious to me. While I understood the premise, I failed to comprehend the reasons for following through. Risk one’s life for the sake of adventure? Seemed like the idea of a madman to me. This notion became true enough in its own sense, but for far different reasons that I at first imagined.
    He cleared his throat and delivered to me what sounded a practiced collection of words. A speech, if you will. “The chance at fame and fortune alone draws most men to the task. As for my fellow countrymen, as well as those of other nations, there is the singular chance to stake a claim in a totally unexplored area of the world. As long as there are men alive, they will never give up on such an admirable goal.”
    Lightbridge smiled wide at me again, basking in his front of patriotism, propriety and pride. But I sensed in