“The light snapped on and I opened my eyes to see Darcy bent over the stove in his long woollen underpants. “Is it still snowing?” I asked him, reluctant to leave the warmth of the blankets. “I guess so.” He struck a match and flames licked out of the top of the stove. “You’d best get moving. Breakfast’s in quarter of an hour.” We washed and shaved and then went down through the white desert of the camp. Paule Briffe was already in the diner and the lights blazing on the empty tables made the pl...ace look vast. Laroche came in shortly afterwards. “Even if they’d let us have the helicopter,” he said, “Len couldn’t have flown in this weather.” It was still blowing hard and the snow was the same mist of drifting, powdery crystals. We ate in silence, joined by the driver of the truck we’d been allocated, each of us wrapped in our private thoughts. And then we loaded the truck and left, and the wretched little oasis of the camp was swallowed up by the blizzard before we’d even reached the Tote Road.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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