Chapter 10: The Impossible Mountain

This aftershock was at least magnitude 8.

Amit gripped the handlebars, twisted the throttle to the max, eyes wide and locked on the road ahead.

I clung to his jacket, terrified.

If the snowmobile fell into a crevice, even if we survived, we’d never make it out of Antarctica.

When an earthquake hits, you’re supposed to get to open ground.

But this is Antarctica: kilometres of snow underfoot, and beneath that, ice that could crack at any moment.

All we could do was keep moving, dodging danger, waiting for the quake to stop.

The snowmobile had been racing for half an hour, but the shaking hadn’t let up—in fact, it was getting stronger.

Suddenly, Amit’s body tensed. He slammed the emergency brake.

The snowmobile skidded sideways, out of control.

We and the bike slid more than ten metres. The snowmobile hit a small crevice, and both of us were thrown off.

Amit scrambled up, ignoring whether he was hurt, grabbed my collar, and pointed south:

"Rohan! Look! What is that thing?!"

I followed his finger and was stunned.

On what had been a flat white plain, a towering, razor-sharp mountain had appeared out of nowhere.

My mind struggled to process what I was seeing. For a second, I wondered if it was some kind of mirage, or if my mind was finally succumbing to the cold and fear.