"Well then, my dear, will you be going in?" asked the talented British
"it doesn't really look that treacherous, and imagine the pictures we might get in there!"
"Henry," she replied, "It isn't a case of going in or not, it's a case of where in the world will it come out?"
"Does that really matter?" he stared at her uncomprehending.
"Well, yes, it does! I'm not going into a collapse-able crevice of ice,
without knowing where it comes out, how long we'll be in there, and how
we're going to get out."
"First of all, you're being absolutely silly, if you don't mind my
saying so, because it's not going to collapse any time soon, you have my
word on that, and second, we could just come out whenever you're a bit
chilled, the same way we came in!"
Henry, insisted, so they went in. She hadn't confirmed the basis for
his 'word on that', and trusted that he somehow knew what he was talking
about. Turns out it was the biggest mistake she ever made.
Their bodies were removed from the collapsed ice cone twenty-four hours
later. There were some excellent ice photos captured on his camera,
sealed into a plastic travel bag. It must have been the last thing he
was able to do, before the huge collapse inward, of the ice shelf.
Her face was frozen into a hideous scream.
Writing by Regina Stemberger