text: I’ve never felt a coldness more piercing than the wind at the remote research site in Antarctica. Five days by myself conducting my first solo research expedition. It was my chance to prove that I have what it takes to endure the cold and gather samples of existing, or possibly new, organisms from a frozen lake nearly four-thousand meters under the ice. In fact, there were several worksites currently active alongside me, all with new researchers eager to produce some sort of rare find and be given a permanent position. We were positioned a few miles from one another, extracting samples from the same underground frozen lake. I had 2 days to collect samples, as we expected a white-out blizzard on the third, of which I would then hunker down and analyze my findings thus far. After that, a couple more days of sample gathering and then we’d be evacuated. Excited, doesn’t quite embrace the absolute joy I had for this opportunity. My first day went by smooth enough. I maintained the worksite, only losing a couple tarps when the winds picked up, and I inspected the excavation hole that was drilled by the research center when they deployed me. The hole was drilled by a mechanical boring drill, plunging deep into the glacier crust. Hot water and steel broke past the frozen layers and took quite some time. The greasy contraption that did the hard work lied a few meters away from my worksite. It wreaked a powerful gag inducing stench. The hole in the ground was large enough to fit my whole arm down, luckily there’s no need for that as they provided me with a pulley and sample collector to lower down. All that remained of my worksite was some wire fence to keep the wildlife out, a tent that’s seen its fair share of expeditions, and me. A shivering, kind of know what I’m doing, fake it ‘till I make it; me. The first day was a success. Not successful as in I retrieved any usable samples or anything. I *did* stare far too long at an elephant seal, who was snooping outside the northern perimeter, but I mean a success as in I’m still alive and didn’t lose anymore tarp *and* I had a better idea of how to use the equipment, at least. Once I covered the pulley system, extraction site, and remaining gear I ducked into my tent for the night and began preparing dinner. The first night I had imitation potatoes and, in quotes, “salisbury steak consumable dinner tray”. In fact, every night I was blessed with that meal. If not just the potatoes after the first night. That night I was woken by howling winds. The entire tent was shaking, and the sounds of loose rope were flogging the sides. There wasn’t supposed to be a storm until two nights from now. It was hard to sleep to say the least. The sound conjured all sorts of nightmares from my restless mind. The thoughts of unimaginable things lurking outside my tent. I imagined that elephant seal coming through the wire fence and greeting me through the opening of my tent. Seals are fine and all, until one just, flops into your room. I held my sleeping bag tight and closed my eyes. The next morning, I inspected the perimeter and fastened any loose tarps and rope. It wasn’t until I looked at the worksite that I noticed the tracks in the snow. They had been lightly covered after the wind and were very faint. They were probably mine from yesterday. I shook any doubts- I had work to do and samples to catch up on. I can’t be empty handed when they return to retrieve me and the supplies. I yanked the covering off the hole and pulley system and was immediately taken aback from the smell. The smell that I noticed on the drill had come from the hole. A stench, like decaying flesh. A sweet smell followed by bitter iron and rot. I pulled me scarf tighter around my nose and began to work. I pulled out a few ounces of dirt, water, and small fragments of rock. The pulley’s small engine block struggled a few times, so I was sure to let it warm up once I started it and let it cool after each use. Light flakes swam around the water sample like a snow globe. The dirt was clumpy and black, and the rocks were small and fragmented. Sharp and dense, though few rocks were the size of marbles and granulated on touch. I kept the remainder of the samples contamination free and set them aside for tomorrow, when I would look at each sample under a microscope and record my findings. My hopes were low, and so were my test samples. I needed more. I dropped the pulley a few more times that day but was only able to pull up more water and ice, all the same. My second night of sleep, or lack thereof, will always resonate with me. I was awoken yet again by violent winds. The sides of my tent flailed wildly, and the sounds outside mimicked that of rubbing metal and screeching animals. The sound was unbearable even after hiding under my pillow. I heard a crackling, low pitched splintering growl from the direction of the worksite. I sprung out of bed assuming the worst, that my worksite had been destroyed or something fell onto what samples I did have. But I when I flung open the tent entrance, nothing. Literally nothing. No storm, no wind, only the stars in the sky and a single light from behind the tarp covering the worksite. The silence of the arctic wrapped itself around me. And the horrific stench pierced the freezing air. I secured the flap to my tent and laid back in bed. I grabbed a book to read but only held it closely as I stared at the entrance of the tent, inevitably fell asleep. When I awoke the next day the air was still, and snow fell silently. The storm should have arrived, and perhaps it did, but the high winds were absent. I made my way to the worksite, bumping into the drill now covered in snow. Peeling back the tarp to worksite I started the engine block to the pulley and let it warm up. I wrapped another scarf around my head attempting to block the stench from reaching my frozen nostrils. I should’ve been in my tent looking over what samples I did have, but I needed more. I dropped a clamp and swab down the hole into the ice. It takes roughly 15 minutes for it safely reach the bottom. I paced around for a while trying to keep warm and I noticed the area around the hole. The ice had cracked in three different spots. Little fractures were visible, crackling off the cylindric hole two inches in width. I averted my attention to the pulley which was still dropping. It had been twenty-two minutes. I stared at the remaining line on the spool and there seemed to be plenty to spare, but how far down could this possibly go? I decided to let it run. I thought this was the break I had been waiting for. Maybe I would pull up a new microorganism, a fossil from some long-forgotten ocean dwelling species or- *new* species. When the line ran out, I pulled the joint to snap the collection tray on the other end shut and pushed a button, opening the swab. After a few moments I switched the motor in reverse and began pulling the samples back up, refilling the empty spool with line once again. I began prepping what samples I had collected for transfer back to my tent when the line from the pulley snapped tightly, halting completely. The motor made a god-awful screeching noise as white smoke erupted from the top, then suddenly began pulling normally again. The line must’ve gotten caught on something. I checked the temperature of the motor and placed some snow on top of the block to cool it down. The weather outside had been slowly picking up after my couple hours in the extraction site, and it was zero visibility outside. I placed my hand into the snow outside the opening of the tarp and felt around for the safety line attached to my tent, so I could find my way back. I yanked it above the snow, and it hung fastened in my hand, the other end disappeared into the wind and snow. I turned my head back to the pulley as the motor shut off. The sample had been retrieved and dangled above the open hole. I placed the swab into a sealant and opened the collection tray. From it fell, what seemed like, black straw. Thick strands of black, still wet from water, but bristly and stick-like. I felt like I had something worth investigating and began to get excited; imagining myself being appraised for discovering a new species of seaweed. But Christ, the smell must be from whatever this is. I closed the extraction site and made my way to the tent. Holding the safety line I walked what seemed like hours in the blinding snowstorm. Sure that I grabbed the wrong rope, the tent finally unveiled itself through the white haze. Once I made myself comfortable, I began setting up for sample inspection. I was so excited I nearly dropped it on the ground. I opened the sample container and instantly filled the tent with the smell of decay. If this wasn’t a plant, it might be from a carcass on the ocean floor. The winds from outside began to grow violent again. I placed the sample on the microscope tray, then turned to warm water for a cup of tea. I could hear the noises from outside like the night before. Howling and screeching noises from all around but my excitement for this new find distracted me plenty from worrying about the wind. I peeked into the microscope and saw- movement. Lots of movement. And not one shape of cell, but many. I grasped for air suddenly when the entirety of my tent was lit up from outside and the sides began to unravel slightly. The wind became so violent that I hadn’t even noticed the sound of a helicopter. A member of the response team burst through the opening of the tent and was startled I was even in here. “Hey, are you okay” “Y-yeah, I’m fine but, extraction isn’t for another 2 days what are you-“ “Were leaving. Now! In the chopper-“ He pointed out of the tent with his assault rifle and shouted again. “Now!” I grabbed the remaining sample from off the collection tray and slipped into my snow suit. We ran out of the tent and into bursting spotlights. I was helped into the helicopter and we began lifting off the ground before I could even put on a seat belt. As we lifted, the chopper blew snow off the worksite, and the tarp for the worksite as well. The cracks I seen earlier had grew so big that the machine used to drill the hole had slightly fallen in. I was informed that something had gone wrong. I was the only person alive from the five teams dispatched. One site had broken completely open, swallowing the worksite and scientist entirely. Another had sent a distress signal and when the response team arrived, they couldn’t find her. Instead what they found was a ten-foot trail of blood leading into the excavation hole, the entire inside coated with frozen blood as if she was dragged down. The response team quickly noticed the smell from the sample I had grabbed. It was confiscated immediately and I was told I’d be given credit for the find but would not be informed about any further research on the sample. When asked if I wanted to do another expedition, I declined. I took a cozy desk job instead. And though it’s been years since the incident, I still have dreams about the violent winds and I’m woken to the smell of decay. &#x200B; Written By C.T.