Charlie was no help. He perched himself on top of the silvery dome like an owl. He was the lookout, but for what I didn’t know. He just stared up at the sky. He was wearing white snow pants, boots, and a T-shirt. Apparently, the freezing temperatures, snow, and frigid wind had no effect on him or his skin. But that wasn’t true for Dad or me. Dad’s face looked pasty. Even with his face mask on, his cheeks were cold to the touch. His breathing was so shallow that not even a feather would float above his lips. Fear gripped me. The air was rough and frozen in my throat. Without heat, we wouldn’t last the night. I had to get Dad out of there and back to the station. As the sky darkened, our options dwindled. We couldn’t stay in the tomblike death dome, which felt more and more like a silvery crypt where mythical snow princesses buried their fallen fathers. The sled was our best bet. Charlie and I could pull Dad back to the station. But the more I thought about it, the more problems there were with the idea.
