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Carved into a moving island of ice twice the size of the United States, Ice Station Grendel has been abandoned for more than seventy years. The twisted brainchild of the finest minds of the former Soviet Union, it was designed to be inaccessible and virtually invisible. But an American undersea research vessel has inadvertently pulled too close--and something has been sighted moving inside the allegedly deserted facility, something whose survival defies every natural law. And now, as scientists, soldiers, intelligence operatives, and unsuspecting civilians are drawn into Grendel's lethal vortex, the most extreme measures possible will be undertaken to protect its dark mysteries--because the terrible truths locked behind submerged walls of ice and steel could end human life on Earth.
spoke up from across the cabin. “Sir, there’s a boy with him.” Now brought to her attention, she saw the child clinging to Matt’s leg. He kept one arm around the boy; the other held a pole with a scrap of white parka waving from it. “Land!” Craig ordered. The Seahawk began its descent. Delta One urged caution. “Perhaps we should remain airborne until the matter is cleared up.” “He’s been sent out as an envoy. We may be able to use this to our advantage.” Fear wormed through Jenny’s relief.
it do? How could they help? She stared at the blue lights circling around and around the titanium sphere. A sense of despair and hopelessness settled over her. She was too tired to fight any longer. She had been up almost two days straight. The constant terror and tension had burned all substance from her. She felt hollow and empty. Then a new voice whispered from the tiny speaker. “Jenny, we’re here. We won’t leave until we get you all out of there.” She barely heard the words, it was the
warfare experiments, even whispers closer to the truth. Other bodies found. The actual truth was far more horrific than any of the wildest speculations. As she reached the end of the hall, the double set of doors swung open ahead of her. A figure in a heavy yellow parka shambled through. Amanda felt the cold exhalation flowing through the open door, a breath from the heart of the ice island. The figure shook back his hood and revealed his frosted features. Dr. Henry Ogden, the fifty-year-old
post-traumatic stress disorder before. But Craig swallowed hard, then spoke slowly. Clearly he sought to center himself by working through this problem. “We passed on word about our attackers to Prudhoe Bay. Someone was going to investigate tomorrow. I wager now that will be delayed. The limited investigative resources up here—military and civilian—will have their hands full for weeks. More than enough time for our attackers to cover their tracks.” “So it was all done so someone could clean up
it was stable. The helmet must have come to a stop somewhere below. Amanda hoped it rested far enough down the shaft to give them a good lead from the beast. Now to wait, to see if the grendel took the bait. 1:18 P.M. Matt knelt on one knee. He spied through a peephole that pierced the tumble of ice. Eyes wide, he strained to soak up every photon of light that illuminated the neighboring passage. He struggled to hear any sign of the beast. All that he could sense was the vague, nagging