Page 5 of Escaping my Dragon

Of course I would. After all, I’d not gotten my Primetime Emmys and Critics’ Choice Awards by staying safe at home.

“When do I leave?”

Chapter Two

Nothing beats shopping on someone else’s dime. I outfitted myself with the warmest gear money could buy. Luggage, too, since mine couldn’t fit all the bulky outerwear and the boots.

Oh my god, the boots.

I asked the guy in the store for the warmest pair he had. Initially, he had me looking at some cute and girly, pull-on ankle boots, then I explained I’d be visiting the South Pole and bye-bye stylish footwear. Out came what he called mukluks, a boot tall enough to cover my calf, and he went on to explain about insulation and synthetic soles. Whatever. Apparently, they would keep me warm. For walking around the station, though, I decided to grab the cute ones, because hello, the show was paying for it.

As I turned around with my purchases from the register, I bumped into a woman and dropped both shoe boxes.

We both bent, and she held out the mukluk box with an arched brow. “Goodness, you must be going somewhere chilly.”

“Antarctica,” I stated, getting to my feet.

“I’ve been there. Rough place. Would not recommend. Zero stars,” she tittered.

“It’s for a job.”

The woman, Asian of appearance, her dark hair cut in a short bob but edged in silver, cocked her head. “You’re a scientist.”

“Actually, I’m the host of a show called Unravelling the Myths. We’re going to dig into the rumors surrounding the South Pole and show our viewers the truth.”

An amused smile tugged the lady’s lips. “The truth is there are some secrets best left buried.”

“Such as?”

“Forget I said anything. Have a lovely trip. I look forward to seeing the show.”

The woman stepped away, and I immediately forgot her. I’d have to rush to make my hair appointment.

Within days of getting my new assignment, I boarded a plane to Christchurch, New Zealand. Once there, I’d be winging my way to Antarctica on a C-17, a military transport that I doubted offered first or even business class options. Accompanying me was Joslyn, who knew how capture my best angles and the most amazing shots of our environment. I also had Vernon, who spent the long flight over to New Zealand gushing about his new equipment that could handle the cold and the reverb from singing ice. For those who don’t know what that means—me included, until Vernon explained—apparently the wind blowing over the snow dunes could create an eerie flute-like noise. An interesting tidbit that might make the cut for the three-part episode if we needed a bit of filler. Add to that the groaning of glaciers, the crackling of ice, and even a hum when the ice shelf shifted, all combined to make a haunting music that rumor said could drive a person insane. Perhaps another myth we’d explore—and hopefully not find to be true.

After too many hours of flight, we landed in Christchurch, jet-lagged and in need of a drink. Maybe two. However, forget going to a hotel. Soon as I disembarked, a stoney-faced man in an olive green and brown patterned uniform, hat jammed firmly on his head, strode in my direction.

“Miss Jenkins, I presume,” he barked while giving me the once-over and looking unimpressed.

Couldn’t say I blamed him. My long dark hair, tousled from my less-than-successful nap—blame the yapping Vernon—needed a good brushing. Fatigue had the whites of eyes streaked a lovely red, and the bright sunlight had me squinting behind my large, thick-framed glasses—worn because I actually needed them and not because they made me look smart. As for my outfit, I’d chosen my comfiest trackpants with matching sweatshirt for travel, having learned style and long trips didn’t mesh well together.

“You are…” I prompted.

“Captain Harrison, here to escort you to McMurdo station as well as join you on any expeditions you undertake outside the perimeter.”

The tone grated, as did his mission. Not even on the ground in Antarctica and I already had a shadow. I pasted on my brightest smile. “What fun. It’s been a while since I’ve had a babysitter.” Insulting? Yup. Blame his attitude.

At my comment, his lips pressed even tighter. “It’s a necessary security measure for all visitors.”

“Afraid I’ll poke my nose where I shouldn’t or talk to the wrong folks? I’m good at unravelling mysteries.” Kind of like the woman I’d been named after. My parents loved Scooby-Doo a bit too much, and thus we had my brother Fred, my sister Daphne, and me, Velma. When I’d asked my mom if they would have named a fourth child Shaggy, she used to laugh and say, Don’t be silly, dear. Shaggy’s actual name was Norville. I wasn’t sure that was much better.

“Dig all you want. We have nothing to hide,” the captain declared.

“You’re saying I can wander wherever I like and speak to anyone I meet?”

“My orders are to give you unfettered access to anyone and anything in the base with only restricted areas being the exception.”

“Have many of those?”