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Description
I was never one to hold a grudge. Not really, I mean, as a professional, I was generally flexible in forgiving people. However, if there were ever a person to hold a grudge against, to despise with every fiber of my being, as a professional, I mean, it would be Sarah Palin. If anyone in the world said anything negative about our scientific studies, I could shrug it off as sheer ignorance. However, this one skirt strode in on her X chromosomes and made her personal opinions affect those of the people around her. If Sarah Palin wanted to disregard one of the most important scientific discoveries known to the human race, then that was her own issue. However, when this skirt - by the way, who puts republican skirts in power? - expanded oil drilling in her state, then it became our business. Sarah Palin does not believe in global warming. That is fine and dandy. Nevertheless, she expanded oil drilling.

The animals are not already adapting as it is, with certain polar ice caps melting. The danger though, is with the bearded seals so eager and desperate to adapt, they are gradually disappearing. Unfortunately, with their withering environment of slush and ice-cold water, once glorious glaciers, and the seals dying out, the polar bears are not eating as much as which they are accustomed. With stomachs rumbling, these bears will attack if necessary to survive.

This is how I tangle myself in, along with 90 other brilliant minds. The body of a young researcher was found two weeks ago, on an island reserved strictly for classified research to be developed. Monica, a genial biochemist from northern Europe, who will be joining our trip, authorized the restriction. The island, hardly more than a slab of land with a few evergreen acres on it surrounded by ice water, was shut off from public knowledge in a protocol from 1969, only select authorized people know about it. The list is exclusive, impossible to buy, and priceless, not even open to the president himself. No regular citizen has any knowledge of it. Those of us who do, we just regard it as a piece of Alaska. Yet, if you where to look on a map, you would never find it. You will not find it on a map, and much less on radar. Coast Guard has orders to ignore the slab of land that holds "toxic waste" and deadly radiation completely. Sickening how some will believe the government would dump toxic waste and biohazards on deserted islands but not that the world will end if we keep pollution and green house gasses in abounding supply.

The steady population of polar bears there is slowly inclining; however, their food supply is not. Due to this, nine researchers started the task, under my command; they went up there, rather surreptitiously. They were there to observe the animals in their natural habitats and from the data attempt to find an alternative food source for them. Three nights into the trip, I got a rather strange call. At first, all I could here where the cries of man, shouting in agony, "Agnes!" over and over. Finally, the voice faded and another told me about Agnes' death and that her stalker, forlorn with grief refused to leave her side, wailing into the depths of night and the early rays of morning light. From their news, I immediately began to assemble a team of my own, with a translator, should the occasion arrive. Starved beasts have rage behind government manila folders, never known to the public before. Now, we must bind together to expose classified information to the public and shut down Sarah Palin's expansion plan. We will lose our jobs for this, our authority, our licenses.

My team includes a variety of scientists, and environmentalists and other professions mingled in with all of special skills. We are just 100 more missing cases across the globe, including the translator, who speaks 12 languages, mind you. As far as we know, there has only been one polar bear death on the island, considering the polar bears where just presented with the idea of humans as food. Still, it will be the last.

The first team sailed to Greenland to pick us up, off the shore. There were two trips there. Forty-five for the first of us, including myself, and the translator, a decent fellow named Lenin who mutters to himself in Russian when he thinks we are not paying attention. Four of the original researchers stayed on the island to keep ground and four others came to pick us up. Thirty minutes into the first trip, a glacier the size of two city blocks snapped off an even larger one and fell into the water with a terrifying roar of destruction. Our eyes scarred as such beauty fell apart before us, while we stood motionless and all we could do was watch. They do not prepare you for these sorts of things in Yale, the broken pieces of humanity turning against themselves.

Veronica, a professional photographer from the west Philippines, approached me. She handed me her camera and told me to scroll through the photos. Among the first were shots of her family, smiles and color. Slowly, they became grim. Photos of the morning mist in Greenland. The stern looking speach I gave before the departure.

Later, closer to the island, after watching nothing but rippling water and ice race by, we spotted a lonely bearded seal struggling to reach a solid piece of ice to settle on. I send regards to whoever had to film that. Our evidence is the most crucial aspect of this trip. The best in the world are here, to collect images and documents of the warning signs of things that will end the world. I always thought ignorance would be the end of us.

Once we reached the island, the other four of the team greeted us warmly. Well, the four of them and one's pet rat named Skippy. Once we unloaded ourselves and the portion of equipment that we took, the four of the crew set off for the rest of us. After some quick introductions, we followed the other group to the camp. Around this time, we set up our tents and began connecting solar powered equipment and managing our belongings between the others. I was testing the scarce supply of batteries, which are strictly for after dark use on the flashlights, when everything shook. It was nearing darkness, just past the twilight when a bloodcurdling scream cut the air. Soon after that, there was a deafening crash, strong enough to shake our skin.

I snatched up my parka and ran out to the shore racing after me was everyone. At the shore, there was wreckage and fire. Everything else was a blur. There were limbs, everywhere, and everyone running to help. It took me two seconds to realize the ship crashed against the shore. I ran over, trudging through shallow freezing waters and helped others to safety. A blonde-haired person in the mass, a marine biologist, I recognized from Switzerland, screamed in hysterics, jumped off the deck, and plunged into the water. Several ran to his aid. Unfortunately, in his hysteria, the man swam in the wrong direction. Once he realized what he was doing, his panic level only rose and… Well, an ironic death for a marine biologist, I will admit.

Luckily, everyone else was safely on shore with a few scrapes and scratches. A broken bone here and there, those are easily nursed back to health. I was loitering on the beach when an environmentalist from Fiji beckoned a few others and me to assist him in unloading whatever equipment we could salvage. As we approached that part of the ship, there was a spark and a hiss. Viri, a rather girly reporter standing next to me with freakish upper body strength, stopped and asked what that was, paranoid. We ignored it, but the sparks flew once more, thinking it was just a few stray wires. Just as we reached the boarding area, something blasted. In the darkness that had already fallen, with the temperature, might I add, there was a blast of light and crackled fire soon following it. We jumped on the deck to watch the far end of the ship burn in excitement. Someone swore.

The equipment on this load had been the connections to the outside world. Sure, we had laptops on the base, but our internet connections, our microphones, radios in hope of Coast Guard tuning in if needed, everything blasted into smithereens and flew into the dark. We scrambled off the ship before anything else exploded. Someone swore again.

Then I realized. We were on a restricted island off the coast of Alaska, near the not-to-friendly Russians, but nowhere near enough that they would get to us. Our ship is only half here, now. Our communications are gone. The only sound for miles is the crackling of fire and drumming heartbeats. Terror stills my veins, only my ragged breath appears before me in a frosty fog and disappears into the dark. Together, we are alone.

Description
I was never one to hold a grudge. Not really, I mean, as a professional, I was generally flexible in forgiving people. However, if there were ever a person to hold a grudge against, to despise with every fiber of my being, as a professional, I mean, it would be Sarah Palin. If anyone in the world said anything negative about our scientific studies, I could shrug it off as sheer ignorance. However, this one skirt strode in on her X chromosomes and made her personal opinions affect those of the people around her. If Sarah Palin wanted to disregard one of the most important scientific discoveries known to the human race, then that was her own issue. However, when this skirt - by the way, who puts republican skirts in power? - expanded oil drilling in her state, then it became our business. Sarah Palin does not believe in global warming. That is fine and dandy. Nevertheless, she expanded oil drilling.

The animals are not already adapting as it is, with certain polar ice caps melting. The danger though, is with the bearded seals so eager and desperate to adapt, they are gradually disappearing. Unfortunately, with their withering environment of slush and ice-cold water, once glorious glaciers, and the seals dying out, the polar bears are not eating as much as which they are accustomed. With stomachs rumbling, these bears will attack if necessary to survive.

This is how I tangle myself in, along with 90 other brilliant minds. The body of a young researcher was found two weeks ago, on an island reserved strictly for classified research to be developed. Monica, a genial biochemist from northern Europe, who will be joining our trip, authorized the restriction. The island, hardly more than a slab of land with a few evergreen acres on it surrounded by ice water, was shut off from public knowledge in a protocol from 1969, only select authorized people know about it. The list is exclusive, impossible to buy, and priceless, not even open to the president himself. No regular citizen has any knowledge of it. Those of us who do, we just regard it as a piece of Alaska. Yet, if you where to look on a map, you would never find it. You will not find it on a map, and much less on radar. Coast Guard has orders to ignore the slab of land that holds "toxic waste" and deadly radiation completely. Sickening how some will believe the government would dump toxic waste and biohazards on deserted islands but not that the world will end if we keep pollution and green house gasses in abounding supply.

The steady population of polar bears there is slowly inclining; however, their food supply is not. Due to this, nine researchers started the task, under my command; they went up there, rather surreptitiously. They were there to observe the animals in their natural habitats and from the data attempt to find an alternative food source for them. Three nights into the trip, I got a rather strange call. At first, all I could here where the cries of man, shouting in agony, "Agnes!" over and over. Finally, the voice faded and another told me about Agnes' death and that her stalker, forlorn with grief refused to leave her side, wailing into the depths of night and the early rays of morning light. From their news, I immediately began to assemble a team of my own, with a translator, should the occasion arrive. Starved beasts have rage behind government manila folders, never known to the public before. Now, we must bind together to expose classified information to the public and shut down Sarah Palin's expansion plan. We will lose our jobs for this, our authority, our licenses.

My team includes a variety of scientists, and environmentalists and other professions mingled in with all of special skills. We are just 100 more missing cases across the globe, including the translator, who speaks 12 languages, mind you. As far as we know, there has only been one polar bear death on the island, considering the polar bears where just presented with the idea of humans as food. Still, it will be the last.

The first team sailed to Greenland to pick us up, off the shore. There were two trips there. Forty-five for the first of us, including myself, and the translator, a decent fellow named Lenin who mutters to himself in Russian when he thinks we are not paying attention. Four of the original researchers stayed on the island to keep ground and four others came to pick us up. Thirty minutes into the first trip, a glacier the size of two city blocks snapped off an even larger one and fell into the water with a terrifying roar of destruction. Our eyes scarred as such beauty fell apart before us, while we stood motionless and all we could do was watch. They do not prepare you for these sorts of things in Yale, the broken pieces of humanity turning against themselves.

Veronica, a professional photographer from the west Philippines, approached me. She handed me her camera and told me to scroll through the photos. Among the first were shots of her family, smiles and color. Slowly, they became grim. Photos of the morning mist in Greenland. The stern looking speach I gave before the departure.

Later, closer to the island, after watching nothing but rippling water and ice race by, we spotted a lonely bearded seal struggling to reach a solid piece of ice to settle on. I send regards to whoever had to film that. Our evidence is the most crucial aspect of this trip. The best in the world are here, to collect images and documents of the warning signs of things that will end the world. I always thought ignorance would be the end of us.

Once we reached the island, the other four of the team greeted us warmly. Well, the four of them and one's pet rat named Skippy. Once we unloaded ourselves and the portion of equipment that we took, the four of the crew set off for the rest of us. After some quick introductions, we followed the other group to the camp. Around this time, we set up our tents and began connecting solar powered equipment and managing our belongings between the others. I was testing the scarce supply of batteries, which are strictly for after dark use on the flashlights, when everything shook. It was nearing darkness, just past the twilight when a bloodcurdling scream cut the air. Soon after that, there was a deafening crash, strong enough to shake our skin.

I snatched up my parka and ran out to the shore racing after me was everyone. At the shore, there was wreckage and fire. Everything else was a blur. There were limbs, everywhere, and everyone running to help. It took me two seconds to realize the ship crashed against the shore. I ran over, trudging through shallow freezing waters and helped others to safety. A blonde-haired person in the mass, a marine biologist, I recognized from Switzerland, screamed in hysterics, jumped off the deck, and plunged into the water. Several ran to his aid. Unfortunately, in his hysteria, the man swam in the wrong direction. Once he realized what he was doing, his panic level only rose and… Well, an ironic death for a marine biologist, I will admit.

Luckily, everyone else was safely on shore with a few scrapes and scratches. A broken bone here and there, those are easily nursed back to health. I was loitering on the beach when an environmentalist from Fiji beckoned a few others and me to assist him in unloading whatever equipment we could salvage. As we approached that part of the ship, there was a spark and a hiss. Viri, a rather girly reporter standing next to me with freakish upper body strength, stopped and asked what that was, paranoid. We ignored it, but the sparks flew once more, thinking it was just a few stray wires. Just as we reached the boarding area, something blasted. In the darkness that had already fallen, with the temperature, might I add, there was a blast of light and crackled fire soon following it. We jumped on the deck to watch the far end of the ship burn in excitement. Someone swore.

The equipment on this load had been the connections to the outside world. Sure, we had laptops on the base, but our internet connections, our microphones, radios in hope of Coast Guard tuning in if needed, everything blasted into smithereens and flew into the dark. We scrambled off the ship before anything else exploded. Someone swore again.

Then I realized. We were on a restricted island off the coast of Alaska, near the not-to-friendly Russians, but nowhere near enough that they would get to us. Our ship is only half here, now. Our communications are gone. The only sound for miles is the crackling of fire and drumming heartbeats. Terror stills my veins, only my ragged breath appears before me in a frosty fog and disappears into the dark. Together, we are alone.