Borealis Read Online Free Page A

dark areolas were quite visible, as was the narrow thatch of dark pubic hair nestled between the V of her thighs.
    â€œShe’s fucking naked,” McEwan uttered. The incredulity of his statement would have been a cause for good laughter had the situation not been so absurd.
    The young woman—for Charlie already decided she was somewhere in her early twenties—whipped her head around at the sight of the boat just as Mike turned on the floodlights. The entire wall of ice lit up like a dance floor, the mysterious young woman suddenly at center stage. She had long, dark hair, wet and plastered down against her shoulders, her skin glowing in a freezing sheen of icy water. Eyes large and black, she stared directly at the trawler’s floodlights without wincing, frozen as if in spectacle without movement, her narrow little breasts quivering, her mouth opened in a partial snarl through which the vague gleam of teeth glowed.
    Joe, Bryan Falmouth and Sammy Walper dashed to the portside in unison, causing the 200-foot trawler to list to one side. All of them speechless, the only sound that could be heard above the chugging of the trawler’s diesel engine was a commingling of raspy, exhausted breathing.
    The young woman turned away from the floodlights, her hair whipping in a single frozen fantail from one shoulder to the other, and stared down the length of the ice floe. Then she turned back and stared at the men. By inches, the trawler crept closer to the edge of the ice floe. A second later, Mike cut the engine, and the ship, following a heavy growl, went silent.
    The girl collapsed into the snow, seemingly unconscious.
    â€œJesus,” Joe gasped.
    Charlie spun around and grabbed the coil of line that he’d nearly tripped over moments ago. He found the end and slipped it around his waist, tying a halfway decent lasso. Kicking out the length of line to relieve the tension, he was about to make sure the other end was firmly fastened to the hydraulic arm when Joe grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.
    â€œThe hell you doing, Charlie?”
    â€œGoing out there.”
    Joe blinked twice, shaking his head. “You’ve lost your mind or something?”
    â€œNot unless I’m the only guy who sees a naked girl lying facedown on the ice.”
    â€œHow—”
    â€œListen up,” he said, stepping away from Joe and addressing the rest of the crew. Mike was already hurrying down the pilothouse steps, pulling his coat tighter around his waist. “I’m gonna go down there and grab her. Bryan and Sammy, you guys lower me out over the ice with the hydro arm then pull me back up when I give you the okay.”
    Bryan and Sammy just stared at him, equally dumbstruck.
    â€œWhoa, whoa,” McEwan said, raising both hands. “Calm down, hero. We ain’t sending a man overboard tied to a goddamn piece of cable—”
    â€œIs there a better idea?” Charlie returned.
    â€œWe’ve got grappling hooks down below,” McEwan said. “Ain’t nobody’s life on the line. We yank her up and over with the hooks the way they used to yank people off stage in the old vaudeville days.”
    â€œSure,” Joe countered, “and we stab her full of holes in the process. Nice thinking.”
    â€œNeither one of you assholes is the captain,” McEwan said, suddenly leveling his gaze on Mike Fenty. “What say you, Cap?”
    Mike glanced over the side and down at the broken white form crumpled in the snow. Her skin had started to crystallize and turn blue. “Much as I don’t like it,” he said, “we’ll send Charlie down. Dynamo’s right—those grapping hooks’ll turn her into a spaghetti strainer.”
    Charlie tightened the knot at his waist. “All right, then. Clock’s ticking.”

4
    In hardly no time at all, the hydraulic arm began to whir. Joe and Mike, positioned on either side of Charlie, steadied him