Ficly

We Make Contact, Part 1

Nell chipped at the ice while Ted took pictures. Paleontologists looking for Ice Age life trapped in ice, here on reports of tremors that might bring old ice upwards. They wouldn’t miss out. The chip of the axe and the shutter of the camera almost synchronized.

Click, Click, Click.

As she swung, Ted noted that the echo grew louder. He almost had time to reach out – but the echo turned to a rough rumbling. Nell brought the axe up before her next short swing connected, and turned.

“A rockslide? An underground passage?”
Ted felt larger shifts. “Nell, we have to go! Now!”

Nell stopped to scoop her bag – and the rocks beneath her feet gave way. She slipped downward at a frightening speed. Ted got her hand, but he was dragged down with her.

The pair were surrounded by ice chunks and rocks as they seemed to slide down a slickly frosted natural tunnel. And then, they were spit into a cavern. And they held their breaths. For the cavern was miles wide, and held massive structures built of ice.

Not formed. BUILT.

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