Maid for the South Pole

ONE Nothing brought a smile to Jean's face like penguins. There was just something about them that could make anyone happy. Here on Heard Island, there were hundreds of them, waddling around Wharf Point without a care in the world. Triumph exploded in Jean's chest. He'd found them! Now, all he needed to do was find a high vantage point where he could see if there were any babies in the colony. A moss-covered mound looked to be the highest point on this part of the Azorella Peninsula, so Jean scrambled across the dark volcanic rock toward his own, personal grassy knoll. Once he reached the top, he'd see... The cushion plant beneath his feet compressed under his weight. Sinkhole. One word was all Jean had time to think before the fragile net gave way. Falling into darkness. One second. Two. Three? Was it eternity, or did it just feel that way? The impact jarred every bone in his body, forcing the breath from his lungs. He lifted his head to watch the cloud of condensation whoosh upwards, a smoke signal to mark his location, but there was no sky to be seen above. The traitorous bush had covered its trap, Jean realised. Damn Australian territory, even if it was part of Antarctica and not the Aussie mainland. Even the plants were trying to kill him. But he was a goddamn Canadian biologist, and not city-bred, either. He'd grown up next door to the Arctic and he wasn't about to be outsmarted by a plant on the wrong side of the world. Jean extended his arms, reaching for a wall or a rock or something else to haul himself up on. He couldn't have fallen that far. A couple of metres, maybe. No more than three. His fingers touched cool, smooth stone. Huh. He must've lost his glove on the way down. Just one, though – he still wore the other one. He ran his bare hand over the rock, looking for a ledge or bulge big enough to wrap his hand around to take his weight. He found a hole big enough to fit his whole hand inside, then another, and that was enough. Under his breath, he muttered, "One, two, thr...ungh!" The moment he put weight on his leg, pain knifed through him. Much like space, in a lava tube on Heard Island, no one could hear you scream. Breathing hard, Jean leaned on his other leg instead. This time, he didn't get to scream. The pain was so bad, it stole all of his senses as it knocked him out.