“I’m not kidding,” Johnny said, “there’s somebody inside, under the glacier.”

“What?” Betty and Vanessa crowded next to him, peering into the gloom. “Where?”

“Right there.”

They followed the direction indicated by his pointing finger, and out of the dim a figure coalesced, a dark outline, vaguely human, sitting bolt upright with its back to the ice where the ice curved in to meet the gravel. The figure appeared to be clothed. At least no flesh was gleaming whitely at them.

It also wasn’t moving. “Um, hello?” Johnny said.

It didn’t move. “Hello, you there inside the glacier,” Betty said in an unconscious imitation of Ms. Doogan’s authoritarian accents. “You need to come out from under the glacier. It could fall on you.”

At that moment a shard of ice roughly the size of a brontosaurus calved from the face of the glacier and smashed to the earth outside in a thousand pieces, one of which narrowly missed Andrea, which, after her own heart settled down, Vanessa thought was a darn shame. They all jumped and bumped into each other. Johnny swore. Andrea, of course, screamed. “You guys are nuts, you’re all going to get squished! There’s no one in there, no one would be crazy enough to go in there! I’m going back to the lake!”

The other three heard the sound of rapidly receding feet. The opening into the ice was still free. “Hello?” Johnny repeated. “You need to come out of there, whoever you are.”

There was no response.

“Maybe they’re dead,” Vanessa said, articulating the thought uppermost in all their minds. “We should check.” She stepped inside the open mouth of the cave. After a momentary hesitation, Johnny and Betty followed.

As they approached the sitting figure, their eyes adjusted to the darkness. It was a man, dressed in worn jeans and a Carhartt’s jacket. His face was the blue-white of the face of the glacier, veined and mottled.

The hole in his chest was the size of a basketball.