The Cursed Expedition: Part One
By Carter Nielson
Part 1: Starting from Qaanaaq
Cedric watched out the airplane window as the last traces of green foliage phased into arctic wasteland. Spanning out for as far as the eye could see was an ocean of white cut with slashes of black and brown hinting at the shapes of mountains far below. Cedric took in a deep breath as the pilot spoke through the headsets and said, “We should be touching down at the Qaanaaq airport here in about 10 minutes. Look,” he gestured towards the only visible trace of civilization, “that’s Qaanaaq right there, used to be called New Thule. It’s the northernmost town in Greenland.”
Cedric responded with a tight-lipped smile and a nod. The town was tiny, how had Jared even had an internet connection strong enough to send him that email?
Three days ago, Cedric had received a frantic email from Jared; his good friend and partner on his current project. Jared had urged Cedric to make his way to the Qaanaaq airport in Greenland as quickly as he could. It had not been planned for Cedric to be given a three days notice to get to the northernmost part of the civilized world. He was supposed to be able to report back to their magazine headquarters, rally together some more money for their project. But, there was something about the way Jared had urged Cedric. The wording he used made Cedric worried for his friend’s well being. Jared mentioned not sleeping in days due to intrusive thoughts of the ritual site. Apparently a local guide was able to take Jared near, but the guide had stopped him about a mile out, refusing to take him any closer on account of “bad energy.”
Prior to the email, Jared had been in Greenland for about two weeks already with a measly weekly stipend to try to find an ancient ritual site buried in the arctic mountains. This was a huge project (and potentially the biggest success of their careers) if they could see it through and find the ritual site.
Jared was the archeologist/anthropologist and Cedric was the photographer. Their plan was to find the site and camp near it for a week to run impressions and gather as many photos and information about the location as they could. Now, it seemed the plan was to use Cedric’s outdated Canon EOS Rebel camera, and try to find where in the blazes Jared was staying (he hadn’t bothered to mention it in his email). The idea that Cedric would have to rely on his older camera bugged him; he had just finished his under-grad and had no money to buy a better camera. Cedric was passionate about photography and wanted to put his all into the project. If success hit them with their project, it had the potential to put him out there as an accomplished photographer. Might even get National Geographic to notice him.
An aggressive shake of turbulence snapped Cedric out of his mind and into the present moment. The pilot tilted his head towards Cedric again, “Hold on, we’re going to be just fine. Nothing I can’t handle, the air around Qaanaaq just seems to be angry today.” The pilot chuckled. “Almost as if it doesn’t want us to land.”
At least someone found humor in a fabric lined two-seater plane encountering turbulence above an arctic wasteland, because Cedric certainly did not.
They landed safe and sound after skidding and bouncing a handful of times on the half-frozen runway. Cedric climbed out of the small plane and was greeted with puffs of snow riding a harsh wind that left him wanting to climb right back in.
The pilot and Cedric loaded the luggage into a small truck, all the while enduring the bitter winds. Jumping into the passenger seat of the vehicle, Cedric said hello to his driver. He was a man with darker skin and wrinkles that covered his whole face. Cedric got the impression that they were from stress rather than age. The driver wore a large winter coat and had a large cross necklace with embossed gems in full display.
Cedric motioned to the necklace, “That’s a pretty fancy piece you got there, sir.”
The driver looked pleased at the compliment, “Thank you, it was my grandfather’s. The town has . . .” he trailed off for a second, seemingly hiding something, “. . . has spirits about. I like to stay safe.” At that comment, Cedric deemed the conversation over and looked out the window as they took off towards the town. His mind was fixed on the project and the scope of what he and Jared were going to discover. This could be huge for his career.
The road was just barely passable to drive on, with the snow banks on either side already starting to pile up. As they drove, Cedric looked out at the landscape. There wasn’t much to look at. Snow covered everything except the rocky outcroppings on the mountains out in the distance. Cedric looked out the other side of the vehicle and his heart jumped.
In the field to his right, a hundred feet or so out, stood an old woman. She was enveloped in what seemed to be a thick robe of roughly strewn together furs. The woman leaned against a walking stick taller than herself, following Cedric with her gaze. Though she was far out, Cedric felt their eyes meet. As a strange feeling came over him, the sound of the winter wind intensified until it was all he could hear. As soon as she was out of sight, a heavy snowfall began. If she was still out there watching him, he couldn’t see her through the snow.
“Was that woman some sort of native?” Cedric asked the driver.
The driver’s face darkened as he furrowed his brow, “What woman? There isn’t a soul outside in these temperatures, I told you there is a strangeness to this land.” He gripped his cross necklace as he said the last part.
Cedric frowned, “I could have sworn I saw an old woman.”
“Trick of the light, maybe. You’ve had a long journey.”
Cedric nodded in agreement, but he knew it hadn’t been a trick of the light. He was a photographer; his vision rarely fooled him.
