1) I fell asleep, peacefully melting into the ice walls. My own body heat slurped me deeper and deeper down. I never expected to wake up. Or wanted to. Dying here was easy. Why survive only to die again under less favorable circumstances. A car fire, for example. But Dr. Creep would not let me go. Somehow he found me. He knew I had come to the Antarctic because of a compromised immune system-more about which later. Here in the Antarctic I do not need an immune system. No diseases, no bugs, no kidding. Yes, he had found me: through extrasensory means, perhaps. His blank face appeared high above, at the opening of the crevasse, outlined by the perpetual twilight of a late summer's night. So, I would not die today. Yeah.
Many ropes and hands later I lay in a warm bed feeling the pain of thawing extremities. I would keep my fingers and toes. My face would remain intact. I would have welcomed a bit of tissue loss: scars are a sign of health to me. But, again, Dr. Creep would have none of it. He could do no harm, he always said.
I was to be taken across the Weddell Sea and dropped off at Cape Horn. A big place. I was to be given a backpack of medicines, jerky, maps. Go home, the good Doctor said. So I will. North.