Antarctica

By Peter J. Motta

About the Book
Antarctica is a tale of adventure. The kind of adventure that comes after Paul Wellington and Billy Greene make the tough decision to leave their boring lives behind. A decision that took them down through the Americas, and placing them on the icy continent that surrounds the South Pole. Luck and the right connections got them there, but now it was their job to navigate the uncharted territory that lay ahead. The cold of the open plains, the warmth of the tunnel systems, and the mystery of the hidden caves only scratched the surface of the lore that was the ice wall. And now it stood menacingly in their way.

About the Author
Peter J. Motta was born just outside of Flemington, New Jersey. He currently resides not far from where his life started, in the town of Somerville. Besides writing, photography and weightlifting round out the remainder of his free time. His active lifestyle leads to his active imagination. An imagination that started at a young age, alongside his brother Mark, playing in the woods around his parents’ house. The perfect backdrop to allow the mind to wander with questions. Is Bigfoot real? Was the Roswell crash really a downed UFO? Are ghosts just unhappy spirits that are now navigating the afterlife? These questions are the catalyst to his creative mind.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dorrance Publishing Company
• Release date: Oct 13, 2023
• ISBN: 9798889257790

Book preview

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To my brother Mark,

Thank you for the conversations we never finished,

and the questions we could never answer.

Enjoy your exploration of the unknown.

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January 13th

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6:05 p.m.

The fresh snow was deep enough to cover up to the top of Paul’s boots as he crunched his way through the field. His athletic five foot-eleven inch frame was in great shape. Walking in the snow for the first time in almost a year didn’t slow him down at all. He spent three years preparing his mind and body for this trip. Both worked in sync to move him through the terrain. His blue eyes locked on the cabin as it grew larger in front of him. His black knit cap kept the wind off his ears and the long brown hair off his face. The tips of his hair blew in the breeze, sliding on his neck under the collar of his jacket. The cold air went in and out through his nose as his closed lips formed into a little smile. They made it.

Billy, Paul’s best friend and partner on this trip, was quite the opposite. Long, lanky, and not an ounce of fat on him. He held his gloved hands around the top of his jacket, pulling it tight around the little bit of uncovered skin on his chin. He was trailing a few steps behind, using Paul’s footprints to make his own trek easier. He was more of a recluse, not much concern for his physical, but he had a solid mind. He kept his friend group small and let little bother him. People passed through his life as he kept moving in the direction of the day. He kept busy, always trying to learn. So when his best friend asked him to tag along to Antarctica, he couldn’t say no, even if a three week trip to the cold weather capital was the last thing on his to-do list. He already told Paul that if the cabin didn’t have heat, he was going to turn right around. The shiny chimney pipe sticking up from the top of the wooden building reflected the sun back at him. He was there to stay.

The pilot sat in the warm cockpit of the plane. He had killed the engines to conserve gas as he waited for the signal to leave. The solo trip back to South America will be a quiet one. Paul looked back at the plane. It sat just on the edge off of where the ocean waves cracked on the icy shore. The brown cabin sat in a flat field of white. Big, ominous mountains loomed behind it, giving it a lonesome feeling. It had an out of place feeling.

I’ve never seen penguins, Paul said, catching them on his left as he moved his eyes from the plane. He didn’t stop to see admire them with a duffle bag in his hand and a backpack on his back.

Only on TV, Billy responded and shook his head. Maybe they’ll come over for dinner. He smiled. He was joyous to be at their destination.

The cabin’s minimalistic design came into view. The roof had a downward angle from left to right. A thick layer of snow laid across the top of it with whatever didn’t stay on the roof piling against the right side of the structure. The front of the building was highlighted by a door and the long horizontal lines that spanned the full width of it. It looked utilitarian and modern.

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I want to walk around and make sure this cabin is actually four walls and a complete roof before we tell our ride to leave. Paul did a quick look back at the miniature plane sitting in the distance. Both men waving their arms was the cue for it to leave.

They moved around the left side first, ignoring the little barrier of snow that covered the bottom of the front door. Tarp covered mounds hinted at their contents with the ends of wood logs sticking out of parts secured with frayed rope that showed its age. The three separate tied down bundles lined just about the entire wall and stacked up almost to the roof line. Billy was more focused on the mountain range that wrapped from the ocean way off in the distance behind the cabin. Awful lot of wood for not having a tree in sight. Billy paused to let his mind wander about the situation.

Paul continued to the corner, stopping there to think about his friend’s statement. They’ve got to get supplies here somehow, right? He looked down the backside of the cabin. It was decorated by a propane tank and one window.

For sure, Billy responded, catching up to his friend. Together they made their way past the window and around the corner. Snow almost connected the roof line with the ground. The shortest of the four walls was hidden by a fluffy ramp.

Paul leaned on it, sinking his flat hand wrist deep into the fresh, white powder. It must’ve just snowed, Paul deducted as he straightened himself up. And the wind must blow against this wall. He looked up at the roof.

Billy made new prints along the side, stopping at the front corner. The ocean and the plane came back into view. He spun around and looked back at Paul and hill of snow. Is that a ladder poking out?

Paul’s eyes followed Billy’s finger to two red rails sticking out of the white snow. The silver rung that connected them was peeking through as well, giving away the object. It sure is, he responded, turning the corner and making his way back to the front door.

Paul pulled out a key from one of the chest pockets of his jacket. It was given to them by a man they only knew as Danny. He crossed their path in Roswell, New Mexico and was a friend of a friend of a new friend, the lineage of which went all the way back to New York. This started their two month adventure, bringing them all the way to the South Pole. The trip consisted of people coming and going, giving them help and information along the way.

Well, this is it. Paul’s mouth smiled its way out of the top of his collar, showing his excitement. He stopped in front of the door, kicking the snow to the side, cleaning a nice spot to stand. Did you grab everything off the plane? He shifted his focus from his feet to the plane behind them.

I did, Billy said as he admired the door.

If this key doesn’t work, this will be the shortest Antarctica trip in history. Paul extended his arm and slid the key in. It fit and it turned. The click of the lock sent a calmness over the men. Paul pulled it out and moved his hand to the knob. It turned, and he put his shoulder into the frozen door, splitting it from the jamb.

The stagnant air inside the cabin hit Paul in the face. It smelled liked charred wood and old furniture. He leaned back and the two men greeted each other with content.

Looks like we’re staying, Billy responded, shifting his eyes to the plane. They waved their four arms at the pilot, who leaned out of the window and waved back.

The sound of the engine filled the desolate field. They watched on as the plane made a circle on the ice and skimmed out on to the ocean, lifting off and disappearing into the distance.

6:27 p.m.

Paul pushed the door open and removed his sunglasses. The light from the back window met the light flooding in through the door, creating a beam down the middle of the room. He watched the dust float through the light as he felt along the wall for a light switch. The soft fingertips of his gloved hand found one, flipping it on and off a couple times. No lights, he said in a curious tone.

Billy put his hand on Paul’s shoulder, getting him to slide over enough so he could pass. He used the bottom plate of the opening to kick the snow off his boots as he entered. They stood side by side on a small piece of carpet, an imitation doormat floating unevenly on the worn wooden floor.

Two beds separated by a little square table hugged the corner to their left. A table and chair filled the gap between the beds and a closed door leading to a small room. The window on the back wall sat between the room and a counter, which was in the shape of an L as it wrapped around the other back corner. A refrigerator, stovetop, and sink filled out the compact kitchen. Their eyes finished on a round table and 4 chairs floating in front of them, completing the tour of the abode.

The beams of light highlighted a wood stove in the middle off the room, just on the other side of the table, a guiding light to comfort. A metal pipe shot out of it and up through the ceiling in between 6 lights spaced evenly on the ceiling. A second pipe came off of it and ran along the ceiling to a furnace that sat in the right corner next to a big barrel.

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Billy stamped his feet a couple times on the rug then moved to the first bed. He dropped his duffle at the foot of it. Shifting his shoulders back, he let the straps of his backpack slide down his arms. The buckles clicked the ground as it hit. He swung it around to sit next to his clothing bag, wedging it upright between the bag and the bed. He sat on the edge of the mattress and moved his head in a circular pattern, doing his best to loosen his muscles from the long and bumpy flight.

Paul knocked the last of snow off his boots and closed the door. He dropped his two bags off at the foot of the other bed on his way to the wood stove. He knelt down, leaning on the pile of wood sitting next to it with all his weight. His knees were stiff and slow to bend. Someone was nice enough to leave us some dry wood, he said, settling back on his lower legs. He opened the door to it and looked around at the charred remains of fires past. He propped up a log and pulled his knife out, shaving thin pieces from it to use as kindling.

He put the shavings into a neat pile on top of the thin layer of soot. He felt around his pockets for his lighter; it was still where he left it. The dry wood lit quickly. He shaved some bigger pieces, sliding them onto the flames. He blew into the metal cabinet, growing the flames, and the size of the wood with each new pile he put in.

Billy got up, stretching his arms above his head, the air growling as it left his body. His arms falling limp at his sides once his lungs were empty. He walked past the comfortable looking chair and table, which adorned a lonely lamp. He hobbled his body over to the door in the back corner. He pulled it open. A toilet and a shower, he said, leaning into the room, loud enough for it to echo so Paul could hear. This beats some of the hotels we’ve stayed at. He pulled his head out, laughing at his own joke.

That plane ride from South America brought your humor back. Paul smiled as he kept his focus on the fire, laying another log on it. Sounds like you could use some sleep. Giving Billy the hint that his joke showed his tiredness. He closed the stove door and looked up.

I think I’m more hungry than tired. Billy pushed the door open to let the heat warm up the bathroom. I think we’ve reached the apex of our trip.

Paul leaned on the wood pile again to get up. I agree, he said, getting to his feet with the same slow speed he got down with. We need all our energy right now. The irony of the statement wasn’t lost.

After taking a quick look around the room, Billy made his way back to the his bed. He yanked his duffle bag onto it with as much momentum as he could. He unzipped the bag and his jacket at almost the same time. That little stove heats this place up quickly, he said, and his hat was next to come off.

Paul did the same on the bed not 6 feet from Billy. People must give up before they make it this far, he said, going through his pockets to sort out what was necessary to be in there. He got to the yellow and black device. He held up his outstretched hand, the satellite phone sitting on it. I just hope this thing works if we need it to, he said, daydreaming as he looked at it, before bending down to slip it into an easy access pocket of his backpack. He didn’t want to forget it as they ventured out into the wilderness.

He said he could get to us within a day, Billy responded, looking at the phone as well. I just hope that’s quick enough if something happens to us. He smirked as he went back to shuffling through his stuff.

I’m still a little shocked we made it this far. Paul took his hat off and sat down on the bed. We met a bunch of strangers and found places to stay along the way. It was all too perfect. He rubbed his neck, tilting his head back. Side note, we need to figure out the electrical situation before we do anything else. The four inactive lights caught his attention.

Billy leaned back on his hands, trying his hardest not too lay down. Call if you need anything, he joked. Paul knew his friend wasn’t one to let him do all the work.

Paul had worked in all the trades through the years. He was handy and liked to tinker with things. The excitement of being an explorer pulled him away from the repetitiveness of the 9-5. Traveling gave him purpose. So right now, his tired brain was no match for his adventurous mind. He stood out and let out a soft sigh. I’m going outside to clean the roof off. He made his way over to the door. Danny said there were solar panels on the roof for electric.

I’m right behind you, Billy mumbled, leaning forward and rubbing his face with his hands.

Just catch me if I fall off the roof. Paul put his hat back on and opened the door. The wind had picked up in the twenty minutes they spent inside. He turned back to see how close Billy was to him, letting the door go for his friend to grab.

He made his way to the low side of the roof, pulling the ladder out from under the snow pile. It was frozen, but he managed to wiggle it out. He stood up, face to face with dark clouds looming over the mountains. We better get this done quickly, he said to Billy, who made it over just in time to help him prop the ladder up against the building.

The ladder imprinted in the snow on the edge of the roof. He kicked the frozen pieces still stuck on each rung as he climbed. He made it to the last rung, stopping to find the best way to do this. The roof was covered in a white blanket. He panned his eyes from left to right and back again. The far left corner was devoid of snow, reflecting the sun back at him. There you are. He went up one more step. It was the metal corner of a solar panel.

He pushed his hands into the snow, feeling around for the edge of the first line of panels. He brushed the snow away from the top of the ladder, letting it fall against his body.

See anything? Billy yelled through the falling snow, shielding his eyes from the white flakes.

I think so! Paul didn’t take his eyes off the roof, his arm stretching further and further out until his gloved hand hit a bracket, giving him the starting point he needed. Bingo! he yelled, swinging his legs over the top of the ladder to kneel down in front of it. He leaned in and pushed the snow off the first panel, sliding on his knees along the edge of the house and clearing each one in the front row.

Need help? Billy asked as he made his way up the ladder. Paul was leaning over the fifth and last panel in the row when he turned his head. Billy was already leaning on the last rung waiting for a response.

Of course, he said with the delight of having company and help. The snow was light and easy to move. In twenty minutes, all fifteen panels were open to the sun. Both men stood up and straightened their backs, stretching their tired arms to the sky as they admired their work.

Billy made his way to the ladder first. Now we can relax. He took one more look to the mountains before swinging his leg over the ladder.

One more thing, Paul said as Billy reached the bottom of ladder. Billy waited for his friend to get to the ground with him.

Paul walked past him, heading for the propane tank. He brushed the light snow that had gathered on top of it. His fingers getting the snow from in between the area around the knob that opened the valve. He brushed the clear plastic gauge clean. Looks like we have about three quarters of a tank, he said looking back at Billy.

That’s great news, Billy replied, half paying attention to his friend. He was fixated on the landscape. Paul nodded and grabbed the red handle. He turned it, and it let a whoosh of gas into the house. This should get that furnace going, he said out loud to himself.

Heat sounds good, Billy added, still focused on the mountains in the distance.

Let’s grab some wood before we call it a night. Paul took a quick look at the landscape. It didn’t last long. His tiredness was starting to show.

7:34 p.m.

We have lights! Paul said with the last bit of energy he had left in his tank. He balanced himself on his left foot, while he used his other snow-covered boot to push the door the rest of the way open. He did his best to clean his boots on the worn rug while he balanced the four logs in his arms.

Billy followed his friend into the now well-lit room. Paul was already kneeling down in front of the stove, letting the wood fall on to the floor as carefully as possible. Billy waited for him to move over and did the same. The new ice covered logs will be as dry as the existing ones in a few hours.

Paul slid over on the floor, getting himself up in the process of moving out of Billy’s way. He tossed his gloves and hat on the table as he passed it, making his way to the end of the kitchen counter. He stood in front of the furnace. His tired eyes looked all around the metal box, stopping at a brown wire coming out of the right side. He followed it to the thermostat on the wall. He put his hand up on the wall next to it, leaning in to see what it had to offer.

While Paul was still wandering around the cabin, Billy got up and grabbed the closest of the four chairs at the table, and swung it in a half circle to the front of the stove. He pulled his hat and gloves off, stretching back to drop them on the table. He swung his leg over the chair, sitting on the edge of it. He leaned forward and unzipped his coat to just above his belt buckle. I hope I get used to this cold, man, he said, holding his hands out in front of him, thawing his fingers and his face.

He took the three steps over to it and reached for the dial. 55 degrees is a good spot, right? He twisted the dial, moving the arrow from off to the line assigned to that temperature. This’ll be just in case the fire goes out.

He took a step back, and a short squeal brought on a hum of moving parts blowing a musky air out at Paul’s feet. It rustled his pants around his shins. He leaned on his knees, squatting down to let the air hit his hands. Within thirty seconds the air was warm, and so were his hands.

He pressed on his knees again, standing up and finding himself face to face with a large blue barrel tucked in the corner. He ran his hand along its top edge, finding an indent he could tuck his fingers into. He lifted the lid. I thought Danny said something about this. He turned to see what Billy was up to.

What? Billy broke his trance from the flames bouncing behind the glass door of the wood stove.

Having to fill the water barrel with snow, Paul said as he looked into the 1/2 full barrel. There’s a filter on it and everything. He lowered the lid. I believe he said we just have to turn the valve on this too. He looked down at the pipe leaving the container. He turned the red valve 90 degrees and listened to the water rush to behind the cabinets.

Fantastic news, Billy said as his eyes migrated to the sink. Now we can make coffee.

Great minds think alike, Paul said walking over to the sink. He opened the faucet, letting out a burst of air and a splash of cold water. He closed it, not wasting the water they already had. He continued along the wooden countertops, past the stove, past the small refrigerator, and around to the back wall. A small closet separated the kitchen from the bathroom. It’s starting to feel like home, he joked as he finished his loop back to the table.

The trip has taken them straight down the globe. It was quite the journey. Starting in the North East United States, over to the South west, down through Mexico and Central America, along Chili, and finishing with them getting onto a six seat plane to Antarctica. The pilot, John, was good friends with Sasha, the tour guide they met in Chili. She gave tours of mysterious structures on the Western coast of South America. She was a friend of the bed and breakfast owner, Pedro. They met him in the Mexican peninsula. He set up trips to ancient ruins. He was the first person Danny from New Mexico sent them to after handing the men the key to the cabin.

With January being the continent’s warmest month, John was on board with getting them in and out of the snow ridden continent within a four week window. It was an opportunity they couldn’t pass up, a once in a lifetime chance to look for answers to questions that had bounced around their notebooks and computers for a long time.

The little cabin on the coast of Antarctica was their new home for the next two weeks, with protection from the elements, enough food in the cupboards, and hopefully enough wood and propane to keep them warm. Danny had information that only a person with years of research could have. He gave them the rundown on the area with an included map and notes on what to expect while down there. He said he’s owned this cabin for only three years and hasn’t explored much beyond the waterline and the mountains behind it. He claimed he comes down two or three times a year to study the wildlife and make sure his purchase was still standing. He kept it stocked and fixed anything that needed to be fixed. The strange lights and noises in the distance were a bonus to being there, were Danny’s last words as they parted ways.

So let’s start with the UFO sightings… Paul said in his bad impression of an announcer voice as he grabbed his backpack from the foot of the bed and placed it on one of the remaining three chairs. He sat down next to it, pulling out his notebook from its dedicated pocket. The bound pages was bursting with post-its, paperclips, and an assortment of colorful torn sheets of paper. He laid it open in front of him, flipping through the many pages he’s written on about beings and crafts that were suspected to not be from this planet. Extraterrestrials have occupied the corners of his mind for his entire life. Antarctica has no full-time occupants, he continued, not looking up from his book, but the reports of unidentified crafts, oddly shaped snow-covered structures, and giant hairy beasts, fill conspiracy websites almost every day. There has to be something here with all that attention on such a sparsely populated continent, right?

Possibly. Billy spun to sit sideways on the chair. But what if the conspiracy websites are just places where fiction is made and just there to fill people’s heads with nonsense? He was neither a skeptic nor did he believe easily. He just needed to see the proof for himself.

Well we agreed to spend 2 weeks here, so maybe we will find something amazing. Paul looked up from his notebook. And besides, it’s not every day that two guys from New Jersey get to hang out in a cabin in Antarctica. He watched Billy move from the chair by the stove to one across the table. Either way, it’ll be a trip we can brag about.

Billy took his jacket off during the short walk, laying it on the back of the chair. He grabbed his gloves and hat off the table and tucked them in the pockets. His bottom hit the chair hard. A big sigh left his lungs.

Paul flipped through a couple more pages of his book, refreshing his own memory before closing and sliding it to the edge of the table. He reached into his bag for his camera. He continued pulling out lenses, small bags of cables, batteries, and miscellaneous parts, lining them up in a neat row. We should make sure we’re all charged and cleaned before we head out tomorrow morning.

Paul took his love for photography from an unexplored hobby to getting his work published in travel magazines and websites.