The permafrost of our souls

They descended deeper down a steep tunnel, clinging to walls damp with meltwater to avoid sliding into the darkness. Kara walked behind, seeing only the swaying light from the flashlight ahead and James’s back; he anchored himself with his bionic fingers dug into the earthen walls whenever he felt the ground give way under their heavy steps. “What do we do when we find him?” she asked quietly, feeling the cold dampness of the air around them. “We’ll figure it out as we go,” Bucky turned his head slightly to look at the girl. “Have you thought about it?” “Yes,” Kara admitted reluctantly, shrugging. “I’ve thought a lot about it. About the guilt that’s been gnawing at me for years, about the responsibility for him. I don’t want him to suffer. But if that’s not the case… then I don’t want him to be able to hurt anyone.” “You couldn’t save him while saving yourself.” “I understand that now, but back then it seemed only I could save him,” Kara lowered her head, watching her feet, untangling the knot of her thoughts. “I blamed myself for something I couldn’t possibly have influenced.” “I still blame myself for things I couldn’t even remember,” his voice carried a hint of a wry smile. The tunnel leveled out, and they no longer had to cling to the walls. They could feel the walls expanding around them, filling with fresher air, but it didn’t bring hope—only a growing sense of anxiety and the swift approach of a choice that would erase twenty years of buried feelings. “We’re close,” Kara wanted it to be a question, but it was all so obvious that her voice trembled as the passage lit up with a soft, diffused light. She looked up, noticing a hole in the ceiling, tightly sealed with a crust of ice, through which sunlight filtered. The tunnel branched into several passages, but wet tracks on the ground led only into one, disappearing again into darkness. Kara moved ahead of James, slipping first through a narrow crevice, squinting against the cold air. “Kara,” he whispered, grabbing her jacket hood, but Kara, like an eel, squeezed past the sharp rocks, emerging into a spacious cavern. “Quiet,” she adjusted her jacket, trying to take in what lay before her. The cavern had a high, rounded vault with several breaches in the roof, densely packed with snow and ice, bathing the space in daylight while leaving the corners in shadow and revealing a water-flooded tunnel leading even deeper. On a large, flat stone with jagged edges rested something. It took Kara a moment to describe the mass glowing from within, as if molded from algae and eels, which occupied most of the cavern and had proliferated lazily stirring tendrils, sending them out in all directions. “He’s there,” Kara mouthed soundlessly, taking a step forward, but in the same instant jumping back, realizing she had stepped on one of the tendrils. She froze in place, staring at the figure that stood out as a dark blot within the green mass. “Careful,” Bucky, standing behind her, stepped forward to guide the girl toward the center of the cavern. They moved slowly, afraid to disturb the established peace there and unwilling to bring trouble upon themselves. “Andrew,” as soon as they were close enough, Kara sank to her knees, feeling one of the tendrils coil around her booted foot. “I’m here.”