Calvin was exhausted. Trudging through the snow for three days had taken its toll on him sooner than he had expected. The stimulants Gorgo gave him might as well have been candy. They probably are, he thought bitterly.

He paused for a moment, standing against the white wind of the snowy mountainside. He couldn’t hear his own breathing over the banshee wail of the snowstorm. He wanted badly to lift his goggles away from his face to relieve his cheeks, but knew it was wiser to leave them on until he found shelter.

Whenever the hell that might be, he thought. A familiar thought slipped into the front of his mind. Why was he doing this? He was miserable before he left for Siberia, he was miserable on his way to Siberia, and was doubly miserable now that he was in Siberia. Why couldn’t he have just stayed home?

Taking a deep breath, he smothered his doubts. He couldn’t give up now, not when he had come so far. He promised himself he would not back down from this like he did everything else. This was his chance to set it all right. At the top of this mountain was a prize greater than any other, and only the greatest of men could claim it. He would be that man. He was the Ü bermensch, the one to put God to death and rise in His place.

He continued on, ignoring the spreading darkness in the sky.

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