In front is a ridge, even as the gale carries snowflakes everywhere, the rugged terrain is still distinguishable.
The sled and supplies can only be left behind, everyone needs to trek uphill.
A short three-mile journey took the team almost two hours to reach, and as Vitevich approached the search dogs, the two little dogs were only circling endlessly in the snow, barking fiercely at the center of the circle they left.
He squatted down to feel the dog's neck, the thick fur was equally cold, transmitting the chill to his palm through the gloves.
"Kids, there shouldn't be anything alive under the ice layer, what did you guys find?"
But he inadvertently walked into the circle created by the dogs, and with the crisp sound of the ice layer breaking, he fell downward.
Suddenly it was like falling into an abyss, he felt that he was done for.
How many dead bodies are buried in the crevasses of the glaciers, today he would be one of them.
However, his destiny differed from those ancient people, he had only fallen two or three meters when he felt his body hit the ground, though he was in great pain all over, at least he was still alive.
But as he grimaced and sat up, he found himself caught by a giant monster, he had landed right in the monster's hand, beneath which lay a thousand-foot abyss.
This creature was covered in ice and snow, and the crystal-clear ice layer allowed it to maintain a posture with its five fingers raised, as if it once held something in its palm.
Yet as sunlight fell from above, Vitevich realized that the ice layer encased a type of silver metal he had never seen, a tusk-bearing metal giant was emerging menacingly from the ice mountain.
Though it remained still, its eyes, vast like windows, seemed to be still staring at him.
"God..."
"Captain! Captain! Are you okay?" The voices of the team members came from above.
"I'm fine, lads!"
Vitevich got up, picked up the ice pick he had dropped, he intended to remove the ice layer from the monster to make it clearer.
This monster was completely metallic, were those tusks meant for feeding? He felt he had discovered something incredible.
But as his ice pick struck down, the monster's eyes suddenly emitted a strong red light, lighting up the entire cave in a red glow.
"Ah!"
Vitevich collapsed to the ground, he felt he couldn't see anything, the strong light had temporarily blinded him.
However, his glasses fell onto the ice surface, on which patterns invisible to the human eye were engraved.
..............
Time returns to now, United States, Trangquility Suburbs, city expansion area.
This area is not exactly a slum, but also not a wealthy residential area, the people living in this community are basically ordinary wage earners, and relatively lower earning ones.
Currently, in a house by the roadside, a young Sam is checking his 'ebuy' account in front of the computer, where he intends to sell some items he found while tidying the garage.
For instance, a pair of silver candlesticks from an unknown era; a jewelry box that might have been set with gemstones but is now just an ordinary wooden box; a saber from the Civil War era blunt enough to be no better than a file.
Also, the relic of his great-great-grandfather, Vitevich's glasses.
He has no choice, he's not a rich kid, mowing lawns for his parents can't earn him pocket money.
He's sixteen this year, already has a girl he likes, but without money, he can't even buy a drink, how to talk to girls?
So after getting his father's permission, he plans to sell some worthless 'antiques,' which is different from the flea market he used to set up on the lawn outside his house, now it's the internet era.
Just take some photos, put them on the online trading platform, then enter an enticing description...
Bang! The deal is done.
Of course, Sam thought this way a few days ago.
In reality, even if a true antique is priced at $100, nobody wants to buy a ridiculous pair of old-fashioned glasses.
The comment section below even has people mocking Sam.
"Dude, are you crazy for money? Go get a job."
"Who's Vitevich? Could he be the first American to reach the Arctic Circle? History wasn't written that way, is this a Parallel World story?"
"I personally hold God's Shroud, or so I believe, those in need please input into the browser's address bar: I'm a fool deserve to be fooled.com."
...
So after a few days, aside from selling a set of old comics for ten dollars, Sam hasn't sold anything else.
Every day he kept lowering the prices for these items, today, the glasses have dropped to $25.
"These are really my great-great-grandfather Vitevich's glasses! His Arctic diary is also being auctioned! Believe me!"
Sam shouted inwardly, punching in the new price, and hit enter.
The price changed a little, but still, no one is buying.
At this time his father had already called him from downstairs: "Sam! Come down, you've always wanted a car right?"
Sam jumped up happily, quickly closed the computer, hurriedly putting on his clothes, the matters online were temporarily forgotten, he's going to have a car!
Should it be a flashy two-seater sports car? Or a luxurious and comfortable sedan? What a dilemma, haha...
But as his father drove the small pickup, pulling him closer and closer to the poor neighborhoods, they finally turned into a used car lot an hour later.
Sam's dream woke up.
"You said you'd pay half for the car, but not for scrap metal."
A hint of helplessness appeared in his eyes. All the cars here were old-timers, just looking at the discolored windshields, it was clear they were at least thirty years old.
But his father wouldn't buy that excuse; no money means no money, and he gave his son a pat.
"When I was your age, as long as it had four tires and an engine, it was good enough. Or maybe buying you a bicycle would make you happier?"
Sam got out of the car dejectedly, following behind his father, they walked into the 'scrap yard'.
A chubby man in a snug suit quickly came up to them, like a meatball rolling across flat ground, running while wiping the sweat on his bald head with a handkerchief.
"Gentlemen, welcome to Bobby's Car Supermarket, I'm your friend Bobby Bolivar, come, have a look, don't be shy, feel free! The spirit of the United States is right under these hoods!"
He quickly approached Sam's father, babbling with flying spit, shaking hands rapidly with them, then familiarly looping an arm around Sam's shoulder.
"Come on, kid, remember Bobby's words, it's not people choosing cars, but cars choosing people."
This enthusiastic sales tactic left the father and son tongue-tied, but Sam's father was more experienced and managed to say something.
"I want to pick out a first car for my son."
The chubby man seemed suddenly enlightened, raising his arms with a smile in a gesture resembling a plant sprouting and started spinning in place.
"Then you're at the right place! Look around, 100 cars, I have a full 100 cars! Right here, right by your side! Each one is perfect for a young person's first car! Cheap! Safe! High quality! Every single one is an eternal classic!"
Sam pulled a corner of his mouth, yes, eternal classics, cars of the same era probably were melted down to become steel by now?
If only these remained as the last of their kind on Earth, they would indeed be classics.
But in reality, they only rank one grade higher than scrap metal—scrap metal with rubber tires.
But a merchant's face isn't bothered by a high schooler pulling faces, Bobby still smiled broadly: "Well, young man, what kind of car are you interested in?"
"Uh, just something to drive to school, take classmates for a spin..."
Sam blushed a little, he actually wanted to take a female classmate for a ride, but under his father's gaze, he felt too embarrassed to say so.
But Bobby, having sold more cars than Sam has eaten salt, instantly caught on.
Though now obese, balding, constipated, suffering from hemorrhoids and heart disease, hasn't everyone been sixteen or seventeen?
"Come, this way, young friend, take a look at this Ford Tempo, pure white, original factory paint, hardware, interior, all in excellent condition, ready to drive to school right now." The chubby salesman hooked Sam, constantly leading him toward a section of the lot, and glancing at Sam's father, whispered softly to Sam: "Its biggest advantage is—its shock absorption is exceptionally good."
With that, he winked at Sam with eyes implying 'you know what I mean'.
If it were someone else, perhaps they really would understand, but Sam was an innocent boy whose greatest hobby was playing with cartoon figurines.
Ford Tempo, Sam had heard of it. Rumor has it that it was discontinued in 1994 because its electric seatbelt would malfunction, not holding at the chest but strangling at the neck, and in a crash it could decapitate drivers and passengers...
Plus, the car was too ugly, its appearance was worse than a Santana, looking like a shoebox with four wheels.
So Sam shook his head.
The chubby man read his expression as possibly a dislike for the car's appearance, which was an easy fix.
"No worries, young man, as I said, the car chooses the person, come take a look at this one."
"Jaguar Daimler, produced in '92, but I guarantee it's exactly like a new car, just look at these beautiful headlights, this exquisitely crafted silver metal grille, and check out the engine, perfect!"
The chubby man, speaking the whole time, continuously caressed the little leopard statue on the hood, his other hand giving Sam a thumbs-up.
Girls love feline animals.
But Sam shook his head again; a black sedan with a very rigid metal grille? Girls wouldn't like it.
The chubby man understood again; this young man had a sultry heart, what he needed was a sports car.
"Come, take a look at this one, a Dodge Challenger, the king of sports cars from 40 years ago, you deserve it! Don't rush, young man, I still haven't introduced 97 cars today, I'll make sure you drive one home."
The streamlined body, sharp and flamboyant look immediately excited Sam; many old Hollywood movie protagonists drove it.
"How much is this car?"
"Ten thousand US Dollars, but it's worth it, it's a Dodge Challenger!" The chubby man immediately began to incite.
However, Sam's father promptly expressed that he didn't have that much money, advising Sam to consider something around three thousand US Dollars.
Sam and the chubby man fell into despair for different reasons, but just then, someone called Bobby over from a distance.
It was a man in a high-end suit, but with only one eye, and just a casual glance in this direction made Sam's heart race; he didn't know why, but like a mouse seeing a cat, it was a feeling where even life was under threat.
And the man quickly shifted his gaze, summoning the chubby man for business.
"How much for this yellow and black Chevrolet?"
"Five thousand US Dollars, look at this racing paint job, absolutely not a repaint, this car was previously a racer, fully modified..."
"Shut your mouth and take my money!"
The man in the black suit flung over a pile of cash.