Arctica || 2 || 3 || 4

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The average body temperature for an adult human being is 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit. For everyone else in the world, that's thirty-six Celsius. Hypothermia can develop in a difference of a mere 3.6 degrees change in body temperature.

In the first stage: the body begins to shake uncontrollably. Followed by reduced blood circulation.

And if body temperature continues to plummet. Most people start to slur their words. It's difficult to think clear thoughts when the brain isn't getting enough oxygen. Difficult to hear those thoughts when the body decides to warm itself up by pretending to chew. Click clack. Click. Clack. This starts the stomach up, acid builds if there is nothing to digest, and soon it makes its way towards the throat, burning it, if the body doesn't outright vomit as it slowly starts to curl into the fetal position, the muscle memory of the time when it was most warm.

What they don't mention in the handbooks is how the eyeballs start to stick in the skull as everything starts to move in slow motion as each red hemoglobin begins to freeze inside of the veins, compressing the air they're holding, gasping, as they run their cold frames through every part of the body.

And. Time. Seems. to. Stop.

People in the field joke about how it's one of the better ways to go. Better than burning. Or drowning. What they fail to mention is how fast those usually are. Freezing to death is slow and painful. It hurts so much that the body becomes stupid and think that it is burning, and the next second it starts clawing off all of its layers, except they aren't clothes, but the bright red skin that's beating from the inside ' trying to escape.

I can't think of a more horrifying way to die.

Not when the cold is this close.

Even in the storage area, with everyone huddled together ' that their odors start to penetrate my hair; crawling into my ear, and sticking to the corner of my eyes. I am freezing. I pull the red Canadian jacket closer to my body as stiff fogs of despair leave my nostrils in thick ghastly lines.

I can see everyone else breathing heavily as well, dim though is the light, I can see their breaths as they sleep. As sleep twitches at my face, causing my lips to almost smile, I can feel the deprivation beginning to coerce my mind into manic, fleeting thoughts that don't seem to make any sense.

For instance. Why wasn't London breathing?

And why hasn't he gone to sleep?

​

Perhaps he's already dead.

​

I can see him right now, staring at me, pretending to be resting. My brain is cold but hallucinations aren't one of the symptoms. At least, I don't think they are.

​

Several hours ago, the few of us who survived, began to deliberate on our course of action. One of the women, Rosie, who worked in the biology department told us what she knew. Having studied the blood sample I retrieved, under Dr. Kelsie Grant, it was all we could hope for.

"They notes said they were like a virus. Or no. Not really. If anything. They think we're the virus. And like all good immunities it takes out the enemy's way of replenishing its numbers first. Imagine that we're a virus. We land on some god forsaken planet, but that planet is alive, living. And us, the virus, can only increase our numbers through incubation. Mostly singular."

"We're not a very good virus are we," one of the others, Paul, I think. Said.

"No, but we're large. Smart. And capable of destroying planets if given enough time," she continued. "So it starts to kill the women so we can't reproduce. At least," she paused. "That's all I thought it was at first."

"What the hell is it then? The fucking boogeyman?"

"I don't know. I just remember Dr. Grant keep repeating rule number 1 while we were in the lab, muttering it to herself."

"Take nothing with you. Take nothing back," it was the first time I spoke since we got into the storage room.

"I always thought it was like preservation or something. For future generations. But then she started asking me if I knew what the mission statement was, why we were out here. Digging up cores. Looking for 'The Time Line' until the end. I always thought it was the End: as in flooding when the shelves melted or something. But I don't think so anymore. It's something. Something that's been haunt-"

"Hunting humanity since before it can remember. Something old," London said. "Something cold."

We turned to look at him.

"Imagine Something that's part of the natural cycle. To keep populations in check. A balance on the Earth. Every order in its place. Every country, and culture, those as ancient as recorded history, each with its own name for this other entity in the shadows. Which only comes at night, that makes the children shiver when it arrives in their villages. Taking out everything in its path and then melting away, leaving nothing behind except for the damp ground to bury the bodies."

"What the hell are you talking about," Paul said. I'm pretty sure it is Paul now. Unless it's John.

London shrugged, "It's just a story I heard." He rubbed his hands together, "So what is our plan of escape? I'm tired of this ice hole. Feels like I've been stuck here for an eternity."

"There's a heli near the south entrance. Its been locked down to keep from blowing away in the storms," someone said.

"Who here can fly," Paul asked.

I raised my hand slowly, "I did some offshore training before coming here. It was one of the company requirements for my position. I can get us up, but I'll need a second pilot."

"I've got some experience," Alex said. "I can be your second."

Nicole, a biologist I knew from previous missions, "That's great and all. But where are the keys?"

"They should be in the control room," I told them. "At least that is what the handbook said."

"That's on the other side," Paul complained. "The chopper's going to need some prep before it can take off."

"So we split into two groups then," London suggested. "Team A will go prepare the helicopter for take off, and Team B will retrieve the keys."

"I'll be Team A," I looked him directly in the eyes as I said it.

"I'll be Team B then," London said without missing a beat. "So it'll be Me, Rosie, and Nicole." He looked at me, "Then you, John, Alex, and-"

"No. It'll be me, Rosie, Nicole, and Alex. You can take John, he knows how to prep the helicopter and Pascal knows where the equipment in the loading dock is." I took a breath. "And once we get to you guys. We'll fly our asses straight to the nearest Antarctic liner heading for shore."

I couldn't read him at all, "Fine," London said. "But first lets get some sleep."

​

*

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I've been laying perfectly still for hours, my back propped against a wall of concrete so thick it would make a nuclear factory blush. But my eyes were open, watching until the others had mostly began to rouse. We split what provisions we had gathered. A candy bar, some peanuts, and a handful of sunflower seeds ' each.

And without many words passing between us, we started heading for the doorway.

Paul had his hand on the crank, London nodded to him and said, "Go on John. At your ready, mate."

Honestly, when it swung open I didn't know what to expect. A horde of those things come rushing at us? Or a pile of dead bodies left at our doorstep to serve as a warning.

I was the first person to look beyond our threshold.

There was nothing in sight.

If I didn't know any better, looking at all the pallets laying around, the lights fully working; then I would have said it was any other mundane Monday morning. Except it wasn't.

We were a bunch of adults, learned and experienced explorers in our own right, huddling in a storage container.

And as quietly as we came, our two groups parted ways.

No sooner had London's group left our line of sight, did I start to breathe normally again. I was going to find those keys, and get the fuck out of here. Then dig my damn feet into the nearest beach I could find.

We had been making good way without so much as seeing anything abnormal, though several times we heard something nearby, but patience and silence kept us safe. Several times I almost yelped out in pain as Rosie was hot on my heels, nearly breathing me in, pressing herself against me as if it would somehow make her safer.

I couldn't careless if she made it out alive. As far as I'm concerned. She knew all about this, or something similar. Perhaps even before the expedition began, more than she was actually letting on. In fact, I don't give a damn if no one makes it out of here. Not really. Not if I would be the only one that made it. Not one other person except, "Chloe."

I almost shouted her name, but I caught most of it between the space in my teeth.

She looked scared.

Her eyes were closed and her back was pressed deftly beneath the backing of a sickly green steel table. She hadn't seen me. Nor did the thing she was hiding from.

This one was smaller than the other one I saw London kill. Maim. Hurt. I'm not sure.

It was only about 2 foot tall.

I don't know what made me do it. The anger? Hating being scared all of the time? I grip the rebar that some of us found in the storage unit. The ones we had bent at one end until it almost looked like a candy cane. And charged at it.

I thought catching it by surprise would give me and advantage.

I was wrong.

It dropped to all fours and crawled on its belly, I could hear the ice scraping the ground as started clawing at my face.

My first swing missed.

My next swing didn't.

I connected with the side of its head. It wriggled underneath me as I forced the bar toward its face. The urge to drive the steel through this things skull was great, but when I let up, just for a second to position myself at the right angle. It screamed.

It started off low, almost a howl, but it grew faster and high pitched in my ear like whistle. It was all I could manage, as I drove the rebar down its throat, until it stopped making any noises at all.

"I got it," I panted. "It's okay." I looked around to see their stunned faces. I wiped some blood off my cheek that been coming out of my ear. "I got it."

I could see Chloe's mouth moving, but I couldn't quite make out the words.

"What?"

"I said. You fucking idiot. That's what it wanted us to do."

"What?"

It was at that moment that I hear a rumble from down the T-bone shaped hall. I couldn't tell which side it was coming from. Left. Right? Somewhere else entirely?

"Shit, we got to go," Alex said.

"What about the keys," Rosie asked.

"Fuck the keys," Nicole answered. "I'm getting the hell out of here." She grabbed Alex by the arm and the two ran off in the opposite direction. I didn't know it then, but that would be the last time I saw either one of them.

"Come on," I said. "We have to get to the control room."

"Keys? What are they talking about," Chloe followed closely behind us.

"Helicopter keys," I said without looking away, "We're getting out of here. Even if it doesn't want us to leave."

By now the rumbling was loud. I could feel the air growing colder in my lungs. It was getting difficult to breathe ' felt like swallowing needles with every inhale, then pulling them out with each exhale. It didn't matter how noise we made now. That thing was close. I could hear its footsteps growing. "Run," I yelled. "Run!"

The three of us took off. Running through the halls, nearly breaking a rib rounding a corner as I wedged through each corner, wondering when I would encounter the noise we were trying to escape. But somehow we made it to the control room.

I threw open the door and rushed to the where the keys hung. My hands were jittery as I flip and fumbled fob after fob, searching for the right one. I could hear in the background, Rosie, moaning for me to hurry, "It's coming," she repeated over and over.

When I finally found the crescent gray handle, "Found it!"

Was when Rosie started floating off the ground in excitement. Except it was that Thing, lifting her into the air. I could see its icy blue fingers, puppetting her body from behind. Rosie's mouth still open, her joy turning into horror as she realized what was happening.

I could see right into her mouth, the ice crystals metastasizing in her stomach, climbing its way up her throat before ultimately pressing a cold spike through the roof of her mouth and out the front of her eye.

I grabbed Chloe's hand and we ran as far away as we could.

It followed behind us, a broken fireman's handle deeply embedded into its side, smacking the floor as it chased us. Dripping blood everywhere, blood that never froze.

​

We turn corner after corner until we finally reached an exit. Chloe cranks the handle closed behind us. I run forward and open the second door to the chute. A burst of cold air greeting us, a welcome smell from the putrid lingering of the station behind.

Together we ran toward the landing pad. I could hear the others shouting at us. I could see Pascal cheering. He slapped me hard on the back as we rushed into the helicopter.

"Thank God. I didn't think y'all would make it here. Where are the others."

"There's no time," I yelled at him. I fumbled with the key, "I need a second." I motioned for Pascal to sit. "Have you ever flown before?"

He shook his head.

I started to show him the controls.

"What's going on," Paul asked.

"Get into the helicopter John," Pascal ordered.

"Where's London," he asked.

"I'm right here."

I don't know why but those words sent chills down my spine. For a brief moment I had forgotten all about London. "Let's go," I shouted at Paul again.

John nodded and started to climb into the helicopter. But then it took him.

Snatched him right out of the air.

I flipped on the switch and felt the rotors above me shudder as it came alive. Then I yanked on the yoke and brought the bird airborne. We weren't a meter off the ground before I suddenly felt weight on the landing gear. I looked over my shoulder and out the window I see the golem hanging on the slick rails.

And with a free limb it was choking Chloe to death. Covering her mouth with ice. I could see her eyes screaming as the red lines splintered from her corner cornea.

I let go of the controls and jump out of my seat and reached for her outstretched hand. The thing spread more of its cold sharp claws into the cabin. I could see London struggling, "Get away. No. Let me leave," he shouted.

The helicopter suddenly jerks to its side, the blades threatening to belly flop from the weight. London slips and he hits the cold floor hard. It happened so fast that he didn't have time to grab onto anything. He falls out of the helicopter.

I feel the thing let go, pieces of ice breaking off, falls down far below.

Pascal struggles to right the helicopter, but he eventually pulls us further into the sky.

I take one look down as we're flying away. A storm is coming in. But I can still make out the image of London being dragged away. He's screaming, struggling, as he leaves a trail of blood behind, blood that still looks wet.

Chloe turns to me and shouts over the sound of the blades, "Thanks, I owe you one!"

All I can do is shake my head and laugh. In a few seconds it starts to catch on. Pascal laughs too. Soon the three of us are laughing as hard as we can.

"I rigged the tank so that we can make it all the way to shore," Pascal pointed to the aluminum tanks under the seats. We can get as far as Africa without having to stop."

"We're getting out of here," I told them.

"What," Chloe mouthed.

"I love you," I told her.

All she did was nod as the chopper bobbed in the air.

​

*

​

When we finally landed, it was on one of the surrounding islands lining the rim of Australia. The island was densely populated, and technology had sparsely reached its shores. We used this to our advantage and began blending in with the locals as we kept a low profile. Carving out a life for ourselves. Chloe and I even got married. Pascal ever the bachelor, chased one girl after the other in the fishing village nearby.

And oh yeah, I even got my wish. To dig my feet. In some motherfucking sand. And I had nearly all but forgotten about the horrible things hiding below the ice at the bottom of the world.

"God it's hot here," Chloe complained one night.

"What? You never been to a tropical island before," I joked.

"It's almost midnight," she whined. "And it's still 20 degrees out."

I shrugged my shoulders, "What can we do."

"We could leave," there was a dangerous glint in her eye.

"You know we can't do that," I told her. "We would be risking our family's lives," I tried to reason. "We don't know who will come for us. Or what. The government? The CIA? Maybe even the Ross Research Foundation, or whatever it is they really are."

"Don't tell me what to do."

I grumbled, "Fine. But I'm not talking about this again tonight. I have to get up early tomorrow." I extinguished the lamp near our bedside, "Plus, I'm tired and I don't want to stay up and spend it arguing." I yawned, "Or else I'll be dead tired."

And she says back to me, in the dark, "You're already dead to me." She huffed, "Can't kill something twice."

"Yeah, sure. If that's how you want to see it. Go ahead," and went to sleep.

Then, it felt as if I had only laid my head on the pillow, before I was awoken by something familiar in the air, something that didn't belong here.

It prickles the nape of my neck as dawn cracked the night sky.

​

Coldness.

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I wake up, arms extended, reaching for Chloe at my side, but she isn't there. I call out her name, but there's no answer. There's nothing except for an agonizing scream in the distance.

I almost didn't need to know where it was coming from as I get out of bed and start running towards the noise, panting as I arrive outside of Pascal's cabin, where a woman was pulling on her clothes. Wailing. That Pascal had died.

The woman kept screaming about how she had been sleeping next to a corpse the entire night, as I push passed her crying, shivering body, until I reach Pascal's room. And there I see him, with his eyes staring up at the ceiling, his skin still damp and his clothes are drenched as if he's been sweating, except when I touch his face, it is ice cold.

Immediately my eyes dart around the room, but all I find is a puddle near the open window, the breeze coming in draws my cheek upward as I stare into the dense green undergrowth outside, searching for something that isn't there. For something I know I'll never see again. For something that owes me a favor. For something old, something cold.

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S