Дэниел Смит - Below Zero

Far away, on the other side of the landing strip, the Storage Bay was invisible through the storm.

She handed the tracker to Peters. ‘You OK, Prof?’ She leant close to his ear and shouted over the howling storm. ‘You ready?’

‘Yes!’ he shouted in return.

Sofia steeled herself for what was to come, and started down the steps, boots crunching ice as she battled her way over to the Magpie. Peters followed and waited, camera still running, as Sofia climbed into the vehicle.

When she emerged from the cabin, Peters pointed the camera at what she was carrying. ‘You think we’re going to need those?’

‘Be Prepared. It’s a good motto.’ She shoved a bright orange flare gun into her jacket pocket. Into her other pocket, she stuffed a handful of refills. The second thing she had taken from the Magpie was a metal rod, about a metre and a half long, with a scoop on the end. It was designed for collecting rock samples, but Sofia figured it would pack a good punch.

‘Here.’ She handed it to Peters.

He backed away, now seeing it as a weapon rather than as a scientific tool.

‘Take it,’ she insisted.

Reluctantly, Peters put the tracker in his pocket and took the tool from her.

Sofia grabbed a second collection tool from the Magpie, along with a large coil of tough, light rope. She wrapped one end around the front driver’s side wheel-axle, and secured it with a clove hitch knot, then put her arm through the rest of the coil. ‘Do kids read Hansel and Gretel in Sweden?’

‘I have no idea. I’m from Norway.’

‘But you know the story, right?’

‘Of course.’

‘Well, this is our trail of breadcrumbs.’ Sofia pointed a thumb into the blizzard. ‘I reckon it’s going to be rough out there; we need to know the way back.’

Peters eyed the coil of rope around Sofia’s shoulder.

‘Don’t worry.’ Sofia read his mind. ‘It’ll be long enough.’

The wind beat at them as if it wanted to wipe them from the Earth. It fought to get inside their jackets, and hooked its invisible fingers under their hoods, but they leant in to it and kept their heads down as they struggled across the landing strip, uncoiling the rope in their wake.

‘Still getting that reading?’ Sofia stopped to check on Peters.

Peters pulled the tracker from his pocket. ‘It’s stronger now.’ He held it up for Sofia to see the blue dots pulsing over the spot where Storage lay. ‘No sign of movement.’

Sofia checked the tension on the rope. ‘When we get there, I want you to stay behind me.’

‘Why? What are you expecting? I should go first, I’m the—’

Sofia didn’t wait for him to finish. She was fit, strong and skilled at Wing Chun Kung Fu. Peters was smart, but he was short, light and on the wrong side of forty. If they were going to face any kind of physical challenge, she wanted to be the first to deal with it. Sofia knew that if she had to strike, she would strike hard, fast, and without hesitation. Professor Peters, on the other hand… well, not so much.

Sofia set off again, continuing until she came to the guide rope lining the far edge of the landing strip. Without even pausing to catch her breath, she ducked under the rope and trudged on through the blizzard. Another hundred metres and Storage loomed out of the storm.

When she reached the steps, Sofia secured her rope to the handrail so they could follow it back to The Hub later. Once that was done, she tightened her grip on the rock collection tool, and climbed the metal stairs as quietly as she could. Reaching the top, she wiped ice from her goggles and turned to the camera. ‘OK. We’re going in.’

‘Wait,’ Peters said. ‘I should—’

She hit the button and stepped inside.

Peters followed her into the darkness, and the door swished shut behind them.

They stood motionless, listening, but there was nothing more than the muffled howl of the wind.

The first thing Sofia noticed was how warm and damp it was in there. The place was humid, way hotter than it was supposed to be on the base. There was a strong smell of sweat, like a locker room, with another scent lying underneath it; something sweet and ugly, like overripe fruit.

As her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, she scanned the room, making out the silhouettes of the items she expected to see. Shelves laden with equipment, packing crates, spare parts, tools and—

Something new. Something she didn’t recognize. Something that shouldn’t be there.

It stood at the far end of the module, large and dark, hidden in shadow.

Sofia raised her weapon, holding it over her shoulder like a baseball bat ready to swing. ‘It’s hot in here,’ she whispered. ‘There must be power to this part of the base. You know where the light switch is?’

‘Yes,’ Peters replied. ‘I’ll turn it on.’

‘Not yet. Point the camera at the far end of the room and wait for my count of three. Then I want you to switch it on.’

‘Why?’

‘Please,’ she said. ‘Just do it.’ And without waiting for an answer, Sofia began to count. ‘One…

‘… two…

‘… three. Now!’

The lights came on as soon as Peters flicked the switch. They flared over the room, illuminating the shape skulking in darkness.

Except it wasn’t just one shape. It was many shapes. Many people.

Many monsters.

‘Is that them?’ Zak asked. ‘Is that the people who are supposed to be here ?’

Mum paused the screen, showing a large group of people standing to attention at the far end of the Storage Bay. Backs straight, arms by their sides, hands balled into fists, they were shoulder to shoulder in three rows of ten, and one row of eight.

‘There’s too many of them.’ May cleared her throat. ‘There’s only supposed to be thirty-two people on the base.’

Zak counted them; thirty-eight. Forty including Sofia and Professor Peters. ‘So, who are the others?’

He looked at Mum and Dad.

‘BioMesa?’ Dad suggested.

‘Let’s play the rest.’ Mum tapped ‘play’.

On-screen, Sofia dropped the collection tool and went straight to a man standing in the front row. ‘Papa! ’ Tall and olive-skinned, the man wore a red coat and a grey bobble hat. His eyes were closed, as if he were sleeping; his face was glistening with sweat. When Sofia shook him, he didn’t respond at all.

‘ Mama! ’ Sofia pushed through to a woman in the second row, but again, there was no response. Beside her, Sofia’s brother also remained blank when she shook him. ‘ Pablo! Wake up! ’

While Sofia struggled to get a response, Peters put down the camera and rushed forward, trying to wake a girl who was about thirteen years old. The name printed on her chest was ‘Hilda Peters’. Blonde plaits fell from beneath the red and black beanie on her head. Beside her, a short woman, with a slight build, had the name ‘Dr Eva Peters’ printed on her jacket.

‘Why are they just standing there?’ May said. ‘They’re like… zombies. I mean, literally like zombies.’

They weren’t rotting corpses, like in The Walking Dead comics May read, but she had a point – they did look a bit like zombies, but… ‘They’re breathing.’ Zak leant closer to the screen. ‘You can see them breathing.’ He pointed at a man in the front row. The chest of his jacket was rising and falling with each shallow breath.

‘So, what’s wrong with them?’ May whispered.