I Work as a Rescue Worker. Something Strange Happened in the Blizzard.

Hello and welcome back to another episode by Sleepy Pasta. Before you doze off tonight, don't forget to leave a five star review and a comment where you are watching from. Let's begin. The aircraft rattled as we hit turbulence. I gripped my seat trying to stay awake after 36 hours without sleep.

The military transport plane wasn't built for comfort, and the vibration made my teeth chatter. Approaching Thule Air Base, prepare for landing, the pilot announced over the intercom. I looked out the window. Greenland stretched below a white desert broken by black rocks pushing through the snow. The morning sun revealed how unforgiving the terrain was.

The plane touched down with a jolt. My duffel bag slid across the floor after we stopped. I grabbed my gear and followed other passengers to the exit. Arctic air hit me when the door opened, cutting through my thermal layers. A Colonel stood waiting on the tarmac, his breath visible in the cold air.

He remained perfectly straight despite the wind. Gordon. He called as I approached. Yes, Sir. Colonel Morris Graham.

He didn't offer his hand, just gave me a quick once over walk with me. We're on a tight schedule. I fell in step beside him as we headed toward a low concrete building. Graham moved with military precision. I read your file on the flight over, he said your extraction record in extreme environments is impressive.

Thank you, Sir. This situation is time sensitive. We lost contact with a research team 48 hours ago. We entered the building, and then I felt my face thaw slightly in the heated air. Graham led me to a small conference room where a map of Greenland was projected on the wall.

He pointed to a location marked with a red X8. Scientists from the International Arctic Research Initiative went dark here, near what locals call Lost Glacier. It's a remote ice formation about 100 miles northeast of this base. I studied the map. The area looked particularly isolated, even by Greenland standards.

What were they researching? I asked. Ice core samples, climate data. Nothing classified. Graham pulled out a tablet and swiped through some files.

Their last scheduled check in was 2 days ago. No distress call, just silence. Equipment failure? Possible, but unlikely. They had redundant communication systems.

Graham handed me the tablet. These are their files. I need you to familiarize yourself with them immediately. You leave in 30 minutes. I scrolled through the information as Graham continued his briefing.

Weather's giving us a narrow window. Another storm system is moving in fast, you'll have approximately 6 hours on the ground before conditions become too dangerous for extraction. 6 hours isn't much time to locate and extract 8 people in those conditions. I said. It's all we've got.

Graham's expression remained unchanged. The helicopter's being prepped now. Your pilot knows the area better than anyone. I nodded, already scanning through the scientists profiles. 8 researchers, Janice Reed, the team leader, Dustin Diaz, geologist, Kenny Murphy, climatologist, Lillian Stewart, glaciologist, Mike Fuller, equipment specialist, Evelyn Garrett, biologist, Bodhi Ford, meteorologist and Storm Evans, communications expert.

Any signs of what might have happened? I asked. Nothing conclusive. Satellite imagery shows the research station intact, but there's been heavy snowfall in the area. Graham checked his watch.

Get yourself ready. I'll meet you at the helipad in 20. After Graham left, I continued reviewing the files. The research team had been on site for three weeks, taking ice core samples and setting up monitoring equipment, all experienced Arctic researchers with previous field missions. Nothing in their background suggested they'd make rookie mistakes in survival situations.

I gathered my gear and headed to the equipment room to check out additional supplies. 20 minutes later I was walking across the tarmac toward a waiting helicopter, a robust military model designed for Arctic operations. The pilot was in the cockpit running pre flight checks. He glanced up as I approached Axel Howl. He said as I climbed aboard.

You must be the rescue specialist, Jackson Gordon. I confirmed, stowing my gear. Colonel Graham appeared at the side of the helicopter with a grim face. The weather window is closing faster than expected. He shouted over the noise of the rotors.

You need to move now. What about a backup team? I asked. Not possible until the storm passes. You're it, Gordon.

Graham handed me a satellite phone. Check in when you reach the research station. Good luck. The helicopter lifted off the base quickly shrinking below us. I watched Graham's figure become a small dot before disappearing entirely as we banked N.

Ever been to Lost Glacier before? Axel asked over the intercom. First time in this part of Greenland. I replied. Axel nodded.

The locals have stories about that place. Old Inuit tales about people who walk onto the ice and never return. Every glacier has stories like that, I said. Sure. Axel adjusted our heading slightly.

But this one's earned its reputation. 3 separate expeditions disappeared there in the 50s, another in the 80s. Bad luck or bad preparation? I said, though I knew better than to completely dismiss local knowledge. Maybe Axel didn't sound convinced.

Storms around lost glacier form faster and hit harder than anywhere else I've flown. I turned my attention back to the tablet, studying the layout of the research station and memorizing the faces of the scientists. The helicopter pushed forward, eating up miles of empty white landscape. Three hours into our flight, visibility deteriorated. Clear blue sky gave way to Gray as clouds rolled in from the north.

That doesn't look good, I said, pointing to the darkening horizon. Axel frowned, checking his instruments. Storms moving faster than the meteorologists predicted. We're still 40 minutes out from the research station. Can we beat it?

Maybe he adjusted our course slightly. But it's going to be close. The helicopter pushed forward as the snow storm closed in rapidly. Snow pelted the windshield, quickly reducing visibility to a few 100 yards. This is bad.

Axel muttered, gripping the controls. Really bad. Should we turn back? I asked, though I already knew the answer. Axel shook his head.

We don't have the fuel margin. We'd never make it back to Thula. He glanced at me. We pushed through and hoped the station has enough supplies to wait out the storm. The helicopter shuddered as we hit a pocket of turbulence.

The snow was coming down harder now, the wind picking up speed. I checked my watch. We still had at least 30 minutes of flight time to reach the research station. I'm going to drop our altitude, Axel said. Try to get under this weather.

The helicopter descended, but the storm seemed to follow us down, wrapping around the aircraft like a living thing. The visibility dropped to almost nothing, just a wall of white outside the windows. Can you still navigate? I asked. GPS is working.

But Axel's words cut off as the helicopter suddenly lurched downward. What was that? I grabbed the edge of my seat. Downdraft. Axel grunted.

Fighting the controls, this storm is. The helicopter lurched again, more violently. Warning lights flashed across the control panel. We're losing altitude too fast. Axel shouted.

I looked out the window at the swirling white. The helicopter shook violently as Axel fought for control there. Axel yelled, pointing ahead. Ice Ridge. Through a momentary break in the snow, I caught a glimpse of a jagged wall of ice directly in our path.

Axel yanked the controls, trying to pull us up and over, but the helicopter responded sluggishly. We're not going to clear it, he said calmly. I braced myself, tucking my head down and wrapping my arms around my knees. The world seemed to slow down as the helicopter's skids clipped the top of the ice Ridge with a horrible scraping sound.

The impact sent us into a spin, the cabin filling with a screech of tearing metal. I felt a sharp pain as my head slammed into something hard. The last thing I saw was the white ground rushing up to meet us, the helicopter cartwheeling through the air. Then everything went black. My last thought was that we were crashing in one of Earth's most hostile places, with no one knowing our location and an approaching storm that would soon erase all evidence of our crash.

I woke up to the taste of blood and the sound of metal creaking. The cabin was tilted at a sickening angle. Wind howled outside, finding its way through cracks in the damaged fuselage. I touched my forehead and my fingers came away wet with blood. Axel.

I called out, my voice sounding strange in the confined space. No answer. I spotted him, slumped over the controls, not moving. I unbuckled my harness, carefully made my way to the front, fighting against gravity in the tilt of the floor. Axel, can you hear me?

I reached for his neck, pressing my fingers against his carotid artery. The pulse was there, weak but steady. Relief washed over me, quickly replaced by urgency. A nasty gash ran across his temple. Still bleeding, I pulled the first aid kit from under the seat and got to work cleaning the wound as best I could before applying a pressure bandage.

His breathing was shallow but regular. You're going to be OK, I told him, though I wasn't sure he could hear me. We're going to get out of this. I grabbed a thermal blanket from my pack and wrapped it around him, tucking it in to preserve what body heat he had left. The temperature inside the helicopter was dropping fast.

I need to find help, I said, more to myself than to Axel. I'm going to leave the emergency kit with you. I moved through the cabin, gathering what I could. My pack, extra thermal blankets, flares, water, energy bars, My satellite phone. The phone was cracked, screen black.

I tried turning it on anyway, but nothing happened. The side door was jammed from the impact. I braced myself against the wall and pushed with everything I had. Metal groaned in protest, but the door barely moved. I repositioned, found better leverage, and tried again.

This time it gave way with a screech, opening just enough for me to squeeze through. The Blizzard hit me hard. Snow stung my face in cold, cut through my gear. I could barely see 10 feet ahead. I pulled my goggles down and adjusted my hood.

I took out my GPS unit, but the screen was shattered completely. Useless Plan B, then. I reached for the emergency locator beacon on my belt and activated it. The small red light began to blink. Assuming it worked, Search and rescue would know our general location.

But in this weather, they wouldn't be able to reach us for hours, maybe days. I turned to look back at the helicopter, barely visible through the swirling snow. Axel needed medical attention, and soon the research station had to be close. We'd been almost on top of it when we crashed. That's when I noticed something odd.

Amid the chaotic, swirling snow, there was a corridor, a perfect path where the snow seemed to part, creating a clear route leading away from the crash site. It was as if someone had cut a straight line through the Blizzard. I stared at it for several seconds, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.

Wind patterns could create strange effects, but this was too perfect, too deliberate. I looked back at the helicopter once more. Axel was stable for now, wrapped in the thermal blanket with the emergency kit beside him. The best thing I could do was find help quickly. I made my decision and stepped into the corridor.

The howling of the wind seemed to dim slightly, though the cold remained just as bitter. I kept my head down and pushed forward, following this strange path through the storm. I checked my watch. I'd give myself 30 minutes to find the station, then head back to Axel if I came up empty. The corridor provided shelter from the snowstorm raging outside.

20 minutes in, my legs burned from trudging through knee deep snow. The wind had picked up again, pushing against me with each step. I was about to turn back when the corridor widened, opening into a small clearing. And there it was. The research station.

A low rectangular building with small windows glowing with light. The structure sat in the center of the clearing, oddly pristine against the chaos of the storm around it. I stopped, frowning. Something wasn't right. The building showed no signs of snow buildup around its base or on its roof.

In a Blizzard like this, there should have been massive drifts piled against the walls, but the station looked like it had been dropped into place minutes ago. I approached cautiously, making my way to what looked like the main entrance. The lights were on, which meant power was working. That was good news. Heat, communications, medical supplies, everything we needed.

I pounded on the door with my gloved fist. Hello, rescue team, anyone there? No response. I knocked again, harder this time. Doctor Reed, this is Jackson Gordon from Arctic Search and Rescue.

Nothing but the howl of the wind answered me. I tried the handle, expecting it to be locked. It wasn't. The door swung open easily. I hesitated at the threshold.

8 scientists had gone silent 2 days ago. Where were they? I stepped inside. The interior was lit with blue emergency lights. The main room was a common area with tables, chairs, and scientific equipment.

Hello. I called out. Anyone here? My voice echoed back to me, bouncing off the walls in a way that felt wrong somehow, as if the room were larger than it appeared. The air inside was cold, not as brutal as outside, but still well below what it should have been if the heating system was working.

Doctor Reed? Dustin Diaz? Kenny Murphy, Anyone? More echoes, more silence. Everything looked normal at first glance.

Mugs on tables, papers spread out, laptops open. It looked like the team had just stepped out momentarily, but the blue emergency lights suggested a power issue, though clearly some systems were still running. I moved deeper into the station. Something was wrong about this place. It wasn't abandoned.

The power was on, with no signs of struggle, but it felt empty beyond just the absence of people. The station hummed with power, lights on, equipment running, but no one was here to use any of it. I stood in the center of the common room, turning slowly, taking it all in. Where was everyone?

And why did this perfectly functional research station feel so much like a tomb? I moved deeper into the research station, leaving the common area behind. The hallway stretched ahead, lined with doors on either side. The blue emergency lighting cast everything in an eerie glow, making the shadows look deeper than they should have been.

The first door on my right was labeled Monitoring station. I pushed it open and froze. Kenny Murphy sat at his workstation, completely motionless. His back was straight, hands resting on the keyboard as if he'd been typing. When I stepped closer, my boots loud against the floor.

Doctor Murphy. His skin had an unnatural bluish tint. I reached out and touched his shoulder. It was rock solid. The man was frozen completely, like a statue made of ice.

His eyes were wide open, mouth twisted in what could only be described as pure terror. Jesus, I whispered. I'd seen frozen bodies before, climbers who didn't make it down from peaks, explorers caught in sudden storms. But this was different. Murphy wasn't slumped over or curled up trying to preserve heat.

He sat upright at his station like he'd been flash frozen in an instant. The computer in front of him was still on, displaying columns of data. The room itself felt unnaturally cold. Even for a station with heating problems, I checked the thermostat on the wall -20°C. The heating system indicator light showed green, functioning normally.

That made no sense. Even with Arctic temperatures outside, a working heating system should keep the interior much warmer. I moved to the next room, labeled Lab 1. The door swung open to reveal Dr. Brooks, slumped against a microscope, frozen solid just like Murphy.

Her face showed the same expression of horror, eyes wide and mouth open in a silent scream. My heartbeat faster as I continued down the hall. In Lab 2, I found Doctor Chen standing by a whiteboard marker, still in his frozen hand. Lab 3 contained Dr. Rodriguez at her desk, a coffee mug frozen to her lips.

In the small kitchen area, Doctor Okafor sat at the table with a sandwich in front of him, untouched. And in what looked like a small library, Doctor Novak was frozen with a book open in his lap. All of them showed the same terrified expressions, all frozen solid in the middle of ordinary activities.

This wasn't hypothermia or normal freezing. People who freeze to death typically look peaceful, like they've fallen asleep. These scientists looked like they'd seen something horrifying in their final moments. I pulled out my flashlight and examined Dr. Novak more closely.

His skin was solid ice, but I couldn't see the typical crystalline patterns that form when human tissue freezes gradually. This looked more like he'd been flash frozen in seconds, not the hours it would normally take an even the most extreme cold. The communications room was at the end of the hall. I pushed open the door and found Doctor Janice Reed sitting at the radio equipment, headphones still on her frozen head.

Like the others, her expression was locked in terror. I checked the equipment. The radio was functional, power indicators showing green, but there were no recorded distress calls, no log entries of attempted communication. Why hadn't they called for help? A faint sound made me turn sharply.

Had I imagined it? I stood perfectly still, listening. There it was again, a weak cough from the corner of the room. I swung my flashlight toward the sound. In the far corner, partially hidden behind a storage cabinet, I saw movement.

I rushed over and found a man huddled on the floor, wrapped in what looked like torn thermal blankets. Dr. Diaz. I knelt beside him. His face was Gray, lips blue.

Severe frostbite had blackened his fingers and the tip of his nose. His eyes fluttered open at the sound of my voice. Help. He whispered, the word barely audible. I immediately went into rescue mode, pulling emergency heat packs from my pack.

I cracked them to activate the chemical reaction and placed them at his core. Armpits, groin, chest. I'm Jackson Gordon, Arctic Search and rescue, I'm here to help you. I said, working quickly. Can you tell me what happened here?

He coughed weakly, his breath visible in the cold air. Cold came so fast. I'm going to get you out of here. I promised, though I wasn't sure how I'd manage it with Axel injured and the helicopter damaged. Just stay with me.

His hand shot out suddenly, grabbing my wrist with surprising strength for someone in his condition. The radio. He gasped, eyes wide with the same fear I'd seen on the frozen faces of his colleagues. Destroy it. What?

Why would I? The voices, he insisted, his words coming in painful bursts. They speak through the radio. Not real, not human. I frowned.

This sounded like the delusions of a man suffering from severe hypothermia. His core temperature was dangerously low, and hallucinations were a common symptom. Dr. Diaz Tolk, he corrected, wincing in pain. Call me Tolk.

Oh, Tolk, you're suffering from extreme hypothermia, we need to warm you up slowly and listen. His eyes locked on mine with frightening intensity. The glacier, not ice. It's them. Who's them?

I asked, continuing to work on warming him. Entities. He whispered. They mimic voices, call you out into the cold. He coughed violently.

His body's shaking. Everyone who went to check the equipment outside never came back. Then the voices used the radio sounded just like our friends. I pulled a small medical kit from my pack and prepared a syringe of morphine. The man was suffering, and in his condition, pain management was essential.

The cold follows the voices, He continued, growing more agitated. Gets colder when they speak. Janice tried to radio for help, then her voice came through the speaker while she was still sitting right there. His eyes darted to Doctor Reed's frozen form at the communication station. Then it got so cold so fast.

Tears froze on his cheeks as they fell. Please destroy the radio, they'll find you too. I injected the morphine into his arm. This will help with the pain. Try to stay calm.

You don't believe me? He said, his voice growing weaker as the drug began to take effect. Nobody believed Indigenous warnings either. Said the glacier eats people. His grip on my wrist loosened as the morphine spread through his system.

The cold, it's not natural. He murmured, eyes growing heavy. It's them hunting. I adjusted the heat packs around his core, knowing they would only buy him time. He needed proper medical attention soon or he wouldn't make it.

Rest now. I said gently. I'm going to wrap you up and figure out how to get us both out of here. As Tolk's eyes closed, I looked around at the frozen bodies of the research team. Something had happened here, something I couldn't explain.

But right now my priority had to be getting the survivors back to safety. I tucked the emergency blankets more securely around Tok's body, my mind racing with questions that had no logical answers. Whatever had happened in this station, I needed to focus on what I could control. Keeping Tolk alive, getting back to Axel and finding a way to contact the base through the storm.

The rest, the impossible cold, the frozen bodies caught in moments of terror, Tolk's warnings about voices in the glacier I'd have to deal with later if we survived. The blue emergency lights cast everything in an eerie glow as I moved toward the desk where Janice Reed sat frozen, her expression locked in terror.

I tried not to look at her face as I gently moved her stiff arm aside to access the computer terminal next to her. The screen was still on, displaying a login prompt. I typed in admin and hit enter. Nothing. I tried password and research.

Nothing. Then I noticed a sticky note partially hidden under a notebook. J Reed 1988. I typed it in and the screen unlocked, revealing a desktop filled with neatly organized folders. I clicked on one labeled Daily Logs and opened the most recent file.

It was dated 2 days ago, Day 21. Temperature anomalies continue throughout the station. Equipment readings show impossible fluctuations that don't match our thermometers. Doctor Murphy reported hearing voices from the glacier again last night. Said it sounded exactly like Doctor Stewart calling for help from outside, but she was asleep in her bunk at the time.

I scrolled to the next entry, dated the same day but time stamped 6 hours later. Update The acoustic phenomena are increasing in frequency. We've recorded over 12 separate instances in the past four hours. Each time, the voice perfectly mimics one of our team members. Doctor Ford swears he heard himself asking for assistance from the communications room while he was collecting samples with Doctor Evans.

The recordings show nothing but static and low frequency rumbling from the glacier. My eyes move to the final entry written by someone named Doctor Petrov. The timestamp showed it was created just hours before we lost contact with the station. Something is wrong. The temperature dropped 30° in minutes after the voices started again.

The heating system is running at maximum capacity but can't compensate. Reed thinks it might be a equipment malfunction, but I've checked everything twice. This cold isn't natural. It's like it's targeted, and I think something got inside the station. We heard Murphy's voice coming from the monitoring station, but when Evans went to check, Murphy was already at his desk, frozen solid.

The rest of us are gathering in the communications room to call for emergency evacuation, but the cold is following us room by room. If anyone finds this. The entry cut off abruptly. I stared at the screen, my breath clouding. In front of me, the lights flickered once, twice, then stabilized.

I felt a sudden drop in temperature, not gradual, but immediate, like someone had opened a door to the outside, but all the doors were closed. I checked my watch. I've been away from Axel for almost 40 minutes now. I needed to get back to him. As I stood up, a voice came through the radio sitting on the desk.

Axel's voice. Jackson, can you hear me? I'm hurt. I made it to the station, but I can't find the entrance. The storm's getting worse.

I froze. The radio wasn't even switched on, the power light was dark. Jackson, please, I can't feel my legs anymore. I backed away from the radio, remembering Tokes warning about voices that weren't human, but it sounded exactly like Axel. Same gruff tone, same slight accent.

Please. I can see the lights. I'm right outside. Against every instinct screaming at me to stay put, I moved to the window and wiped away the frost that had suddenly formed there. Through the swirling snow, I could make out a figure about 30 yards away, moving slowly toward the station.

Shit, I muttered. If that really was Axel, he wouldn't last more than minutes in this cold. I grabbed my pack, pulled on my gloves, and rushed to the entrance. The logical part of my brain kept repeating Tolk's warning, but the part of me that had spent years saving people in extreme conditions wouldn't let me ignore someone who needed help.

Especially not Axel. I yanked open the door, and the full force of the Blizzard hit me like a wall. The wind cut through my thermal gear as I pushed forward, following what looked like footprints in the fresh snow. The cold was different out here, deeper, more penetrating than any Arctic chill I'd experienced before.

Axel. I called out, but the wind swallowed my voice. I kept moving, squinting through the whiteout conditions. The figure I'd seen from the window seemed to have vanished, but I could still make out tracks leading away from the station. 20 yards out, I spotted something dark against the white landscape.

As I got closer, my stomach dropped. It was Axel. He stood completely upright, one arm extended slightly as if reaching for something, but he wasn't moving. His skin had a blue Gray tint, his eyes wide open but clouded over with frost. Ice crystals covered his eyebrows and eyelashes.

His flight suit was frozen solid, cracked in places like brittle plastic. I touched his shoulder and felt nothing give. He was completely frozen through, had been for hours based on the ice formation. There was no way he had just called me on the radio, no way he had been moving toward the station moments ago.

As this realization hit me, my handheld radio, the one clipped to my belt, crackled to life. Jackson, where are you? I can't see you anymore. Axel's voice coming through clear as day. Please help me, I'm so cold.

I stared at the radio, then back at Axel's frozen corpse standing before me. The voice continued pleading while I looked directly at its owner's dead body. The cold intensified around me, seeming to press in from all sides. I felt it seeping through my gear faster than any natural temperature drops should allow. My fingers began to tingle with the first warning signs of frostbite despite my insulated gloves.

Jackson, why won't you help me? The radio continued, Axel's voice now taking on a tone I'd never heard from him before, something almost childlike, curious. Don't you want to know what happened to us? I ran back toward the research station, my feet sinking into the snow with each desperate step. The Blizzard clawed at my face and tried to push me off course, but I kept my eyes locked on the blue glow from the station windows.

I pushed harder, lungs burning. When I reached the entrance, I yanked the door open and threw myself inside, slamming it shut behind me. Talk. I called out, my voice bouncing off the walls of the empty corridor. I'm back.

I hurried toward the communications room where I'd left him. No one answered. The emergency lights bathed everything in blue, distorting the shadows. It was cold enough to see my breath. I turned the corner into the communications room and stopped dead.

The thermal blankets I'd wrapped around Tolk lay scattered on the floor in crystalline shards, as if they'd been frozen and shattered like glass. And there, propped against the wall exactly where I'd left him, sat Tolk, completely frozen. His skin had turned the same blue Gray as Axel's. His eyes were wide open, clouded over with frost, and his mouth was frozen in what looked like a mid scream.

The chemical heat packs I'd placed on him were rigid blocks of ice. No, no, no, I moved closer, already knowing it was too late. The cold seemed to radiate from him, as if he'd become its source rather than its victim. The radio on the desk suddenly crackled to life, making me jump. Jackson, can you hear me?

It was Janice Reed's voice, clear as day. We need immediate evacuation. Something's happening to the team. Another voice cut in. Gordon, this is Maurice.

Report your status immediately, then. Axel. Jackson, I can't feel my legs. Help me, please. More voices joined in, overlapping.

All people I knew were dead. It's so cold in here. Can anyone hear us? Please respond. Jackson, where are you?

My own voice suddenly came through the speaker. This is Jackson Gordon, requesting immediate extraction. I found survivors at the research station. I backed away from the radio. Frost spread across the walls.

Tolk's warning echoed in my head. They mimic human voices, destroy the radio. I looked around frantically and spotted a fire extinguisher mounted on the wall. I yanked it free and turned toward the communications console. Without hesitation, I swung the extinguisher down onto the radio equipment with all my strength.

The metal casing dented, but the voices continued growing more frantic and overlapping. I smashed it again and again, until components cracked and sparked. The voices distorted but didn't stop. My handheld radio at my belt suddenly activated too, broadcasting the same cacophony of familiar voices begging for help. I unclipped it and threw it to the floor, bringing the extinguisher down on it.

With a final, decisive blow, the plastic casing shattered and the circuit board inside cracked in half. Instantly, the voices stopped. The sudden silence felt physical, like pressure releasing from the room. I stood there, panting, the extinguisher still clutched in my hands, listening to nothing but my own ragged breathing. The frost stopped spreading across the walls.

I touched my face, feeling numb cheeks. I had to get out of here now. I dropped the extinguisher and moved quickly around the station, grabbing anything useful I could find. In the kitchen I found energy bars and water bottles, some already frozen solid. I took what was still liquid and stuffed them into my pack.

In a storage closet I discovered more chemical heat packs and an emergency blanket, still in its packaging. From the scientists quarters. I grabbed extra layers. A thick wool sweater and additional pair of socks of balaclava. I pulled these on over my existing gear.

My hands shook as I worked, partly from cold and partly from fear. I checked my watch. I'd been in the station for just over an hour. The storm would be raging for hours more, according to the forecast Maurice had given me, but staying here wasn't an option. With my pack restocked and wearing every layer I could find, I headed for the exit.

I paused at the door, taking one last look at the blue lit interior of the station. Eight people had died here. Whatever was in this glacier had killed them all and nearly got me two. I pushed the door open and stepped outside, immediately hit by the full force of the Blizzard. I turned toward where the snow corridor had been, the unnatural clear path that had led me to the station, but found only swirling white chaos.

The corridor was gone. The wind cut through my layers like they weren't even there, and snow pelted my face mask with stinging force. Visibility was down to maybe 5 feet in front of me. I pulled out my compass, oriented myself toward where I thought the helicopter crash site might be, and started walking.

I trudged through knee deep snow as the wind kept shifting to blow against my face. I kept my head down and counted steps to stay focused. I was lost. The Blizzard had disoriented me and without the snow corridor I had no landmarks. The helicopter and station could be anywhere in this white void.

My toes had gone numb. Despite my boots, my face burned in the wind. Exhaustion pulled at me as I fought through the storm. I stumbled over something hidden beneath the snow and fell forward, landing face first in the powder. For a moment I just lay there, the cold seeping into my clothes, tempted to stay down.

Just a short rest. No, that was the cold talking. I forced myself up onto my knees, then to my feet, swaying slightly. As I regained my balance through the curtain of snow, I noticed a dark shape ahead. I moved toward it cautiously, remembering Axel's frozen form standing in the snow.

As I got closer, I saw it wasn't a person, but an opening in a wall of ice, a small cave in what appeared to be the edge of a glacier face. I approached the entrance, shining my flashlight inside. The Cave extended about 20 feet back, narrowing as it went. It wasn't deep, but it would provide shelter from the wind and snow.

I ducked inside, feeling immediate relief as the howling wind became muffled. The interior was smooth ice. Without the wind, the cold felt almost bearable. I moved to the back of The Cave and began setting up camp. I laid down the emergency blanket as a barrier between me and the ice floor.

I arranged my pack as a makeshift pillow and took inventory of my supplies. 4 energy bars, 2 water bottles, one partially frozen, 6 chemical heat packs, my flashlight, compass, knife, and the personal locator beacon clipped to my belt. The locator beacon. I'd almost forgotten. I checked it, relieved to see the red light still blinking.

It operated on a different frequency than the radios I destroyed. If the base was monitoring for it, they might be able to find me once the storm cleared. I activated two of the chemical heat packs, tucking one against my chest, under my layers and keeping one in my hands, alternating between warming my fingers and my face.

I ate half an energy bar, forcing myself to chew slowly and conserve what I had. As night fell outside, the already dim light in The Cave faded to almost nothing. I used my flashlight sparingly, just enough to check my watch. Occasionally. The temperature dropped further with nightfall, and I huddled deeper into my layers, trying to preserve body heat.

The wind changed, rising and falling in pitch. I started to hear voices. At first I thought I was imagining it, my mind playing tricks after everything I'd seen, But then they became clearer. Jackson, can you hear me? It was Maurice's voice, sounding like he was just outside The Cave entrance.

We've got a team on the ground. Flash your lights so we can find you. I almost moved toward the entrance before catching myself. No rescue team could have reached here in this weather, and I'd seen what happened to Axel. Another voice drifted in.

Gordon, this is Doctor Reed. I've got important information about what we found in the ice. I need to speak with you immediately. I pressed my back against The Cave wall, trying to block out the sound. The voices were perfect, exactly how each person sounded.

If I hadn't seen their frozen bodies with my own eyes, I might have believed it was really them. Jackson, buddy, it's Axel. I made it out of the helicopter. I've been looking for you for hours. Come on man, I'm freezing out here.

I covered my ears, but somehow the voices seem to bypass them, appearing directly in my mind. Jackson Gordon. This voice was different. It sounded like all the others layered together with something else underneath, something ancient and cold. We know you're in there.

We just want to talk. We just want to understand. I squeezed my eyes shut and focused on my breathing, trying to drown out the voices with the sound of my own heartbeat in my ears. Outside The Cave, the wind howled, carrying with it the perfect imitations of the dead, calling my name over and over.

As the night grew darker and colder around me, I pressed my back against The Cave wall, trying to block out the sound. The voices were perfect, exactly how each person sounded. If I hadn't seen their frozen bodies with my own eyes, I might have believed it was really them. Jackson, we found you.

It was Maurice's voice, casual and relieved, like he was meeting me for coffee instead of calling through a Blizzard. We got your beacon signal. The helicopter's just over the Ridge. I squeezed my eyes shut. The voice was perfect, the exact cadence of Maurice's speech, the slight southern drawl he tried to hide.

But Maurice wasn't here, couldn't be here, not in this storm, not this quickly. We need to move fast, called another voice. Axel's voice storms getting worse. Can you walk to us? We're about 50 yards from your position.

My hands trembled against my ears. I'd seen Axel's body less than two hours ago, frozen solid in the snow, his arm reaching toward nothing. Whatever was speaking with his voice wasn't human. I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders against The Cave wall. The heat pack had cooled.

I reached for another from my pack, cracked it and slipped it under my jacket. Gordon, this is Doctor Reed. Came a woman's voice, professional and calm. We have a medical team. Your pilot told us you were injured.

Please respond. I almost laughed. They were getting sloppy. Reed had been sitting frozen at her desk when I found her, and Axel couldn't have told anyone anything. I know you're in there, the voice continued, softer now.

We can see your tracks in the snow. The Cave felt smaller suddenly, the darkness pressing in. I clicked on my flashlight, sweeping it around the rough ice walls. 20 feet deep, maybe less. No other exit.

Just me and whatever waited outside. You're making a mistake, Morris's voice called again, Temperatures dropping. You won't survive the night in there. That might be true. The cold made my joints ache.

I checked my watch just past midnight hours until dawn. I ate another quarter of an energy bar, chewing slowly to make it last. The partially frozen water bottle yielded only a few sips. I'd need to conserve what little I had left. Jackson, please, Came a child's voice, high and frightened.

I'm scared out here. Help me. I didn't recognize that one. A new trick. I pressed my hands harder against my ears, but the voices seem to bypass them, appearing directly in my head.

We just want to understand, said a chorus of voices layered together like a terrible choir. Come out, talk to us, the words echoed off the ice walls. I focused on my breathing in hold out, the same pattern I taught civilians in crisis situations. Now I was the civilian, trapped and afraid. I thought about talks, warning about the voices, about how they weren't human, about how the research team had heard their own voices coming from places they couldn't possibly be, About how they'd all ended up frozen solid, caught in moments of terror.

The voices continued through the night. They mimicked people I knew, Maurice, Axel, Doctor Reed then shifted to strangers. Crying children pleading old men, women calling my name as if we were old friends. We found your helicopter, Axel's voice said casually. Nothing left of it now.

Storm took care of that. I bit my lip until I tasted blood. The pain helped me focus, pulled me back from the edge of giving in. Your friend is still alive, whispered a voice that sounded like Doctor Reed. The one you left in the station.

He's asking for you, Tolk. The image of his frozen body flashed in my mind. Blue, Gray skin, frosted eyes, mouth open, and a silent scream. He hadn't been alive when I left. Whatever was speaking knew exactly which lies would cut deepest.

I checked my watch repeatedly as the night wore on. One in the morning, 2-3, my toes had gone numb. I removed my boots, massaged feeling back into them, then doubled my socks before putting the boots back on. We're leaving soon. Maurice's voice called, sounding resigned.

Last chance, Gordon Helicopter can't wait in these conditions. I activated another heat pack and tucked it against my neck. 4 left. I needed to make them last. My eyelids grew heavy around 4I pinched my arm hard until tears sprang to my eyes.

Sleep meant death out here. I'd seen exhausted climbers who sat down for just a minute and never got back up. He's falling asleep, a child's voice whispered. We can take him soon. I jerked upright, heart pounding.

The voice is new. They were watching me somehow, waiting for weakness. I forced myself to stand, stomping my feet and swinging my arms to get blood flowing. The movement sent pain shooting through my frozen fingers and toes. Good pain, necessary pain to stay awake.

I forced myself to recall each frozen body. Murphy at his keyboard. Brooks slumped against her microscope. Chen by the whiteboard. Rodriguez with coffee at his lips.

Okafor at the kitchen table. Novak in the library. Read in communications. Tolk against the wall, Axel standing in the snow, arm outstretched. Nine people, 9 lives ended in moments of ordinary routine, transformed into grotesque ice sculptures.

I wouldn't be the 10th. The cold doesn't have to hurt, said a gentle voice, maternal and warm. We can make it peaceful, like falling asleep. My teeth chattered. I wrapped the emergency blanket tighter around my shoulders, but it did little against the cold.

My breathing came in painful gasps. Let us in, the voices said together, a terrible harmony. Let us understand warmth. I thought about the radio equipment I'd smashed, how the voices had stopped when I destroyed it. Whatever these things were, they needed technology to speak out.

Here they were using the wind, somehow shaping it into words. We've been alone so long, they whispered. So cold, so empty. For a moment, just a moment, I felt sorry for them. Whatever waited in the glacier had been there for who knows how long, Alone in the ice, watching humans come and go.

Then I remembered Toke's frozen face and the pity vanished, clicking it on only when necessary. 5 minutes of light, then darkness again. 5 minutes of reassurance that The Cave wall still existed. Around 5:00 in the morning, I noticed something strange. The voices had changed their approach.

No more friendly calls, no more pretending to be rescuers. We are the ice, they whispered. We are the cold that came before warmth. We are the silence that came before sound. I pressed my back against The Cave wall, as far from the entrance as possible.

We remember when your kind first came. Here. They continued, small and warm and afraid. We took them too. We will take all who come.

My locator beacon blinked steadily on my belt. It's red light, a tiny comfort in the darkness. Someone would come eventually if I could just hold on. Your people will forget, the voices said. They always forget.

They will send more and we will take them too. I activated my second to last heat. Pack and pressed it against. My chest. The warmth did little against the cold.

We see your light, they whispered. Your little machine calling for help. No one will come. No one ever comes. I closed my eyes, focusing on the steady blink of the beacon.

Regular, mechanical, real. Unlike the voices sometime before dawn. I must have drifted off. Despite my best efforts, I dreamed of warm beaches, of sunshine on my face, of hot coffee and soft beds. I dreamed of walking into the Blizzard of friendly faces waiting just beyond The Cave entrance of a warm helicopter ready to Take Me Home.

I woke with a start. The Cave was silent except for my breathing. I checked my watch. 730 I'd slept for almost 2 hours. My hands and feet felt numb.

I activated my last heat pack. And tucked it inside. My jacket. The silence felt wrong. After a night of voices, I crawled toward The Cave entrance.

My muscles stiff from. The cold sunlight reflected off snow. The Blizzard had stopped. The sky was clear blue, with the sun rising over the glacier's edge. I stumbled outside.

The world had transformed overnight. Snow stretched in every direction, glittering under the morning sun. I turned in a circle, getting my bearings. The research station should be E. The helicopter crashed site N, but everything looked the same.

Endless white under blue sky. A distant sound caught my attention. Not voices this time, but a mechanical drone. I looked up, shielding my eyes. Against the sun.

A plane, small single engine, circling about half a mile to the West. Search and rescue. My beacon had worked. They'd found me. I fumble with my pack.

Hands shaking with. Cold and relief. The flare gun was at the bottom. Wrapped in a spare. Shirt for protection.

I loaded it with numb fingers, pointed it skyward and pulled the trigger. The red flare shot into. The sky. I watched it arc and fall, praying the pilot would see it. The plane banked sharply.

Turning toward my. Position they'd seen me. I waved my arms above my head, jumping up and down despite my frozen feet. The plane circled lower. Waggling its wings and.

Acknowledgement as it passed overhead. I saw the Air Force. Markings on its side, Thuli Air Base had. Sent search planes. As soon as the storm cleared, I wasn't forgotten.

I wasn't abandoned. The plane circled lower. The pilot dropped a package with an orange. Parachute that. Landed about 50 yards away, I trudged toward it, each step painful on my frozen feet.

The package contained a radio, water, food and a note. Helicopter on route. ETA 30. Minutes, hang tight. I clutched the radio, my fingers trembling.

For a moment, I hesitated. The voices had come through radios before, but this was different, a Direct Line to actual humans, not whatever lurked in the glacier. I pressed the transmit button. This is Jackson Gordon, I read you one survivor awaiting extraction. The radio crackled.

Copy that, Gordon, glad to hear your voice. Chopper is inbound from Thule. What's your condition? A human voice. A real human voice with background noise and radio static.

Nothing like the too perfect mimicry from the night before. Cold. I said, my voice cracking. Very cold, but alive. Roger that.

Hang in there, help is on the way. I sank to my knees in the snow, clutching the radio as I watched the search plane circle overhead. I had survived the night. I had survived the voices and soon I would leave this place behind. But as I waited for the helicopter, I felt watched.

Something ancient seemed to. Observe from within the. Glacier, Something that would outlast me. Waiting for future visitors, the rescue team approached across the ice field. 3 figures in orange parkas moved toward me, their boots crunching in the snow.

The sun caught on their equipment, sending flashes of light my way. Gordon. Jackson Gordon. One of them called. I didn't respond right away.

The voice sounded human enough, but after what I'd experienced, I wasn't taking anything at face value. I studied their movements. The way they trudged. Through the snow, how they adjusted their gear as they walked. Normal human movements, not the eerie stillness of whatever had been in the glacier.

We see you stay where you are, the lead rescuer shouted. I remained kneeling in the snow, radio clutched in my hand. My thumb hovered over the transmit button, ready to call the circling plane if something felt wrong. The search aircraft continued, its lazy loops overhead, its engine drone a constant reminder that real help was watching.

The lead rescuer was about 20 yards away now. Female, mid 30s maybe, with a medical kit slung across her chest. Behind her, two men. Carried a collapsible. Stretcher and additional gear, Mr.

Gordon. I'm Captain Reyes with. Arctic search and Rescue. These are specialists Chen and Kowalski. Colonel Graham sent us to get you out.

I watched her mouth as she spoke. The words matched her lip movements that seemed important somehow. How do I know you're real? I asked, my voice rough from cold and exhaustion. She paused, then took another step forward.

That's a fair question. After what? You've been through. The cold can cause hallucinations. We got your beacon signal about four hours ago.

Colonel Graham authorized an immediate search once the weather cleared. I kept watching for anything suspicious. Their breath clouded in the cold. Their eyes blinked. Human things.

What's the date today? I asked. February 12th. She replied without hesitation. You've been out here 2 nights.

That matched my own count. I relaxed slightly, but kept my guard up. Captain Reyes reached me first and knelt down. May I check your vitals? I nodded, watching her.

She pulled off her glove and pressed her fingers against my neck, checking my pulse. Your pulse is rapid but strong, pupils responsive, she said, shining a pen light briefly in my eyes. Can you tell me where you're hurt? Mostly just cold. Hit my head in the crash.

I gestured vaguely toward my. Forehead where I could feel. Dried blood. The other two rescuers arrived. And set down their.

Gear One began unpacking a thermal. Wrap while the other. Radioed the helicopter extraction team to base. We've located Gordon, conscious and alert. Preparing for transport now.

Captain Reyes handed me a water bottle. Small sips only the water was room temperature and. Tasted slightly sweet. Some kind of electrolyte mix. I took a careful sip, then another.

The helicopter will be here in about 10 minutes, she explained, wrapping a blood pressure cuff around my arm. We need to get your core temperature. Up before we move you. Chen helped me into a silver. Thermal suit over my.

Clothes. They sealed it around me and warmth began to spread. What about the research station? I asked, watching their faces for any reaction. Did you check there for survivors?

The three rescuers exchanged glances. What research station? Kowalski asked. We only found the helicopter crash site about a mile east of here. Your pilot was still inside, frozen.

I'm sorry. I shivered. There's a station. I was just there yesterday. 8 scientists, all frozen except one.

And he? I trailed off. Remembering Tolk's frozen. Face Captain Reyes looked concerned. We did a thorough sweep of the area.

Before finding you. There's no structure within 10 miles of here, just ice and snow. That's not possible. I was there. I read their logs, I saw, I stopped myself.

They already thought I was hallucinating from the cold. It's OK, she said gently. Exposure can cause confusion and false memories. We'll sort it all out once we get. You back to base.

I didn't argue. What could I say that wouldn't sound crazy? I'd seen a research station that apparently didn't exist. I'd read logs on a computer. I'd found seven frozen scientists and one survivor who later froze as well.

I'd heard voices coming from radios. That shouldn't have been. Working The distant thump of helicopter rotors grew louder. I looked up to see a black dot approaching from the South. That's our ride, Chen said, packing up the medical supplies.

They helped me onto the stretcher despite my insistence that I could walk. Maybe it was pride, or maybe I just wanted to prove I was still in control of something. Standard procedure, Captain Reyes explained. We don't want you exerting yourself until the doctors check you out. The helicopter landed about.

50 yards away. Kicking up a swirl of snow, the rotors kept spinning as Chen and. Kowalski carried. Me toward it, with Captain Reyes walking alongside, monitoring my condition. As we approached the helicopter, I twisted on the stretcher to look back at the glacier.

I thought I saw something, a dark opening that might have been The Cave where I'd spent the night, but there was no sign of any. Path leading to a research. Station. They loaded me into the helicopter, securing the stretcher to the floor. Captain Reyes climbed in.

Beside me while Chen. And Kowalski took seats across from us. The pilot, face hidden behind a flight helmet, gave a thumbs up. The doors slid shut and we lifted off through the window. I watched the ground fall away.

The search plane waggled its. Wings in salute. Before banking away toward Thule, our helicopter turned S beginning the journey back to base. Colonel Graham will want to. Debrief you when we get back.

Captain Ray has said over the headset she placed over my ears. He was worried when we lost contact with your. Helicopter. What did Maurice tell you about our mission? I asked, Still testing, still watching for inconsistencies.

Just that you were sent to check on a research team that had gone silent when your helicopter didn't return and the storm hit. He feared the worst. As soon as the weather cleared enough for a search plane, he had one in the air. Her answer matched what I knew. I relaxed a little more but couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.

I looked down at the glacier. As we climbed higher. That's when I saw it. The snow below was moving, not from wind, but shifting and flowing like something alive. White corridors formed patterns that seemed deliberate, pathways leading nowhere, or perhaps everywhere.

Do you see that? I asked, pointing at the window. Captain Ray has leaned over to look. See what? The snow.

It's moving. She glanced out the window and back at me with that same gentle, concerned expression. Just some wind patterns. Nothing unusual. But I knew what I was seeing.

The glacier was alive, or something inside. It was something ancient that had learned to mimic us, lure us in, frees us in place and take what it wanted from us. And I was the only one who knew. As we flew from Lost Glacier, I watched until it vanished. The voices had called themselves the Ice.

They'd admitted taking humans before and promised to continue. How many expeditions had vanished there over centuries? How many more would disappear? I leaned back on the stretcher, suddenly exhausted. I had survived, but Axel hadn't.

Neither had Doctor. Reed or Tolk or any of the others. And now there was no evidence they'd ever been at that station. A station that apparently didn't exist. Would anyone believe me?

Would Maurice listen when I? Told him about voices in the. Glacier that could mimic human speech, About a cold that froze people solid in seconds while they were in the middle of ordinary tasks, about a research station that appeared and disappeared. It didn't matter if they believed me. I had to try.

I had to warn others about what waited in that ancient ice. Even if they thought I was crazy or suffering from exposure induced hallucinations. I had to make them understand the danger. The helicopter continued S carrying me away from Lost Glacier as the painkillers Captain Reyes had given me began working. I felt like part of me remained there in that cave, hearing voices in the wind, watched by something ancient that would wait for new visitors.

The glaciers, secrets and ghosts remained waiting.