We Responded to a Distress Call on the Arctic Ice. What we Found Wasn't Human.

I slid into the helicopter's rear seat, pulling the harness tight across my chest. Something about this mission felt off from the start. The call had come in at 4:00 in the morning. A solo hiker named Jason Wilkins activated his emergency beacon on Nordensky Old Glacier Standard Rescue. Except for the timing and the location, who hikes alone in that area during this season?

Everyone check comms, Chandler said, his voice crackling through my headset. I tap my mic. Martin, check. Gross, check. Isaac said beside me, adjusting his gloves.

His usual pre mission jokes were absent today. Price systems Green. Alice called from the pilot's seat, her fingers dancing across the control panel. Chavez communications operational, Reese confirmed from her station. The rotors spun faster overhead as Alice lifted us into the sky, banking N toward the glacier.

Dark clouds gathered on the horizon despite the clear weather report. ETA 20 minutes. Alice announced wind speeds increasing at the target zone. Chandler turned in his seat. Martin Gross, you'll make first contact.

Standard hypothermia protocol. Beacon shows he's been out there six hours already. Copy that, I said, double checking my medical kit. 6 hours exposed in those temperatures. Jason Wilkins would be in rough shape if he was still alive.

Isaac leaned toward me. 10 bucks says he's some rich tourist who thought Arctic hiking would make a cool Instagram story. You're on, I said, but my heart wasn't in it. The uneasiness lingered. Reese's voice cut through my thoughts.

I've got the beacon signal strong and steady, but that's weird. What is it? Chandler asked. The beacon's moving slowly, but definitely moving. That was unusual.

Standard procedure for a stranded hiker was to activate your beacon and stay put. Maybe he's trying to find shelter? Isaac suggested in the open glacier. I shook my head. There's nowhere to go.

Alice banked the helicopter slightly. I've got visual on the target area coming in from the South. I pressed my face against the window. The glacier stretched below us, a vast white expanse cracked with blue fissures. Then I spotted him, a small dark figure moving across the ice.

I see him, I said. But something's not right. The figure, Jason presumably, wasn't walking normally. He stumbled, fell, got back up, and continued forward with jerky movements. Not the careful steps of someone navigating ice, but erratic, almost random motion.

He looks drunk, Isaac said, watching over my shoulder. Or severely hypothermic? I countered. Confusion, impaired coordination. Classic signs.

Chandler frowned. Why isn't he staying with his beacon? I don't know, I admitted. But he needs help fast. Alice brought us down about 50 yards from Jason's position, the helicopter's skids touching down on the flat section of the glacier.

The rotors continued spinning. Standard procedure for quick extraction. Martin Gross go. Chandler ordered Chavez monitor vitals from here. We pulled on our cold weather masks and jumped out onto the ice.

The wind hit me immediately, cutting through my gear despite the layers. If Jason had been out here for hours in inadequate clothing, he'd be in critical condition. Jason Wilkins, I called out, my voice barely carrying over the wind and rotors. Arctic Rescue, stay where you are, The figure turned toward us. Even from this distance, I could see something was very wrong.

His movements were too stiff, too mechanical. As we got closer, the wrongness became clearer. Jesus, Isaac muttered beside me. Jason's skin was blue, not the patchy blue of typical frostbite, but a uniform pale blue that covered every visible part of him. His eyes were open but clouded, staring without focus.

His lips had pulled back from his teeth in what looked like a grimace, yet he was moving, walking. Hypothermia this severe should have left him unconscious, not mobile. Jason, can you hear me? I approached cautiously, my medical training at odds with my instinct. His condition defied what I knew about cold weather survival.

He didn't respond, just kept walking toward us with that same stumbling gait. He's not wearing proper gear. Isaac pointed out. Jason had on only a light jacket and pants. Completely inadequate for these conditions.

Sir, we're here to help you, I said, moving closer. Can you tell me your name? No response, just that vacant stare and continued movement. Core temperature reading is showing 28°C. Reese's voice came through my headset.

That can't be right. Check the manual reading when you get him in 28°. Impossible. No one walks around with a core temp that low. Jason, we need to get you to the helicopter.

I said, reaching for his arm. What happened next occurred so quickly I barely had time to react. Jason lunged forward with unexpected speed, grabbing Isaac's outstretched hand before either of us could pull away. He sank his teeth into the flesh between Isaac's thumb and index finger, biting down hard through the glove. Fuck.

Isaac yelled, trying to pull free. Get him off me. I grabbed Jason from behind, attempting to break his grip. His body felt ice cold through his clothing, but he was strong, impossibly strong for someone in his condition. He clung to Isaac's hand, teeth still embedded in the flesh.

Chandler, need assistance? I shouted into my Mike. Chandler was already running toward us, Taser drawn. Release him now, he ordered Jason, who showed no sign of hearing or understanding. When Jason didn't respond, Chandler fired the Taser.

The barbs hit Jason's back and his body jerked, but he didn't release Isaac. Chandler triggered a second cycle. Nothing. What the hell? Chandler muttered, holstering the useless Taser and physically grabbing Jason's jaw, trying to pry it open.

It took all three of us to finally break his grip. When we pulled him off, I saw blood soaking through Isaac's torn glove. Jason immediately tried to lunge again, his movements faster and more coordinated than before. Restrain him. Chandler ordered as we wrestled Jason to the ground.

Up close, his condition was worse. His blue skin looked translucent, with dark veins showing underneath. His eyes didn't respond to my penlight, yet he fought against us with surprising strength despite his state. Get the restraints. I told Isaac, but when I looked at him, I saw he was staring at his injured hand with a shocked expression.

Isaac, you OK? I asked. He looked up, face pale. The bite, it burns like ice burning. We need to get you both back to the helicopter, I said, suddenly very aware of how exposed we were on the open glacier.

We managed to secure Jason's wrists and ankles with zip ties from our kits. Even restrained, he continued to struggle, making guttural sounds that weren't quite words. Let's move, Chandler said, taking Jason's shoulders while I grabbed his feet. We carried him back toward the helicopter, his body twisting and fighting the entire way. Alice watched from the cockpit, her expression grim.

Reese had prepared the medical restraints inside. Get him secured, Chandler ordered as we loaded Jason into the helicopter. Gross. Let's see that hand. Isaac pulled off his glove, revealing an ugly wound.

The skin around the bite had already turned an alarming shade of blue, spreading outward from the punctures. That doesn't look right. I said, cleaning the wound quickly. We need to get you back to medical. It feels weird.

Isaac said, his voice tight. Cold, really cold. Spreading up my arm, I wrapped his hand while Reese and Chandler secured Jason to the bench seat. The restraints barely held him as he continued to struggle. Everyone in Alice called.

I want off this ice now go. Chandler confirmed, and Alice lifted us smoothly into the air. As we rose, I spotted something on the glacier below that terrified me. Jason's footprints traced a wandering path across the snow, not coming from any direction that made sense, but cutting straight across the most dangerous part of the glacier.

No shelter, no equipment abandoned along the way, just endless tracks showing he'd been walking for miles and conditions that should have killed him hours ago. I turned back to check on Isaac. He sat with his injured hand cradled against his chest, his face pale and sweating despite the cold. How you doing? I asked quietly.

Not great. He admitted, my hands numb, the cold feeling is moving up my arm. I checked his pulse, rapid and weak. His skin felt clammy. Reese, what's his temperature?

I asked. She pressed A thermometer to his forehead, 97.2 and dropping. That was too fast for normal shock response. Across from us, Jason continued to struggle against his restraints, his clouded eyes fixed on Isaac. The restraints creaked under the strain.

Chandler. I said quietly. Those restraints going to hold they better. He replied, watching Jason with a wary expression. What the hell is wrong with him?

This isn't normal hypothermia. I don't know, I admitted. I've never seen anything like this. I glanced back out the window and froze. Far below, on the glacier, a dark figure moved.

Jason's tracks continued from where we'd found him. But there was another set now, the ones we just made. And at the end of those tracks, looking up at our helicopter, stood another figure. I blinked, certain I was seeing things. But no, there was definitely someone else down there.

Someone who hadn't been there when we landed. Alice, I called up to the cockpit. Was there a second hiker reported. Negative, she replied. Just Wilkins.

I pressed my face closer to the glass. The figure below had started moving, stumbling across the ice with the same jerky gait as Jason, following our helicopter's path with slow but relentless steps. There's someone else down there, I said, moving just like Jason was. Chandler came to look over my shoulder. I don't see anyone there, I pointed, following our trajectory.

Chandler squinted. Could be wildlife. It's not, I said. It's a person walking like Jason. As if hearing his name, Jason renewed his struggles, the restraints creaking ominously.

Get us back to base fast, Chandler told Alice. Full speed. Copy that, she replied, pushing the helicopter to its limits. I kept my eyes on the glacier below until the figure disappeared from view, then turned my attention back to Isaac. His condition was deteriorating rapidly.

The blue discoloration had spread halfway up his forearm, and his breathing had become shallow. Stay with me, Isaac, I said, checking his vitals again. He looked at me, his eyes unfocused. Eli, my arm feels wrong, like it's not mine anymore. I glanced at Jason, still straining against his restraints, then back at Isaac's spreading blue discoloration.

A terrible thought formed in my mind, but I pushed it away. That was impossible. People don't get infected from bites like some zombie movie, but as I watched Isaac's skin turn the same unnatural blue as Jason's, I couldn't shake the feeling that whatever was happening was far beyond anything in our medical training.

Through the window, I saw the glacier behind us. Down there, a figure stumbled across the ice, following us with relentless steps that should have been impossible in such cold. I stood outside Kaden's office, hand raised to knock. My knuckles hovered there a second too long before I finally rapped on the door. The sound felt too loud in the quiet hallway.

Come in. Kaden called. I pushed the door open and stepped inside. Kaden sat behind his desk, glasses perched on the end of his nose as he scrolled through something on his tablet. The office was military neat, everything aligned at right angles, not a paper out of place.

Director Chavez, I said I need to talk to you about what happened on the glacier. He looked up, setting the tablet down with deliberate care. Martin, I've been expecting you. Sit. I sat across from him.

Kaden kept his office cooler than the rest of the base. I read the preliminary report, he said, folding his hands on the desk. A successful rescue under difficult circumstances. The medical team is evaluating both patients. That's what I want to talk about.

I said Jason Wilkins, there's something wrong with him beyond hypothermia. And Isaac is receiving excellent care from Doctor Cooper. Kaden cut in. I spoke with her 20 minutes ago. Did she tell you about the blue discoloration, how it's spreading from the bite wound?

Kaden's expression didn't change. She mentioned an unusual frostbite presentation. Yes, it's not frostbite. I said, leaning forward. I've seen frostbite plenty of times.

This is different. Jason score temp was 28°C. He should have been dead, not walking around. Extreme hypothermia can cause confusion and paradoxical undressing. It's well documented.

This wasn't confusion. He attacked Isaac like. I paused, hearing how it would sound like he wasn't human anymore. Kaden took off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. Martin, you've had a difficult day.

Rescue missions in those conditions are stressful. The mind plays tricks. I know what I saw. I insisted, and there was someone else out there, another person moving the same way Jason was. The glacier is Norwegian territory.

We've already notified their authorities to investigate. I felt my jaw tighten. By the time they get there, any tracks will be covered. We need to send our own team back out. That's not happening, Kaden said flatly.

Not with the storm system moving in. All missions are grounded for the next 48 hours. Then at least put Jason and Isaac in quarantine. Whatever, this is enough. Kaden's voice remained calm, but his eyes hardened.

Dr. Cooper hasn't reported any contagious disease concerns. We're not a research station, Martin. We're search and rescue. You did your job bringing them back, now let medical do theirs.

I sat back, recognizing the wall I'd hit. Yes Sir, get some rest. He said, already reaching for his tablet again. You look like you need it. I stood up, knowing I'd been dismissed the door.

I paused when Isaac's bite turned blue. He said it felt like his arm wasn't his anymore, like something was taking it over. Kaden looked up, his expression unreadable. I'll make sure Doctor Cooper is aware. I nodded and left, the door clicking shut behind me.

Back in my quarters, I lay on my bunk, staring at the ceiling. The clock read 11:15, but I couldn't sleep. When I closed my eyes, I saw Jason's clouded gaze for Isaac's face as the blue spread up his arm. I must have dozed off because the alarm jolted me awake. Red emergency lights pulsed through my room.

The clock read 423I rolled out of bed, heart hammering. The alarm meant medical emergency. I yanked on pants and boots, not bothering with a shirt, and rushed into the hallway. Other doors were opening, confused faces peering out. What's happening?

Someone called. I was already running toward the medical wing. The corridor stretched long and empty under the flashing red lights. As I rounded the corner, I heard shouting. Hold him down.

Get his arms. I burst through the medical Bay doors. Isaac was on the floor, thrashing violently against Nolan and Josie from security. His skin had turned completely blue. Not just his arm now, but everywhere visible.

His eyes were clouded white, and a guttural sound came from his throat that didn't sound human. Vicki Cooper was pressed against the far wall, hand clamped to her bleeding shoulder, face pale with shock. A medical cart lay overturned, instruments scattered across the floor. Martin Nolan shouted when he saw me. Help us.

I rushed forward, grabbing Isaac's legs as he kicked wildly. His skin was ice cold through his hospital gown, impossibly cold. What happened? I demanded. He woke up and attacked Dr.

Cooper. Josie grunted, struggling to keep her grip on his arm. Bit her. Before we could respond, Vicky slid down the wall, leaving a smear of blood. His temperature dropped to 26°.

She said, voice shaking. He should be unconscious, not this. Isaac bucked with unnatural strength, nearly throwing Nolan off. His movements were jerky, uncoordinated, but powerful, just like Jason's had been. We need restraints.

I shouted. Working on it. A nurse rushed in with padded cuffs, but Isaac's thrashing made it nearly impossible to secure them. Isaac. I tried, leaning close to his face.

Isaac, it's Eli, can you hear me? His clouded eyes didn't focus on me. There was no recognition there, no hint of the person I knew, just that animal snarl and relentless struggling. We finally managed to get the restraints on and lifted him onto a Gurney. The straps creaked as he strained against them.

What's happening to him? I asked Vicki as a nurse treated her shoulder. She shook her head, looking scared in a way I'd never seen before. I don't know. His vitals are impossible.

No one can survive with a core temperature that low. Jason did. I reminded her, and now Isaac. She looked at her bitten shoulder, then back at me with wide eyes. The bite, It has to be the bite.

Before I could respond, Isaac screamed and wrenched against his restraints, tipping the Gurney sideways. He hit the floor hard, his head smashing against the tile. Isaac. I rushed to him. Blood pooled beneath his head, but he continued to thrash for several more seconds before going completely still.

The sudden silence felt deafening. Vicky pushed past me, pressing fingers to his neck. After a long moment, she looked up. He's gone. The words didn't make sense at first.

Isaac couldn't be gone. We've been joking on the helicopter. Just yesterday he owed me $10. Time of death 441, Vicky said quietly to the nurse. I backed away, hit a chair and sat down.

Isaac's skin was blue, with dark veins showing underneath. I told Kaden. I said, my voice sounding far away. I told him something was wrong. Vicki didn't answer.

She was looking at her bitten shoulder with naked fear. The next few hours passed in a blur. Security took statements. Someone brought me a shirt. Kaden arrived, his face grave as he surveyed the scene.

I repeated everything I told him the night before, this time with more people listening. We need to check on Jason Wilkins, I insisted. He's secured in isolation, Caden said. Has been since you brought him in, and anyone who's been bitten needs quarantine, I added, looking pointedly at Vicki. She nodded, pale but composed.

I've isolated myself and the other affected staff member. We're monitoring for symptoms. I wanted to ask what symptoms exactly, but the look on her face stopped me. She already knew. By mid morning Isaac's body had been moved to the morgue.

I sat in the mess hall with untouched coffee, stunned. People whispered around me, rumors already spreading. The base PA system crackled. All personnel, This is Director Chavez. There has been a medical incident.

All non essential staff are to remain in their quarters until further notice. This is not a drill. People exchanged worried glances, then began filing out. I stayed where I was, too numb to move. Reece found me there an hour later.

Eli, she said softly. You should get some rest. I looked up at her. Have you heard anything from medical? She hesitated.

Just rumors. Tell me Doctor Cooper's showing symptoms. Blue discoloration around her bite, her temperatures dropping. I pushed my coffee away, just like Isaac. Reese nodded, sitting across from me.

Emmett's been monitoring the comms. The storm's gotten worse. No evacuation possible for at least 36 hours. We might not have 36 hours. I said.

The PA system came to life again. Security team to morgue code red. Repeat, security team to morgue code red. Reece and I looked at each other, then both stood at the same time. We ran toward the morgue level, taking the stairs when the elevator was too slow.

The morgue corridor was chaos. Gregory Stone, the attendant, was being carried out on a stretcher with a bleeding neck. Nolan and Josie stood guard at the doors, looking shaken. What happened? I demanded.

Nolan turned to me, his face ashen. Isaac, his body. It started moving again. When Stone went to prep him, Isaac attacked, bit him in the neck. Before we could respond, I felt the floor tilt beneath me.

That's impossible. I know what I saw, Nolan said, echoing my words from yesterday. He was dead. Definitely dead. And then he wasn't.

Josie's radio crackled. We need backup in medical now. Doctor Cooper's condition has deteriorated. She's becoming violent. Go.

Nolan told her. I'll keep this contained. Josie took off running. I moved to follow, but Nolan blocked my path. Stay back, Martin.

This is a security matter now. I need to see him, I insisted. Nolan hesitated, then nodded. Look through the window. Don't open the door.

I looked through the window. What I saw terrified me. Isaac's body was strapped to an autopsy table, but he was moving, straining against the restraints with the same jerky, uncoordinated movements I'd seen before. His eyes were open, clouded and vacant. The fatal head wound gaped open, but no fresh blood flowed.

He's dead, I whispered. He has to be dead. Yeah, Nolan said grimly. But he's still moving. I backed away from the window, my mind racing.

We need to warn everyone. Whatever this is, it spreads through bites. Anyone who's been bitten will turn. Turn into what? Nolan asked.

I had no answer for him. By evening, the situation had spiralled out of control. Gregory Stone turned blue and violent within hours of being bitten. Dr. Cooper attacked 2 nurses before being restrained.

More staff showed symptoms after contact with the infected. I found Reece and Emmett in the communications room, barricading the door with a desk. What are you doing? I asked. Being smart, Emmett said, his voice tight with fear.

Doctor Volkoff went after Josie an hour ago, got her arm pretty bad. Now they're both showing symptoms, Nolan trying to coordinate containment. Last we heard, Reese said, checking the door seal. But there's at least six infected now, maybe more. We need to call for emergency evacuation, I said.

Already tried. Emmett replied, gesturing to the communications console. Storms blocking most signals. We got a partial message out, but who knows if anyone heard it. I moved to the security monitors that showed feeds from around the base.

Most areas were empty, staff locked in their quarters, but in the medical wing I could see figures moving with that now familiar jerky gate. One of them was Vicki, her lab coat stained with blood, her movements no longer her own. They're spreading through the base. I said quietly. We know, Reece replied, coming to stand beside me.

That's why we're in here. Best defensive position with access to communications. I watched the monitors as a security camera caught Nolan backing down a corridor, Taser raised against an approaching figure, Josie, her skin now the same unnatural blue as the others. They were friends, Emmett said. Watching over my shoulder partners for three years.

On screen, Nolan hesitated just a second too long. Josie lunged, and they both disappeared from frame. We can't stay here forever, I said. We need a plan. We wait for rescue, Reese said firmly.

The storm will break eventually. And if they get through the door before then? I asked. No one had an answer. We took turns watching the monitors.

The infected moved through the base, testing doors and searching. They never tired. Occasionally, we'd spot an uninfected staff member escaping, but fewer as time passed. Look, Emmett said around midnight, pointing to a monitor. It's Doctor Volkov.

Dr. Volkov stood outside our door, her head tilted at an unnatural angle, clouded eyes staring into the camera. Her skin was blue, with dark veins visible underneath. She raised a hand and placed it against the door. Can she hear us?

Reece whispered. I don't think they hear anything anymore, I said quietly. Not the way we do. Doctor Volkoff remained at our door for nearly an hour before moving away. None of us spoke during that time, as if she might sense our presence through the silence.

They were people, Emmett said after she left. Our colleagues, our friends, they still look like them, Reese added. But whatever's inside them now isn't human. I thought of Isaac, our years working together, how quickly he changed after being bitten, how something had reanimated his dead body. No, I agreed, watching the blue figures wander the empty corridors of our base.

It's not human at all. The door splintered with a crack that shot through the communications room. Doctor Volkov's blue tinged hand burst through the wooden panel, her fingers curling into claws as she tore at the opening. Her face appeared in the gap, skin mottled blue with dark veins visible beneath the surface, eyes clouded white and vacant.

She's breaking through. Reece shouted, backing away from the door. Emmett grabbed a metal chair. Help me brace. It lunged forward, shoving a desk against the barricade, but it was too late.

The door gave way and Doctor Volkov stumbled into the room. Her movements were jerky as she scanned the room with Milky eyes. Get back. I yelled, putting myself between her and the others. Volkov made a guttural sound, something between a growl and a moan, before lurching toward Emmett.

I grabbed a computer monitor and swung it at her, connecting with her shoulder. She barely registered the impact. Continuing her advance, Emmett scrambled backward, tripping over cables. Eli, help. I shoved a rolling chair into Volkov's path, but she pushed through it with unnatural strength.

She lunged at Emmett, teeth bared, and caught his forearm. Her jaw clamped down with a sickening crunch. Emmett's scream filled the room as Volkov's teeth sank into his flesh. Blood welled around the bite, and I watched in horror as the skin immediately began turning blue at the edges. Reese grabbed a fire extinguisher from the wall and swung it at Volkov's head.

The impact knocked Volkov sideways, but she maintained her grip on Emmett. I seized the moment to grab her from behind, wrapping my arms around her torso. Get her off him. Reese shouted, trying to pry Volkov's jaw open. The doctor's skin felt like ice through my clothes.

I pulled with everything I had, finally breaking her grip on Emmett. We tumbled backward, crashing into the communications console. Volkov twisted in my grasp with impossible flexibility, her teeth snapping inches from my face. I pushed her away and scrambled to my feet. The door?

I yelled to Reese, who was helping Emmett. She rushed toward the broken entrance, but Volkov was faster. She caught Reese's arm and yanked her sideways with such force that Reese slammed into the wall. I heard the crack of bone and Reese's cry of pain. My arm.

She gasped, clutching her right forearm, which bent at an unnatural angle. I grabbed a keyboard and smashed it against the Volkov's head. This time she staggered, giving me the opening I needed. I charged forward, putting all my weight into a kick that sent her stumbling back through the doorway. Help me.

I shouted to Emmett, who was staring at his bleeding arm in shock. Together we pushed what remained of the desk against the broken door. Reese, despite her injury, used her good arm to help slide a metal filing cabinet in front of it. That won't hold for long. I said, breathing hard.

Reece slid down the wall, cradling her broken arm. She broke it. She whispered, face pale with pain. I turned to Emmett, who was examining the bite on his arm. The skin around the wound had already turned to sickly blue, with dark veins spreading outward.

How bad is it? I asked, though I already knew the answer. Emmett looked up, his eyes wide with fear. It's cold, the bite, it feels cold. He pressed his hand over the wound, just like Isaac described.

I exchanged a look with Reece. We both knew what this meant. We need to bandage that. I said, trying to keep my voice steady. And splint your arm, Reece.

I found a first aid kit mounted on the wall and did what I could for them both. Emmett's wound continued to darken as I wrapped it, the blue tinge spreading visibly up his arm. Reese winced as I fashioned to makeshift splint from ruler and tape. How long do I have? Emmett asked quietly.

After I finished, I remembered how quickly Isaac had turned. I don't know, hours maybe? Emmett nodded, his face grim. You need to lock me up before it happens. We're not leaving you.

Reese protested. You have to. Emmett's voice was firm. We've seen what happens. I don't want to hurt either of you.

The pounding at the door started again. Doctor Volkov was still out there, and the makeshift barricades shuttered with each impact. We can't stay here. I said that door won't hold much longer. Emmett pointed to a storage closet in the corner of the room.

Put me in there. Lock the door. Emmett. No, Reese began. It's the only way.

He interrupted. You know I'm right. I looked at the closet, then back at Emmett. His skin was already taking on a bluish tint, not just around the bite now, but spreading up his neck. His eyes were clear.

But I knew that wouldn't last. OK, I said finally. But we're taking you with us when we get a help. Emmett gave a sad smile. We both know that's not going to happen.

He walked to the closet himself, pausing at the doorway to look back at us. Get out of here, find help if you can. We will. I promised, and Eli. Emmett's voice dropped.

If you have to, don't hesitate. I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. Emmett stepped into the closet. They closed the door and turned the lock, feeling like I was sealing his fate. Almost immediately, I heard him slide down against the door.

I'm sorry. He said through the wood. Me too. I replied, resting my hand against the door. For a moment, the banging at the main entrance grew louder.

We didn't have much time, we need a plan. I said to Reese, turning away from the closet. The emergency snowmobiles in the vehicle Bay. If we can reach them, we might have a chance. Reese nodded, her face pale but determined despite the pain from her broken arm.

The main corridors will be crawling with infected. We should try the maintenance tunnels. Good thinking. I checked the security monitors. Which showed several infected staff members wandering the hallways.

There's an access .2 corridors over. I gathered what supplies I could. A flashlight, a wrench that could serve as a weapon, and a radio that probably wouldn't work in the storm but was worth trying. Reese used her good arm to stuff a small backpack with energy bars and water bottles from a desk drawer.

Ready. I asked. She nodded, adjusting the sling I'd made for her arm. Let's go. We moved the barricade just enough to squeeze through the door.

Doctor Volkov was nowhere insight, but we could hear moaning echoing down the corridor. This way, I whispered, leading Reese toward the maintenance access. We crept through the hallways, pressing against walls when we heard movement. Twice we ducked into empty rooms to avoid infected staff members. The base was unrecognizable.

Emergency lights glowed red, equipment lay scattered, and blood smeared the walls. We reached the maintenance access and descended into the narrow tunnels that ran beneath the main level of the base. The air was stale and cold, pipes running along the ceiling, carrying heat and water throughout the facility. The vehicle base should be about 200 yards that way, I said, pointing down the dimly lit tunnel.

We moved as quickly and quietly as possible. The only sounds are breathing and the distant hum of the base's systems. After what felt like hours, but was probably only 15 minutes, we reached a ladder leading up to the vehicle Bay. I'll go first, I said. Make sure it's clear.

I climbed the ladder, 1 handed the wrench clutched in my other hand, and carefully pushed open the access hatch. The vehicle base seemed empty, the emergency snowmobiles parked in a neat row along the far wall. I climbed out and helped Reese up, mindful of her broken arm. We made it, she whispered, relief evident in her voice.

We were halfway across the Bay when a figure stepped out from behind a supply truck. Director Caden Chavez stood there, his skin a uniform pale blue, eyes clouded white like all the others. Dark veins pulsed visibly beneath his skin. Run. I shouted, pushing Reese toward the snowmobiles.

Chavez moved with that same jerky speed we'd seen in the others, cutting us off before we could reach the vehicles. He lunged at Reese, who couldn't move quickly enough with her injured arm. His teeth sank into her shoulder, tearing through her shirt. I swung the wrench connecting with Chavez's head. He staggered back, releasing Reese, who fell to her knees, clutching her shoulder.

Blood soaked through her fingers, the skin around the wound already turning blue. Go, she said, looking up at me with clear eyes. I'm already infected. I'm not leaving you. I insisted, helping her to her feet.

You have to. She pushed me away with her good arm. Someone needs to get help, and we both know what happens next. She glanced down at her bite. I can feel it already, the cold spreading.

Chavez was recovering, turning back toward us with a growl. Eli, go. Reese shouted now. I hesitated for one more second, then turned and ran for the snowmobiles. Behind me, I heard Reese yell as she threw herself at Chavez, buying me time.

I reached the nearest snowmobile and yanked open the storage compartment, grabbing an emergency pack containing basic survival gear. The keys were in the ignition. I jumped on and started the engine, its roar filling the vehicle Bay. The large Bay doors were closed, but there was a smaller personnel door that led outside. I drove the snowmobile toward it, fumbling with my free hand to pull the emergency release.

The door swung open, letting in a blast of Arctic air and swirling snow. I looked back one last time. Reece was on the ground. Chavez bent over her. Other figures were entering the Bay, drawn by the noise Doctor Cooper Nolan and others I'd worked with for years, all blue skinned and moving with that same inhuman purpose.

I gunned the engine and shot through the doorway into the storm. The cold hit me like a physical blow, but I kept going, driving the snowmobile away from the base as fast as I dared. In the limited visibility, I caught glimpses of the base shrinking behind me. Figures emerged from the personnel door.

My colleagues, friends, now something else entirely. They stood watching as I fled, making no attempt to follow. The snowmobile could outpace them easily, but their stillness terrified me more than pursuit. I drove through the white wasteland until the storm eased enough to get my bearings. My mind replayed what I'd witnessed.

Isaac's transformation, Dr. Volkoff breaking through our barricade, Emmett asking to be locked away. Reese's sacrifice. People I'd worked with, laughed with, now turned into something inhuman. Near exhaustion.

I spotted a small structure in the distance, a weather station 1 of several automated outposts scattered across the region. As I drew closer, I saw it was one of the older models that still had a small shelter attached for maintenance visits. I parked the snowmobile and approached cautiously, but the station appeared abandoned.

The door was locked, but I broke a window and climbed inside. The interior was basic, a small desk with communications equipment, a cot and a cabinet with emergency supplies. Most importantly, it was shelter from the cold. I found the radio system and after several attempts managed to establish contact with the Norwegian Coast Guard.

This is Eli Martin from Arctic Research Base Theta, I said when someone finally responded. We have a medical emergency. The entire base has been infected with an unknown pathogen. Please repeat, came the reply, the signal breaking up. What type of medical emergency?

I took a deep breath and told them everything. Finding Jason on the glacier, Isaac's infection, the rapid spread through the base, the symptoms and my escape. I described the blue skin, the cold that spread from the bites, the way the infected moved and haunted. How many survivors? The voice asked.

Just me? I replied, the weight of those words hitting me fully for the first time. They promised to send help as soon as the weather permitted, instructing me to stay put and maintain radio contact. I signed off, promising to check in every hour. Exhaustion washed over me as the adrenaline finally wore off.

I slumped onto the cot, my body aching from the escape and the hours on the snowmobile. For the first time since the nightmare began, I was alone and relatively safe. I stripped off my outer layers to check for injuries. My ribs were bruised from the fight with Volkov, and I had minor cuts on my hands from breaking the window.

As I examined my wrist, I noticed a small scratch I must have gotten during the escape. The scratch wasn't deep, but the skin around it had turned faintly blue. A cold sensation spread up my arm. Not normal cold, but something deeper, more invasive. I was infected too.

The blue tinge was spreading, just as it had with Isaac, Emmett and Reese. It might have been from a scratch during the struggle with Volkov or contact with one of the others. I touched the discoloured skin. It felt cold compared to the rest of my arm. The blue tinge was subtle, but I knew what it meant.

I sat on the cot, staring at my wrist, watching the blue creep upward. Help was coming, but not soon enough, not for me. I thought about Emmett, asking to be locked away before he could hurt anyone. About Reese sacrificing herself so I could escape. About all the others at the base, People I'd worked with for years now transformed into something inhuman, And now I would join them.

I woke to the sound of my own voice. I've been talking in my sleep again, mumbling something about the base. My throat felt raw, like I'd been screaming. The small cot creaked as I sat up, my muscles stiff and uncooperative. 3 days in this weather station, and I was losing track of time.

The clock read 6:15 in the morning, though it hardly mattered. Outside, the white landscape stretched in all directions. I reached for the notebook I'd been keeping. My handwriting had grown shakier with each entry, but I forced myself to document everything the Norwegian Coast Guard needed to understand what they were dealing with. Day three, I wrote, pressing hard enough with the pencil that it nearly tore through the paper.

Blue discoloration has spread past elbow moving towards shoulder. Temperature reading 94.2 the cold sensation continue spreading and paused, tapping the pencil against the page before continuing. Most concerning symptom growing compulsion to leave shelter, feel drawn to move to find others. Similar behavior observed in infected colleagues. Fighting urge with increasing difficulty.

I underlined the last sentence twice. That pull was the worst part. The constant nagging need to go outside, to walk, to search for what, I wasn't sure. People. Maybe more victims.

I set the pencil down and rolled up my sleeve to examine my arm. The blue had crept another inch overnight, the skin around it cold to the touch. Dark Vein stood out against the discoloration, pulsing with something that didn't feel like my own blood anymore. The radio crackled with static. I'd been checking in hourly, as instructed, but the responses had grown less frequent as the storm intensified again.

I picked it up anyway. Weather station Epsilon to Norwegian Coast Guard daily check in. Still alive, still me for now. No response came through, just more static. I got up and checked my barricade.

I'd push the small metal desk against the door and jam the window locks with pieces of broken pencil. Not that anyone would come this far out accidentally, but I wasn't taking chances. The barricade wasn't really to keep others out, it was to keep me in if I lost control. My reflection in the small bathroom mirror looked worse than yesterday.

My eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, dark circles underneath them. My skin had taken on a grayish tone, except for the vivid blue creeping up my left arm. I splashed water on my face, wincing at how warm it felt against my increasingly cold skin. The infection was changing my perception of temperature.

What used to feel normal now burned. Back at the desk, I continued my notes. Tested motor skills, fine movements becoming difficult in left hand. Dropped cup twice, strength seems increased, bent metal spoon accidentally. Thoughts still clear, but sleep brings disturbing dreams of walking across the ice.

Searching. I made myself eat an energy bar for my dwindling supplies. Though I wasn't hungry, my appetite had disappeared yesterday. The bar tasted like nothing, just texture in my mouth. I paced the small room, checking the radio every few hours.

Nothing but static. Through the window I could see the horizon now that the storm had subsided. By evening, I'd filled several more pages with observations. Temperature continuing to drop, blue discoloration spreading faster, the cold sensation moving up my neck, the compulsion to leave growing stronger. I tied myself to the cot that night with strips torn from a spare blanket, just in case.

Morning came and I was still tied down, the restraints intact. Day 4. The blue had reached my shoulder, now spreading across my chest. My left arm felt like it belonged to someone else. I united myself with clumsy fingers and went to the window.

The storm had cleared completely, revealing A blindingly bright day and something else, a dark speck in the distance, growing larger. A helicopter. My heart jumped. Help was coming. Then reality crashed back.

I wasn't someone who could be helped anymore. I was a carrier of whatever had taken over the base. The helicopter approached, Norwegian military markings visible as it circled once before descending near the station. I watched as three figures emerged, bundled in white hazmat suits that stood out against the helicopter's dark body. They moved with caution, carrying equipment.

My hand shook as I gathered my notes into a neat pile on the table. Everything I'd observed, every symptom, every theory about what was happening. I placed my ID card on top. The urge to go to them, to make contact, was almost overwhelming. The thing inside me wanted more hosts.

I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood, using the pain to focus. I grabbed my parka from the hook by the door. My backpack still had some supplies, water, energy bars, a flashlight. Not that I'd need them for long. The infection would take me completely soon.

The rescue team was 50 yards away now, moving slowly through the snow. I couldn't risk them finding me, couldn't risk spreading this thing. I moved to the back door of the station, the one facing away from the approaching team. My hand hesitated on the knob. Once I stepped outside, there would be no turning back.

Through the front window I saw the team was 30 yards away now. I turned the knob and slipped outside the Frigidaire, hitting my face. It didn't feel cold anymore. It felt right, like the environment was welcoming me. That scared me more than anything.

I trudged through the snow, away from the station and helicopter, toward the emptiness. Each step was easy, despite the deep snow. The infection had changed my body, making it stronger and resistant to the cold. Looking back, once I saw the team entering the weather station, they'd find my notes, they'd understand. Maybe they could develop a cure, or at least a way to contain this thing.

The endless white stretched before me. I walked steadily. My mind's still clear enough to appreciate the terrible beauty of this place. The base was gone, Reese was gone, Emmett, Isaac, all of them taken by whatever this one. And now it had me too.

I thought about Jason Wilkins, the hiker we'd rescued. Had he known what was happening to him? Had he fought it like I was fighting it? Or had he surrendered immediately to the cold thing growing inside him? The blue had spread across my chest now.

Soon it would reach my heart. I wondered what would happen then. Would I still be me at all? Or would I become like the others, just a shell moving with that terrible purpose? I kept walking.

The weather station disappeared behind me, swallowed by distance. The helicopter was just a dark speck then, nothing at all. The Arctic wilderness stretched empty before me. No trees, buildings, or people. Just white in all directions.

If I transformed into one of those things, at least here, I'd hurt no one. No one to infect. I finally understood this thing belonged in the Arctic, somehow connected to the ice and snow around us. And now so did I. I walked on, my mind still my own, but my body increasingly foreign.

The thing that had consumed my colleagues now lived within me. But I'd made my choice. Would find no more hosts through me. It would perish here in this frozen wasteland, with me as its final victim. I kept moving forward through the ice, using the Arctic cold as my final ally.

Whatever had begun at Base Theta would end here, with me lost in the white.