Frozen Reds
Johnson Base, the new, supposedly the newest and best research facility in the frozen, barren land of Antarctica. But right now, it was completely empty. And Bruce was not why. He was alone here, and all communication he had with the outside world seemed lost.
The solar flare struck their base days before its earliest estimated time of outbreak. It caught everyone in the middle of this particularly terrible snowstorm. A miscalculation on the part of the observatory, no doubt. But what was more important for him right now, would be to figure out what was going on.
After a sudden loud boom, the lights in the control room kept flashing. The screens all went static. He tried calling his colleagues, Kirkland, Lu, Argawal and Jose, none of them answered.
The digital door lock was offline. Luckily, it did not lock him up in this room. The safety mechanism kicked in and prevented his becoming a sitting duck in this room without food or water.
The hallways, the living quarters, the leisure room and the bathrooms were all empty. It was as if this was a practical joke. There was no sign of anyone here, ever. Kirkland’s salt shakers, Lu’s questionable mangas, Argawal’s snack plates, and Jose’s prank gadgets. All gone, without a trace.
If he was a scientist, Bruce might have an answer to this or knew at least where to look. But he wasn’t. He was just a cook. A good one, but nowhere as smart as those brainiacs who could do advanced calculus in their heads.
“Guys? Haha this is really funny! You got me again! Where are you?” Bruce looked around and called out: “If you don’t come out here, I’m about to wipe your test data! Or worse, I’ll change your data without telling you! You ever heard of Ben Dover Claptem Cheeks Effect? I’ll ruin your reports!”
No response.
Bruce took a look at the outside through the windows, he could barely see beyond three meters. There was no way they would be hiding outside.
Could it be the sample room? That was the only place he was not allowed to go in. It would be too small for everyone. But it’s the only place he hadn’t checked.
The sample room was not locked like usual. There were four shelves, on each were metal boxes and jars with various sizes. There was a hole on the ground, beside which laid an old-looking wooden crate. The hole was shallow, seemingly just enough to fit the crate.
The crate was already pried open, and the dried grass on top of the goods inside was moved to the side. Green objects the size of apples, with numbers spray painted on them.
Grenades, how the hell did they get here? There were words on the crate, maybe Japanese, maybe Chinese. Bruce couldn’t read either anyway. After a brief moment of thought, he picked three, two of them in his pockets and one held tightly in his hand.
“I got your Asian grenades! If you don’t come out I’ll throw it in the toilet and blow some shit up!” Bruce raised his voice again.
Still no response.
“Bruce…” A faint, soft, female voice whispered from behind him.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, his back tensed. There was no woman in this base. Who could this be? And how come this voice sounded so familiar.
“Hello? He… hello?” The comms in the control room made a sound out of nowhere, it was a male voice.
Bruce hesitated, but only for a short moment. The control room was in the same direction of the whisper. He must be hallucinating just now. He was just way too stressful, staying and cooking in this depressing frozen hell for months and being regularly pranked.
“Hel - hello?” Bruce almost dropped his grenade when he crashed into the chair in front of the mic: “This is Johnson Base!”
“Hello? This is Captain Cunningham from Pablo 321, we will reach your location in about twenty minutes with supplies. Please hang tight!” The male voice spoke clearly, and yet with obvious urgency: “May I know whom I am speaking with and get a status update from the crew?”
“This is Bruce, I am the cook.” Bruce answered.
“Bruce?” The voice on the other side paused for a brief moment, then asked with palpable nervousness: “Mr. Keen, may I know the status of the crew?”
“The crew?” Bruce scratched his head, then answered: “Yeah, yeah, the crew is fine - everyone’s fine.”
“Did you say everyone’s fine?” The male voice asked: “Any health conditions? We brought a medical crew as well, can I please speak with Doctor Lu or Mr. Kirkland?”
“Lu and Kirkland? Oh - ” Bruce rubbed his temples, his head was blurry and even he thought his reaction time could be shorter: “I’ll - uh - I’ll find them.”
“Thank you Mr. Keen. And please tell everyone to remain calm. I know it’s not easy, making through all this time with only so much supply and without support…”
Bruce did not hear what the male voice said in full. Latent memories bubbled up from deep within him. The scientists, he knew where they were now.
“Bruce Keen! You tell me where they are at once!” The male voice was at the top of his lungs: “We know what you did! We know who you are! BRUCE KEEN!”
The demands of the man on the other side of the comms channel fell on deaf ears, for Bruce was no longer in the control room. There was one place he did not check. It was stupid to look for them there, but it all made sense now.
Faces, frozen in fear, side by side. It was strange that they needed a freezer in this frozen godforsaken land, but it came in handy. Especially in the event of solar flares knocking out all communications and stranded all supply runs for months.
“Bruce.” She smiled from above the freezer, her head rolling back and forth with the same familiar smile. “You’re hungry again?”