
September 21, 1983
Antarctic Circle
The wind howled with a primal fury, picking up drifts of freezing snow and ice and dumping it mercilessly upon the desolate landscape. On the ground, three figures worked furiously to tie down their tents, which threatened to be blown away into oblivion. Stamped across the sides of the flimsy shelters was the word MONARCH; the men wore badges bearing a similar mark.
A man yelled for more rope, but his voice was lost to the authority of the oppressive storm. He stumbled over to the truck, blindly grasping for the needed coils, but was thrown to the ground when the ice suddenly shook beneath them. A thick, heavy rumble followed shortly after.
The trio attempted to regain footing, but failed as another tremor occurred. This time, the ice cracked, and steam rushed out, hissing like angry rattlesnakes. A cry rang out as one of the other men fell into the hole. He did not come back up.
The remaining two rushed for the truck, panicked. They were too late, as a huge chasm suddenly split the ice in half, and swallowed the vehicle up. A foreboding mist rose from the canyon, and the two men stood at the precipice, terrified. Then, a humming growl echoed from far away...
***
APRIL 27, 2017
