MonstrousMay 9. Tundra

The research station had only grown smaller as the team's month-long expedition reached its midpoint. There were stupid arguments about stupid things. The prepackaged meals were getting grosser. Sleeping, eating, and shitting a few feet away from two other people in what amounted to a one bedroom apartment had gotten old quickly. And so had the expansive white fields that surrounded them. Bailey was starting to wonder if their relief crew would ever come back and get them.

She had made a deal with Lucas and Bryan that if they caught anything ice fishing, she would cook it. It got them out of the station and gave her some peace. Even if they came back empty-handed, she had a few hours to herself.

The unsetting sun made her lose track of time. It was so incredible to see the work she could get done without them pestering her. A little gnawing hunger nibbled at her stomach and she checked the time. They had missed dinner by an hour. Bailey shrugged. She would be nice and go ahead and make their meals for them.

As she waited for a kettle to boil, there was a bang at the metal hatch of their front door. Had they forgotten how to work a doorhandle? She walked over to the door but didn't see them through the little porthole window. She angled herself and saw who she guessed was Lucas laying in the snow, facing away from her.

Having been the youngest of three, Bailey knew a stupid prank when she saw one. "Nice try, dummies!" she called through the thick door. "I'm not going to open it!" Instead, she flipped the giant latch and the door locked with a reverberating thunk. That would show them.

She expected them to give it up. She'd open the door and they'd say she should lighten up a little. She sat for a moment, working out how she would respond.

Eventually, she wondered what was taking them so long. There wasn't an answer, only a new snow starting to fall. The wind was clearly whipping, but she could barely hear a whisper through the station's sealed walls.

There was another bang. And another. They were getting fainter. When Bailey looked back to Lucas, she saw the snow had started to pile up along his coat. The grumble of her stomach gave way to a queasy unease. The kettle started to whine.

Bryan's face appeared at the porthole. Or what remained of it. He screamed, splattering the shatter-proof glass with blood. Still, Bailey heard hardly anything. His fists banged against the door. She couldn't tell what had happened to him.

She reached to open the door and stopped. The kettle reached a fever pitch, screaming from the stove where Bailey wanted to but couldn't. The snow that had collected on Bryan's bloody face didn't melt. Instead, the little flakes cracked, sprouting legs that lifted out long insect bodies. Freshly formed, whatever was inside was hungry.

Bailey fell backward onto the floor, clamping her hands over her ears and burying her face against her knees. The kettle drowned out what she might have heard of Bryan's last moments.