Trouble in Antarctica

The American flag still flew over the deserted research lab. Surrounded by nothing but ice and snow for miles, it was the most desolate and depressing place Tony had ever seen.

The first hint of trouble at the lab had come when he had received a radio broadcast from their location, three days prior. One of the men, Tony wasn't sure which one, had called for assistance. The transmission had been staticky and was cut short before he was able to determine what kind of help was needed. Tony had immediately called for a chopper and headed toward the remote building.

Taking a deep breath, he ventured closer to the building, pulling his service revolver from its holster before opening the front door.

Silence greeted him as he entered the lab. He realized he was breathing heavily and forced himself to take slow, deep breaths to calm himself. He crept along the narrow corridor, listening carefully for any signs of trouble.

He was sweating inside his heavy snowsuit and ski mask. He stopped, briefly, and removed the mask. That's when it hit him. The smell, the god-awful stench. He turned and vomited on the floor. Someone, or something, was dead. Steeling himself for the inevitable discovery, he opened the door to their laboratory.

All six were there, piled up in the middle of the floor, as if they'd been brawling. The stench was beyond putrid and Tony had to fight the urge to vomit again as he stared in shock at the mutilated bodies.

"Wait, I only see five..."

The last thing he saw was Dr. Joyce Bellows, her eyes red with fury, her skin pale and blotchy, her mouth wide open....the teeth, oh god, the teeth!



Word Count: 287