Way Back Home

Fire & Ice

It was freezing.

Ice coursed through his veins; it cut through his muscles, it tightened his lungs. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't hear. Was he alive? His head would not swivel, not even an inch. His eyes darted from side to side, his brain throbbing against his skull from the intense pain of the sheer cold. His hands were frozen, his vision slowly leaving him as he tried to muster any strength he had left to try and just move. Let me out! God, save me! It was all he could think as his body choked for air fruitlessly. Before he could even process his final breaths, the latch to the so-called decontamination chamber door suddenly opened, and he went hurdling to the ground, his body crashing into the dusty floors. He choked, sputtered, his body curling into itself, desperately seeking warmth where there was none. All that surrounded him were cold, dreary tiles, and the icy coffins that lined the mildewed walls. It felt like an eternity, just lying there— death would not be this cruel, he thought, his mind racing, the side he fell on sore from the searing pain of the crash. It wasn't until his body gained the strength to move his head up that he saw old blood caking the walls, splattered close to where he lay— it was not his own, but he knew suddenly that he was not grateful for that.

"Nora!" He screamed, but the word only half-fell out of his mouth, his vocal cords feeling as if they snapped under the weight of his words. He crawled to the pod in front of him, fruitlessly banging on the door, tears forming in his heavy eyes. He clawed his way to a standing position, his legs threatening to break under the pressure. Trying his hardest in any way he could think of to open the door, he made his way to the translucent glass pane, only to gaze upon the frozen corpse of his wife, her beautiful face bloodied by the wound gaping in her forehead. "No...!" He slumped back to the floor, unable to handle his own weight, unable to bear another glance at the sight of his dead lover. "No!" His voice could not croak out another sound, and it cracked into an anguished silence as he folded into himself, his hands trying to hide his pained tears from an empty crowd.

The man did not gain the strength, nor the will, to stand up for some time, his cries of denial and regret being stopped only by his weak, trembling hands. His tears echoed into chambers he could not see, and worse, it alerted him to threats unknown to him. It was only when he heard a disgusting skittering that he made a space in-between his fingers to view whatever was making the noise; a flash of a large, brown blur suddenly launched at him, and he yelped as he threw a fist out hopelessly in retaliation, hearing a squelch that nearly made him vomit. The creature was not done, however, and swiftly turned back around to attempt another attack. This time, he was slightly more prepared, swinging before it could even finish landing, punching it down into the pavement, its body exploding into a foul pus, smashed organs and all. Recoiling his hand, the man stared at the carcass in utter bewilderment— whatever this thing was, it was definitely some kind of... insect.

"...Giant roaches? What the hell...?" Was all he could stutter out. His stomach churned the longer he sat next to the corpse, however, so with all the might he could muster, he managed to get back on his feet. It was odd to feel these clothes; they were too tight-fitting, and clearly not for a man his size and shape. He could feel the moisture stick to his skin, and the sensation made him squirm uncomfortably as he got a genuine look around at all the pods.

It was clear that these were not contamination pods like he had been led to believe; these pods had become tombs for the people inside of them, and by some stroke of misfortune, he had survived, but just barely. His hand came up to his cheek, and while his fingers were still mostly numb, he could feel both the now unruly facial hair on his chin, and long, scraggly hair run down his arm. He couldn't remember exactly how he prepared himself, but this definitely wasn't normal. As he walked in front of the last row of pods, he looked first at the body of a stranger, someone who both looked familiar and entirely foreign. They looked so... worried. There was no peace in their visage, their shut eyes twisted in a look of fear, confusion. It was only when his vision took notice of his reflection that his breath hitched a little.