Work Text:
The first week of Antarctic winter, 1982.
After that frightening encounter with those Norwegians chasing after some dog, the physician Dr. Copper and ex-Vietnam helicopter pilot R.J MacReady have decided to make their way to the Norwegian outpost when Windows failed to make a radio connection with the unit.
As they set down next to the charred rubble, a harsh splatter on the pure white canvas of the environment, the two men share a look of confusion.
Mac finds himself weaving through the small rooms, lamp light and pump-action shotgun in each hand, leaving Copper to dig around the items that have just been left in the soot. As Mac snakes around doorways and fallen wood he takes in the sight of what seems to be two frozen bodies, clung together in an act of hopeless survival for warmth. He takes a step or two closer to asses the scene, that is, until he hears the small wheeze of a breath.
He stumbles backwards, eyes wide when he notices the tiniest rise and fall of one of the bodies chest under their thick parka. He gains his bearings enough to lean forward now to nudge the person with his hand. Their eyes stutter open just slightly, like their eyelids were frozen together, and Mac finds himself speechless.
How, on this freezing hellscape of a continent, is this person even alive right now?! The pupil is pushed down tiny by the flood of the pale blue iris of this individual as they gaze up at the larger man standing over them.
Mac stares down this frozen person fora couple seconds, his mind reeling a little, before calling out to his companion, “Copper! You’ve gotta come see this!” his vaguely country accent drawls.
“What, what have you found Mac?”
Dr. Copper stands at the doorway, before looking down at where Mac has his head turned down to, and lets out a quiet gasp.
“...Should we take ‘em with us?”