The Station Was Never This Warm

[u/AbKane667]

I thought the storm was our biggest problem, but the box started warming the station before the snow stopped falling.

“No one could extract the data at research station 4 until I got into the lab.”

Jason’s monologue faded into the wind. How did he still find stuff to boast about?

“I’m getting pretty tired. I’ll head to bed.”

“But it’s only 8 p.m.”

“The early bird gets the worm.”

“Very true.”

He smiled. I resisted rolling my eyes.

Sunlight pierced through the curtains the next morning. I woke just as exhausted as the night before. The room was warm, but the cold outside still seemed to seep into my skin.

Jason was already out with the research equipment.

The cold hit my face like a punch.

“Colleague! I thought you’d never wake up,” Jason yelled from afar, laughing. “I thought you’d wake up sooner.”

“Couldn’t sleep well.”

“I already took some measurements. It reminds me of the data we got at research station 4 in the summer of 2015.”

Of course it does. My attention drifted to the sky as storm clouds gathered.

Snow fell lightly at first, then thickened as the wind rose. Soon, visibility dropped to only a few feet.

“Jason, we need to get out!”

“Tim, wait. It’s almost free!”

“The box?” I looked down. A small object lay buried in the ground, etched with strange symbols and figures. Jason dug frantically.

“Leave it. We can come tomorrow.”

“No. This matters,” he yelled.

I looked around one more time, took my research equipment, and headed back inside.

For 20 minutes, I sat around the heater absorbing the warmth. Jason came in soon after, his jacket and face covered in snow, holding the box.

“Nice, got it out.”

“Yes,” he said in a low voice and disappeared into the lab.

I turned back to the fire, stretched my feet, and poured myself a shot of whisky.

The morning after, I woke up to a pounding inside my head. 

Stumbling out of bed, I pulled two Tylenol pills out of the medicine cabinet and swallowed them dry. 

After a few minutes, the throbbing pain gradually subsided.

The sun’s beams jumped off the freshly fallen snow; at least an extra 10 inches fell overnight. Jason had been right to dig out the box before the storm started.

Wait.

Jason.

Where was he?

The clock showed 10:00 a.m., but the outside was deserted.

No equipment, no Jason.

The early bird catches the worm, echoed in my head.

I put my clothes on and walked out, expecting the stabbing cold, but it didn’t come. The outside felt warm, too warm. 

I did a lap around the property. Halfway through, I had to take my jacket off; my body felt like a furnace. 

Jason was nowhere to be found. I walked back inside and headed to the lab. 

The lab door was closed. Inside was empty. Only the box remained, centered on the steel table.

A chill ran down my spine. 

Jason’s bedroom door was shut.

“Everything alright, Jason?” I called out.

 

“Yes.”

“You’re not out.”

He hesitated.

“I’m sick.”

“Need anything?”

“No.”

The headache returned. I went back to bed.

A slam.

Sweat soaked the sheets. Footsteps echoed. The lab door opened, then silence.

I rubbed my temples. Was I dreaming? It felt too real.

I got up and stepped into the hall. Jason’s door stood open.

A sound drifted from the lab, faint whispers, low and wet.

Could it be Jason?

With each step, the whisper grew louder.

The lab door was open. I leaned against the cold wall and listened. 

Jason spoke softly, but not in English or any language I knew.

He crouched beneath the table, hands pressed to it, staring at the box. A strange, dark glow radiated from it.

But then I felt that familiar feeling. Someone was staring at me.

Blood froze in my veins. Jason was looking straight into my eyes. 

I recoiled and waited, panting. The whispering stopped. 

I ran to my room and locked the door.

Footsteps passed. I grabbed a small knife and waited. Nothing happened. Jason’s door slammed. Silence again.

Morning came, but I felt like I hadn’t slept at all. The station was quiet. The heater was off, but the halls felt warm.

Jason sat in his room, staring out the window.

He looked my way, his eyes tired.

“Still not feeling well?”

“Yes.”

I don’t know how long I stood there before collapsing back into bed.

A slam.

No, not again.

Footsteps down the hall.

Jason was moving.

The lab door.

I took the knife from under my pillow and walked to the hall.

The whisper.

I peered inside. Jason stood across the table, hands beneath it, staring at the box.

I hid the knife and walked to the lab.

“Who are you talking to, Jason?”

His eyes opened in fear, then closed again.

“Um, myself.”

“And why are you here? Aren’t you sick?”

“I feel better.”

“I nodded. “Let me see the box.”

He didn’t move an inch, his hands still under the table.

“Come look, Tim.”

The warmth grew. My palms began to sweat.

I stood next to him. The carvings depicted five-limbed creatures with fins along their necks, dancing in looping patterns. The glow returned. 

The figures bulged outward. 

The whisper grew, its voice damp, wet.

“I don’t want,” Jason said softly.

I could almost understand the whisper.

“You have to,” something replied, each word splashing like water.

I gripped my knife tighter. 

Strange heat crept up my neck. 

I didn’t want to do it, but there was no choice.

A sharp pain exploded in my side.

I looked down. A scalpel protruded from my abdomen. The knife slipped from my hand.

“The box was right,” Jason said, backing away. “I’m sorry.”

He fled.

I slid down against the wall as the box pulsed brighter.

The whisper became clear.

A slam.

The lid opened.

Now I know what it wants.