Ch 2
What now?
Nothing... Nothing in all his life had prepared him for this. John was including every comic book, cartoon, movie and every story his uncle's had ever told him. He did the only thing he could think of.
He called Manning.
"But WHY is he holding his- Yes it's in his hand! Really? Because it sure as hell doesn't seem safe! No I am not over reacting!"
John didn't think that he had been overreacting.
Three days later the plane came back for the rest of the guys gear due to 'indefinite medical leave'. John almost considered jumping on board and quitting the moment he stepped foot in New York. But he didn't.
Three days later John was still miserably in Antarctica.
After John had picked out his assigned room, he was told that they would be shifting over to a second base further away. That base was being decommissioned and they needed to move the vaults from there, back to here. Something to do with the first vaults being retrofitted or some such useless busy work.
Equipped with arctic grade sleeping bags he was shipped off to the second base. Fortunately the other agents with him were more then happy to voice their complaints. This didn't create any comradery but it made him feel better that he wasn't the only one unhappy.
Once there John picked out one of the old morgues for his room. There were five at the temp base and this one was the closest to the vaults. He didn't want to know why there were five morgues but it was the warmest room there that wasn't already taken. The door also had a few locks and that made John feel better.
Because of course he felt safe in a base that was covered in two foot long claw marks and surrounded by giant sharks that swam through ice. Who wouldn't?
John found that asking about the giant sharks did not make him feel safer. Apparently the local sharks were twice the of an adult megalodon and the last sighting was of one breaching the ice to grab a seagull. The agent, Bob, said that they tend to leave the giant woolly striders alone.
These giant woolly striders were in fact giant spiders that once traveled with the extinct tribe of woolly shamen that were not yeties. Which, by the way, could still be seen because of some weird time slips in the area. Didn't he mention the time slips? Yeah, they were more of a pain in the ass then Hellboys puns.
Hiding in the deeper parts of the base surrounded by tons of stone, concrete and ice made John feel better. Not safe, but better.
This whole setup was apparently not a new project. Everyone got tucked in for the long haul and John couldn't do anything to change it. He was here for the long term and that was that. Period. Done. Finished.
. . . And then something started stealing his candy.
He didn't really notice it at first. He was a couple of months in when he was looking for his last Twix. He had been sure he had left it near the stack of books under the small vent for the air exchange. When they got their next order of supplies John took a small piece of candy and put it on an old fashion mouse trap. Both trap and candy piece were gone in the morning so he had assumed the problem solved.
Until he went to put on his boot. Fortunately he always checked his shoes before putting his foot in them and the trap went off as it hit the floor after falling out of his boot. He was not amused.
This began the war of the candy.