I is for Ice
Author: Iain Rob Wright
Date: 2015-04-28 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Horror
Description: Imagine waking up surrounded by ice. Imagine finding yourself alone with a stranger who controls what you do and where you go. That is the reality for Peter. He remembers nothing of his old life and nothing of the man named Faraday. All Peter has is questions, and he might not like the answers.Short Story from Bestselling Author, Iain Rob Wright.
Publisher: SalGad Publishing Group

BOOK SUMMARY

Imagine waking up surrounded by ice. Imagine finding yourself alone with a stranger who controls what you do and where you go. That is the reality for Peter.

He remembers nothing of his old life and nothing of the man named Faraday. All Peter has is questions, and he might not like the answers.

“Civilization is like a thin layer of ice upon a deep ocean of chaos and darkness.”

– Werner Herzog

“That wasn’t any act of God. That was an act of pure human fuckery.”

– Stephen King, The Stand

-1-

Peter’s consciousness awoke slowly from a dream already forgotten. There was no sound, no smell.

Only cold.

He tried to open his eyes, but couldn’t. Something sealed them shut.

“Your eyelids are frozen,” came a soothing voice. “Just stay calm and everything will be okay.”

So cold.

Peter did not shiver for this was no ordinary chill. He felt it inside his body. Ice seemed to flow through his veins.

But slowly, gradually, he felt the cold slip away, replaced by a pulsing warmth.

“There we go,” came the soothing voice again. “We’re almost there. Almost back in the land of the living.”

Peter tried to speak, but his throat was frozen solid, so instead he tried to concentrate on opening his eyes. His lids stung as he yanked them apart, but he persevered until there was a tiny ripping sound.

And then there was light.

“Glad to have you back, Peter,” said the man standing in front of him. He looked like some kind of doctor, grey-haired and wearing a clean white coat.

“W-who are…?”

“Try not to speak just yet. Let’s get you stabilised and then I will explain everything. You’ve been asleep, but I’ve woken you up.”

“S-sleep?”

“Yes, Peter. You’ve been asleep for a long time.”

***

Peter chose to remain quiet while the other man continued whatever it was he needed to do. He poked and prodded at Peter, examined the readouts being spat from a multitude of machines.

He was definitely some kind of doctor or scientist. They seemed to be inside some kind of clinical warehouse. White-tiled walls and fluorescent lights.

Once he could move again, Peter realised he was inside some kind of glass coffin, lined with ice like the inside of an old freezer.

He had been frozen.

And now he had been defrosted.

The doctor gave him a glass of deep blue liquid and told him to drink it. It was explained to him that it contained ingredients that would keep his vitals steady, his heart beating in rhythm. Peter was too confused to do anything other than exactly as he was told, so he drank the liquid down in one gulp. He felt much better a few moments later.

He was naked so the doctor handed him some clothes and took him into an elevator. Then they headed into an office, which was where they were now.

“My name is Dr Faraday,” the man explained, pouring Peter a glass of water from a pitcher on the desk. “Your name is Peter.”

Peter frowned. “I know my name.”

Faraday smiled. “That’s wonderful. Do you remember anything else?”

Peter laughed at the stupid question, but when he tried to answer, he realised something. “I can’t remember anything. I…I don’t know a thing other than my name.”

Faraday remained calm, like he had expected no different.

Peter rubbed at his throat, which ached slightly. What the hell was going on? Where was he?

“Memory loss is to be expected,” Faraday explained. “Just remembering your name is a triumph.”

“Where am I?” Peter asked.

“Seattle. Just outside the city, to be exact.”

“Seattle? Am I from here?”

“Yes, you’re a pathologist at this facility. You study viruses.”

“I what?”

Faraday smiled. “It will come back to you in time. You are a brilliant scientist, Peter, and I woke you up so that you could help me with my work.”

“Woke me up? What the hell is happening here? Why did I wake up in a block of ice, and where is everybody else?”

“There is nobody else,” Faraday said bluntly. “At least, not here. It’s just me, I’m afraid. My work here is the most important thing in the world. I mean that quite literally. I woke you up to help me.”

“Woke me up from what?”

“Cryo sleep.”

Peter was surprised to find himself laughing. “Cryo sleep. Like something out of a science fiction novel? A Walt Disney urban legend?”

Faraday chuckled. “Cryostasis was a pipe dream when Walt Disney was alive. It wasn’t perfected until 2028 by a man named Einstein. Not the 20th century Einstein, just a coincidence. Although the two did look remarkably similar in life.”

“He’s dead now?”

“I would think so. It’s 2056. I was only a young man when Einstein perfected cryostasis. Yet his work has served me now in bringing you back.”

“Why was I in…cryostasis?”

“Because the alternative was dying like everybody else.”

Peter swallowed. He looked out the office window at the empty corridors outside. “What happened to everybody else?”

“The HBsAG11 virus. The media eventually named it the Final Flu but it’s actually more related to hepatitis than influenza. It attacks the liver, swells it until a person’s insides rupture. The early onset presents as flu, so the confusion is understandable.”

Peter felt sick, dizzy. Whether it was the aftereffects of the cryostasis or just pure horror, he didn’t know. “I…don’t remember any of what you’re saying.”

“No, I suspect you don’t, but you were one of the many scientists who opted for a long sleep. The plan was for you all to wake up a hundred years from now when the virus’s reservoirs will have dried up and humanity might have a chance of starting again. In the meantime, some of us were to remain here working on a cure that could be left for the people waking up in the future. I believe I am close to that cure. There are still people dying in the world – not many, but some. If I can find a way to beat the virus, I can rescue what’s left of humanity and wake up those currently sleeping. We can start again right now, before too much is lost to us. In a hundred years time, our technology will have rusted to scrap and our fuel reserves will have degraded. If we recover now there is still a chance to revive our world as it was. Waiting a hundred years to start again will set humanity back five hundred.”

Peter didn’t reply. He just sat there in silence, holding his glass of water in his lap and staring at Faraday in utter bewilderment.

“I understand it is a lot to take in,” Faraday admitted.

“That’s an understatement. What…what am I supposed to help you with? I don’t know anything about viruses. At least, if I do, I don’t remember any of it.”

“You will. In the meantime, you can provide company and keep an old man from losing his mind. You can be my lab assistant, if nothing else for the time being.”

Peter nodded silently.

Faraday stood up from his desk and exhaled. “I understand you are still in shock. I think you need something visual to jolt you truly awake. Come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“To show you what is left of the world, and why I need your help so badly.”

-2-

“This is the last news report before the BBC went offline,” Faraday explained. “By then they were only broadcasting via the Internet. The television services went down months before the end.”

Peter took a seat in the armchair inside the facility’s rec room in front of a wall-mounted television screen. He watched the video with absolute interest.

“Good evening world,” said an ashen-skinned newscaster before a great big desk. “This is our final broadcast before we go off the air indefinitely. The American network, NBC, has pledged to continue reporting via podcast, but for us here in London it is farewell. We hope one day to return.

Over the last three years the world’s population has dwindled from nine billion to around four hundred million. The streets of major cities lie in ruins, buried beneath mountains of our dead. Rescue centres remain operational in some areas but more and more close each day. The best advice now is to gather whatever supplies you have and take comfort in whatever it is you believe in. Gather your loved ones close and pray that this is not mankind’s extinction. The Final Flu has culled humanity to the brink, but infection rates have plummeted now that the viral bridges are broken. There are no longer enough of us left to allow this evil to destroy us without effort. Now that humanity is sparse enough, the virus can no longer jump from person to person with ease. As we die, so does it. Stay away from your neighbours, keep to your family units, and humanity may just rise again. Find comfort in the fact that the CDC and World Health Organisation are still operational. If there is a cure, they will find it. Stay safe and stay healthy. This is the BBC’s final broadcast. The year is 2042. Good night Britain, and goodbye world.”

Faraday stood behind Peter and touched him on the shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all gone?” Peter asked, wondering if this was all some kind of sick joke. “Everyone is dead?”

“Not everyone, but enough people that I haven’t seen a soul outside this building for years.”

“What is this place? What was I doing here asleep?”

“This is the Mettulus Institute for Advanced Science. You were a scientist here, Peter. One of several dozen. One of the things studied here was cryogenics. When it was clear that the virus was at our doors, the staff here decided to put themselves on ice. I and three other researchers remained behind to continue working for a cure. That was thirteen years ago now.”

“Where are they now, the three others that stayed behind with you?”

“Dead. Six years ago we were finally forced to go out and forage for supplies. I stayed behind while they went to check out a nearby shipping warehouse. Out there, they became infected with the virus. They never made it back inside this building. They knew they couldn’t endanger my work here so they stayed away. Their bodies are out there somewhere. That has always troubled me.”

“Why did you stay behind?”

“Somebody had to, and it was my work so it was the logical choice that it be me who stayed at the facility.”

“Your work? Weren’t you a team?”

“To a certain extent, but it is I who was in charge. Everything we have towards a cure is down to my research.”

“But you’ve hit a brick wall?”

“Far from it. I just need some assistance, that’s all. We can talk about that when you are more orientated. For now you can relax and come to term with things.”

“Am I the first person you’ve woken up?”

Faraday hesitated, but he eventually nodded. “Yes.”

Peter wanted to ask more questions, but his mind was a blank sheet. He wished he could remember who he was, but saw nothing beyond waking up in a block of ice.

“I’m tired,” was all he could manage to say.

“Of course. I have a room made up for you. I’ll take you there now.”

“Thank you.”

***

Peter barely slept, and when he did he had the strangest dreams. Dreams that suggested nothing of viruses, extinction events, or careers in science. He vaguely recalled a woman, but whether it was a wife, a sister, or his mother was unclear by the time he awoke.

The room was dark, truly dark. No electronics existed in the sparse, yet comfortable room and the view through the window revealed nothing but a moonless sky. It truly did feel like the end of the world. It was summed up most by the utter silence.

Shortly before dawn, Peter decided not to chase sleep any longer so got up and put on the clothes Faraday had told him were inside the closet. There was lots to choose from but he settled on a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. It was warm in the facility, even at night. The windows did not open.

He knew to find Faraday in Lab 1 where the man both worked and slept. It was the largest area on the floor and the hub of the doctor’s search for a cure. All this, Peter had learned before being left alone to rest last night by his host. He still could not understand why he had been woken up when no one else had. Perhaps it came down to supplies. Maybe Faraday could only spare enough for one other person and had picked Peter. But why?

And was the world really dead?

Had he really been asleep for the last few years?

It was insane.

He didn’t want to disturb Faraday so he went the opposite way down the hallway. It led him back to the rec room where he had watched the BBC report. He found and switched on a lamp and blinked against the light. Then he wondered how the building had power if the world had ended. Did the facility have its own generator? It must.

There was a sink at the back of the room, but when Peter tried the taps he got nothing. He searched the room’s fridge and found a shelf full of bottled water. He took a few sips from one and then returned it, wondering how much water Faraday had stockpiled. It rained a lot in Seattle, but that still didn’t make gathering water easy.

He sat down on the sofa beside the lamp and did nothing. He was still so much in shock that time seemed to pass by even without being occupied. He had no watch and saw no clocks, so he just sat there until the sun began to rise outside the window. Once it had, he looked outside.

The building was situated in open grounds long overgrown. Cracked pathways peeked out from beneath thickets of weeds and grass. A statue of a globe stood between two tall oak trees and an empty road led off into the distance. It was hard to see the horizon for there were so many trees in the way, but Peter thought he could see a neighbourhood about a mile away. Brown brick buildings all in a row.

Were there really no people left out there?

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Peter turned around to see Faraday entering into the room. “I’m sorry?”

“The wilderness out there. The world has been paved over, but slowly nature is taking it all back. One thing I don’t miss is all the car parks humanity put everywhere. There is something instinctually comforting about the colour green.”

“Do you ever go out?”

Faraday shook his head. “Not since I lost the others.”

“How do you get food and water?”

“We have plenty to eat here. Before my colleagues died, they looted that shipping warehouse and delivered its contents here so that I could continue my work. Enough canned food to last for years. They were true heroes, Peter. Brave men and women. Water is not an issue either as long as it’s rationed. There’s a water collection unit on the roof. So long as we don’t have a sudden drought we’ll be fine.”

It all made sense so Peter nodded. “You have power too.”

“Yes, of course. Most facilities such as this have solar arrays. There is too much at stake to be jeopardised by a temperamental power grid, even before things went bad. The two of us will be able to sustain ourselves comfortably for a good while yet. The facility has everything we need. Speaking of which, I bought you this.”

Peter looked at the cup of blue liquid in Faraday’s hand and raised an eyebrow. “The same stuff you gave me yesterday when I woke up? What’s in it?”

“Your vitals will still be unsteady. You need a statin, electrolytes, vitamins. This is a concoction necessary for a person waking from cryo sleep.”

Peter took the cup and looked into it, sloshing the thin blue liquid around. “How long do I need to take this for?”

“For at least the next ten days. Then we’ll check you over and see where you go from there.”

“Am I in danger?” Peter asked.

“Not if you drink that. Heart attacks are a problem when coming out of the frost. For some reason the human heart does not wake up as well as the rest of the body.”

Peter sighed, then drank down the contents of the cup.

Faraday was smiling. “There you go. Here, let me take that for you. If you are feeling rested, I will show you what we are doing here.”

***

Peter joined Faraday at a containment unit, one of those glass boxes with the rubber gloves hanging inside.

“Inside this glovebox is the end of the world,” Faraday explained. “A live strain of the HBsAG11 virus.”

Peter held his breath. Only air appeared to be inside the glass box, but hidden somewhere inside it was a deadly killer. Had he really devoted his previous life to studying viruses? The fear in his bones right now made him wonder how he had ever possessed the nerve.

“There’s no way the virus can get out?” he asked.

Faraday chuckled. “Of course there is, Peter, but not if we do our jobs correctly. Don’t worry, I’ve been working on this little monster for more than a decade and it hasn’t gotten me yet.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“How are you at making coffee?”

Peter smiled, not offended but relieved that his task would be so mundane – so safe. Once he got his memory back, perhaps he would be of more use.

So he made the coffee and kept Faraday company while the man worked. It was all so alien to Peter. The instruments, the computer readouts, the science talk. He didn’t know an electron microscope from a gene gun, but Faraday spoke about it all as if Peter should understand. Peter was eager to learn. He wanted it all to come back to him so that he could help. So he paid close attention.

Each day, beginning at dawn, he would meet Faraday in the lab and drink the blue liquid. Then they would check over the results from experiments left to run overnight. They regularly tested the cure on rats, which meant that they would often start the day by disposing of infected corpses. Some rats lasted longer than others, which provided leads to follow, but presently all rats tested eventually died. The virus was still undefeated, only ever hampered at best.

One morning, Faraday explained to Peter that the virus was manmade, that somebody had messed with the Australian Antigen – commonly know as Hepatitis B. The reason the virus was so hard to beat was because it was manufactured.

A week passed and Peter began to feel at home, not happy exactly, but busy. Too busy to contemplate the empty world outside the windows or the fact that he had lost family and friends he couldn’t even remember.

He still often dreamt about the woman, but was still unable to place her in his previous life.

His memory blank.

Faraday seemed unconcerned.

***

Faraday was studying data today. There was little practical that Peter could assist with so he had been given the day off. It was now day 10 and today’s dose of blue medicine would be his last. Faraday was going to give him a check-up tomorrow morning.

Since waking up at the facility, Peter had been confined to his room, the lab, or the rec room. He was beginning to feel claustrophobic. Faraday had forbid him from going outside, explaining that the building was currently sealed to prevent ingress by the virus. The only air getting into the building was through industrial filters on the roof.

Peter peered in through the windows of the lab and saw that Faraday was slumped over his printouts, obsessing over every line of text. Peter had noticed that when the man was concentrating on something you could start a fire and it would not distract him.

Peter headed down the corridor, rattling locked door handles on either side, bored and anxious. He didn’t want to spend the day kicking his heels because he would end up contemplating his existence. And his existence was daunting.

The elevator and stairwell were both locked so he couldn’t leave the building even if he had wanted to. The same was true for reaching the upper floors. He was stuck in the middle of the building. Nowhere to go.

He eventually resigned himself to spending the afternoon in his room with one of the paperbacks that Faraday had provided him with. He climbed onto his bed and chose a book called The Hunger Maze. He assumed he would read all the books in time, so made his current selection only by virtue of it being on top of the pile.

Opening the book for the first time brought a warm, cosy feeling to Peter and gave him an overwhelming certainty that he was an avid reader. A part of himself had returned, been rediscovered.

He was about to turn the pages to the beginning of the story when he noticed something written on the inside cover. It was the looping blue ink of somebody’s handwriting.

Faraday will kill you.

Don’t believe his lies.

Get out.

It’s too late for me. I’m infected.

That was it. The whole message.

What the hell?

Who had written it?

And why?

-3-

Peter had awoken that morning in fear. There was no brief ten-second window of bliss that usually accompanied semi-consciousness. He snapped right awake with utter clarity.

Faraday will kill you.

Peter cursed whoever had left the message for not being more concise. What exactly was going on? What should he be scared of? Who was Faraday and what was he up to?

Was the virus even real?

He was due at the lab so that was where he went. Whatever the truth about Faraday, the man had not attempted to harm Peter. It was better to stay calm and observe. He was trapped with this man and it would not pay to be rash.

“Morning, Peter,” Faraday said happily as he entered the room.

“Good morning. Have you been up long?”

“Ha, I never sleep. Day and night possess no distinction to me. We’re getting close, Peter. I can feel it.”

“To a cure?”

“Yes, what else? Put the kettle on and I’ll fill you in.”

Peter went over to the lab’s small clean up area and switched on the kettle. With the amount of coffee that Faraday drank, there was little wonder the man barely slept. In addition to the coffee grounds, there was also a large supply of tea bags.

Had they belonged to somebody else?

The person who had written the message in the book?

“How long since somebody else was here, Dr Faraday?” he asked casually.

“I told you, Peter. I’ve been alone for a long time now. My colleagues have been gone several years.”

“Did any of them ever stay in the room I’m staying in?”

“Not that I remember. The scientists were based on the top floor. It’s only since being alone that I have moved into the lab permanently.”

“What about the paperbacks you gave me? Did they belong to one of your colleagues?”

Faraday stopped what he was doing and frowned. “Why so many questions?”

“I’m just curious. I’m trying to get back my memories.”

“Oh? Has anything come back?”

“Not much. I’ve been dreaming about a woman. I don’t know who she is.”

“I wish I could help you. You and I never worked together directly before you went under.”

“How many others went under with me?”

“Twenty-eight.”

Peter chewed at his cheek. Less than thirty people. Humanity really was down to nothing. “Where are they now? I mean, where are they all sleeping?”

“They are in the basement, Peter. Where I woke you up. Do you not remember taking the elevator up?”

Peter made Faraday his coffee and brought it over. “Vaguely. It’s all a bit of a blur. Would I be able to go down and see? I’d like to know more about the facility.”

“I’m afraid I cannot allow that, Peter.”

“Why not?”

“The facility is very sensitive. We cannot afford any breaches. By containing ourselves here we decrease the chances of anything going wrong. I only went down to wake you up because it was a necessity.”

“I’m a prisoner here, then?”

Faraday smiled widely, but there was something in his eyes that suggested he wasn’t amused. “Of course not. I am just telling you what is at stake. If you try to leave the building you will become infected and die. If you go wandering around the building, you run the risk of an accident. There are only the two of us; we need to stay together. Keep an eye on one another.”

“Have you tried to make contact with anybody else out there?” Peter asked, feeling he should drop the subject of exploring, but unable to stop with the questions completely. Something radiated off Faraday and it scared him.

“I kept an open radio channel for years but received nothing. There’s the CDC facility in Atlanta and a Military science facility in Nevada that I have hopes for, but I can confidently say that we are the only two people left alive in Seattle. Last message we ever got here was from Porton Down in the United Kingdom. The virus had breached their facility.”

Peter slumped down in a roller chair and exhaled. “Then what are we doing here? It sounds like humanity is done.”

Faraday moved up close to Peter and looked him in the eye. “It’s easy to feel like that, Peter, but if only one man and one woman still exist then there is a chance for mankind to return from the ashes. If we can destroy the virus.”

“You really think you can do it?”

Faraday blinked slowly and smiled. “I’m certain of it.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Peter caught the flash of something in Faraday’s hand. He managed to push back on his chair and roll away just as doctor swung the object towards his neck.

It was a dripping syringe.

“What are you doing?” Peter demanded, leaping up out of his chair.

Faraday remained calm, still smiling. “I’m trying to help you, Peter.”

“By sticking me in the neck? What’s in the syringe?”

“HBsAG11.”

Peter’s eyes went wide. “You’re trying to infect me with the virus!”

Faraday approached Peter, making him stagger backwards to keep a distance between them.

“Yes, I am trying to infect you with the virus. How else can I test to see if you’re immune?”

“Immune?”

“Yes. What do you think you’ve been drinking each day since you woke up? The concoction is my latest attempt at a vaccine. I need to test it. I’m sure I have it right this time.”

Peter kept moving backwards, but quickly found himself bumping up against the counter in the corner where the kettle was. “I’m not your guinea pig.”

Faraday rolled his eyes. “Please, you would still be on ice if not for me. As good as dead already. This way you have a chance to live.”

“Or die,” Peter said. “You don’t know that your cure will work.”

“Eventually it will have to. Every time I get closer.”

“Every time? How many people have you tried this on?”

“Twenty-seven.”

Peter thought about the number and realised what it meant. “I’m the last one? You’ve woken everybody up tested your cure on all of them. Did any of them survive?”

Faraday inhaled and seemed to grow two inches. When he let the breath out it took a long time for his lungs to empty. “No,” he whispered. “They all died. But you will be different, Peter.”

“You’re damn right I will be.”

Peter grabbed the kettle from the counter behind him and swung it around. It struck Faraday in the chin and spun him around. Hot water escaped and burned them both.

Taking his opportunity, Peter shoved the mad doctor away and made a run for it. He made it out into the corridor before he realised that he had no place to go. The windows were sealed and so was the stairwell door. The elevator was locked too.

Trapped.

Faraday staggered out into the hallway behind him. “You fool. This is our chance to save the world. This is my chance to atone.”

Peter started walking backwards down the corridor, keeping his eye on the lunatic with the syringe full of death. “Atone? Atone for what?”

“For dooming us all. It was my mistake that let the virus out of the lab. It was supposed to be a cure for Hepatitis, not a monster all its own. My wife was Hep B positive. That’s why I was working on the project. I… I just wanted her better.”

Peter shook his head as he realised what had happened. “You treated her, didn’t you? But instead of curing her, you made her patient zero.”

Faraday swallowed loudly. His eyes brimmed with tears. “The tests on rats showed promise. I thought for sure it would work.”

Peter snarled. “You didn’t do it because you wanted to help your wife. You did it because you wanted to test your work, no matter the price. Just like you’re doing now.”

“No,” he wailed. “I’m just trying to make it better. Do you think this is easy?”

“I’m sure it’s easier than the previous twenty-seven people you infected before me.”

“They were strangers. This is different. It was me who insisted you join the others in cryo sleep. You wanted to stay behind and help me. I wanted you safe.”

Peter frowned. “What do you mean?”

Faraday let his head drop, then raised it slowly so he could look once again at Peter. “You’re my son, Peter. That’s why I left you until last. That’s why I didn’t wake you up until I was sure I had the cure. I promise I can save you. Save everyone that’s left.”

Peter’s mouth hung open. A flash of memory told him that what he was hearing was true. The memories were flittering back. He and his father had worked here together, along with somebody else. “My mother worked here with us?”

Faraday wiped the tears from his eyes and smiled. “Yes, yes. She was here with us.”

“You killed my mother.”

“I tried to cure her.”

“But instead you murdered her. You murdered everyone.” He took a step towards his father, feeling so much hatred that he might burst.

Faraday looked afraid, perhaps worried that his son was walking towards him when he should have been running away. “Please, let me help you, Peter.” He lifted the syringe gingerly. “I wouldn’t do this if I wasn’t certain.”

Peter held his arms out wide and nodded. “Okay. I won’t stay here with a monster like you, so if this kills me so be it.”

Faraday smiled, almost gushed with excitement. When he lifted his hand he was shaking almost uncontrollably. “You won’t regret this, son.”

He injected Peter in the neck, making him flinch, but he held still until the virus was fully administered.

“The virus will become contagious in a few hours so we need to get your quarantined. I know it’s going to work. You and I are going to save the world.”

Peter shook his head. “No, we’re not.”

He threw himself on top of his father and pinned him to the ground. He wrapped his hands around the old man’s throat and squeezed. He thought about the other people infected and left to die – given paperback books to read while they waited for the inevitable.

Faraday will kill you.

Peter squeezed harder.

The terror in Faraday’s eyes did not deter him.

Faraday will kill you.

Billions of people had died because of this man.

But it was the twenty-seven who had frozen themselves in safety that he could not forgive. Faraday had woken them up and knowingly murdered them.

Faraday struggled and squirmed, but his son was much younger and stronger. Slowly the light faded from his eyes.

Then he went still.

Peter kept squeezing for another five minutes, making sure.

He checked his dead father’s pockets and found the keys to the facility, then got up and unlocked the elevator. First, he visited the basement where he found several dozen empty cryo pods. Their occupants woken up and murdered by a trusted colleague.

Peter was the last man in Seattle.

But when he stepped outside the building, he didn’t feel so alone. The sun was bright and birds sang delightful songs. The world was not dead, only mankind. Maybe he would find other survivors one day and they would all get a second chance. Maybe not.

Maybe his father’s last attempt at a cure was another failure. His final failure. Peter might be dead within the week. Only time would tell.

Peter Faraday set off into the world, wondering if his nose was leaking because of a cold.

Or if he was coming down with the flu.

END.

About The Author

Iain Rob Wright is one of the UK's most successful horror and suspense writers, with novels including the critically acclaimed, THE FINAL WINTER; the disturbing bestseller, ASBO; and the wicked screamfest, THE HOUSEMATES.

His work is currently being adapted for graphic novels, audio books, and foreign audiences. He is an active member of the Horror Writer Association and a massive animal lover.

Check out Iain's official website or add him on Facebook where he would love to meet you.

www.iainrobwright.com

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Apocalyptic sequel to Ravage where the stakes are even higher at an abandoned pier.  Sometimes being alone is better.

THE HOUSEMATES:  UK  US

Reality TV turns deadly.  12 competitors but only 1 winner.

SOFT TARGET: UK US

Nonstop Thriller where the future of the United Kingdom is at stake.

HOLES IN THE GROUND: UK  US

Collaboration with J A Konrath.  Some things should stay buried.  And guarded forever.

THE PICTURE FRAME: UK  US

A haunted picture frame that curses anybody whose photograph is placed inside it.

2389: UK  US

At the world’s biggest amusement park, based on the moon, something has gone very very wrong.

HOT ZONE: UK  US

Sequel to Soft Target. This time the terrorists are using mankind’s deadliest diseases.

Copyright

* * *AN SG HORROR RELEASE* * *

Part of the SALGAD PUBLISHING GROUP

Redditch

UK, Worcestershire
www.SALGADPUBLISHING.com

I is for Ice copyright 2015 by Iain Rob Wright
www.IAINROBWRIGHT.com

Cover Art Copyright 2015 Iain Rob Wright

All rights reserved.  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the consent of the publisher, except where permitted by law.

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About The Author

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