Starting a new story here! Lots of plot to this one, planning for a bit of a slow burn (with some fun along the way, of course).
Chapter 1
DAY 1
Considering we may be some of the last people alive on the planet, I thought I should keep some sort of record of what happened here. But before I get to where we are now, I need to start at the beginning. If you’re reading this, of course you already know the major events, what happened everywhere else on the globe, so I’m not interested in tracking all of that. Instead, I want to keep a record of what has happened here, at the Antarctic Base.
I can’t believe how young I seemed when I arrived, how naive. What the hell were they doing sending a 23-year-old grad student who had barely left his home state, all the way to the end of the world? My advisor said it was a direct result of my achievements in my research — I won’t bore you with the details, but I made some advancements in growing food using minimal resources — and that the government wanted me to contribute to the experiments at the South Pole. With it came more pay than I’d see at my summer job, plus a guarantee that any lab in the country would want to hire me after I graduated, so though I was terrified it was an obvious yes.
The trip to the base was, as I’m sure you’d expect, a nightmare. Heaving, ink-black seas tossing our ship, making me violently ill for over a week straight. Endless days waiting for the weather to clear, so the helicopter could pick me up, with nothing to do but stare at the passing icebergs, jerk off in my bunk, and regret every decision that had led me here. Finally, the weather cleared, and they told me to pack my bags — the helicopter was on its way. I stood on the flight deck and watched the helicopter slowly settle on board, feeling the freezing wind whipping from the turbines. As the blades slowed, the helicopter door popped open, and out sprang a person, carrying a bag, who bounded across the deck towards me.
As they neared, they pulled their parka back and I was shocked to see it was a woman — an unbelievably attractive one, at that. Her blonde hair flapped in the wind, her blue eyes sparkling like the icebergs floating by the frigid water. “You must be my replacement,” she said, her Aussie accent adding to her teasing tone.
“I… guess?” I stammered, and she laughed.
“Good luck out there,” she said, putting one gloved hand on my shoulder. “These boys will eat you up if you let them.” And with that, she continued past me and inside the ship. I looked at the helicopter, where I could see a hulking figure sitting behind the controls. He gestured for me to come to him, angrily. Unsure what else to do, I obeyed. I poked my head into the helicopter, and the man inside turned his head and glared at me. He was huge — even shrouded in protective gear, I got the impression of muscles. By the look of his rugged, chiseled face with salt-and-pepper stubble, I figured he was probably mid- to late-40s.
“You getting in, or am I taking off without you?” he growled.
“Uh… sorry!” I said, clambering awkwardly into the seat next to him. My hands fumbled around, looking for the seatbelt. The pilot shook his head angrily and leaned over, reaching across me to grab a strap and, with practiced quick movements, quickly buckled me in. He tightened the straps with his hands to the point where I gasped sharply at the sudden pressure. Was he trying to kill me?
“They didn’t tell me you were a fucking idiot,” he said, and my jaw dropped, stunned. Before I could think of anything clever to say, the whirring of the rotors picked up, ending any chance at conversation, and all I could focus on was trying to keep my lunch down as we swept through the tumultuous air towards the base.
Mercifully, the flight was short, so it wasn’t long before I was stumbling out of the helicopter, practically in tears with gratitude at being back on solid ground. I swallowed deep, heavy breaths, trying to get my bearings, and the pilot shoved his way past me, his hulking body practically throwing me to the floor. I couldn’t believe was a fucking asshole this guy was. Of course, I had no idea how close we were about to become — he knew more than me, which makes his anger a little more understandable.
I was greeted by Jeff, the station manager, the civilian boss of the entire operation. He shook my hand, the first warm greeting I’d received, making me immediately warm to him. He was in his late 50s and from the jump I felt tenderly towards him, like a son to a father or uncle. He gave me a very quick tour of the very small base. It didn’t take long to see the med bay, the gym, the mess hall, the command center, the rec room, and the living quarters, so it felt like I barely had time to get my head sorted before he had deposited me at the door of my bunk.
“And these are your quarters. Space is limited, so most of us have to share.” He shrugged, apologetically. “You’ll get used to it. And, hey, at least you already met your bunkmate!” he said, patting me on the shoulder and walking down the corridor. “Take some R&R and we’ll see you at dinner!” he called over his shoulder.
I swung open the door to my bunk and, of course, was greeted by the sight of the helicopter pilot, doing shirtless push-ups in the middle of the floor. I stood in the doorway and awkwardly cleared my throat, and he slowly got to his feet and faced me. This was my first chance to actually see him without all the gear on, and I could see my first impression was right — this guy was muscular as hell, a thick, furry torso, huge shoulders, swollen arms, with beefy legs bulging against his short, military-issue silkies. That wasn’t the only part of him making a bulge in his thin shorts, but I wasn’t looking at that.
He lifted a corner of his lip in a sneer and let out a chuckle that sounded anything but amused. “They really fucked me on this one,” he grumbled, walking over to his bunk and dropping his heavy body onto it. He stared at the low ceiling and let out a sigh. “6 months of having my own fuckin’ bunk and they take it away for the end of my tour.”
“I’m… I’m sorry?” I stuttered, closing the door behind me and dropping my bag on the empty bed across from his. “I, uh, don’t want to be a bother or anything.”
Slowly, he rolled his head to the side and looked at me, his green eyes glowering at me from below his dark eyebrows. “Well, then don’t,” he said.
“I’ll try not to?” I said, feeling more awkward than I ever had in my life. “I’m, uh, I’m Patrick, by the way. Pat, if you want,” I added, pathetically.
“Pat,” he said, pronouncing it like a slur. “I’m David,” he added, after a moment, before turning his head back to stare at the ceiling, sliding a hand casually down the front of his pants and scratching himself. Well, I thought. At least I got a name out of him. I turned my back on him and started to unpack, nervously aware of the silent, furious, muscular pilot behind me. Not for the first time, I wondered what I had gotten myself into.
Chapter 1
DAY 1
Considering we may be some of the last people alive on the planet, I thought I should keep some sort of record of what happened here. But before I get to where we are now, I need to start at the beginning. If you’re reading this, of course you already know the major events, what happened everywhere else on the globe, so I’m not interested in tracking all of that. Instead, I want to keep a record of what has happened here, at the Antarctic Base.
I can’t believe how young I seemed when I arrived, how naive. What the hell were they doing sending a 23-year-old grad student who had barely left his home state, all the way to the end of the world? My advisor said it was a direct result of my achievements in my research — I won’t bore you with the details, but I made some advancements in growing food using minimal resources — and that the government wanted me to contribute to the experiments at the South Pole. With it came more pay than I’d see at my summer job, plus a guarantee that any lab in the country would want to hire me after I graduated, so though I was terrified it was an obvious yes.
The trip to the base was, as I’m sure you’d expect, a nightmare. Heaving, ink-black seas tossing our ship, making me violently ill for over a week straight. Endless days waiting for the weather to clear, so the helicopter could pick me up, with nothing to do but stare at the passing icebergs, jerk off in my bunk, and regret every decision that had led me here. Finally, the weather cleared, and they told me to pack my bags — the helicopter was on its way. I stood on the flight deck and watched the helicopter slowly settle on board, feeling the freezing wind whipping from the turbines. As the blades slowed, the helicopter door popped open, and out sprang a person, carrying a bag, who bounded across the deck towards me.
As they neared, they pulled their parka back and I was shocked to see it was a woman — an unbelievably attractive one, at that. Her blonde hair flapped in the wind, her blue eyes sparkling like the icebergs floating by the frigid water. “You must be my replacement,” she said, her Aussie accent adding to her teasing tone.
“I… guess?” I stammered, and she laughed.
“Good luck out there,” she said, putting one gloved hand on my shoulder. “These boys will eat you up if you let them.” And with that, she continued past me and inside the ship. I looked at the helicopter, where I could see a hulking figure sitting behind the controls. He gestured for me to come to him, angrily. Unsure what else to do, I obeyed. I poked my head into the helicopter, and the man inside turned his head and glared at me. He was huge — even shrouded in protective gear, I got the impression of muscles. By the look of his rugged, chiseled face with salt-and-pepper stubble, I figured he was probably mid- to late-40s.
“You getting in, or am I taking off without you?” he growled.
“Uh… sorry!” I said, clambering awkwardly into the seat next to him. My hands fumbled around, looking for the seatbelt. The pilot shook his head angrily and leaned over, reaching across me to grab a strap and, with practiced quick movements, quickly buckled me in. He tightened the straps with his hands to the point where I gasped sharply at the sudden pressure. Was he trying to kill me?
“They didn’t tell me you were a fucking idiot,” he said, and my jaw dropped, stunned. Before I could think of anything clever to say, the whirring of the rotors picked up, ending any chance at conversation, and all I could focus on was trying to keep my lunch down as we swept through the tumultuous air towards the base.
Mercifully, the flight was short, so it wasn’t long before I was stumbling out of the helicopter, practically in tears with gratitude at being back on solid ground. I swallowed deep, heavy breaths, trying to get my bearings, and the pilot shoved his way past me, his hulking body practically throwing me to the floor. I couldn’t believe was a fucking asshole this guy was. Of course, I had no idea how close we were about to become — he knew more than me, which makes his anger a little more understandable.
I was greeted by Jeff, the station manager, the civilian boss of the entire operation. He shook my hand, the first warm greeting I’d received, making me immediately warm to him. He was in his late 50s and from the jump I felt tenderly towards him, like a son to a father or uncle. He gave me a very quick tour of the very small base. It didn’t take long to see the med bay, the gym, the mess hall, the command center, the rec room, and the living quarters, so it felt like I barely had time to get my head sorted before he had deposited me at the door of my bunk.
“And these are your quarters. Space is limited, so most of us have to share.” He shrugged, apologetically. “You’ll get used to it. And, hey, at least you already met your bunkmate!” he said, patting me on the shoulder and walking down the corridor. “Take some R&R and we’ll see you at dinner!” he called over his shoulder.
I swung open the door to my bunk and, of course, was greeted by the sight of the helicopter pilot, doing shirtless push-ups in the middle of the floor. I stood in the doorway and awkwardly cleared my throat, and he slowly got to his feet and faced me. This was my first chance to actually see him without all the gear on, and I could see my first impression was right — this guy was muscular as hell, a thick, furry torso, huge shoulders, swollen arms, with beefy legs bulging against his short, military-issue silkies. That wasn’t the only part of him making a bulge in his thin shorts, but I wasn’t looking at that.
He lifted a corner of his lip in a sneer and let out a chuckle that sounded anything but amused. “They really fucked me on this one,” he grumbled, walking over to his bunk and dropping his heavy body onto it. He stared at the low ceiling and let out a sigh. “6 months of having my own fuckin’ bunk and they take it away for the end of my tour.”
“I’m… I’m sorry?” I stuttered, closing the door behind me and dropping my bag on the empty bed across from his. “I, uh, don’t want to be a bother or anything.”
Slowly, he rolled his head to the side and looked at me, his green eyes glowering at me from below his dark eyebrows. “Well, then don’t,” he said.
“I’ll try not to?” I said, feeling more awkward than I ever had in my life. “I’m, uh, I’m Patrick, by the way. Pat, if you want,” I added, pathetically.
“Pat,” he said, pronouncing it like a slur. “I’m David,” he added, after a moment, before turning his head back to stare at the ceiling, sliding a hand casually down the front of his pants and scratching himself. Well, I thought. At least I got a name out of him. I turned my back on him and started to unpack, nervously aware of the silent, furious, muscular pilot behind me. Not for the first time, I wondered what I had gotten myself into.