Dead Bodies, Alive Minds

Buried deep within the frozen arms of the Arctic Circle, nestled between jagged mountains and vast white silence, stood a military research outpost known only as Sparrow Station. It didn’t appear on any civilian maps. Access was restricted. Purpose? Classified. The only whispers said it was a biomedical facility something about “resilience experiments.”

No one asked questions.

Until the radio fell silent.

On the fourth day of blackout, the government dispatched a five-man recon team. Fully armed. Fully trained. Fully unaware.

They arrived at dusk, when the sky bled orange behind the peaks. The helicopter dropped them like ghosts into a world untouched everything buried under thick snow, the cold so deep it burned.

At first glance, the station seemed abandoned. Steel doors slightly ajar. Lights flickering inside like dying stars. Half-eaten meals still on tables, computers running idle. No signs of struggle but no signs of life either.

Then came the smell.

Not decay. Not rot. Iron. Blood. But not quite human.

The team spread out, sweeping corridor by corridor. Their boots echoed in sterile silence. But something felt wrong as if the walls themselves were breathing.

In the basement, they found the lab.

Or what was left of it.

The walls were scorched. Ceiling vents clawed open from the inside. And in the far corner, behind thick frost-covered glass, was a cryogenic vault. Dozens of bodies, neatly stacked in isolation pods male, female, civilian, military.

Except the bodies weren’t decomposing.

Their skin was pale but intact. Veins visible beneath translucent skin. Eyes… open.

Watching.

Sergeant Klein stepped closer, tapping on the glass. One of the eyes blinked.

He recoiled.

Private Morales laughed nervously. Just a muscle spasm. Reflex. Happens with

The body sat up.

Glass shattered like ice under pressure, and the thing inside lunged. Teeth bared. Mouth twisted unnaturally. Its jaw clicked with a sound that wasn’t meant for human ears.

It tore Morales’ throat in one movement.

The team opened fire. Screams echoed down the hall.

But it wasn’t just one.

The other bodies began to stir slow at first, then violently. They didn’t crawl. They ran. Eyes wide, like prey long starved. These weren’t movie zombies they were fast, coordinated, and smart. They didn’t groan. They whispered.

Where… are… you…

They had memory. They had instinct.

They had hunger.

The research notes hastily scribbled and scattered told part of the story:
The experiment had aimed to preserve the human mind beyond death. Not resurrection. Not reanimation. But an endless, conscious stasis.

The result? A mind that remained alive while the body shut down and eventually turned on itself.

No pain. No guilt. No empathy.

Only craving.

Sparrow Station became a hunting ground.

By the second night, only two remained: Klein and Dr. Lora Vance, the lead biologist who had volunteered to be part of the experiment unaware they had never intended to bring her back.

She knew the system. Knew the emergency lockdown codes. But they were sealed in the control room across the infected wing.

So they ran.

Through flickering halls. Past twitching bodies nailed to walls. Past doors clawed from the inside.

Until Lora saw them her own research team, faces half torn, eyes still aware.

And they saw her.

They remembered.

She froze.

Klein turned and in that split second, one of the creatures pounced. Screaming. Teeth gnashing.

He didn’t have time to fire.

Blood sprayed across the control room glass.

Dr. Vance bolted, locking the last door behind her. Alone now. Cornered.

She picked up the emergency recorder. Her voice trembled, breath fogging the lens.

If anyone finds this... don't come here. Don’t try to recover the data. They’re not human anymore. Their minds are intact. That’s the real horror. They know what they’ve become…

A whisper rose behind her. One word.

Lora…

The screen cut to black.

No one ever retrieved the tape.

But sometimes, when satellite scanners sweep the Arctic, they catch lights flickering at Sparrow Station.

And something moving in the snow.

• Thank you for reading