The Ice Box

There was only one rule: don’t open the door. Ignacio, thirty-two, wanted to break the rule. Icicles formed around the window of the door.

“There could be a heater out there! Anything!” Veleria, twenty-eight, yelped. She shivered. The cold seeped into their bones. Two other women, forty- three-year-old Ganna and twenty-six year-old Biaka gave each other warmth with a solemn embrace.

“We will perish soon enough,” Biaka intoned.

“Don’t say that!” Ganna replied. “We’ve got to remain positive.”

The blast of the cold air was like a whoosh of death, however.

“What could be on the other side of the door? Some heat packs? More blankets? A heater?”

“It doesn’t matter. We were instructed by the user to remain here until she got back,” Ignacio announced. Iciness all around them caked the walls and everyone continued to look at the square plate glass of the door. The utter bleakness aroused a sense of dread that seemed too much to bear.

“I know what we can do,” Veleria said. “We can all just huddle around until the door opens by itself. We were instructed to not open the door. Maybe someone else in the game can come over to us and unlock and open it.”

Her words seemed to have a hypnotic effect on the others. She could feel that they did not exactly rally around her statement but she noticed them slowly nod their heads. Anything, any idea seemed to be at least a distraction from the bitter bite of the cold.

“Oh, look,” Ignacio said. “She’s back. Maybe she’s not the sadist that we thought she was.”

The man and women all looked up. They saw the door opening slowly. Some warmth pervaded the room. Smiles painted their faces. Until––

“My God! It’s a flamethrower!” They melted away completely.