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The Story:
The wind maintained such a constant force that he wondered if he would become deaf. It combined with the ice and snow to cut through his clothing, his skin, and right down to his bones. If it could freeze his joints, he would be immobilized, and the cold could curate its latest preserved specimen. He had to keep moving.
He was certain that he’d already lost at least two toes to frostbite, and a finger wasn’t responding. But he had to make it to the bunker, wherever it was hiding in the white blanket before him.
The GPS in his hand suggested that he was near the bunker, but he didn’t know whether to move further left, right, or look under the snow drifts. So, he pressed forward, and the blizzard pressed back. After a few more feet of trudging, he stepped into air and fell several feet until landing in a snow drift.
He had been on top of the bunker, but now, he was at its entrance. With the laborious effort of each limb, he crawled to a metal door with an electronic keypad. At the foot of the door, he felt the sudden urge to stop. He was too exhausted to stand, and he knew that getting inside was his only hope, but the ground felt as comfortable as a warm bed. And closing his eyes felt good. Too good.
——————————
He awoke on a cot in a dimly lit room. A bearded man was sitting beside him, holding a bowl of hot soup.
“I’m sorry to report that you have 7 toes and 9 fingers.”
“Yeah. I always thought 20 was too many, anyway. How long was I out?”
“Two days.”
The man handed him the soup as he sat up.
“You’re not here for soup, no?”
“Depends on how good your soup is.”
“Who, doctor?”
“I’m here for the DNA of Garrel Vetruvius.”
“The physicist?”
“Yes.”
“Death?”
“Nope. Life. Intent to clone.”
The man’s eyes grew wide as he slowly rose to his feet.
“That is forbidden,” the man said in fear.
“Was.”
He set his bowl onto the ground and rose to meet the man eye to eye.
“Nothing’s forbidden when the entire human race is at stake. Please, find me Vetruvius.”
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