The Thing Revisited
WINTER 1982
The husky fled across the Antartic, and hell followed. Four legs pumping and dashing forward over and through the Antarctic snow, the husky kept a break-neck pace that would have winded or maimed any other dog. But then again, this was no ordinary dog.
For over 300 miles the dog had been running northwest of demolished Outpost #31, the former stomping grounds of an American scientific research team. Without the thought of food, water or shelter the dog drove on. The only craving the dog had was companionship; the special companionship of a human. Thus far the dog had only known a human to have higher intelligence on this measly planet, and humans had crafted many tools that could be of use to a creature of higher intelligence.
Onward the dog pushed, until with a startled yelp that sounded all too dog-like the dog came to a halt on hardened ice pack. The dog's unnaturally sensitive ears could detect the sound of the Ocean underneath the ice, and could smell the remainders of spent fuel and exhaust from some sort human made instrument of conveyance.
Here it would wait. While the dog knew it could withstand extreme colds, even its secretly mighty frame would succumb to cold eventually. To freeze would not equate to mortality, even the simplest cells of its body served a simple yet almighty task; survival.
However, the thought of freezing and being buried undiscovered under tons of snow and ice created an intolerable risk that the dog angered at. The dog raised on its haunches in fury at the unconfirmed, but undeniably likely fact that the humans had left some sort of record relating its true form at Outpost #31. To have stayed and been discovered after such document may have been uncovered presented its own intolerable risks.
On raised haunches the dog let out a howl that transformed into an unholy sound of alien fury. Realizing its own futility, the dog suddenly stopped and lowered onto all fours. With the luck of the stellar winds, no further passage would be necessary. Humans would find their way to it.
The husky fled across the Antartic, and hell followed. Four legs pumping and dashing forward over and through the Antarctic snow, the husky kept a break-neck pace that would have winded or maimed any other dog. But then again, this was no ordinary dog.
For over 300 miles the dog had been running northwest of demolished Outpost #31, the former stomping grounds of an American scientific research team. Without the thought of food, water or shelter the dog drove on. The only craving the dog had was companionship; the special companionship of a human. Thus far the dog had only known a human to have higher intelligence on this measly planet, and humans had crafted many tools that could be of use to a creature of higher intelligence.
Onward the dog pushed, until with a startled yelp that sounded all too dog-like the dog came to a halt on hardened ice pack. The dog's unnaturally sensitive ears could detect the sound of the Ocean underneath the ice, and could smell the remainders of spent fuel and exhaust from some sort human made instrument of conveyance.
Here it would wait. While the dog knew it could withstand extreme colds, even its secretly mighty frame would succumb to cold eventually. To freeze would not equate to mortality, even the simplest cells of its body served a simple yet almighty task; survival.
However, the thought of freezing and being buried undiscovered under tons of snow and ice created an intolerable risk that the dog angered at. The dog raised on its haunches in fury at the unconfirmed, but undeniably likely fact that the humans had left some sort of record relating its true form at Outpost #31. To have stayed and been discovered after such document may have been uncovered presented its own intolerable risks.
On raised haunches the dog let out a howl that transformed into an unholy sound of alien fury. Realizing its own futility, the dog suddenly stopped and lowered onto all fours. With the luck of the stellar winds, no further passage would be necessary. Humans would find their way to it.