The Humanoid
There is nothing within the realm of reality that could be so revealing as the emergent discoveries of science and their intricate nature. It is when man has solved the intrinsic enigmas that confirm their theories that we begin to comprehend the meaning procured—about those mysterious things we had not yet named or categorised.
It is the imagination, not mere science, that compels man to seek the furthest edge of the Earth’s boundaries. There are distant lands that remain to be discovered. Man’s fate has always been intertwined with his evolution and survival. I can only disclose the indelible episodes that the members of the expedition experienced on that forsaken continent through my private journal. There is a unique place, which the whalers and sailors describe in their own words as the vast nothingness of heavy ice and coldness.
It is a secretive place that time seems to have forgotten. Its name is Antarctica. It was there that we discovered the ancient one that would be known to us as the humanoid. The year was 1918 when our ship, the Holberg, reached the South Pole. We had been drifting a few kilometres off the coast of Antarctica for numerous days, due to the fluctuating weather and strong gales.
It was the month of October when we reached the area. We had originally embarked from Argentina. There are no genuine autumns nor springs in this part of the world—only summers and winters. Although we were technically in autumn, it was already demonstrating the semblance of an early, bitter winter. Antarctica is known for its cold and windy weather and is situated around the South Pole, south of the Antarctic Circle.
It is surrounded by the Southern Ocean and is the fifth-largest continent on record. Its coast comprises floating ice that manifests in the form of ice shelves. It is called the end of the Earth, for no man dares to live there. The Norwegians were the first to land there in 1895, and the British were the first to reach the magnetic South Pole in 1907.
The images we descried were evidently reflective of the isolated nature of its position on the globe. We had thought we were prepared for the cold, but it was something else entirely—something of another world that we encountered, which was perhaps the ancestor of modern man.
18th October 1918
It was around midday when our ship finally landed, and we stepped onto the hardened surface of the South Pole. It was -10 degrees Celsius (13°F) as we headed forth. The mission for the expedition was to explore the continent and establish more bases for scientific research, in particular the search for ancient fossils. My name is Reginald Stansfield, an Englishman.
I was accompanied on this expedition by my fellow colleague in profession, Professor Anders Kristianson, a Norwegian. The crew was mostly Norwegian, with the exception of two Argentines, a Canadian professor, and myself. The Canadian professor's name was Joseph Campbell. Professor Kristianson had previously visited Antarctica a year prior with another expedition.
He had assisted in the establishment of the base there, which was relatively close to one of the main mountains where he had previously discovered old dinosaur fossils. We were treated to a remarkable spectacle performed by a roaming orca. According to Professor Kristianson, it was not uncommon to see orcas off the coast during this time of year.
There was not much wildlife present in Antarctica that we could confirm existed in abundance. Only seals, albatrosses, penguins, tardigrades, and invertebrates such as krill were known. We traversed through the polar desert that made up the landscape we had chosen to embark from, until we reached at last the base to which Professor Kristianson had referred. We were cognisant of the fact that we would not enjoy much sunlight during this trip.
The days were short, and the nights were long. The gloom of shade and darkness would become our shadow—and our hell. Antarctica is divided into two halves: east and west. The vast majority of the area is covered in ice sheets. It has small islands around it, but we never set foot on them. The side we were on was supposedly more hospitable to our expedition.
At the base, we unloaded all the necessary materials and instruments that we had brought for the expedition, including several huskies to assist us on sleds. Professor Kristianson, Professor Campbell, and I discussed the mission in detail. We had a reliable map marked by Professor Kristianson, indicating the location we were to explore. I trusted him—and I trusted the guidance of my compass.
There was no man more equipped to lead a daring expedition than Professor Kristianson. After all, he was the only one among us who had ever visited Antarctica, and his expertise and proficiency were duly appreciated. It was determined that we would remain on the continent for two weeks, provided the weather allowed. We were aware that formidable German U-boats were prowling the area armed with torpedoes—and that we were still at war.
I was eager to find some fine fossil specimens to take back to my laboratory for meticulous examination. I was not certain of what we would discover, but I sensed that something worthwhile awaited us. We had brought our winter clothing and footwear, including thermal wear for the expedition. It would serve us well to be properly clothed. Glaciers and floating icebergs were everywhere.
Although I had not previously met the other crew members besides Professor Kristianson, I knew he had faith in them and had hired them for their experience, skills, knowledge, and travels. It was vital to have such men of high regard and commitment to rely on. Not many men could endure the ill effects of such coldness, isolation, or the long months at sea.
I could certainly understand how men far from their homelands and families might go mad with despondency. I myself had been abroad from England for almost a year. My residence at the time was in Australia. I had moved there specifically to work on an excavation in Tasmania, where ancient dinosaur fossils had recently been uncovered. I had high hopes that I would not be wasting my time in Antarctica.
Once we left the base, we headed towards the valley that Professor Kristianson had explored on his prior expedition. It was situated next to a towering mountain—the highest elevation we had seen. It was there that any hope of making a genuine discovery seemed probable.
Upon reaching our destination, we began to explore the vicinity. Professor Kristianson was confident that we could locate precious fossils. I, too, shared his optimism. Professor Campbell was intrigued by the potential of our discoveries. It was apparent that some form of activity had previously occurred at the site. Someone had discovered it before us. The question on all our minds was—who had been here?
There were no official reports of any known scientists on Antarctica at the time. The only recent visitors were the Argentine whalers. They had no reason to spend their time searching for fossils or minerals. Then I noticed something very odd: within the engraved limestone formation in the rocks, I saw the image of what appeared to be a human—or something resembling one in its physiognomy.
It was under a mass of ice. Professor Kristianson noticed it too. He instructed the crew to break the ice with their pickaxes. The ice was heavy and almost impenetrable. We could not use dynamite. It was not a fossil—it was a humanlike being. We assumed it to be male. It took us hours to break even a portion of it and release it from the rock. The men were becoming fatigued, and the weather had worsened.
It was decided that we would stop for the day and bring the specimen—or the block of ice containing the figure—back to the base for examination. We took photographs. None of us at that moment could fathom the discovery we had made, nor the significance it would hold for the world.
We had not only uncovered a massive discovery, but a specimen that would awaken after centuries. Upon returning to the base, we immediately began the process of melting the ice encasing the figure, placing it beside one of our small radiators. At first, we were unsuccessful, as the ice was extremely hardened. The cold that permeated the base did not help. We could not afford to use fire or a flamethrower, as that would jeopardise the specimen. We allowed the process to take its natural course.
In the meantime, the professors and I gathered to discuss the ice figure. The crew rested. We were baffled by what we had found. It appeared humanoid in form, yet had been embedded deep in the rock for centuries.
This would indicate its ancient nature. If that were the case, how old was this specimen? How could we measure its age and existence accurately?
Professor Campbell suggested it might be a primitive man or a Neanderthal. Professor Kristianson rejected that idea, proposing instead that it could perhaps be the earliest human—Homo habilis—which lived over two million years ago.
According to recent discoveries, Homo sapiens fossils were estimated to be no more than 30,000 years old. We made certain to preserve the specimen and photographs.
19th October 1918
We had checked on the ice figure specimen, and it still had not melted. We did not want to act precipitously and realised that the only thing we could do was wait patiently. The possibility of further discoveries compelled us to return to the site of the rock formations in the valley. We searched the general area as thoroughly as we could until we found more fossils embedded in the rock formations.
Unlike the ice figure man, these fossils were broken fragments of ancient creatures or animals. Among them, we discovered an Elasmosaurus that had eroded within the sediments—an old aquatic reptile that had once swum the Antarctic seas during the Cretaceous period, alongside dinosaurs and amphipods—small marine crustaceans.
The ice walls resting on the rocks were difficult to penetrate. I was aware that dinosaurs had once roamed Antarctica—such as ankylosaurs, mosasaurs, and plesiosaurs—but to find a fossil of any of them was unthinkable at the time. We had gathered enough fossils to keep us occupied back at the base. Once more, the encroaching darkness hindered our progress. Back at the base, we meticulously examined the fossils and began to formulate theories amongst ourselves about their origins and their possible connection with the ice figure humanoid.
Professor Kristianson boldly suggested that beneath the ice sheet lay great mountains, valleys, and plateaus. He also posited that there might have been, during the Cretaceous period, remnants of an ancient rainforest. From our arrival in Antarctica, we knew that its freshwater reserves were completely frozen, and its vegetation was largely composed of lichen. Lakes and rivers were found within the continental ice sheets of the valleys.
If even half of what we contemplated proved to be factual, it would mean that this continent was once the home of prehistoric lifeforms—including dinosaurs and possibly even humanoids of some sort. Evolution was central to Darwin’s theories, but I was certain that we had uncovered something far more elaborate and significant.
Professor Campbell interjected that similar fossils had been discovered in the northern parts of Canada, and that these were traced back to the same types of dinosaurs. I was convinced that the fossils we had retrieved—including the ice figure humanoid—were all connected to a prehistoric event or coeval time period. The correlation was not unreasonable to suggest, and the evidence we had collected strongly indicated this possibility. It was not incompossible to the theories we had been entertaining.
We had established a foundation for this hypothesis, and both professors concurred with this shared analysis. If, ultimately, all these fossils were indeed from the same period, then what was Antarctica like at that time?
Was it colder than today—or was it the opposite? What type of wildlife and vegetation had once lived there? How did these species survive? If the humanoid ice figure was indeed an ancestor of early man, what had happened to the others? Were there more of his kind—or was he the only one? And if so, how had he come to be in Antarctica? A plethora of questions, and so little information with which to ruminate.
That evening, we joined the others at the dinner table. We had limited generators for electricity and radiators to keep us warm. Despite the menacing cold, the men did not complain much. They were accustomed to it and had grown resilient to its bitter effects. I found them resolute and obedient to our significant instructions.
We were paying them handsomely for their service and diligence—more than they had previously earned before this expedition. This had seemed propitious at first, but would eventually become our greatest disadvantage. We had brought sufficient rations and canteens of water. Alcohol was prohibited. We did not want the men to become intoxicated; we needed them sober and fully aware during our time in Antarctica.
We had also brought flasks to heat water. After meals, we spent time discussing a range of topics, from personal matters to stories of wild adventures. Later, in the privacy of my quarters, I was pondering our next task when Professor Kristianson burst in to inform me that the ice figure humanoid had vanished.
When I asked him to clarify, he said quite literally that it was no longer at the base. We had kept it isolated in a storage room next to a radiator, where it was under constant guard for the purposes of experimentation.
Somehow, the humanoid had broken free from the shell of ice in which it had been encased—but how? There were no signs suggesting the ice had fully melted. Perhaps it had melted just enough to allow the humanoid to break free? The room was littered with pieces of ice, but most troubling was the discovery that the guard posted to protect the humanoid had been murdered. Someone—or something—had killed him. Was it the creature?
Professor Campbell was the first to inspect the body, and from his observations he concluded it was indeed murder. The guard’s neck was broken, and his eyes were completely white. Professor Kristianson immediately ordered a search of the base. He was determined to prevent the humanoid from escaping the premises.
The search proved futile. The humanoid was nowhere to be found. Either it had concealed itself extraordinarily well or had vanished into the vast, frozen Antarctic wilderness. None of the men confessed to the murder, and we had verified they were all in the dining room with us—the professors—at the time of the incident. It was -14 degrees Celsius (7°F) outside. Despite the harsh conditions, Professor Kristianson insisted on continuing the search.
I was uncertain this was wise—not because of the cold, but due to the near-total darkness. I voiced my concerns to the professor directly, but he dismissed them and ordered the men to prepare to resume the search, regardless of the danger.
We remained behind, awaiting word from the men. They had taken rifles for protection but were under strict orders not to shoot the humanoid. Professor Kristianson wanted it alive. There was no concrete evidence the humanoid had killed the guard. All we knew was that the guard’s neck was broken and his eyes had turned pale white.
We could not be sure of the cause. We gathered samples of hair and skin tissue—both from the guard and from the melted ice where the humanoid had once been encased.
We immediately examined the samples under our microscopes. What we found astonished us. Professor Kristianson estimated the humanoid’s specimens to predate known examples of Homo sapiens or even Homo habilis. This would suggest the humanoid was even older than the earliest known humans.
Of course, it was all theoretical. Yet, as men of science, we could not ignore the weight of the evidence. The fossils we had retrieved remained untouched. The humanoid had shown no interest in them. Its only concern had been escaping—and it had done so with great efficacy. What we did not know then was that it had fled to a hidden location beneath the ice, near the mountainous valley.
20th October 1918
We had failed to find the humanoid during the night, and at dawn we resumed the desperate search. Half of the men joined us while the rest stayed behind at the base, in case the creature returned. We headed to the excavation site, Point A, where the fossils—including the humanoid—had been discovered. The weather had turned even colder that blustery morning. It was -10°C (13°F).
We knew that winter temperatures could fall as low as -80°C (-112°F). Though we had accounted for this before the expedition, we were not prepared to confront the humanoid—or the aftermath of its escape.
Who in their right mind could claim to be prepared for an encounter with a being from billions of years ago? Not only that, but it appeared far more astute than we were. I certainly did not feel prepared.
Before reaching the valley of Point A, one of the men discovered a large hole beneath the surface of the ice. At first, I mistook it for a polynya—rare but known in these parts. Professor Kristianson disagreed. The hole was a crater—large enough to contain two full-sized ships. As we excavated, we found large chunks of what appeared to be fragments of a meteorite. We concluded, based on our examination, that a meteorite had struck Antarctica billions of years ago.
But that was not all we found. Among the debris, we discovered fragments of what appeared to be a spaceship.
This final discovery was the most revealing. It would begin to explain the series of events unfolding around us and provide answers—answers that would both fascinate and terrify us.
We had recovered fragments of the meteorite...
My intuition told me that he was observing us from nearby, and it was only a matter of time before we would encounter him once more.
After examining the pieces of the meteorite and the spaceship, Professor Kristianson had intimated that the meteorite could have contained the oldest material in the solar system, billions of years old, and that the spaceship had somehow collided with the meteorite and was forced to land in Antarctica out of necessity.
It was a bold claim from the professor, but it did make sense after looking at the photographs. What if the meteorite was linked to the spaceship in sequence? None of the professors had believed that the intended destination of the humanoid was the isolated continent of Antarctica. What, then, had been its intended destination?
This dubious thought had left us musing about the origin and purpose of the humanoid’s arrival on the planet. Was it even possible that it had fallen to Earth due to the collision with the meteorite? Whatever the occurrence, it had only intrigued us further.
Professor Campbell had been examining the specimens of the fossils we had retrieved earlier. He was convinced that the continent had once been more hospitable to wildlife, including dinosaurs. Had our humanoid coexisted with them at one time? How advanced was the humanoid compared to them? The thought of the humanoid co-existing with the dinosaurs in Antarctica had amazed me.
Nothing in the annals of history had ever recorded such an anomaly as this extent of co-existence. There had been no evidence of alien life forms in the form of fossils or materials discovered at that time. Truly, we were on the verge of becoming pioneers in science. Three mere archaeologists in the middle of nowhere had made the most incredible and revealing discoveries.
Not only had we discovered the Elasmosaurus fossil, but also the humanoid, intact and alive. To suppose that a living being from outer space, humanoid in appearance, was once again breathing upon the Earth was utterly unfathomable. We headed back to point A to see if we could find more viable clues and evidence. When we reached the site, we discovered that someone else had been there recently. The question we asked ourselves was, who?
Although it was only a suspicion, we knew that it was the humanoid. Who else could be out here in Antarctica? We couldn’t rule out the possibility that, unbeknownst to us, outsiders had landed on the continent, but it seemed unlikely. We would have noticed their presence. What was strange were the footprints, which were not sufficient to reveal the person or thing clearly.
This certainly caused us to become more concerned and anxious about the whereabouts of the humanoid. It was obvious that he was watching our every step and action. This implied that he knew how to cope with the inhospitable weather and landscape far better than us.
We didn’t have time to dwell on suppositions. We had to devise a plan to capture him before he left the continent or, worse, decided to murder us. Essentially, we had to outsmart him with our ingenuity. We had excavated the rigid ice and managed to penetrate deeper into the stiffened surface of the area where the spaceship was located. Unfortunately, we weren’t able to locate more fragments, except for a few that were unrecognisable and too brittle.
Thus, we had to leave one of the men behind at the site until nightfall. It was an imminent risk and peril we were asking him to take, but one of the men volunteered to stay behind for the time being. When we returned to the base, we discovered that the men who had stayed behind were all dead. Gutierrez, Santinni, the Argentines, and Olsen, Pedersen, the Norwegians, had all perished, along with Hofland the day before. Gundersen and Bergland had accompanied us.
We had left Helmark behind at the site. The killer had struck again, using the same modus operandi. Their necks were broken, and their eyes drained of their natural colour. Quickly, we were reduced in number and supplies. The humanoid had taken some of our supplies with him—clothing and torches as well. What could a humanoid need with these things?
Professor Campbell suggested that we not separate, and that the humanoid was among us. It was unclear at first what he was implying until he explained that the humanoid had limitations like us, and was perhaps attempting to blend in and assume one of our identities.
If this was true, then it was a frightening and disturbing revelation. This also meant that we were not in absolute control of the situation. The options available to us were either to stay and find the humanoid, or to leave Antarctica at once, taking what we had—the fossils—and more importantly, with our lives intact.
I had opted to leave with the fossils we had in our possession, but Professor Kristianson wanted to stay and capture the humanoid. The fact that we were now reduced in numbers did not dissuade the professor; it only emboldened his desire to find the humanoid. The decision was made to stay at least a couple of days longer. It would be a decision that would haunt us and, at the same time, enthrall us.
Professor Kristianson was insistent on capturing the humanoid, and I was persistent in my belief that the humanoid knew where to find us. It was not hard, since we were forced to stay at the base. What I wanted to know was how much better the humanoid could adapt to the unbearable conditions outside during the night. Once more, I thought in the back of my mind, why did it need clothing?
After realising that the humanoid was an alien and not human in composition, it made sense that it was using the clothing to disguise itself. The humanoid had seemed to be an anthropomorphic being in appearance and characteristics, but it was much more than I had initially perceived.
Was it possible that it could alter its shape or matter and manifest as human, or any other form of existence? If this was the case, then we were dealing with a being much more advanced than us at its core. Had it come from another galaxy, from the vast and interminable cosmos? I was under the impression that it had indeed come from outer space.
21st October 1918
We were extremely cautious from that moment. Without knowing the culprit, we had already lost important members of the expedition at the hands of the murderer. What was the culprit seeking? As with the first murder, the men had choke marks, as if they had been strangled. Whatever being this humanoid was in nature, it had demonstrated great strength, killing the men with little effort.
Some of our men were tall and robust in stature. Helmark had not returned to the base that night. We were worried about his fate, knowing what had befallen the others. I could not sleep that night, with the thought that poor Helmark was alone to face the cold and the daunting humanoid. The day was cold, but we returned to the valley behind the mountains where our site was, to see if Helmark was there. Professor Kristianson had suspected that the humanoid would return the next morning, and he was correct.
Upon our return, we found poor Helmark lying stone dead on the surface of the ice, his pallid look as if something had taken the breath out of him instantly. The startled look on Professor Campbell’s face was identical to mine—utter disbelief. The method of the murderer was identical to the other killings. The victims were all drained of colour and had their breath absorbed.
We were reduced to just five persons from the original expedition that had left the ship: Gundersen, Bergland, Professor Campbell, Professor Kristianson, and myself. There was, of course, the humanoid, who we had still not located. As we returned to the base and gathered in the main room, we began to discuss our options once more. Professor Campbell voiced my concern about staying and thought it was time to leave the continent with what we had. I made clear my position and stated to the others that we could not risk any more deaths, even if that meant jeopardising the mission.
The mission for me was over. The unnecessary deaths of the others and the lack of men were sufficient to convince me of that gruesome reality. Professor Kristianson did not think so and wanted to proceed at whatever cost. I don’t know exactly why he was so adamant about continuing the expedition, but I sensed that something odd was happening with him that I couldn’t easily discern or perceive at that time.
I could sense that he was aware of everything transpiring, yet he seemed indifferent to the deaths of the men. He tried to sway us by arguing that if we found the humanoid, we would uncover countless secrets of our planet and the rest of the universe. He also argued that we had come so far, and it would be foolish to give up now.
The ship was still off the coast, prepared to leave at any moment. We could return to the ship and bring more supplies and men. We had the instruments of radios at our disposal, which we used constantly. The only downside was that the radios were not very effective over long distances. I used the radio to communicate with the crew aboard the Holberg and apprised them of our ordeal.
It was determined that Gundersen and Bergland would return to the ship and we three professors would remain behind at the base. The men left, but they never returned. They never reached the ship, and they were murdered along the way.
That night, I was in the laboratory. I was once again examining the follicles and skin tissues under the microscope. The follicles and skin tissues resembled human, but they didn’t provide an incontrovertible distinction that the humanoid was purely human. After further examination, it merely proved that the humanoid had assumed a human form, either through some evolutionary pattern or by an alien transformation.
The need to know had been gnawing at me. I began to ponder the question: if the human body consisted of trillions of cells, each capable of growth and alteration, could the humanoid we had discovered not be capable of adapting to the cell structure of a Homo sapiens or Homo habilis?
Was the humanoid attempting to take human form and was interrupted by the ice and blustery cold? Could it have been trapped in Antarctica by the ice—or during an ice age? I dismissed the ice age theory and was more convinced that the humanoid had collided with the meteorite and was mistakenly buried under the thick layers of ice sheets in the mountainous valley.
Professor Campbell abruptly entered the laboratory to announce that Professor Kristianson was gone. He could not locate him anywhere at the base. Immediately, we attempted to radio the ship, but with no luck. The transmission frequency was inaudible or unintelligible. Professor Campbell and I were alone at the base, with no one to help us search for the missing professor. Compounding the situation, it was now -17 degrees Celsius (0 degrees Fahrenheit) outside.
We had been discussing the possibility that the humanoid had snatched and killed the professor. I began to suspect even more that Professor Kristianson was hiding something from us, or that he had gone off to find the humanoid on his own. When I shared my thoughts about the humanoid's possible cell structure in comparison to that of a human, Professor Campbell then made a shocking suggestion: he proposed that Professor Kristianson was the humanoid.
When I had heard him say that I could not believe it, but after ruminating, I began to think that it was not that irrational. As we had continued the conversation, Professor Kristianson had walked into the room. He had startled us both. When we asked him where he had gone, he told us that he had been looking for the humanoid in the bitter cold. I looked at his hands, and they were not suffering from chilblains nor any ill effects of the cold, which I thought was queer.
I thought about what Professor Campbell had mentioned about the professor being the humanoid. Thus, I revealed to Professor Kristianson the comparison of the cell structure from the humanoid to humans that I had examined under the microscope. I sensed that he was surprised by that discovery.
He wanted to examine the hair follicles and skin tissues for himself. He spent several minutes intensively examining the specimens. Afterwards, he looked straight into our eyes and said that the humanoid and humans were indeed intrinsically connected.
There was something else that he wanted to inform us of. We were correct in our assumption that the meteorite and the spaceship were connected. It was then that he began to tell us who he really was, in essence. The Professor Kristianson that we had known was no longer alive. The humanoid had assumed his identity and was, indeed, male.
It was a shocking revelation and one that left us both speechless. It was the confirmation that the humanoid had existed and could take human form, but this was not only the most disturbing thing to hear. The humanoid that had taken the form of the professor told us that he had come to our galaxy billions of years ago from a faraway galaxy that was unknown to humans.
This was not that surprising, because we had located the spaceship. What was surprising was what he professed afterwards. In the admission of his words, he was the ancestor of the first known primitive man, Homo habilis. He told us that our direct descendants came from his galaxy, not from the supposed evolution of an ape, as Darwinism suggested, or a celestial god from the heavens. Homo habilis was an experiment gone wrong.
The Homo sapiens that had developed on Earth carried the cell structure of his species. It was merely circumstantial and consequential that he had arrived on planet Earth, and that we Homo sapiens evolved to our present state. I could not help but ponder as he was relating these things if our primitive ancestors on Earth had worshipped a genuine race of these cosmic beings that projected themselves as humanoids to us in their grandeur?
If so, then were the legendary and ancient Greek, Egyptian, Nordic, and Roman gods from the vast cosmos? I could imagine this occurring thousands of years ago. It would explain the continual veneration of these pagan gods, but there was something that I did not understand, and that was: why did the humanoid have to kill to survive? Why did he kill our men, to be precise?
When he was asked, his reply offered little comfort in the way of an explanation. He was forced to kill in order to survive. When I pressed him on the matter, he admitted to the ghastly nature of the deaths, but once more reiterated his position. He had been suspended in animation when he had located himself, behind a thick layer of ice from the rock formations of the valley of the mountains.
When we had him brought back to the laboratory and base, he was still in suspension. As the ice gradually began to melt and he was able to break out of the ice, his body immediately became weaker. He had to regain his energy and recharge his cell structure.
Thus, he was forced to kill the guard and the rest of the men as well. When I asked him about the discolouration of the eyes on the murdered men, he said that they were caused by him draining the cells from the men after they were murdered. It was not his intention to kill them, but he had no other choice. He had to survive at whatever cost.
It was surreal, yet true, that all this time, we had been sleeping and living at the base with the killer that was the humanoid. Professor Campbell had asked why he did not kill the dogs. The humanoid responded by telling us that they offered no value to him, since they did not have any worthy intelligence.
As Professor Campbell and I stood before the humanoid, we wondered what would happen next. Were we to be his next unfortunate victims, or were we to be spared? We were at a disadvantage. We had no weapon to carry, nor any exit to flee. We were at the mercy of the humanoid. This was not encouraging to know.
We were aware of the fact that he could have killed us then, at the base, yet he had decided not to kill us. When we enquired about what he was planning on doing with us, he told us that he was seeking our cooperation. I asked him obliquely, in what manner could we assist him?
He stared at us and simply said that he wanted the ship, so that he could leave Antarctica. When I asked him why, he told us that he was going to find the necessary materials he needed to repair his ship. It was a harrowing decision to make.
We knew that if we conceded to his demand, he would possibly let us go. Professor Campbell had not believed that. He knew that the humanoid would ultimately kill us. I realised that if we gave him the ship, he would also be forced to kill the other men.
We could not let him escape from the continent. He told us that he had the wisdom and knowledge to offer mankind great discoveries. We had to stop him. If he reached civilisation, he would cause tremendous havoc and terror. The question was: how could we achieve this? He was not that easy to destroy, but there was one way in which we could stop him, and that was to freeze him again. We had to imprison him beneath the ice.
22nd of October 1918
We were forced to dissemble and hide our intention. We convinced him that we would take him back in the morning. The temperature was cold, and the winds were bustling with a rousing birr. I explained the plan to Professor Campbell, just before we were about to leave. The humanoid had stepped away. He was back at Point A. It was enough time for us to calculate our plan and carry it out as best as we could.
We knew that we would not have much time nor another opportunity. It was either sooner than later. We were in total agreement, and the details were simplistic in nature. We were going to stop the humanoid from leaving the continent. There were no elaborate tricks or deceitful tactics we were going to employ. We had the instrumentality of our knowledge at our disposal. It did not imply that we were underestimating the prowess and intellect of the humanoid.
The irony was that we could not escape the continent without him knowing. Had we left while he was back at Point A, he would eventually have apprehended us. He had released the dogs, and we had no sleds. The radio was not operating well either.
It was a dire and bleak circumstance that we had found ourselves in, trapped deep within its grasp. The more time elapsed, the more we felt that the humanoid would kill us too. Running through the bitter cold to the ship would have been suicide. The radios were ineffective. The humanoid had sliced our thermal footwear to prevent us from escaping too far from the base. It was unsettling to be incapable of escaping, nor able to do anything else but wait for a being that had already murdered.
We knew all too well his capability to kill and his desire to leave Antarctica. This also meant leaving us stranded behind in the middle of nowhere if we were left alive. Professor Campbell remembered that there was a particular place near the valley before the mountains, where he believed there was a thick patch of ice, with layers deep enough to freeze and imprison the humanoid.
It was where we had found the large hole in the surface of the ice. If we could only trick him into going there, we could indeed trap him. It was perilous, but we had no other choice. We were both willing to sacrifice our lives, if necessary.
Our advantage was that it was cold enough for the ice to freeze, but we were not certain how deep the hole actually was. If it was truly deep, then it would be sufficient to contain him until the waters had frozen again. Confidence was the only thing we could cling to for hope and success. We gathered all the information we had on the humanoid in written form, and concealed the fossils we had retrieved in our haversacks.
The humanoid was more occupied with what he was bringing back to the ship than with our belongings, which were not much. He had allowed us to bury the dead under piles of rocks we had carved and brought with us to the base during our time at Point A, with the exception of Helmark, who remained back at the site.
There was never a Point B. We had not reached the other side of the continent to establish a new site. The expedition had been planned to embark from the original base. More expeditions were supposed to follow, if we were successful in our endeavours.
That would not happen for at least a year. The thought of being stranded in Antarctica for a year was definitely frightening and haunting. Once the humanoid had returned, he told us to grab our belongings, as we were leaving the base for the ship off the coast. He was carrying a rifle and would walk behind us during the trip.
I was bold enough to confront the humanoid about retrieving Helmark's body. He was not content with the idea, but he acquiesced. Somehow, he had located the dogs and tied them to our sleds in preparation for our trip. During the journey to the site, we could feel the bitter cold on our feet as we trod upon the ice. He was well clothed. From a distance, we could see the indicated place where we had planned to freeze the humanoid.
Everything was going according to plan. The humanoid had not suspected our intentions. I was the closest to him, and I would be the one to push him into the deep hole. The closer we got, the more my heart pounded with anxiety.
There was no turning back. It was either we stopped him, or he would destroy us. Now was not the moment to doubt our plan. We had set everything into motion, and it only required our actions. At precisely ten o'clock, as I looked at my watch, we reached the designated area. Without hesitation, I pushed the humanoid into the expected hole, and he fell beneath the thick layer of ice, screaming. He attempted to grasp the surface, but it quickly absorbed him entirely.
The hole was deeper than we had imagined, and he fell below the gripping water of terror. It was too deep for him to free himself. All around him was the immovable ice, which he could not break. It would be his wretched prison once more. His face and body began to deform into a hideous blob of mass.
This was due to the change in his cell structure. I grabbed the rifle and fired at one of the towering peaks of the ice-covered mountain. It was enough to cause an avalanche. The avalanche would bury him under the water. The question was, for how long? We would not stay to know the answer.
As we watched the pile of ice fall over the humanoid, we took a deep breath and exhaled. We left the area for good, using the sleds. The dogs would pull us back to the ship. We were exhausted, but we were heading back to civilisation. On board the ship, the rest of the crew who had remained welcomed us, but they were saddened by the loss of the others during the expedition. No one had dared to envision such a cruel outcome, nor a horrendous occurrence. I can say that I had not fathomed these things.
What had begun as an exciting possibility had turned into a terrible nightmare that was all too real. The only positive thing we had managed to salvage was the fossils we had retrieved from the site. I would have never expected the number of crewmen we had lost there, in the bloody continent of hell.
As we made our way back to the base, the air around us felt thick with anticipation, but also with an overwhelming silence that seemed to press down on us. The world of snow and ice stretched out endlessly before us, broken only by the craggy peaks of the mountains in the distance, their jagged edges stabbing the sky like cold fingers. With every step, the crunch of our boots on the frozen ground seemed louder than it should have been, echoing in the empty wilderness.
We had been walking for hours, the icy wind biting at our faces, when Professor Campbell broke the silence. 'Do you think it’s really over?' His voice was low, almost a whisper, as if he feared the very winds might carry his words to the humanoid, wherever it was.
I glanced at him, noticing the weariness in his eyes. There was no joy in escaping the humanoid’s grasp, only a deep-set exhaustion that could not be attributed solely to the long trek. His mind was clearly burdened with something more. 'I’m not sure,' I replied, my words trailing off. 'There’s always a chance it’s not over. We’ve never truly known what that creature is capable of'.
Professor Campbell nodded, his gaze distant. 'True. There are things in this world that are beyond our comprehension. What we saw...it wasn’t human. Not in any real sense'. He seemed to shudder, though the cold had nothing to do with it. 'But what if we’re not done yet? What if the humanoid is still out there, waiting, planning?'
I could feel my stomach tighten at the thought. There was no way I could answer him. We both knew how dangerous the humanoid was, how insidious. It had a relentless hunger for survival, and though we had imprisoned it, there was no guarantee it wouldn't find a way to escape. My heart pounded in my chest.
But we had no time for doubt now. The trek to the ship was long, and the sleds would only take us so far before we were forced to walk the rest of the way. The dogs, tethered to the sleds, seemed to sense our urgency. They pulled harder, as if they knew the danger was not over, and yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching us.
Just as we were approaching the ship, something caught my eye. A glint of movement in the distance—near the valley where we had trapped the humanoid. My heart skipped a beat, and I stopped in my tracks, staring at the spot.
'Do you see that?' I asked Professor Campbell, my voice tight.
He followed my gaze but saw nothing. 'It’s nothing. Probably just the wind shifting the ice'. But even as he said it, I saw the doubt in his eyes. He knew, as well as I did, that the humanoid could be close, lurking in the shadows, waiting for its next chance to strike.
We continued towards the ship, but every step felt heavier than the last. The thought that we were not yet safe plagued me, gnawing at my resolve. We couldn’t just sit back and wait. We had to be certain.
As we boarded the ship, the crew greeted us warmly, but their eyes were filled with sorrow for the men we had lost. There were too many empty spaces at the dinner table, too many faces missing. And no one spoke of what had truly happened out there in the ice. The horrors we had faced remained unspoken, but they lingered in the air like a dark cloud.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. My mind raced with the images of the humanoid—the grotesque mass of flesh, its form twisting and warping beneath the ice. I thought of the dead men, of Professor Kristianson, whose body would never be retrieved. And I thought of Helmark, who had been left behind, his fate sealed by the cold grip of the continent.
I lay in my bunk, staring at the ceiling, the sounds of the ship creaking around me. The ocean was calm, but the memory of the ice was anything but. It was alive, it seemed, a present force that hung over everything we did, everything we said. We had escaped the humanoid, but I wasn’t sure we had escaped its curse.
The following day, the wind picked up. The air turned colder, sharper. I went to the ship’s deck, hoping to clear my head. The crew was busy with their duties, but I found myself standing alone at the rail, gazing out at the vast, frozen expanse behind us.
It was hard to comprehend that we were finally leaving Antarctica, that the hellish landscape we had become trapped in was now fading into the distance. And yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. The land we were leaving behind was not finished with us.
Suddenly, I heard a voice behind me. 'You all right?'
I turned to see Professor Campbell standing a few feet away, his face grim. 'I don’t know', I said quietly. 'I keep thinking about it—about what happened with the humanoid. There’s something off about all of it. It’s too quiet, too easy'.
He stepped closer, his brow furrowing in concern. 'What do you mean?'
'I’m not sure," I admitted, my breath coming out in a cloud of mist. 'It just feels like it’s not over. Like we’re not finished with the ice, or with the humanoid. Something is still out there'.
Professor Campbell was silent for a moment. 'You’re not the only one who feels that way', he said finally. 'I am worried, too'.
I looked at him, surprised. 'What do you mean? Worried about what?'
'About the hole', he said. 'And the avalanche. It’s not natural, what we did. You can’t trap something like that and just expect it to stay there forever'.
The weight of his words settled on my chest like a stone. 'You think it’s still alive?' I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
'I don’t know', Professor Campbell replied. 'But I’ve seen things before—things that shouldn’t be alive, but somehow are. Maybe we’ve made a grave mistake, thinking that the humanoid is done. We don’t know what it is, not really'.
As I stood there, looking out at the cold ocean, I realised how right he was. We didn’t know what the humanoid truly was. We had only caught a glimpse of its nature, and we had assumed that we understood it. But we didn’t. And the truth was, I was scared. Scared of what the humanoid might do, and scared of what we might have unleashed by trapping it beneath the ice.
The wind howled louder now, as if agreeing with my thoughts. The ship rocked slightly in the swells of the ocean, but I didn’t feel safe. Not anymore.
We had made it out, but I didn’t know if we were ever truly free.
There is a good reason that few men dare to venture to Antarctica, and those who do, do so at their discretion. As we departed the coast, I had to see, for one last time, the dreadful mountainous valley where the humanoid was left buried beneath the thick layers of ice.
Instant chills ran down my spine. Just the thought of what had transpired with the humanoid and the deceased men had given me enough images to rattle me. I said my goodbyes to Antarctica. I would never return to the continent, but others would. I would seldom read the newspapers or listen to idle talk on the matter. I had remained in correspondence with my good colleague, Professor Campbell, who was in Canada.
He had been excavating areas of northern Canada, near the North Pole, a year after our expedition. He invited me to join him on an expedition to the North Pole. I cordially told him that I was occupied. I did not want to seem disinterested, but the memory of what had occurred back in Antarctica was still fresh on my mind.
How could I forget the events that had unfolded and the horrible faces of the dead men? I felt a certain guilt that these men had perished because of my actions. Professor Kristianson's body would never be retrieved. Although the humanoid had taken his life and ultimately his body to the depths of the Antarctic ice, I could not avoid feeling pity for his actual demise. As I sit here writing my memoirs about our time spent together, I wonder if the humanoid is still there, where we buried him.
For more features, such as favoriting, recommending, and reviewing, please go to the full version of this story.