Only a few snowflakes fell from the sky in the darkest of night as a lonely figure trudged through the snow. It was the dead of winter, 2015, and Antarctica was as cold as it always had been. The wind soon picked up, and a powerful gust dissipated the gently drifting snow, revealing the figure, a young man. Under the many layers of fur coats, sweaters, and shirts, his nametag read, Michael. Another powerful gust of wind blew more powder away from the unclear path, and it soon became evident that he was heading for a small, discreet structure, a sort of outpost, buried deep in the recent snow.
The creak of the heavy door sliced through the thick, winter air as Michael swung it open, revealing a dark and gloomy corridor. He closed the door behind him and listened to his heavy footsteps as he walked through the steel and concrete hallway, until he approached a small black box. He flipped a lever and watched as the lights began to illuminate the room in front of him; a bed and chair in one corner, accompanied by a table with a radio. He turned to see a plethora of computers, control panels, and scientific equipment activate and fill the room with a loud but familiar” hum.
He took off his largest coat and threw it onto a nearby control panel. He walked over to the bed and threw off the rest of his large winter clothing, revealing rugged, tough facial features and cold, analyzing eyes. As he looked around the room, he began thinking of what this ‘outpost’, if you could even call it that, was used for in the beginning. Something about nuclear warfare? No, maybe world war three? His thought process quickly came to a halt when he took a quick look at his watch, reading six-thirty. He turned, saw a fax machine, and almost broke out laughing at the realization that technology here hadn't been updated in years.
“I guess I’ll see my colleague in about thirty minutes,” he said to himself, chuckling as he fell heavily into one of the dusty chairs in the corner of the room and grabbed a thin magazine. The knock at the door seemed to happen awfully quick until he realized he’d been dozing off.
He pulled the door ajar to reveal a man with a slightly taller stature and better posture than he had. He walked inside and immediately began taking off his heavy winter clothing, revealing a semi-professional lab suit that matched Michael’s.
“It’s been a while, Eric,” Michael greeted.
“Yeah, good to see you, Mike,” Eric replied, clearly happy to be out of the cold.
Eric walked into the room and threw his large, winter clothing on the table, while Mike slouched into one of the chairs.
“So, I’ve been thinking,” Mike said slowly. “I know that the big air heads back in the U.S. sent us down here to do some ‘genuine research’, but, what was this place even used for, in, I guess, the beginning? You seem to know a lot more about this stuff than I do, so I was hoping you could tell me a little about this.”
He waited a while before he answered, allowing Mike to examine his features. He had a thin face, similar cold eyes, and square glasses that rested gently on his nose.
“Yeah, you see, they didn’t tell me much about this place either,” Eric replied thoughtfully. “I’m pretty sure this ‘outpost’-at least, that’s what they told me it is-was set up a little after World War Two, as sort of a ‘nobody wins backup plan’. Basically, everyone gets nuked and nobody knows where the source is. The cool part about it is that they added a whole bunch of real equipment to sort of fool people, and so that this place could eventually be used for scientific purposes.”
“Well isn’t that the most American thing I’ve ever heard; we want to nuke everyone but we don’t want to be blamed for it!” Mike snapped.
“Hey, I didn’t make it up, I’m just telling you what it’s for. Besides, I’m sure the whole ‘nuke everything decision’ has been removed, so just chill,” Eric said.
"I hope you're right," Mike said, getting up. He walked over to one of the computers and wiggled the ancient mouse, illuminating the screen. "Wow, I'm surprised we get internet out here,” looking at his watch again.
“Eh, we should probably get some research done," turning to see Eric yawning.
"Yeah, or you and I could have a nice, long night's sleep. Which sounds better?" Eric said sarcastically.
Mike sighed, “fine, as long as we get up early tomorrow.”
“I don’t care about that, but I had a really exhausting day, and I assume you did as well.”
“Yeah,” Mike replied, and, before Eric could say anything else, “dibs on the bed.”
“Aww, c’mon-”
“Hey, hey, we’ll alternate, we’ll only be here for a week,” Mike said
“Whatever,” Eric waved him off and walked over to the fluffy chair.
It wasn’t long until the place was silent again, apart from the gentle humming of the generator underneath the floor. Both men were seated comfortably in their sleeping spaces, and were happy to sleep off the long day.
Only a few minutes had passed until a loud, incessant beeping sounded from across the room. Michael awoke first, clearly with surprise.
“What the heck is that?” Mike turned to see his colleague wake up with a shudder, and quickly throw off his makeshift blanket. Mike did the same and got up, walked over to the box, and flipped the light switch.
“That’s weird,” Eric said, “whatever that is, it looks like it’s coming from… a fax machine?”
The annoying, beeping machine stopped, and Mike walked over to grab a single, plain sheet of paper that read:

Attention:
This is a message provided by the United States Military:
At precisely 6:27 in the evening of December 13, a large malfunction occurred in, as far as we know, all military control computers across the country. This error allowed for the release of over 1,125 nuclear-tipped missiles, all containing set targets from their original construction in the Cold War. In the first hour following the incident, the situation was perceivably under control, as we were informed that the missiles had been decommissioned as of early 2000. It is now in our best effort to warn all countries, as this could potentially start a new World War. Although the source of this malfunction has not yet been defined, the entirety of the United states holds the burden of this international crisis. We warn you that no country is safe, and that the end of our world may be upon us.

Mike was absolutely stunned at the information typed clearly on the page. He was surprised even more at the three, questioning words at the bottom of the paper;
World War III?

Both men stood in silence until the tension in the air could be cut by knives, and suddenly, unexpectedly, the ground began to shake.

“That… that can’t be-”

“I think it is,” Eric cut him off. “The bombs are falling and all we can do is sit and watch, like prisoners of the end of the world.”

“No, no, no!” Mike walked over and landed hard in the chair, his head in his hands. “It…there…something has to be wrong, we can’t just… we can’t just sit here like nothing’s happening!”

“I don’t think we have much of a choice, and, to be honest, I don’t think we have much time left either.”

As if on queue, the ground began to rumble harder, and the foundation of ice began to crack and move. Dust and concrete pieces began to fall from the ceiling.

Mike turned to Eric, whose face had been drained of color, and quickly looked back and forth, all around the room.

“Our Father, who art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name-” Eric began to recite nervously.

“Don’t say your prayers, we’re going to survive,” Mike said with little confidence. “Hurry, get under the bed, it’s the only safe place left!”

“Why can’t we just go outside?”

“The ice is cracking under our feet, and...for all intents and purposes, it’s a warzone out there. Anyway, a captain goes down with his ship, right?”

Eric nodded solemnly.

A huge crack split the floor as both men ran and ducked under the steel framed mattress, of which they hoped would save them.
“We can’t die like this-”
“We’re not going to!” Mike snapped. “This should keep the worst of the concrete away from our heads.”
“W-w-well, maybe we can still get out, maybe we can-” Eric was cut off by a deafening explosion, shaking the roof to pieces and throwing electrical sparks into the room. To Mike, it felt as if the world itself was being cut in half. But, if only for just an instant, time seemed to slow down. Mike was able to focus; heard his screaming partner with surprising clarity, watched as the fluorescent lights cast their last, ghostly glow on the crippled computers, furniture, and equipment. In that instant, both men had their eyes set to the back of the room, where Mike’s heavy jacket fell off the control panel, and onto the floor. The coat had cleared the air for just a moment, long enough for both to realize that a single switch had been pulled., one that read: Nuclear Control Override. Mike only had a second to put the pieces together, before the outpost, and the human race fell to a winter the world would never recover from.