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John Carpenter's
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MacReady's Shack
by Todd Cameron
The fierce wind whipped the guideline around like a skipping rope
gone insane. Nauls gripped the line with a thickly gloved hand and
leaned into the howling blizzard to better keep his balance. He
trudged through the snow a few steps behind MacReady. Nauls had the
added weight of the gas cylinders strapped on his back but he didn't
mind. The extra weight helped him keep his footing in the winter
storm, besides he liked having the operational end of a flame-thrower
aimed at MacReady's back. But it wasn't just the pilot, Nauls trusted
him about as much as the others in the camp; he wouldn't turn his back
on any of them right now for a second.
MacReady held the flare up to light the path, turning to check that
Nauls was still with him. Mac's sombrero jerked around crazily on his
back in the frigid gale. Nauls grimaced against the bitter cold and
wondered why Mac persisted with that stupid hat. It looked ridiculous
in the Antarctic; it was something a Mexican beach vendor wore.
Distracted by MacReady's choice of apparel Nauls slipped on a chunk of
ice and almost fell onto his knees. He quickly caught his step and
cursed out but it fell on deaf ears, the winter storm whipped the
sound towards the South Pole.
The two men trekked up the incline to MacReady's shack. A light shone
brightly out of the solitary window like a beacon of guilt. MacReady
didn't like the scenario at all. The other men in the camp would not
trespass in his personal space, his domain, his 'shack'. Mac had
expressed interest in the unused observation post as soon as he found
it could be safely heated to a respectable temperature with the old
oil furnace. No one else had the slightest interest in it and Garry
had agreed to let MacReady use it as long as he didn't burn it down.
Garry's only true worry was that one morning they'd find Mac frozen
solid outside in a drunken attempt to come back inside the main
compound.
Finding their footing up the steps to the shack's doorway was a
challenge in the driving whiteout. Mac tossed away the flare as it
started to die. The wind seemed to blow even harder up this slight
rise, there was no protection from the elements and snow billowed off
a drift at the top of the stairs. Without their snow goggles they
would not have even been able to open their eyes against the blinding
storm.
Mac grasped the handle and popped the door. It opened easily.
"Stay close with that torch." Mac cautioned gruffly, just loud enough
for Nauls to hear over the winter gale.
Nauls stepped up pointing the flame-thrower at the shack's door and
Mac swung it open. They were hit with a blast of warm air. The shack's
heated interior sucked past them out into the frigid night. The
gale-force storm blew throughout the small shack, reigning havoc as it
tossed around papers and magazines, anything light not held down. The
men stepped inside and the warmth felt good on their numbed faces. Mac
struggled to get the door closed behind them sealing off the howling
wind. The small room lost its heat in seconds with the door left open.
Nauls glanced around the shack. He'd only been up here once before,
helping Mac carry some of his stuff up. "Anybody home?" he called out.
MacReady was glad to be back in his den. He felt safe, despite what
seemed the rest of the world was in chaos outside. This was his
retreat, a place to get away from the cramped, forced relationships of
the camp. Nothing looked suspicious or out of place…except…
"For fuck's sakes!" MacReady barked.
Nauls spun. "What?!"
"My goddamn Chess Wizard is gone, that's what."
The cook made a face. "You freaked me out man. Who the hell is gonna
steal a chess game now?"
Mac shrugged, lifting off his goggles. "I don't know. Screw it, piece
of shit was broken anyway."
"You know," Nauls thought a second then added, "There's shit missing
from the kitchen too. Yesterday the food processor disappeared. Other
stuff too."
MacReady couldn't make sense of it. It didn't add up. Who the hell
came up to his shack to steal his computerized chess game? Was Fuchs
up here messing around before he was killed?
Nauls glanced around Mac's abode. It was small and sparse but he could
see the pilot was quite comfortable up here. Had everything he needed.
Travel posters depicting hot destinations covered the walls. A
makeshift cot covered with thick blankets, some books, and magazines.
Nauls eyes wandered onto a flipped through copy of Penthouse. There
were a few empty bottles of Scotch kicking around. This was Mac's
place to get away from it all. Like a person needed to get away from
anything at the South Pole. Most of the men enjoyed others company in
this desolate frozen place at the bottom of the world.
"Anything else missing?" Nauls asked.
"Actually yeah," Mac muttered, "and I don't friggin' believe it."
The supply plane had made its last pre-winter drop for Outpost #31 a
few weeks ago in late May. The men were cut off from outside contact
until the freezing temperatures and inclement weather of the Antarctic
winter passed. They had to make due with what they had until around
the first week of October. Each of the men was designated a certain
amount of weight for personal items, and MacReady's was almost all
taken up with a case of J&B Rare Scotch. And now it was gone.
"Somebody stole my stash. A whole bloody box full." Mac dropped onto
the cot and started digging his arm under the mattress.
"You're joking?" Nauls gestured. Then sarcastically, "Well what are
you going to do now Mac?"
"I don't know." MacReady was dead serious. He quit digging under the
bed and got up to open a drawer in the desk. He tossed aside some books and loose paper and came out with an undiscovered bottle.
Emergency back up supply. A grin came across his face. "But this will
do until I find the SOB who ripped me off."
Mac eased into his chair and twisted off the cap. He took a serious
slug of the alcohol, the warm liquid heating his insides like nothing
else. Except maybe a hot woman and the Malibu sun. He offered the
bottle in Nauls direction.
"No thanks," the cook declined. That stuff straight up would burn a
hole in his gut. He was already sweating profusely under his heavy
outer gear in the overly warm shack.
Mac was in no hurry to return outside or to re-face their current
situation. "I'm going to have a minute with Justerini and Brooks. Do
me a favor then and check the level on that oil tank. I don't want to
run out up here and have this place freeze up."
"Sure man," Nauls stepped over to the oil-fired heater in the far
corner of the room. "No problem." The furnace roared away and Nauls
checked the setting. Mac had it set at 84 F. If Garry saw that, he'd
catch shit. The interior of the camp was never warmer than 70 F and
dipped down to the low 60's at night. Nauls bent to examine the fuel
level indicator. Through the glass tube he saw there was just over
half a tank left. Something else then caught Nauls' attention. What
looked like a piece of material wedged behind the furnace. It appeared
to have been stuffed back there, but the recent blast of wind from the
open door had freed it up. Nauls was just about to spew off to Mac
about being more careful for fire hazards when it dawned on him. He
snapped his mouth shut. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that
MacReady was still sitting at the desk with the bottle, going through
some of his stuff.
Nauls reached out quickly and snatched the material. Luckily it came
loose with an easy tug. He kept his back to MacReady and saw that his
worst thoughts were confirmed. It was torn clothing. A quick search
revealed it was a ripped shirt and the stenciled nametag read "MACREADY".
"Oh shit," Nauls muttered under his breath. A few silent seconds
ticked by as Nauls realized what he had discovered, and worse, the
corner he was in. MacReady wasn't MacReady. He was one of those
Things. And Nauls was alone with him, stuck up in it's goddamn lair of
all places.
Nauls later swore to himself he jumped visibly at MacReady's voice.
"So what's the verdict?"
Nauls gulped for a reply, "Huh?"
Mac was curt. "Damn it Nauls, do I need more fuel or what?"
"No you're good for another couple of weeks. Got more than a half tank
left." Nauls replied as coolly as he could while fumbling with his
parka zipper. As nonchalantly as possible he slipped the piece of
shredded clothing inside his coat.
"Good. I hate hauling those barrels over here." Mac took another pull
off the green bottle and enjoyed the numbing warmth starting to spread
throughout his limbs.
Nauls silently checked the flame-thrower's igniter was on and turned
to face Mac. He scanned the pilot's bearded face for a sign, any sign
that would give him away. He saw nothing. Nauls made his way slowly
over to the door. "We'd better get heading back... it's been almost 15
minutes since we left Windows."
"Yeah. All right." MacReady replied without much enthusiasm. He wasn't
looking forward to the cold march back to the camp, but it was his own
rule they meet back in 20 minutes, regardless. He gathered up some of
his belongings. He debated whether or not to have another shot of the
J&B, and capped the bottle thinking it might be better to have a
fairly clear head right now. He stuffed it into one of his large outer
pockets along with some of his personal stuff.
Nauls stood at the door watching Mac closely. One out of character
twitch from this guy and Nauls was going to hit him with a burst from
the flame-thrower. Nauls hadn't yet used the portable torches but he
was sure he wouldn't hesitate. He had to let the others know about
Mac. But how? By the time he could get the word out to someone Mac
would be back inside the camp. He couldn't let that happen. MacReady,
or whatever the hell looked like MacReady couldn't get back into the
camp. With just seconds to come up with a plan Nauls' mind raced with
ideas; burn Mac on the way back to the camp. He could just let loose
with the torch and burn Mac to ashes. Nauls got queasy at the thought
of burning someone alive. Fuchs' grisly corpse was still very fresh in
his mind. Mac still looked and acted and sounded like Mac. It wasn't
like Childs torching some abomination in the kennel. That was a
monster, Mac still looked human.
But that's what it wants me to think, Nauls thought. That's not
MacReady, but an imitation of him. A perfect imitation as Blair had
said. Nauls heart froze as MacReady came up to him. Nauls looked into
the ice blue eyes and saw... nothing.
"What's wrong?" Mac asked, but brushed the question aside. "Let's get
moving. If we're not back soon we're gonna have some talking to do
ourselves."
"I'm ready. Let's go." Nauls replied keeping his voice steady. Mac
brushed past Nauls and hauled the door open. The cold air rushed in,
sucking the heat out into the polar night. Mac struck a flare and saw
that the storm had increased. The wind blew impossibly stronger,
flinging ice and snow stinging hard against exposed skin. The men
pulled on their goggles.
Mac set out down the stairs holding the flare high into the blowing
storm. Nauls shut the door to MacReady's shack with a tug against the
wind and followed Mac down the steps. He had to brace himself against
the railing the wind was so strong now. His back was starting to ache
from wearing the flame-thrower unit for so long.
Mac turned and had to yell to be heard over the gale.
"Hold onto the towline real tight. You don't want to get lost out
here. I can't even see the camp."
Nauls nodded. "OK." He held onto the torch as tight as the guideline.
Mac was right, the lights from the camp could not even be seen through
the storm. Their only way back was to follow the rope into the blowing
snow, trusting faithfully that it would lead them to the camp's
entrance.
They set out down the trail, the wind and snow swirling around them.
Nauls kept the torch aimed at MacReady's back. More than once he
debated just pulling the fuel stream control and right here and now
destroying Mac, or the Thing that was Mac. But if Mac was a Thing, why
did he not attempt to attack Nauls in the shack? It didn't add up that
way, but MacReady was the man in charge now and calling the shots,
just what this monster wants to do. Mac usually kept to himself and
didn't bother to 'take charge' or get involved. This was out of
character for him. Nauls could feel the cold sweat dripping down his
back.
If Mac got more than a few strides ahead of Nauls he started to
disappear in the blizzard. Nauls kept up his pace with Mac. Then
suddenly MacReady tripped up, sliding on the snow and he went down.
Nauls caught up in a hurry and saw his chance. He quickly overtook Mac
on the towline as the pilot was off his feet.
MacReady struggled and got up regaining his balance. "Goddamn snow...
I HATE snow!"
Nauls shouted out, "Let's keep going. I'll lead now."
Mac didn't reply, still furious with falling in the snow. He set out
after Nauls planning to find a nice warm spot by himself in the camp
when they got back and get seriously drunk. Fuchs was dead, either by
his own hand or somebody murdered him. Blair was still crazy and now
they had little way of finding a test to uncover who was who. One or
more of the men certainly weren't who they claimed to be. Things
definitely aren't looking their best, are they, he conceded with
dark humor. Mac saw that Nauls was getting far ahead on the line and
disappearing in the blowing snow.
"Hey!" Mac called out. He increased his pace to catch up with Nauls,
who was now just an obscured shape in the storm. Mac pulled himself
forward on the line. He knew something was up with that kid. Suddenly
the line gave way completely in his hand and MacReady landed flat on
his back in the snow.
The flame-thrower's igniter had made quick work of the towline cord.
The rope let go quickly after it burned through and the backlash
almost knocked Nauls down too. He struggled to stay up and hold onto
the remaining loose end of the line. Behind him through the whistling
wind he could hear screaming in the night. But in the panic and
adrenaline rush he couldn't tell if those were human sounds... or
maybe, something else...
Nauls struck a flare and set out as fast he could for the camp.
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