. . .

Frozen tundra

Nothing moves. Movement takes energy, and none of them have any energy left for any movement that isn't absolutely necessary for survival. Now and again, one of them throws another piece of wood from their dwindling supply onto the fire. That, and the occasional glance at the snowmobile are all they have left within them. The looks used to be expressive, full of anger, fear, hatred. Now, they're just looks. All the emotion has been taken by the cold.

One musters up his few remaining resources, and speaks, or, rather, croaks. "When?" Translation: When did the rescue team say they would arrive?

Another: "Morning." They were all aware of this fact, of course.

The first, again: "Time?" Translated: How much time do we have left?

The third of the three of them: "Two." Two more days, or what they called days where they came from. Two long, frozen days until the sun would rise.

"Wood?" How much wood do we have left?

In answer, the second looked over at the pile they had left. It wouldn't be enough, not by a long shot. When it ran out, they'd be alone with the cold.

They retreated back into their silences, each preparing himself, in his own way, to meet his maker.

The approach of death, when it is sufficiently protracted, brings out a meditative state, and that state is only strengthened when one hasn't the strength left to move one's muscles at any rate. James, the first to have spoken, could feel himself slipping into a dream. Awareness of his surroundings slowly left him. Instead, he was enveloped in impenetrable blackness. He walked through the blackness freely, the actual condition of his body notwithstanding.

In the distance, a light glimmered. Without a better destination in mind, he approached it.

An old man, there, sourcelessly lit. "Ah," James spoke wisely to himself. "I'm dying, so I imagine up God."

"No."

The old man hadn't spoken. James had simply felt the word echo in his head as if he had.

"Who are you, then?"

"Choice."

"What kind of choice?"

"Life. Death. Choose."

"What?"

"Life. Death. Choose."

"Nothing more than that? No explanation? No nothing?"

"Choose."

The light from the man began to dim. James could feel his true surroundings. As the light vanished entirely he shouted with all his might, "Life, dammit! Life!"

The rescue team found three corpses frozen by the snow.