SSSD - Suggest isolation

Ro hesitates.

“Maybe…” she begins. Before she can even suggest that they isolate her, Golda whirls and bolts down the long hallway.

Linda swears in Norwegian and awkwardly jerks Niv’s pistol out of her pocket; Ro realizes that it hasn’t been accounted for since Niv set it down. Linda takes aim with both hands and fires. Julie cries out in alarm and flinches away; the gunshot in the tight hallway strikes Ro like a slap in the face. Ears buzzing, her instinctive flinch overbalances her with the weight of the flamethrower. She crashes to the floor in a heap.

Linda follows up with three more shots but Golda vanishes around the corner. Ro can barely hear, let alone see if Golda was hit; she’s seeing stars.

<Are you insane?> Julie is screaming at Linda.

Linda ignores that and lunges after Golda, taking off in a flash. Julie straightens up dazedly. Her gaze falls on Ro.

“Are you OK?” she asks.

Ro just shakes her head. “Umm…”

Julie hurries over and grabs Ro’s hand, struggling to help her stand. Ro fumbles with the flamethrower to make sure it’s not pointed at anyone. It’s not enough for her to have aching joints and this enormous weight on her back; now she has an injured tailbone.

“Fuck,” she mutters, looking around wildly.

Julie’s already heading after Linda and Golda.

“Oh, Jesus. OK.” Ro takes a deep breath, trying to think. If Golda’s one of those things and she knows that her cover’s blown… Ro squints down the hallway. So Golda didn’t go after her office. Where’s she going? It’s hard to think straight, and Ro isn’t used to doing this kind of thinking. She’s more comfortable writing research papers with a little strategic help from Wikipedia. She groans and turns her back on the long hall, jangling her way doggedly to the coatroom outside Signe’s lab, where she unbolts the door and shoulders it open with a little too much desperation. Luckily, the powerful winds outside push back against her, keeping her from spilling facefirst into the snow. She slogs her way out into the blizzard, awkwardly pulling her goggles into place while the lower half of her face freezes brutally.

She can’t see anything, but she knows where she’s going. A wild shape materializes in the swirling dark ahead, lit blue by the exterior lights: something flailing savagely and looming over her.

It’s the big Snow Cat with its tarp cover all but detached, snapping and billowing in the wind. A lone figure is struggling with the door.

“Golda!” Ro shouts.

The figure stops what it’s doing. Ro aims the flamethrower.

“Get away from there,” she warns, her throat hurting from how loud she has to be just to be heard.

Golda turns away from the Snow Cat, raising her hands.

“It is cold!” she calls out. Golda’s not dressed to be outside.

“Back inside!” Ro orders, jerking the flamethrower back toward the outpost. “Why did you run?”

“I can explain!”

Golda takes a step toward Ro, hands high.

“Inside!”

“It is too dangerous!”

Golda is only a few steps away, moving determinedly toward Ro.

Out in the storm, a gunshot sounds like a sharp popping noise. Golda twitches and looks down at the hole in her chest.

Ro looks over in horror to see Linda, visibly freezing. Her hands shake madly as she clutches the pistol. She fires several more times as Julie appears behind her, pulling on a parka

Golda flinches, now boasting five holes in her sweater. She opens her mouth wide and lets out a deafening screech over the wind. It’s unearthly.

“Jesus Christ!” Ro stumbles backward and fumbles with the flamethrower. Golda turns toward her, reaching out. Her fingers elongate visibly.

Linda looks down in alarm at the gun in her hands, locked open; it’s empty.

Ro squeezes her trigger, engulfing Golda in a jet of orange flame. The backwash of painful heat threatens to bowl her over, but she stands her ground as the creature’s high-pitched keening rises. The vague shape of Golda falls to its knees, then slumps over.

Wide-eyed, Ro halts the stream of flames. The wind howls and snow crunches as Linda and Julie appear on either side of her. Together, the three of them gaze down at the smoldering remains, pelted by massive snowflakes. Golda’s charred corpse hisses and steams. Ro doesn’t know if it’s the flames or the creature, but Golda looks twisted and misshapen.

“But she was in charge,” Ro shouts. “Why would she break into the lab? I’ve seen her go in there before.”

“The people she worked for must have pushed her,” Linda says, teeth chattering.

Anyone can have money problems, Ro supposes detachedly. She had to be detached; otherwise, she’ll puke and have a meltdown. It’s too cold out here for Linda, dressed the way that she is. Julie helps her back inside and Ro follows.

She’s exhausted. Even as Ro gets the door shut and kicks some of the snow from her boots, she can hear Linda and Julie in the hallway, speaking Norwegian. They sound alarmed.

Ro gamely clomps her way out of the west coatroom.

Linda and Julie stand before the door to Golda’s office, which has been broken down. There isn’t much of the door left; it’s impossible to know if it was broken from the inside or by someone in the hallway. This must’ve just happened; the three of them couldn’t have been outside for more than ten minutes.

<We have to find her,> Linda says and Julie nods, looking determined.

<I’ll get fuel and flares,> Julie says.

Should Ro go with Linda or Julie?