“He’s got food in here,” says the bodybuilder.

“Hel … help us,” whispers the girl.

The boy next to her twitches.

“Shut up,” says the man with the knives, then stands up. He bares his teeth, exposing yellow sharpened fangs.

I step forward. “You’re not really thinking about hurting those kids, are you? I’ve got supplies and food. I can help. I can help all of—umph!”

Something slams into my back and I stumble forward. Another impact in between my shoulder blades brings me to my knees. I turn, look behind me to find the bodybuilder standing over me, the butt of his shotgun aimed down at me.

“In the corner,” he says. “Go.”

“Sure, big guy, no problem.” I offer him a wink and start making my way towards the kids.

“A man’s gotta survive,” says fang tooth, watching me from the corner of his eye. He states it as if it’s the simplest of facts. As if the torture, slaughter, and consumption of human beings is the most pragmatic thing to do given his desperate circumstance. “It’s survival of the fittest, old man. You’ve heard this term, yes?” He tilts his head at me the way a curious dog would. “How have you survived this long?”

It was a legitimate question, however condescending. How did a man as old as I get by in a world covered in death and ice, almost devoid of natural plant life.

“I’m clever,” I say. “And I’ve got resources.”

He chuckles. “Resources, huh?”

“Please,” says the boy, reaching out to me.

“I said shut up!” snapped the man.

The woman and bodybuilder go through my things, tearing things apart, smacking their lips on my expired jerky. Fang tooth steps around the fire to join his companions.

“Let’s take a look at these … resources,” he says, mockingly. I watch him squat down and pull out a ziplock bag of frozen berries from my pack. Good they’re temporarily distracted. Time to go to work.

“Hi,” I say, inching closer to the kids and pulling off my gloves. There’s a thick keloid scar across the palm of my right hand. I take the girl’s bare hands in mine. She slowly gazes up at me, as if just realizing I’m there. Her fingers are ice cold. “I’m Jack. Jack Cobb. What’s your name?”

Her eyes seem to focus a little more, but she gives no coherent response. She's not shivering as violently as the boy is, which means the hypothermia has probably already set in.

The boy gives me a determined look. “They’re … go … going to … to eat us—”

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“Listen,” I say, squeezing the girl's hands. "I want you to close your eyes. This will all be over soon. Just give me a second to get things warmed up here, okay? If I do it while you’re cold, or if I’m not completely focused, it might not work right.” I rub her hands in mine until I can feel some life flow back into them.

“What won’t … won’t…” says the boy.

“There we go,” I say. “There we go, get that blood flowing again.” I look over my shoulder. The three of them are still going at it. It’s like Christmas morning for them over there.

“Okay, that should be warm enough,” I say, then give the girl’s hands a final squeeze. A moment later, she vanishes. Her tank top and leggings fall to the floor. The boy opens his mouth in shock. A gasp tries to escape his lips, but it comes out more like a ragged breath. I shush him, and try to settle him down as he begins to panic.

“Don’t worry,” I say. “She’s in a much, much better place now.” I take one of his hands in mine and cover his mouth with my other. I need to get him warmed up too.

It doesn’t take as long to connect with the boy. He wasn’t as far gone. I close my eyes, squeeze his hands, and he disappears. His shorts settle next to the girl’s clothes.

I let out and breathe, turn around, and flop my back against the wall. It’s been a hot minute since I've done that. Whoo. I’m surprised how much it takes out of me. I used to be able to send dozens, even hundreds without a sweat. Now look at me.

“Wait,” came the bodybuilder’s voice, his mouth full of food. “Hey, where’d they go?”

He stands up, grabs his gun. “They must have snuck past us,” squeals the woman.

Fang Tooth pauses, then stands. They all look at me, then Fang Tooth starts shouting orders. Check over there, down that hallway, in that room, down the main corridor, etcetera etcetera. Finally, Fang Tooth comes to interrogate me.

He stands between me and the fire. “Where did they go, old man?”

“To a very nice place. A warm place, with tropical beaches and fruit so sweet it makes your mouth pucker up like a fish.” I make a fishy face and the man steps closer to me. “Or so I’m told,” I say. “I’ve never actually been there myself.” It takes everything in me to stand up, but I do. We’re nearly the same height, he and I.

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” says Fang Tooth, baring those awful teeth. He gets up in my face. “Where. Did. They. Go?” Each word comes out as its own sentence. I think to myself, wow, this guy is really, really ugly.

“The Trappist-1 system, I believe. That’s in the Aquarius constellation. Your breath really stinks by the w—”

He swings a fist into my ribcage and knocks the wind completely out of me. I collapse over the edge of the couch and stay there, slumped, until my lungs open back up again. And then he hits me again, this time in the face. Right in the gosh darned nose. The back of my head bounces off the wall and I slump back into the corner. Only then do I see the metal on his hand. Ah, so that’s why it hurt so much. I’d been punched plenty of times before, but never with brass knuckles.

I manage to squeak out an “ouch,” before he grabs me by the coat collar, pulls me up to my feet, and shoves my back against the wall.

“I asked you a question. How did they just disappear? Did you hide them? Did you see them jump from a window?”

“Okay, okay,” I say, tapping his forearm. I can taste metal in my mouth now, probably blood. My ribs feel broken. A sharp pain surges through me with every breath. “I’ll show you,” I say. “I’ll show you, just give me a minute so I can—”

I grip the sides of his head, trying to make skin to skin contact. He only has a second to react before he vanishes. Well, most of him vanishes, at least. As I slump back against the wall, utterly exhausted, a pair of legs, severed just above the waistline, flops backwards onto the fire with a big whoosh. The coat and clothes that once contained a torso, flop onto the pair and immediately begin to melt.

The woman screams, and the bodybuilder stands there wide-eyed, completely stunned.

“Ah crap,” I say. “Sorry about that. Honestly, I didn’t mean to do that.”