"Avalanches won't reach them," Flynn muttered.
"But there's no way for us to get to those islands," Connor said.
"Is there any way we can trigger another crack in the ice?" someone asked.
Connor shook his head. "It'd be useless. We don't have the tools for that."
"Damn," Flynn hissed, rubbing his arms against the cold.
Flynn scratched his head, scanning the white void of the blizzard. There had to be a way to escape the possibly looming avalanche.
"We'll just have to hope another island forms," he said grimly.
Jason was barely upright, swaying on his feet from exhaustion. Just as he collapsed forward, the woman they'd saved caught him.
"Oh—" he blinked and rubbed his eyes. "Thanks."
"You okay?" she asked softly.
"Yeah." He exhaled, steadying himself.
"Thank you..." the woman whispered, eyes downcast.
Jason waved it off. "No need. I just…"
He stopped. The images came again—blood splattering, a storm-wrapped monster, those grotesque tentacles, red rain pouring like a curse.
"…I just don't want a repeat."
She didn't understand. But she bowed once more before stepping away.
Jason rubbed his temples. His head throbbed.
Why did I even run out to save her?
He rotated his shoulder, still sore from earlier.
"Guys!" Flynn called out suddenly. "Everyone, get near the edge. If a new crack opens, we need to be ready."
The group obeyed. Only seven players left on the mainland now. They clustered near the edge, watching the ice nervously.
Far in the distance, Flynn could still spot Samantha's silhouette, standing safely on a drifting island, her posture alert.
Samantha checked her watch.
2:49 a.m.
"We're almost there," she whispered to herself. "Just one more hour…"
She looked toward Flynn's outline. Annoyed with him—but also grateful.
"I know you," Connor said, turning to Flynn.
"Hm?"
"You tried to stop Samantha during the first game. At the mall."
"Oh, you were there?"
"I was. Don't you have a daughter?"
Flynn went quiet.
"I figured you'd be more careful now. Keep yourself alive for her. But here you are—two games in, diving headfirst into death."
Flynn chuckled. "I guess when I see other people... daughters, fathers, brothers... it kind of reminds me of her. Gives me a reason."
Connor nodded. "Yeah. I can relate."
Flynn sighed. "My family already thinks I'm nuts. After all the shit I gave to those cops… maybe they're right."
He glanced toward Samantha again.
"I'm selfish," he muttered. "Still am."
He checked his watch.
2:55 a.m.
"One more hour," he said.
Connor looked toward the mountains. "Let's just pray an avalanche doesn't wipe us out before then."
**Crack.**
The sound was subtle—but unmistakable.
Flynn's head snapped up. "Your prayers were heard. Where's the crack?"
"There!" Jason pointed.
A jagged line split the ice beneath them, slowly widening.
"Stay on this side!" Flynn instructed. Only seven left—easy enough to manage.
The fissure deepened, separating their patch of ice from the mainland.
**CRACK.**
The ice broke free.
Their new island began drifting.
"Yes!" Flynn clenched a fist as they floated away from the avalanche zone.
"We might still get hit," Connor warned. His eyes fixed upward.
Flynn turned—only to see the thick wall of snow thundering toward them, the roar deafening.
Panic surged through the group.
"Move to the far side of the island!" Flynn shouted.
"Wrong!" Connor snapped. "If the avalanche hits and we're at the edge, momentum will throw us straight into the water!"
"Then what do we do?!"
"Head toward the avalanche!"
"WHAT?!"
"HUH?!"
"JUST DO IT!" Flynn ordered. His voice sharp, decisive.
No one questioned him.
They repositioned, bracing at the edge facing the oncoming roar.
The gap between their ice and the mainland widened—but not fast enough.
The avalanche was nearly on top of them.
"PLANT YOUR FEET!"
**THUMP.**
The shockwave slammed into them. The iceberg jerked forward violently.
Snow battered their bodies, but their position saved them—they were thrown backward onto solid ice instead of into the water.
The iceberg continued to slide forward, rapidly at first, then gradually slowing.
Silence.
Then groaning.
All seven players were buried in snow.
Jason burst out first, glasses missing. He scrambled around blindly.
"They're cracked." Flynn said, pulling the broken frames from the snow. He handed them to Jason.
Jason put them on and winced. "I still can't see shit."
"It's fine," Flynn said, shaking snow from his jacket. "It's just one more hour in the cold. Then we're done."
The corner of his mouth twitched.
Then he laughed.
At first it was light, then hysterical. Pure, unfiltered relief.
Connor couldn't help it—he joined in.
"ARGHHHHH WE LIVED AGAIN!" Flynn shouted, arms wide to the sky.
His cheer echoed through the snowy silence.
From distant islands, others joined in. A chorus of whoops, cheers, and laughter broke across the ice fields.
For one moment, the frozen wasteland became a stadium of survivors.
Flynn's laughter died down. Tears streamed from his eyes.
Samantha teared up, too.
They'd made it through another night.
Heather stared across the ice at her daughter's figure—alive, standing, breathing. Gratitude swelled in her chest.
But Samantha's smile didn't last.
None of theirs did.
Because they all knew—
There were only more nights to come.