3

In the control room, Tommy stared at the tightly closed airlock door, his eyes filled with resentment.

"He's a madman."

My dad sighed: "Your brother did it to protect—"

"Protect?!" Tommy jumped to his feet. "He enjoys killing! Those people might really need help, but he didn't even listen before opening fire!"

"Tommy..." my mom tried to comfort him.

"What makes him think everyone is an enemy?!" Tommy interrupted her. "Just based on his battlefield experience?"

The control room fell silent.

Tommy's words struck a nerve with their doubts—Renault really was too cold-blooded.

"We have such a powerful ark, why can't we help others?" Tommy looked at his parents. "If the price of living is losing our humanity, then what's the point of living?"

My mom's eyes reddened.

Just then—

The walkie-talkie suddenly rang.

"Help... Is anyone there... Please..."

All three people turned their heads at the same time.

Tommy lunged at the walkie-talkie: "This is Ark! Who are you?!"

"I...I'm Mark..." the voice on the other end was extremely weak. "I'm injured...I'm freezing to death...Please..."

Then came a violent cough.

"Where are you?!" Tommy asked excitedly.

"I don't know... there's snow everywhere... I saw something flying..."

"It's us! You wait!"

"Tommy!" my dad stopped him, "Your brother said—"

"His word doesn't count!" Tommy roared. "This isn't just his ark!"

A weak voice came through the walkie-talkie again, followed by a heavy thud as someone fell to the ground.

Communication interrupted.

"No!" Tommy rushed to the control panel and brought up the external monitoring.

On the screen, a figure lies prone in the snow, half of its body buried in the snow, looking like it is on the verge of death.

"Look!" Tommy pointed at the screen.

My mom covered her mouth: "Oh my god..."

"We can't just stand by and watch someone die..." My mother bit her lip.

My dad hesitated for a long time, then finally closed his eyes and sighed, "...Go quickly and come back quickly."

Tommy immediately operated the control panel.

[Airlock exterior door opened]

[WARNING: Outside temperature -92 degrees Celsius]

The robotic arm extended and dragged the person into the transfer cabin.

Five minutes later, the inner door opened.

A man wrapped in tattered cotton clothes lay on the ground, his face bluish-purple and his body frozen.

"Quick! A blanket!" My mom rushed over.

Tommy crouched down and patted his face: "Wake up! You're safe!"

The man slowly opened his eyes, his gaze unfocused: "I...I'm still alive?"

"Live! This is the Ark!"

The man's eyes welled up with tears: "Thank you... thank you all..."

Tommy watched this scene with a relieved smile on his face.

He muttered to himself, "See that, Renault? Not everyone is an enemy."

Lower deck.

I just pried the tracking beacon off, crushed it, and threw it away.

My mother's hesitant voice suddenly came through the communicator:

"Renault... your brother... he let those refugees in... I'm telling you this so you won't be too angry later..."

boom!

My mind went blank, and I ran frantically toward the control room without thinking.

I kicked the door open—

They froze.

A strange man sat on the ground, wrapped in a blanket, holding a hot water bottle in his hand.

My parents were standing next to me.

Tommy squatted down in front of him.

All four people turned their heads at the same time.

Tommy's face flashed with smugness, while my parents looked guilty and nervous.

The man looked up, and our eyes met.

In 0.5 seconds, I saw all the problems clearly.

Back straight, knees bent—this is the fighting stance.

Calluses on the tiger's mouth – from years of handling heavy weapons.

A vacant look in his eyes was just a facade; his pupils were rapidly contracting as he assessed the distance.

I've seen that look before.

In Fallujah, in Kandahar, in the eyes of every militant disguised as a civilian.

"Reno—" Tommy began.

I drew my gun immediately.

Glock fired, a bullet was chambered, and the muzzle was locked on his forehead.

"Get down! Hands behind your head!"

"Renault!" my mom screamed.

Tommy jumped up and stood in front of him, shouting, "Are you crazy?! I'm the one who saved him!"

"Get out of the way."

"No way! What gives you the right to kill people just because you see them?!"

I stared at the man and said coldly:

"If you stay at minus 92 degrees Celsius for half an hour, frostbite will cause deep necrosis, swelling, and blackening, but his face only turned bluish."

I pointed to his hands: "Calluses on the base of his thumb, from years of using automatic weapons."

I pointed to his posture: "CQB alert stance, standard special operations training."

I looked at Tommy: "He's the Skinner's scout."

Tommy's face turned pale: "No...it's impossible..."

"One last time, get out of the way."

"No! You have no evidence!" Tommy blocked her way.

My dad rushed over too: "Renault, calm down! Maybe you're mistaken—"

"Get out of the way!"

I pushed my dad away.

Tommy grabbed my arm, and my mom rushed over and hugged my other hand tightly.

"Please! Stop killing people!"

"He's not! Let go!"

The two men held me tightly, causing the gun to be pulled off course.

At this very moment—

The man's eyes changed.

The facade of weakness crumbles, replaced by the ferocity of the predator.

"Damn it..." he muttered under his breath.

Then it suddenly sprang up!

From the cuff of a tattered cotton coat, a mutated beast bone blade popped out—a pale white blade with serrated edges and barbs.

He was as fast as a wild beast.

I shook off my mom and tried to finish her off—

But he was faster.

The bone blade traced an arc in the air—

Then he pressed his hand firmly against my mother's throat.

"Don't move!"

He strangled my mother, the tip of the knife piercing her skin.

A drop of blood slid down the blade.

My mother let out a terrified scream.

My dad tried to rush forward, but he was kicked to the ground.

Tommy collapsed, his crotch soaked, and he let out meaningless whimpers.

The man revealed a sinister smile:

"You fucking guessed right, old soldier."

"pity--"

He pressed the knife deeper, and the bloodstains on my mother's neck spread.

"Now, throw the gun away."

"Or I'll just stand right in front of you—"

He licked his lips:

"Slit your mother's throat."