"Give me that coat right now."Briggs grabbed the lapels of a custom Italian wool overcoat. He ripped it off the shoulders of a screaming hedge fund manager.The ten surviving security guards stumbled into the dark hotel lobby. Their tactical gear was a rigid shell of solid ice. Their skin was pale blue and flaking from severe frostbite. Every step they took left a trail of frozen blood on the expensive marble floors.Malcolm had hit them with high pressure water cannons in negative eighty degree weather. They were dying of rapid hypothermia."Get your hands off him," Victor yelled. He stepped forward with false authority. "You work for me Briggs."Briggs dropped the shivering hedge fund manager onto the frozen tile floor. He turned and stared at Victor.The mercenary did not see a billionaire heir anymore. He saw a weak boy in a ruined suit.Briggs stepped forward and slammed a frozen fist into Victor's stomach.Victor collapsed to his knees. He gasped for air as the cold wind was kn

"Turn the brightness down on the exterior cameras." Malcolm spoke to his automated command system. He sat back on his velvet sofa and held a bowl of hot buttered popcorn. The hundred inch screen in his entertainment room adjusted its contrast automatically. Malcolm was trying to watch a classic action movie. The glaring yellow lights from the Grand Hotel penthouse across the street were ruining his viewing experience. Victor had turned on the VIP diesel generator three hours ago. The top floor of the hotel was lit up like a beacon in the frozen wasteland. Malcolm paused his movie. He tapped his secure tablet to switch the display. The massive screen shifted to a high definition thermal imaging feed. He looked at the towering hotel structure. The building was a dark blue block of freezing concrete. Only the top floor glowed with a warm orange hue. On the very roof of the hotel a thick metal exhaust pipe glowed a blinding white hot. The heavy duty diesel engine was running at ma

"I can hear the rotors." Victor pointed his frostbitten finger at the pitch black sky. The roaring wind masked the mechanical sound at first. Then the heavy rhythmic thumping of twin military helicopter blades chopped through the raging blizzard. "We are saved," Cynthia sobbed. She held her bleeding hands close to the roaring antique fire. "I told you they would come for me," Victor shouted over the crackling flames. He turned to the shivering socialites huddled around the burning piano. The heat from the ten million dollar bonfire pushed the negative eighty degree cold away for a brief moment. "My family name carries heavy weight," Victor boasted. "The government knows we are the economic backbone of this state. We are priority assets." Caroline stared blankly into the bright orange flames. Her left foot was a solid block of dead flesh. She did not care about Victor or his ego. She only wanted a hospital bed and a warm blanket. "Where will they take us?" John asked. His voice c

"Stop chewing on the metal buckle." John ripped the leather belt out of Madison's hands. The former fashion model sobbed in the dark corner of the Grand Hotel lobby. "There is still glue on the leather," Madison rasped. Her throat was raw and bleeding. "The glue has calories." "You will break your remaining teeth," John warned her. He gripped his own sunken stomach. Two brutal weeks had passed since the rescue helicopter abandoned them. Fourteen days of negative eighty degree temperatures and pitch black darkness had ruined them. The social hierarchy of Brighthaven died the moment the aviation fuel traded hands for morning coffee. The wealthy elites were now feral scavengers. They huddled together for shared body heat under ruined velvet curtains. Their expensive tailored suits hung off their skeletal frames like dirty rags. Cynthia sat near the frozen decorative fountain. She squeezed a crushed tube of travel toothpaste onto her filthy finger. She licked the dried mint paste.

"I am bleeding to death." Victor Hargrove pressed a filthy hotel curtain against the side of his skull. The torn velvet soaked up the thick crimson blood leaking from his missing ear. "Stop whining and hold the cloth tighter," Cynthia snapped. She huddled near the frozen marble fountain in the center of the dark lobby. Her teeth chattered so violently they chipped against each other. The Grand Hotel lobby was stripped bare. The feral mob of surviving elites had burned every remaining chair rug and painting. There was nothing left to ignite in the massive room. The temperature was plummeting past negative eighty degrees. The heavy glass entrance doors were shattered. The brutal winter wind howled freely through the open frame. "We cannot stay here," Caroline rasped from the floor. She clutched her swollen black foot. "We will freeze in less than an hour." "Where else do we go?," Victor sobbed. His shattered jaw made his words slur together into a pathetic lisp. "The mob will kill