“Man, she’s hot,” said Dimitri as the two men placed the body on the table. He grinned, his breath misting in the sub-zero air of the research base’s walk in freezer, “I mean yeah, she’s clearly neanderthal, but then I’ve always had a bit of a thing for she-hulk.”

“Did anyone ever tell you you’re a pervert Dim?” said Markov, “It’s bad enough you spend conferences hitting on everything that moves, but eyeing up some long dead cavewoman is a bit far.”

“It’s not my fault this damn blizzard’s cut our comms. I only brought so many dirty movies with me; in the absence of internet man’s imagination is apt to wander.” He shrugged, “So anyway, you’re telling me you wouldn’t? ”

“Dim, I’m a fucking scientist and she’s a fucking frozen corpse we found half exposed in the permafrost! She may as well be a wooly mammoth for all I care. Tomorrow we’re going to study her, write it all up, and submit it to our bosses like good little boys. Besides,” he said, tracing his heavily gloved fingers across the woman’s body, “There’s something off about her. These marks at her wrists and ankles, it’s almost like she was bound before she froze. And her skin, her face, I don’t know…”

“Prude, she’s definitely visiting my thoughts tonight. Ah, did I ever tell you about lucid dreaming?”

“Oh just shut up Dim, let’s go before you say anything else to give me nightmares.”

***

A slender figure stood framed in the doorway of Dimitri’s room. In the half-light Dim looked down at his watch, focusing himself. Then he smiled, “I’ve been expecting you. Come in.” He patted the mattress beside him. The figure shuffled into the room, and moved toward the bed, groaning softly. Dim lay back, already aroused. The figure dragged itself onto the bed and Dim reached up, taking her in his arms, feeling her flesh under his hands. She was cold. And that smell… no matter, he could change that with a thought. It was his dream after all.

“Ow!” That hurt, what was she doing? “Ow, fuck!” This wasn’t right. Dim pinched himself, telling his brain to wake up. This wasn’t a good dream. He pinched again. He was still pinching himself when her teeth finally found his jugular vein, cutting through the flesh like knives, her ragged mouth gulping down the torrent of blood. It mean he didn’t scream, didn’t wake Markov. His fatty meat was eaten quickly, his body stripped to the bone. It was tasty, as far as the creature’s limited awareness allowed for such concepts. But one meal was hardly going to satisfy the hunger of millenia.