“Why do you wear that stupid hat?”
“What’s wrong with the hat?” I said, trying to sound as jaunty as I could.
“It’s stupid that’s what. We have state-of-the-art heat suits, and you’re wearing that thing.”
“It reminds me of the olden days.”
“You look like a Canadian…or a dog with those flaps.”
“It’s not as flamboyant as Bill’s one piece snow suit.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Michael said, sounding a little fractious.

Michael and I were doing rounds on the south side of the camp. They like to attack from that side. No one knows how they got here. When the cold came, they came. They supposedly were mutations of mountain gorillas, but we’ll never know for sure.

3 years ago, the world turned to ice. A spontaneous freeze. A new Ice Age. 50 below on a good day. Approximately half the population was gone. Like the Big Freeze -- that’s what we called it -- was used to expunge humans from Earth. Maybe to give rise to them.
When they came everything went to Hell. People began claiming it was the end of the world. People will show you their true colors when faced with death. The roar of the Icemen would make even the toughest of us turn into a timorous pile of nothing. The schism of the Icemen and humans was about survival. Which species could hold their own in the tundra. We weren’t ready to go down. The Icemen were the hulking anathemas in our frozen world.
This camp may be a little ostentacious, but like my hat it’s a reminder of the good ‘ol days. Compared to now, that world was a utopia. I snapped out of my nostalgic daydream at the sound of a gunshot.
“Got one.” Michael said with a smirk.
Four more were coming up the left flank. Time to show them what it means to be a survivor.