These aren't the stories your mother told you.

No, these are the other stories.

Perfectly preserved, written by Daniel Wilcox, narrated by Justin Fife.

Keelan looked down at his former colleague.

A slender woman with a delicate unibrow, neatly swaddled in several blankets they had donated when she had fallen with a sickness, now lying lifeless with a delicate unibrow, neatly swaddled in several blankets they had donated when she had fallen

with the sickness, now lying lifeless with a thick stream of bile from the corner of her mouth.

Her eyes were still that bright blue quality that always reminded Keelan of huskies and summer skies,

but now they just stared into a void beyond what any reason might glean.

What do we do now? Keelan asked his superior, Michael. An older gent with burly arms and a thick

set frown on his forehead and enough facial hair to keep two men warm through the harsh winter

of the North American tundra. We have to tell base.

Michael shook his head, a thousand thoughts running through the hollows of his skull,

a thousand emotions.

Though they had never explicitly made it public, Keelan knew that Michael and Brie were intimate.

Then in the middle of the long, dark nights, she'd sneak into his bedroom,

and they would dance the dance that animals do, doing their best to keep their grunt silent,

and failing miserably in the heat of it all. God only knew how he was feeling now. No, we're not

reporting this. Michael said at last, his voice shaking.

What? Of course we are. Mike. This is huge.

If we don't warn base, then we could have an epidemic on our hands.

There's no telling how far this could spread if we don't contain it now.

If we don't border it off and make sure that it's controlled, managed.

...