It took a full hour before the blizzard swept past the convoy's location, heading northeast.
The weather cleared again, and white clouds reappeared.
No one spoke over the convoy's intercoms. Everything was deathly quiet.
Everyone remained silent, looking at the devastation around the perimeter, then at the neat orderliness in the center of the vehicles.
Though their positions still looked somewhat scattered, with many snowmobiles and supply trailers covered in ice and snow, and even several containers showing signs of being twisted out of shape by the wind.
Yet now, they were securely fastened to the snowmobiles, as if they had never endured a blizzard at all.
The two people in each vehicle simply looked at each other.
No one was seeing things, and no one had eaten hallucinogenic mushrooms.
This unscientific phenomenon had already surpassed the realm of natural phenomena and scientific explanation.
Antarctica was certainly not territory under the King of Hell's jurisdiction. Coupled with the influence of all those Hollywood films, it was hard not to suspect aliens.
Weather weapons?
Precision control?
Remote transportation?
Did aliens have humanitarian instincts too? "Could we have stumbled into a battle between Predators and Aliens?"
In Vehicle No. 3, a short young man hunched his neck and spoke timidly.
"Can't you think of something better?" the burly driver beside him snapped. "Even a Kryptonian spaceship would be better!"
Just then, someone in Vehicle No. 2 said faintly, "I think Transformers would be more helpful to our technology."
Everyone: "..."
The middle-aged man in Vehicle No. 1 could not help patting the intercom, just about to speak when a burst of static sounded in everyone's headsets.
"Bzzzt... bzzzt..."
Everyone's hearts skipped a beat. Could aliens be preparing to communicate with them over the radio? Some stared fixedly outside, while others stared at