"Turn the dial slowly before you snap the plastic knob."
Victor hovered over Cynthia in the freezing dark supply closet. The temperature in the hotel was negative eighty degrees.
Cynthia ignored him. Her frostbitten fingers twisted the tuning dial on the yellow emergency radio.
Static hissed through the small speaker. The noise echoed in the dead silence of the luxury penthouse.
"It is just dead air," Caroline rasped from the hallway floor.
She clutched her left foot. The necrotic flesh of her frostbitten toes throbbed with a sickening pulse.
"Shut up and let her work," Victor snapped. He rubbed his arms violently to generate body heat. "If you complain one more time I will throw you out the window."
Caroline bit her lip. She hated him. She hated him more than she ever hated Malcolm
