Can someone overcome a lifetime of fear and failure to finally become a hero when Hell comes to Earth?

Hell has frozen over.

 

Episode 2 takes us to Sin City, Las Vegas. Eternal snow blankets the city. Glaciers race across the landscape destroying everything in their path and monsters prowl the winter wasteland in search of human prey.

A group of loners and misfits are drawn together in an effort to survive. They are pursued by monsters and demons at every turn. When a Prince of Hell demands a sacrifice they are faced with a choice between saving the world or their new friends.

1

I remember someone once told me that a glacier moves about three feet a day; that guy never saw Las Vegas glacier. Vegas glaciers are like crazed horses. They race along, grinding everything in front of them to paste. You know when they’re approaching. They're audible even over the roar of the blizzards that haven’t stopped since the day the sky turned to blood. First you feel it deep in your chest. A subsonic rumble rattles everything for two blocks. Next, a sound like a wood chipper trying to digest concrete blocks tries to draw blood from your ears. Within seconds of this shock and awe sonic assault the actual glacier gallops into view. They lurch and buck like living things. It’s a wall of gray ice defaced with the black smears of pollution and the shards of shattered civilization. Every once in a while a splash of red decorates the ice where some poor soul who was too slow or stupid to flee got ground to paste. Not a lot of people get run over though; most humans caught in the open by a glacier become fodder for the creatures riding on top, the yeti. I call them yeti, God alone knows what they really are. They’re built like eight foot tall silverback gorillas covered in white fur. They have these enormous fangs and glowing red eyes. Whatever part of Hell they came from, it wasn’t one of the parts with fire and brimstone.

I could hear a glacier approaching up Las Vegas Boulevard even from twelve stories up. There wasn’t a lot left of the Tropicana hotel but I called it home. The interior of floors nine through nineteen was exposed to the outside by a crescent shaped hole that looked like the bite of some titanic creature. The room where I lived was on the far side of the building from the bite. Every day I had to climb up shattered concrete to get from the ninth floor to the twelfth. The inaccessibility kept me safe from the roving creatures who hunted in the snow.

A shout drew my attention from watching for the glacier. I leaned against the window to see to the street below. A figure in a tattered blue parka balanced atop a snow covered bus. He was waving toward the shattered facade of New York New York. The faux cityscape looked like Godzilla and King Kong had brawled through it. The remains were then buried in snowdrifts thirty feet high. The figure knelt and began to sweep snow away from the windows of the bus which rested on its side. The figure waved again and another shout rang out. I couldn’t make out the words but the voice sounded male. Six figures crept from beneath the skirts of the headless Statue of Liberty. They trudged through the waist deep snow covering the boulevard toward the bus.

Couldn’t they hear the glacier coming?

The man on the bus stopped his clearing motions and stomped twice. He staggered forward. He must have kicked in one of the windows. He waved once more and then disappeared into the corpse of the bus. The other six people were bundled in ski jackets and layers of blankets, anything to protect against the cold. They reached the bus and two more clambered aboard. Several minutes passed, my forehead was growing numb where it pressed against the window. One of the figures within the bus emerged and tossed a bag to one of the four on the street. An assembly line of bags, coats and other goods found their way out of the bus into the waiting arms of the street crew. That’s when the glacier galloped around the corner ridden by half a dozen howling yeti.

“Run.”