“Hi.” She smiled broadly, which made Zed’s overheating body get even warmer, if that was possible. He thought he was about to pass out.
Then, her smile vanished. “What happened to you?”
Dammit. No wonder nobody wants to be with me. “Nothing. I’m just not feeling great. I think I caught a cold or something.” Great move. Nothing a date wants to hear more than that you have a cold.
Despite how sickly warm he felt—for the last two nights he’d woken up to sheets so drenched in sweat he thought he might have pissed the bed—he felt stronger than ever. He’d been to the gym eight times in four days. He’d never done that in his life; even when he was in high school and practically lived in the gym, he didn’t lift like this. He felt like an animal. He couldn’t seem to stop.
Even now, it felt like his arms were practically trying to leap away from his body, like they couldn’t stand not to be tearing into some weights. Or just tearing into anything. He had a fleeting, horrible image of his arms tearing into Claire, ripping the limbs from her body and swinging them over his head. The image of blood splattering made him salivate. What was wrong with him?
He shook his head. “Maybe I just need something to eat. Then I’ll feel better.”
“They have soup.” Claire nodded down at her chow. “You can have mine. It’s some kind of thick broth, tastes like—”
Before she could finish, he was already downing the soup. He tipped the bowl to his lips and drank in the thick liquid. It poured down the side of the bowl and down his chin.
He knew he was acting like an animal. He hadn’t eaten soup like this since he was in elementary school.
“What the hell, Zed.” Claire looked disgusted. She glanced around, and Zed had no doubt that people were staring. There was a fine line between being a boorish ass and plain weird.
But he couldn’t help himself. He was ravenous. Despite all the throwing up that was happening, he couldn’t get enough food. Liquids, especially. He could feel the warm pit in his stomach demanding more and more.
“S-sorry,” he stammered, wiping the soup from his chin with the back of his hand. “I don’t know…I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”
He meant it. He was getting scared.
Claire’s eyes grew huge, like saucers. “My God, Zed.”
“What?”
“Your face. Your chin. It’s—”
He reached up and pulled away a piece of loose material. It was soft and rubbery, with a little soft liquid underside. He realized it was a chunk of skin, about an inch wide and four long, with ragged edges. “What the hell is—” He looked down at the back of the hand he’d used to wipe off his chin.
A flap of skin was hanging off. His skin had ripped away like tissue paper. He reached for it, fascinated by the fleshy pulp he saw underneath. Like a boy poking at a dead thing with a stick, he grabbed hold of the skin flap and tugged, watching in fascination as the flesh came off in a strip that peeled off his forearm, right up to his elbow.
Claire stared up at him in horror. It took Zed a minute to realize that he was standing. When had he stood? He didn’t remember. But like a giddy kid on Christmas morning, he started tearing away his skin like so much wrapping paper. He couldn’t stop. He knew there was something obscenely wrong with what he was doing, but he couldn’t seem to think straight.
This just seemed like the right thing to do.
“Zed,” Claire said, reaching out for him but stopping short of touching him. “You have to go to sick bay right now. Something isn’t right.”
Zed looked down at his raw arms, the skin dangling loose. Had he done all that?
“I feel great,” he said, or tried to. Something was wrong with his tongue. It felt thick, like it was too big for his mouth. It slapped at the inside of his cheeks like he no longer controlled it. Like it was a creature inside him, fighting to get out.
His forearms snapped, startling Claire, who jumped back. A nearby diner screamed. People were staring and pointing.
From his snapping forearms, stubby claws folded out, thick and muscular and sinewy. It felt so good. But now something was gnawing in the pit of his stomach again. He looked down at the plates of food. He was hungry again. But the food looked disgusting. He realized it was eating that stuff that made him sick.
He needed something else to eat. Something better. He looked at Claire. Her face grew even paler, like she’d seen something in Zed’s eyes that hadn’t been there a moment before.
“Zed,” she said, holding her hands up and backing away.
He reached up to his face and brushed aside the skin there. It tore away with a wet sucking sound. More screams filled the mess hall.
His tongue lashed out, and a mouthful of teeth shot out, raining down over Claire. His tongue exploded forward, pushing his mouth open like it was on a swivel. The thing shot out a foot from his face, three feet at least. It was impossible for his tongue to be that long.
It reached Claire’s face, and she stumbled, tripping backwards.
Tasted so good.
His tongue flicked out again, questing for her. This time he noticed the razor-sharp teeth where his old, useless ones had been.
Something hit him on the shoulder. A metal tray. Someone was on his shoulder. They felt small, like a bug. He shrugged them off and saw the person go flying like a rag doll.
He felt so strong! He wanted to go work out again. He needed to.
But he needed Claire more. He couldn’t get the taste of her out of his mouth.
She screamed and turned to run. He pursued, leaping over the table, his giant claws slashing through a pair of hands that reached out to stop him.
He was desperate to get at Claire.
He was so, so hungry.
Chapter 36
Relentless Marine Company
Outside Cargo Hold 4, UHC Relentless
Gamble tapped Davis on the shoulder and nodded. Davis turned back and put up his fist, his arm bent at a sharp angle at the elbow, then snapped it down, pointing with two fingers.
Silently, Tammery and Tate slid past him, placing themselves on each side of the doorway just ahead. They were in one of the com tech passages of the ship, but damned if Gamble knew what was down here. There wasn’t anything in the manifest showing up as explosive or flammable, so the marines had their pulse weapons up, ready to fire.
Tate kicked the door open. The loud sound of humming machinery greeted them, and then something else: the sound of a wild animal roaring. There was something human-like in the scream, but there was something else below the surface of it. Something strange and ferocious.
“Definitely another one of them down here,” Tammery said, having rushed into the doorway Tate had kicked open. Tate followed, his rifle high as Tammery ducked and found cover next to a large machine with venting slats all up and down it. Gamble and Davis tailed them in, their own rifles at the ready.
Davis glanced over. “Where to, do you figure, Major?”
Gamble waited a moment for the strange roar to come again. “I’m thinking three o’clock.”
“I think so too, but there’s some hella reverb in here.”
“These damn machines are loud as shit.” Tammery kicked the machine he was standing behind.
The king of obvious strikes again. “Thanks for the heads up. Let’s move.”
Davis moved to point, with Gamble at his side. Tammery and Tate shared a look before they fell in behind.
“How many more of these things are there?” Tate whispered.
Tammery kept eyes forward as he answered. “Reports are coming in from all over the ship.”
Gamble grimaced at the chatter, but he let it go for the moment. He needed his men sharp. Yelling at them wasn’t going to help that right now. Whatever they were tracking, it wasn’t moving toward them at the moment.
But it was moving.
“We need to get going, marines,” Gamble snapped. “We aren’t losing this one.”
They’d already had o
ne creature get away. It had looked like a normal crewmember from a distance, but when they got closer they could see that whatever it used to be, it had shed the majority of its skin. It had literally peeled the human it had been open, and whatever it was now, it was no longer human. At least, that’s how Gamble saw it.
There were reports coming in from all over the ship. Something was infecting the crew.
“Nonlethal still, Major?”
“That’s the order,” Gamble growled back. He didn’t like it, personally. It was stupid. Whatever these things were, they weren’t human anymore, and hampering his marines with compliance weaponry was dangerous. He’d already had four of his men injured. These things were impervious to their immobilizing foam, and rubber slugs were a joke.
The only thing that seemed to stop them was tranquilizer darts. But it took a couple, and those had to be fired at close range to pierce through.
No automatic fire on the tranq guns. Even with the quick-cycle rounds, it took a moment for each dart to rotate into place.
He didn’t like fighting off these things with one hand tied behind his back.
“Movement,” Davis snapped. He held up a fist, and the marines instantly ducked, falling still. Davis glanced back at Gamble and nodded to his right. Looking over, Gamble saw the reflection in one of the machinery boxes just ahead. It looked like a hulking form that was bobbing up and down.
Gamble turned back to Tammery and Tate, motioning them around the other side of the box.
Tammery nodded once they were in position.
Gamble slipped forward just as Davis slammed hard against the box opposite him, assault rifle high to cover Gamble as he crouched low and ran forward at the creature.
What he saw made him want to puke.
He thought for a moment that this creature was eating one of the crew. There was a pool of blood and organs scattered on the ground. It looked like a human had been gutted here, like so many fish after a morning at the lake. It smelled putrid.
The creature swung its head around, and its huge tongue lashed out at Gamble. He fired a tranquilizer dart, hitting the thing right in its chest as it turned. He leaped aside just as one of the giant claws swung past his head.
The blow glanced off his shoulder. He’d reacted as fast as his training and reflexes would allow, but another split-second’s hesitation would have seen those claws planted in his throat.
A shot rang out from behind him the moment he threw himself aside. Davis had fired once he had a clear shot.
The creature screamed, leaping forward, but another dart smashed into its back, then another as Tammery and Tate unloaded on it.
The creature was right on top of Gamble. The tongue slapped at his helmet, which vented the smell of decay inside to him. He’d forgotten to turn on the filtration.
He shoved his rifle into the creature’s neck and fired another dart, which lodged deep into the neck. Blood streamed, black as oil.
Gamble kicked the creature off of him with some effort. It was sinewy and muscular, but heavier than he expected from its skeletal look.
He scrambled to his feet as Davis appeared at his side, his R-57 trained on the creature that had taken five darts before going down. “You OK, Major?”
“Never better.” His shoulder was throbbing where the thing had hit him, but the HUD in his combat helmet told him that the armor hadn’t been breached. He was lucky. “Just getting acquainted.”
“Call this one in,” Davis said to one of the two marines standing on the other side of the creature, inspecting the bloody mess on the deck. “That’s four we’ve run across, now.”
“I wonder if the other ships are dealing with anything like this,” Gamble said. “Have you talked to your buddy on the Providence lately?”
Davis started to shake his head when Tammery spoke up.
“Son of a bitch.” Tammery was standing over the pile of bloody bones and organs the creature had been feeding from. “That was its own body. This was the body it came out of. Or shed. Or whatever.”
Beside him, Tate was holding a torn piece of material. Gamble could see the wings on it from where he was standing. It was a piece of a flight suit. Tate was staring at the name. “I knew this chick. She was a pilot. Real cocky.” His voice faltered as he said it. He was shaking his head, clearly in shock.
“Take it easy, Private.”
“What the hell is going on?” Tate said to nobody in particular.
Gamble shook his head. “Damned if I know, son.”
Chapter 37
Medical Services Bay
UHC Relentless
“We’ve got seventeen of the creatures held in the brig,” Doctor Guzman told Husher, not bothering to look up from the patient he was examining. It was an unconscious young woman with scratches on her face and shoulders. There was a huge bandage across her midsection, and Husher could see that it was thick with blood in places, practically dripping through.
“Is she going to live?”
Guzman shrugged, his bedside manners as good as ever. “Beats me.”
“I’d think you’d be the one to know, doc.”
“Then you’d be wrong. I learned a long time ago not to make promises.”
Husher looked at her uniform. An officer. Engineering, it looked like.
“She’ll make it,” Guzman said at last. “It’ll be touch and go, but the creature that attacked her wasn’t fully transformed yet. She was in the mess hall when it happened. A couple other people were able to beat the thing away. It scratched two other people—one almost as badly as her—then it ran off when they started firing on it. Didn’t kill it, mind you, but scared it off.”
“So it could go attack someone else.”
“Presumably.”
Husher looked down at the chart. “Claire Mulloy must be pretty tough.”
“Or lucky. Or both. I have plenty of people who weren’t.”
“How many?”
“Thirty-nine more from every department. Six dead. Six in critical.”
Husher shook his head. “We’ll have to extend watches to compensate.”
“What are you going to do with the seventeen of these things we have in the brig? We’re pretty much filled up down there. We can’t leave them alone with each other. We already had a couple wake up and start fighting. We’ve got them separated into their own cells.”
“I’m guessing the brig isn’t the best place to be doing research.”
“You’re right about that. I need a specimen up here, where I can crack it open and see what makes it tick.”
“Let’s hold off until we have a better grip on what we’re dealing with.” Husher raised his hand against the objection he knew Guzman was about to raise. “I know dissecting one is the best way to figure out what we’re up against. But for the moment, I want those things contained in just one part of the ship. I don’t want them in contact with anyone else. The first priority is containing the situation.”
Guzman nodded. “I don’t disagree, but you know, we already had one quarantine on the ship.”
“Are you drawing a connection?”
“I’m not. Your marines are. Major Gamble is convinced these are the same things that they saw earlier.”
Husher felt like he’d been punched in the gut. “He’s sure?”
“He’s sure,” came a voice from behind him. Husher turned to see Gamble himself walking up. His gear was a mess, dented and streaked with blood. “Those were the same damn things.”
“And yet, you didn’t encounter the same acidic substance from them.”
“No, but I think that’s just because these are newer. Younger. Less mature. Whatever you want to call it.”
“So you think that whatever’s ripping itself out of my crew, it’s the same things that ripped through our hull before, and tried to take out our reactor.”
“I do, too,” Guzman said.
“Why do you say that?”
“I have reports from the quarantine site. We can’t make
heads or tails of that acid, but I know the DNA signature. Claire Mulloy managed to get her own claws into the thing that attacked her. She had perfect samples under her fingernails.”
Husher glanced down at the unconscious woman. Then he looked back at Gamble. “So the quarantine didn’t hold.”
“Seems so.”
Guzman held up his hand like a schoolboy. “I see a problem with that theory.”
Husher frowned. “How so?”
“None of the patients that transformed were in the original quarantine. None of the marines or engineers turned into these things.”
Husher sensed the doc was holding something back. “What else do you have for me?”
Guzman turned to scoop a datapad from his desk, then passed it to Husher. “There was a quarantine team member among those who transformed. A Logistics officer.”
Husher frowned down at the pad. “Zed Heller. He was on the quarantine team? So he wasn’t exposed to the initial attack?”
Guzman shook his head. “If he’s our patient zero, then it had to be secondary transmission.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Gamble asked.
Husher’s head had begun to ache. “It’s communicable.”
“Didn’t we know that?”
“No,” said Guzman. “We thought the creatures who first attacked us might infect people, but we killed all of them. Which means that something they left behind caused all of this.”
“That acid,” Gamble said, rubbing his chin. “It was smart. Seemed like it was intentionally helping those things make it to the reactor core.”
“You think it sought out a member of the quarantine team?” Husher said.
“If it was smart enough to locate the reactor core, it would be smart enough to see the people coming and going from the quarantine and hitch a ride.”
“We do have protocols for that,” Guzman said.
“All due respect, doc, those were field conditions. The quarantine was our best effort in the moment.”
Guzman nodded. “It looks like this acid was smarter than we were giving it credit for.”
“We have to notify the other ships,” Husher said.
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