Bones Burnt Black: Serial Killer in Space

by Stephen Euin Cobb

  _____

  Mike’s effort to remain quiet was unnecessary: the two women were not asleep and not in the pod. As his computer ran a simulation of his newest idea, Kim plunged herself and her immediate surroundings into complete darkness by pressing a palm over the lens of her flashlight. Careful not to make a noise—wearing only socks on her feet helped considerably—she crept to the ninety degree bend in the horizontal hall outside the hangar’s control booth and peeked around its corner.

  A woman was walking away. Her shapely silhouette was made visible in the darkened hall only because it obscured the oval of illumination which swung lightly to-and-fro in her path. This oval originated from the flashlight in her hand.

  Watching closely, Kim remained alert: ready to pull herself back at the slightest hint Tina might glance around and see her following. Where is she going? Why did she sneak out without waking Mike? And why did she arrange the blankets to look like she was still sleeping?

  Tina stopped and turned slightly.

  Kim jerked herself back and held perfectly still, fully expecting to see an oval of light flash across the hallway wall in front of her. Her muscles tensed to the point of twitching. After thirty seconds of nothing, she risked another peek around the corner.

  Farther down the hall and walking away again, Tina pulled a vertical hallway door open, shone her light inside, stepped in and disappeared.

  Is she going up or down?

  Kim slid her flashlight’s lens across her palm until its light was blocked by her fingers, then eased her index finger away from her middle finger enough to let out a thin sliver of light—just enough to light her way as she padded quietly down the hall to the vertical hallway.

  The door was still open. After turning off her flashlight, Kim leaned her head in while looking down and up, hoping to see Tina’s flickering light before Tina spotted her.

  There! White shoes and bare legs climbed steadily three decks away. Looks like she’s heading up to deck ten. No, eleven. No— Kim yanked her head back.

  Tina had stopped and begun turning herself around—exchanging her feet for her head. She’d reached the center of the ship’s rotation; beyond that point the gees would be reversed.

  Leaning through the door again, Kim watched the top of Tina’s bobbing head as the woman climbed all the way to deck fourteen before exiting.

  Kim slipped her flashlight into a thigh pocket, felt in the blackness for a rung and started climbing. She counted the rungs to estimate which deck she was on and paused periodically, feeling for doors, to verify her count.

  Maybe I shouldn’t be following her; at least not alone. She might be in league with the killer. Hell, she might even be the killer. Kim smiled. Tina: a killer? She’s stupid, incompetent and scared of every— Kim frowned. She doesn’t seem scared now. Why isn’t she scared? She damn well ought to be. Stupid woman. Wandering around in the dark with a killer on the loose.

  The gee forces acting on Kim’s body gradually dropped to zero. She’d reached deck eleven: the center of the ship’s rotation. Turning herself around end-for-end, she continued traveling in the same direction, though it now felt as though she were climbing down rather than up.

  Kim felt along the wall for the door to deck thirteen. When she found it she eased it open. If Tina came back suddenly, and it became necessary to retreat, there wouldn’t be time to climb all the way back to deck seven, and opening a door in haste might make a sound.

  Deck fourteen’s door was ajar. Kim peeked through it into a room that was dark except for a single oval of light which wandered about and occasionally illuminated a pair of white shoes walking on the floor. On this deck it was the floor upon which one walked. The centrifugal force in this half of the ship—the lower decks—caused everything to fall in the direction the ship’s architects might actually have called down.

  The wandering light moved along the base of the cargo doors on the far side of the room as though searching for something.

  Cargo doors? Then why aren’t there any sunbeams? Kim strained to see if the cargo doors had little round windows like those on other decks and if so had the windows been covered but the darkness was much too complete. She shrugged and returned to watching the movements of the oval of light.

  That Tina was seventy feet or more away eased some of Kim’s nervousness and allowed her to notice things other than Tina—such as the air. The air in this deck, Kim found confusing. The group had never visited here, had never corrupted it by their prolonged communal breathing, yet it smelled and tasted awful.

  The wandering light found something: a lumpy pile of— No, it was a body. Kim stared as Tina knelt and dug through its pockets.

  Dead a long time, by the smell in here, but who is it?

  Tina moved its limbs and rolled it onto its side in order to dig through more pockets. After removing two items, she stood and directed her light onto the body’s face.

  Jesus Christ! A wave of sweat spread over Kim’s back. It soaked through the wrinkled cloth of her uniform and, on contact with the cool dry air, chilled her. A redheaded woman! Mike said the killer is a redhead named Nikita.

  Kim’s arms began to shake so hard she feared losing her grip on the rungs. The shaking wasn’t from the chill, but from her rising panic. Hooking an arm over a rung, she held on by the crook of her elbow. If the redhead’s dead the only one left to be the killer is Tina!

  Arms shaking badly, Kim began to retreat: climbing back up toward deck seven. Jesus, help me! Jesus, help me! Jesus, help me!

  When she felt the gee force weaken, she knew she was nearing deck eleven. She wasted a second or two glancing back at the door to deck fourteen. Jesus, don’t let me fall. Jesus, don’t let me make any noise. And please, please, please, please, please; Jesus, keep me safe until I can tell Mike.

  _____

  Tina felt no particular emotion as she stood over the dead woman and casually examined the details of her face: dead eyes staring up at nothing; mouth hanging limp; lips parted slightly, pale from lack of blood circulation.

  Stupid woman, Tina thought. I never thanked you for running away. That was perfect. Everyone was so ready to believe you were the killer. I wouldn’t have bothered hunting you down if I’d felt certain that you would never return. But alas, that was a danger I could not risk.

  Tina sighed. Seven down; one to go. Then she smiled. Once I have him all to myself, that’s when the real fun begins. Once we’re alone, then I get to watch him die: slowly, painfully.

  She glanced about suddenly, thinking she heard a noise. Listening intently, she scanned the room with her eyes open as wide as their lids would stretch.

  The scanning was useless. Her flashlight was still trained on Nikita so the room was consumed in darkness. But she dared not wave the light about for fear of directing unwanted attention to her wayward wandering self, and especially to this room with its compelling evidence that Nikita was not the murderer.

  Tina’s fear eased when fifteen seconds passed without additional noises to confirm the first. Looking down again, she resumed her thoughts. Thanks for the weapon, fool. The revolver glistened, shiny and new, as she lifted it into the light. Probably never even been fired. Well, I’ll fix that.

  She paused to glance at Nikita’s eyes again and display disgust. Stupid woman.

  To get a feel for its weight and power—two unrelated properties which somehow seemed magically synonymous—she pointed the gun at several imaginary targets in the dark. Smiling, she tossed back nonexistent long hair and turned to walk to the vertical hallway. Time to kill that stupid Kirkland woman.

  _____

  Mike stopped pacing. “Of course it’s risky!” he whispered to the pocketsize in his hand. “But what choice have we got?”

  The pocketsize responded, “Do you think the others will agree to something that in ten runs of the same simulation only ended in survival three times?”

  Mike shrugged. “Thirty percent is a billion times better than zero.”

  Th
e computer did not attempt to refute this fact. “When will you tell them?”

  “If Kim’s awake, I’ll tell her now.”

  A chain ladder hung down from the pod’s open hatch. He grabbed a couple of its tubular rungs and climbed up five of them—just enough to lean his head into the pod and see if Kim and Tina were still asleep on the pod’s somewhat bowl-shaped ceiling.

  The soft glow from the floor lamp below was all the weaker for having to enter the pod through its hatch. But even in this dim light Mike could see that Kim’s covers had been tossed aside, and that the pod contained no Kim. Tina’s blanket on the other hand remained in place, and the gently rolling hills it hid from view indicated as well as anything that Tina was sleeping within, safe and sound.

  Guess Kim couldn’t sleep. She must’ve woke before me. I didn’t see her get up.

  He climbed back down, stepped off the ladder and paused to think. Funny: I haven’t heard her walking around out in the hangar. He stroked his cheek with his palm. And I’ve been awake for over fifteen minutes.

  Pushing the tent flap aside reminded him how dark it was outside, so he stepped back inside long enough to grab his flashlight. He then searched the hangar: all around the outside of the tent and into each of its dark corners. In one corner—the one far from both the airlock and the hangar’s large outer door—he saw the blanket that hid Gideon’s relocated dead body. But he saw no Kim.

  She must be in the control booth.

  Climbing the crude staircase of storage cabinets, he leaned sideways to look through the control booth’s big heavily reinforced window. He played his light across the upside-down swivel chair, the control panel, and the other hangar’s airlock. He shone it across the ceiling and floor and into every corner, but the control booth also contained no Kim.

  And he was running out of places to look. Could she have gone into the other hangar? She’d have had to wear a vacuum suit. Its outer door is still open from when Frank abandoned ship. But even as Mike was thinking this, he didn’t believe she’d—

  Security breach!

  The control booth’s door to the horizontal hall—a door that was supposed to remain locked—was wide open.

  Nikita could have come in and killed us all in our sleep! Kim must have gone out into the hall. But what in the world for? Is she crazy? The amnesia! Damn. That’s got to be it. She must be losing the rest of her mind. If she becomes a danger—to herself and others… He tried not to think too far along these lines; especially when it lead to visions of restraining her by binding her arms and legs with duct tape.

  Got to find her. He grabbed the airlock’s oversized handle. Before Nikita does!

  _____

  At deck eleven, Kim had to stop and rotate herself in darkness—exchanging her feet for her head—before continuing her climb. After traveling another deck or two, she lost count of how far she’d gone, just about the moment she heard loud shuffling noises back toward deck fourteen. The shaking, which had eased, returned in force. Jesus, help me; Jesus, help me; Jesus, help me. Got to hide. Hide before she shines a light on me.

  Sliding her hand all over the wall, Kim felt about for a door but came up empty. Jesus; Jesus; Jesus. She climbed farther. Felt the wall. Still no door. Jesus!

  Climbing a little farther, she found a door. Stepping up two more rungs brought her feet to the right level. She eased it open and stepped through into thin air.

  Dropping four feet onto a hard surface, she could have twisted an ankle or yelled out in fear, but she did neither. Though startled, she landed as smoothly and silently as a cat.

  The room around her was dark, then light, then dark, then light. Sunbeams swept up and down. No! The door was still open. Tina will see the light!

  Kim turned and closed the door as fast as she dared, trying not to let it make a noise. Then, stretching herself as tall as possible, she reached way up and examined the door handle by touch, looking for some kind of button or lever. She found none. Lord, why couldn’t they have put locks on these doors?

  She glanced around the room searching for her options.

  Can’t take the other vertical hallway. Some of its rungs are greased and I don’t know which are clean.

  Twenty feet away and laying on the ceiling—she was once again in the ship’s top half—she saw the upper and lower halves of a vacuum suit. They lay scattered as if discarded. In the on-again off-again light, she noticed two bulges of congealed white foam on the suit’s belly. That’s mine. I’m on deck nine.

  She ran her eyes across her discarded gear, again looking for options. My tools! I can use one as a weapon.

  Though she wore only white cotton socks on her feet, she sprinted lightly across a ceiling generously sprinkled with tiny bits of shattered glass: the scattered fragments of her faceplate glittered like a sky full of stars on a clear winter’s night.

  Rummaging through her tool pack, she took great pains to keep the tools—especially the metal ones—from clanging. She pulled out a medium-sized screwdriver. No. A small hammer. No. A large adjustable wrench. Hmmm. She swung it up and down like a hammer, then side to side like a sword. Its weight gave it the feel of a dangerous weapon, like some kind of club. That’s more like it. If she comes in here, I’ll be ready.

  Tiptoeing back to the door, Kim placed her head as close to it as possible without touching it. She could hear the soft leather of Tina’s zero-g shoes gently scuffling across the rungs as she placed and removed her feet during her climb. The sounds seemed to be getting louder.

  If Tina didn’t notice the light from in here she’ll probably head back to the hangar. Kim frowned. Mike is there. All alone. Sleeping. Kim lifted her free hand and pressed it to her throat. She killed Zahid in his sleep.

  The scuffling noises grew loud and distinct. She’s outside this door! Just inches away!

  Kim held very still, even refused to exhale. Slowly, she raised the wrench; raised it high over her head. If that door opens I’ll slam this wrench right through her skull. Chop it in half if I can.

  The scuffing noises paused. Silence filled Kim’s universe: a universe that had swiftly shrunk so small it contained only two people—herself and her enemy.

  Kim’s straining ears picked up the light wispy sound of an elbow or knee sliding against the other side of the door. Then silence again. Long seconds of silence.

  Then the scuffling noises resumed. They traveled the length of the door and began to recede.

  Kim exhaled, then inhaled deeply.

  Got to follow her. Got to protect Mike.

  She listened. The noises seemed distant now.

  Wait a minute. Why do I have to protect Mike? Because I want to? Because it’s the right thing to do? Or because I love him?

  The noises were gone.

  Do I love him?

  She searched her memory. She couldn’t find him.

  _____

  Tina stepped out of the vertical hallway and into deck seven. She pointed her flashlight this way and that, recklessly checking to see if the coast was clear. Walking to the bend in the horizontal hall—where Kim had hid from her only minutes before—she stepped around the corner and set her flashlight down on the ceiling with its beam shining away from her, and away from the bend in the hall behind her.

  The flashlight rolled slowly through a uniform curve for almost a foot, until its switch—mounted in the middle of the handle—pressed against the ceiling and brought it to a stop. She then hurried back toward the door to the vertical hallway, went three steps past it, leaned her back against its wall, then inched as near to the open door as she could without being too easily seen.

  Come out; come out, whoever you are!

  She listened for little tell-tale noises echoing in the vertical hallway, but heard none. Leaning forward slightly, she gently pushed the already open door until its handle touched the wall—to make sure it obscured as little of her view as possible.

  Think you can follow me, do you?

  In her hand farthest from the d
oor, she raised the revolver while keeping it close against the wall; out of sight yet ready to swing around and fire as soon as someone stepped out. Seeing them should be easy enough, she reasoned, silhouetted in the glow of her flashlight decoy.

  If it’s Mike, I’ll pitch a fit of fear and panic that will make him think the devil himself is after me. And if it’s Kim? Ha! This job just keeps getting easier.

  She frowned, however, at the thought of the gun’s noise. Damn. Can’t shoot her. Too close to the hangar. Probably wake up Mike. Then I’d have to explain why I’d gone outside into the hall. I could claim I was in the control booth and only came out here when I heard Nikita shoot Kim. But that wouldn’t explain why Kim had gone out. Tina shook her head. Too complicated. Just have to kill quietly. I’ve done it before; I can do it again. Removing her index finger from the trigger, she placed it on the grip alongside her other fingers.

  The gun felt unnaturally heavy in the two gees. She needed to know how much force would be required to bring it up to striking speed, and how swiftly she could change its direction during a swing. Timing was important; especially since she might be dealing with a moving target. She shook it and swung it to get a feel for its true mass.

  A ponytail. If I see one, I attack. If not, I go into my act. She squeezed the gun’s diamond-textured grip and smiled. Either way, I love it!

  There were noises in the vertical hallway: climbing noises, soft and intermittent, difficult to hear. Someone is trying to be stealthy.

  She pressed her body closer to the wall.

  The noises—soft as they were—grew louder.

  She felt a rush of adrenaline, of excitement, of joy. I think I feel another poem coming on.

  As slowly as the second hand on a smoothly running clock, the totally black silhouette of a human head emerged from the door. Ears flanked the elliptical globe. The round tip of a shoulder came into view, then the head stopped and held position.

  Are they looking at me, or away? If they’re looking at me, they’ll be able to see me in the dim glow from my own flashlight!