I had been working security for Zilith for two years by the time construction was completed. Zilith was not the kind of company that advertised openly for recruits; if they were impressed with your achievements, they would find you. I was stunned when a recruiter visited me at my graduation. I finished first in my Space Marshal training class and went straight to work for Zilith, with my own team to oversee.
Officially, they claimed that no lives had been lost in the construction, but I know the truth. Zilith has a PR machine second to none, with politicians, media magnets and officials in its pockets. I personally lost two friends to the project. Their excavator hit a gas pocket and they were blown into space. Their supervisor told me the truth before he died from a heart attack.
The Moonlit Resort remained closed for the next five years, while it underwent stringent safety and stress testing. When the doors finally opened in 2053, the rooms were fully booked for the first four years. A one night stay was a flat rate of one-million per head, plus an additional fifty-grand for the lunar shuttle ride each way. Needless to say, the only people able to afford the trip were the extremely wealthy.
Everything ran like clockwork, until we suddenly lost communication with them only a few weeks ago. What follows is my firsthand account …
We lost communication with the Moonlit Resort on December 28, 2059. The next departing shuttle was put on hold until we could regain contact and work out what the problem was.
For a week, engineers tried to restore the link, but without success. The Zilith Corporation maintained a total media blackout throughout. With communications still down, my team was despatched to find out what had happened. I didn’t understand at the time. What reason could there be to send an armed response team? There was already a significant security presence at the hotel and no distress call had been sent. I was certain that it would just be an antenna malfunction, so surely it was just an engineering issue. We expected a simple antenna failure, but our training insisted that we planned for the worst.
“Space Marshal Collins,” I heard someone say as I packed my kit bag. I turned to Sam Wallace. He was my direct line manager to the big wigs at Zilith Corp.
“Sir?” I looked into his dark eyes. His white hair was unkempt and he looked like he hadn’t slept for several days.
“I have a message for you from upstairs.” He retrieved a digitally sealed memo and handed it to me, saying, “Good luck.”
“Thanks, Sam,” I said as we shook hands.
He walked out of the room without another word.
Frowning, I opened the note, which read,
Space Marshal Collins
This investigation is highly confidential. Neither you nor your team may not have any contact with family or friends until fully debriefed at the end of the mission. You will be in direct violation of your contract if you disobey this directive and will be subject to severe penalties. We expect you to report in within four days. Thank you for your loyalty to the company. Be Safe.
Zilith Corporation
I could understand their need for secrecy, given the circumstances, so I thought nothing more of it and stowed the note in my back pocket. After finishing packing, I flung the sack over my shoulder and headed towards the staging room.
“Space Marshal. Ten-hut!” Mick barked. The four other men in the room instantly stood to attention.
“At ease,” I replied. I had never quite gotten used to men snapping to attention like that in my presence. Besides, these men were not just my team, they were my trusted friends. “Are you guys ready?” I asked, looking around the room.
Patrick Swan, our pilot, stood wringing his hands together. Next to him, was Mick Greenwell, my second in command and the deadliest sharpshooter I had ever seen with an S-801 rifle. He was a big man with long black hair tied in a ponytail.
John Megs was our communications specialist. I was expecting John to have the hardest job of the lot of us. He had tagged along with us on several previous missions to Moonlit Resort and he had gradually become part of the team, even though, officially, he was only a technical liaison.
Still packing, were the two brothers, Orlando and Austin Flint. Their job was straightforward firepower.
Staring at the brothers, I said, “We’re on the move in five mikes. John, start your final checks and get us ready for flight.”
The men nodded and began filing out of the room.
Space flight had moved on pre-2020. Shuttles resembled inflated airliners and our jump ship was not much larger than an F-16 fighter jet. It took the Apollo missions three days to reach the Moon. Our ship would reach it in approximately twenty two hours.
Orlando, Austin and I walked into the spacecraft. John and Mick were already strapped in. Patrick was at the control console, prepping for takeoff. I took a seat next to him, while Orlando and Austin stowed our packs and weapons in the storage containers.
Our weapons weren’t that different to the ones used on Earth. Bullets must be exploded out of their casing, but in order for it to fire, there needs to be oxygen present, which is a major issue in space. The casings we use are slightly bigger in order to entrap more oxidizer to propel the bullet. One noticeable difference is that rate of fire and accuracy are both considerably increased in space due to reduced atmospheric pressure.
“Control, this is Shadow Three, copy?” Patrick was saying. “We are go for launch. Please confirm for Runway Alpha. Over.”
After a pause, the response was, “Copy, Shadow Three, I have you as an unscheduled departure, but I have no record of authorisation. Please confirm. Over.”
Patrick looked questioningly at me. Switching to external comms, I said, “Control, this is Shadow One, copy? This is black ops authorised. Contact Wallace for confirmation. Over.”
After another lengthy pause, Control replied, “Shadow One, you’re clear for takeoff in t-minus five for Runway Alpha. Over.”
“Thank you, Control. Shadow One over and out.” I said then returned external comms to Patrick.
I glanced back at my team, who were holding on to their seats. Take off and landing was always a tense time. They were outwardly relaxed, but I knew their muscles would be like coiled springs, awaiting that final lurch into outer space.
Patrick began the countdown. “Powering up in three, two, one,” he said as he turned on the first thruster. The aircraft began to move forward slowly. “Firing thruster two in three, two, one.” He flipped the switch for thruster two. The ship jolted forward and rushed along the runway at over a hundred miles an hour.
“Ah shit, here we go!” someone in the back yelled.
I gripped my seat as Patrick said, “Firing thruster three in, three, two, one … Hold on to your hats!” He pushed the third thruster.
The ship surged up to three hundred miles an hour. Patrick pulled back on the steering column and the ship lurched into the air.
As the ship gradually increased altitude, Patrick said, “Turbo in three, two, one.” He pushed the red button. The spacecraft rocketed towards the upper atmosphere at over 25,000 miles an hour.
“I love this shit!” Patrick yelled.
“Knock it off,” I managed to say.
Patrick levelled out and punched the destination into the nav-com. When the target location was locked, Patrick released the controls and sat back. The ship blasted through Earth's atmosphere in seconds and the shuddering began to subside.
The rest of the team were already applying the masks. Patrick was quick to follow suit. I was the only one who would rather wait twenty-two hours than be knocked out. As they drifted off, I stared out of the portal into the blackness of space.
I had travelled into space more than a dozen times before, but I never tired of the view.
I awoke with a start from a natural, not induced sleep. Twenty-one hours had passed. As the others slowly began to stir, I began preparations for the arrival.
As Patrick regained control from the nav-com, the rest of the team did an equipment and weapons check.
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“You know the drill,” I said. “We check the communications array first. If we get green lights, we move on to the Moonlit Resort. We proceed with caution every step of the way.” The thrusters shut down and we began descending.
I caught a glimpse of the communications tower. Outwardly, the structure appeared undamaged. “Set us down as near to the tower as you can. We’ll head to the hotel complex on foot from there.”
The ship dropped vertically and landed with a jolt. The craft groaned as it settled onto the lunar soil. A clear liquid released from several vents underneath the ship and sprayed the landing zone. The Moon’s dust was prone to clogging thrusters and filters, so the purge prevented that from happening.
“Grab your gear,” I said as everyone unbuckled.
Our respirators resembled ski masks with a small canister strapped to our belts no larger than a can of hairspray. The oxygen in those containers would last twenty-four hours. The respirators were also equipped with com-sets.
“Let’s move out,” I said.
The door hissed and dropped open, exposing the rocky surface of the moon. John, jumped out first, followed by the rest of the team. After forming up, we half-walked, half-jumped toward the towering steel communications array.
The service hatch was unlocked, so we cautiously entered. I located the light switch and vanquished the gloom. With the airlock resealed, John took off his mask and began examining the gauges. The room was cylindrical with a computer console in the centre. At the far end was a stairwell that led to the top of the tower.
“Marshal,” John called out to me. “There’s something here you should see.”
I walked over to John as he pointed toward the wall. A dark smear ran along it at shoulder level, heading towards the stairwell.
“Two line formation,” I ordered. Orlando and Austin took point as Mick and Patrick fell in behind them. They slowly began to ascend the stairs when we heard it. A loud and sluggish moan drifted down from above us.
“What the fuck was that?” Mick said, craning his neck.
“Sounds like someone in distress,” Orlando suggested.
We heard steps beginning to descend down the staircase. Gradually, the figure shuffled into view. The image of that man still haunts me to this day. His skin was pale with a greenish hue. Part of its right cheek was missing, revealing teeth and jaw. The man’s nose had been caved into his face, leaving a piece of smeared bone jutting through its parchment skin. Most of its hair had been ripped out of its scalp, leaving gory scabs. The monster continued shuffling down towards us as we gaped in shock.
Breaking the spell, I snapped, “Fall back!”
The creature tripped over its feet and tumbled down the remaining steps. It landed face first on the ground with a sickening thud, only a foot away from Orlando. We stared at it for a moment, weapons trained on it, as it remained motionless. One of its arms appeared eaten away, bone clearly visible beneath rotting flesh.
“What … is it?” Patrick uttered.
“I … don’t know,” I answered. Nothing could walk around with all those wounds.
As I spoke, the creature suddenly spasmed and wrapped its hands around Orlando’s shin. It yanked the man’s leg towards itself and sank its teeth into his calf, ripping a chunk of cloth and flesh off. He screamed out as Austin rushed to his aid.
Austin dragged the creature from his brother and shoved him away, kicking it across the face. Orlando fell back as blood gushed out of his wound, splashing onto the concrete floor.
Its sudden speed had shocked us all, but now I yelled, “Patrick, take Orlando to the entrance and dress the wound. Everyone else fall back. Nobody get anywhere near that thing.”
The creature began to rise to its feet. It chewed on the hunk of flesh from Orlando. Blood spilled out of its mouth and dribbled down his overalls as it chewed.
As Patrick dragged Orlando to the door, and the rest of us backed up, the creature shambled toward us, emitting that same haunting moan.
I raised my rifle and pulled the trigger. A three round burst tore open the creature’s chest and splattered black gore against the stairwell. Despite intestines spilling onto the floor, it continued walking toward us.
“Fire at will!” I gasped, blinking in disbelief. Nobody needed telling twice. Bullets ripped into the creature’s body. Flesh and black bile splattered in all directions. It fell backwards and thrashed on the ground.
“The bastard’s still alive!” Austin said as it struggled back to its feet.
Mick took careful aim and fired a round through its forehead, blowing brain matter out the back of its head and spraying it across the wall. The creature dropped to the ground, still.
Austin turned to assist Patrick with his older brother while the rest of us stood staring at what was left of the creature.
Pulling myself together, I walked over to Orlando. He was deathly pale, but Patrick had managed to stem the bleeding with a field dressing.
“That’s about as much as I can do,” Patrick said. “He’s lost a lot of blood. He needs a medical team.”
Orlando suddenly contorted and burst into a rattling cough that brought up the same black liquid from the monster that bit into him. He curled over onto his side and repeatedly vomited. The black bile was spewing out of his mouth, nose and even his eyes.
“We need to get him back to the ship,” I said.
Mick walked up behind me and said, “No, we can’t. It looks like that creature was infected with something. It looks like Orlando has it too now. He needs to be quarantined immediately.”
Austin had been cradling Orlando’s head, but now he jumped up. “We’re not leaving my brother like this! He needs help!”
As much as it pained me, I knew that Mick was right. The creature was clearly infected and so too was Orlando. I looked over to John who had quickly put his mask back on. As the others followed suit, Orlando began to convulse on the ground. His skin was turning grey-green and black spittle was spraying from his contorted mouth.
“Jesus, look at him,” Mick muttered, stepping back. “We need to get out of here.”
“I’m not leaving him!” Austin yelled.
I look from Mick and Austin back down at Orlando. He abruptly stopped moving and then his eyes turned black. He rose to his feet as I opened my mouth to shout a warning.
Mick saw him first and quickly stepped back, raising his rifle.
Austin spun around, saying, “Orlando?” It was on him in a split second and, in one swift movement, ripped Austin’s mask off and bit into his face above his right eye. He sucked the eye out of its socket and chewed down.
Austin shrieked in agony and pushed his brother back, covering the gushing wound. Orlando lunged at him again. Mick opened fire. The bullet burst through Austin’s head and buried into Orlando’s temple. Both brothers crashed to the ground on top of each other as blood and black bile mingled on the ground.
“Sorry …” Mick uttered, staring at his two dead colleagues splayed at his feet.
He acted on instinct and his reasoning was sound, but it was still something to have to kill your own team members … your friends.
“No need to be sorry,” I said finally. “You did what you had to do. You had no choice.” Tearing my eyes away from my two dead teammates, I said, “Listen up, we need to fall back to the ship. We take our Austin and Orlando with us. We don’t leave anyone behind. The comms clearly aren’t the problem here – I’m guessing that they had to isolate that thing in here. We’ll drop Orlando and Austin off at the ship and then head for the resort to get some answers.”
After retrieving body bags from the ship, we moved our dead teammates to the ship’s cargo hold.
“Shouldn’t we call this in?” John asked as we gathered outside the ship.
“No,” I replied. “We need to get some answers first. We have to check out the main complex first.”
From the landing zone, we could just make out the hotel structures about a mile away. We headed at a f
ast pace, concern etched into all our faces.
“I can’t believe Austin and Orlando are dead,” John muttered, breaking the silence. “What the hell was that thing?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “It certainly looks like he was infected with something – something I’ve never seen before.” As an afterthought, I added, “Have you ever read The War of the Worlds? The Martians thought they could come and take Earth away from us. Despite everything humanity threw at them, it was a simple infection that ultimately killed off the alien invaders …”
“So we’re the invaders here and the Moon wants us to leave?” Patrick asked.
I managed a shrug and the group fell silent.
We finally reached the main structure. The grey steel and glass building was three-stories high and curved like a giant dome. A sign that flashed the words MOONLIT RESORT was positioned just above main entrance.
I took point and opened the first set of doors. As we entered the airlock, at the rear, Patrick closed the doors behind him. The soothing tones of a well-spoken woman welcomed us and instructed us to wait as oxygen began to fill the room.
We readied our weapons as the automatic doors opened.
What had been an exquisitely furnished lobby was now utterly decimated. Sofas were overturned, tables smashed and broken glass and pools of blood littered the once expensive carpet. Amongst the debris were severed limbs and torn chunks of flesh.
Mouth agape, I slowly crept into the room.
“This is crazy, man,” John whispered. “Everyone’s dead. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Stow it,” I hissed. The front desk was to my right. Straight ahead was a large dining room and to the left were stairs and elevators. “Hello?” I called out as the lights flickered overhead.
Only our soft footfalls broke the silence.
“This is Space Marshal Collins.”
Nothing.
Holiday of the Dead Page 17