by Bryan James
“Mike, can you see her?” Kate’s voice was wild, intense.
“No, but I can hear her.” The cot was dragging slowly, relentlessly. The metal frame ground against the floor in spurts of activity.
Screech.
Thump.
Screech.
Thump.
From outside, the metal of the door was shaking. The moan was vivid and loud, permeated by hunger and desire.
Screech.
“Mike?”
Thump.
I pulled back as hard as I could on my right hand, willing the strap to break. In my fear and hope, I imagined I heard the sound of fabric tearing ever so slightly. But I knew it couldn’t be; the restraints were far stronger than I was.
Screech.
“I think she’s getting close, Mike. You got any ideas?”
Thump.
No, I bloody didn’t.
I was just going to keep pulling, thank you very much.
Screech.
I waited for it.
No thump. But there was the sound of a hand slapping against the floor and pulling forward.
That meant…
Oh boy.
My bed shook as her gurgling moan sounded from beneath my head; I tilted suddenly to the right. I could feel the weight against the frame.
A hand snaked up from below, grasping my arm in a vice-like grip.
From outside, a loud and sudden thunder against the door. Then, dreadfully, the sound of the hatch being slowly turned from outside. The circular latching mechanism turned, squeaking against its housing.
A head appeared slowly from beneath me, desperately trying to follow the hand. Hair, then a forehead. Then red-rimmed, white eyes.
Unstaring, unblinking, unfeeling.
From the floor, a cracking sound as she contorted impossibly to reach my arm and her spine snapped at the hip from the exertion.
Her head slammed against the side of the bed, hand locked in a death grip on my arm, mouth moving soundlessly, teeth grinding against themselves.
From the doorway, the clanging metallic sound of the hatch being thrown against the wall. Kate screamed.
The zombie’s mouth opened, thrusting forward hungrily. Inches away, the gray skin of the cheek crept along the cheap white linen, smearing drool and puss along the bed clothes.
The hand gripped my arm tightly, drawing blood.
I closed my eyes, expecting the pain.
Suddenly, a gunshot ripped through the small space, echoing in the metal room, and I felt the warm liquid of the female crew member splatter against my face. Looking up quickly, I smiled as I hear Kate sigh loudly and curse under her breath. I let my head slam back against the cot as I heard his voice—his beautiful, disgustingly accented, oddly lilting voice. Like a choir of prissy angels, he spoke, half-jokingly.
“Seriously, mate. How do you find yourself in positions like this? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were testing me.”
Chapter 8
I grinned as I brought my hand to my face, wiping the cold sweat away from my brow and the crimson blood from my cheek.
“No, if I were testing you, I’d ask you to speak real English, not that weirdo Queen-English stuff you spout off.”
“It’s Queen’s, possessory, not Queen, descriptive,” he said defensively, walking over to my bed and leaning over my ankles to undo the straps. His hands paused briefly. His face was haggard, but his smile was real. “I could just leave you tied up while we talked about it?”
“No, quite all right my good chap, cheerio, pip-pip!”
My English accent was horrendous, and his face showed it.
“So you managed to get one hand free, eh?” He asked as he finished with the ankles and moved to my left hand.
I started, surprised as I passed my hand in front of my face. I looked down to the thick plastic and metal straps, meant to hold far stronger men than me to the table. The cuff was torn raggedly from edge to edge, and now hung from the table, useless.
That was strange.
“I guess so,” I said, still confused. “It must have been old or torn or something.”
“What’s it look like out there?” Kate said, moving to the doorway and peering out into the hall. “Anyone left alive?”
Hartliss shook his head as he turned around. I rubbed my wrists, trying to get the blood flowing again. My legs were wobbly as I took my first step, stumbling slightly as I gained my balance.
“Not bloody many,” he said, looking down the hallway.
“How’d you get loose? I mean, do you remember what happened?”
He nodded and frowned.
“I woke up and all these blokes were clustered around my bed. They ran all these bloody tests on me, and eventually sent me to the galley for some food. They sent an escort, but after the crap hit the rotary, they had bigger fish to fry. I met up with some blokes in one of the hangar bays, and worked out an arrangement to get us off this bloody hulk.”
He gestured toward the surface.
“There’s two SEAL teams on deck staging to evac, but they’ve got one pilot and two birds. I told them I’d be happy to saddle up, in exchange for a little help.”
He grinned boyishly.
I looked through the open door, then back to Hartliss. “You mean you brought SEALs to the rescue?”
He shrugged, then shook his head. “Not all the way, but they helped me secure a choke point at the upper stairwell and are keeping the other flight deck entrances contained. For now. Keep in mind this ship holds thousands of sailors and marines, so if we’re bloody done chatting ...”
He turned to the door and popped the magazine out of his pistol to check his ammunition.
“I’ve got 5 rounds left; used up a healthy portion getting down here, but I came through the galley. They were bloody everywhere in the galley. We’re going to go back up through the gym, the officers quarters, and the machine shop, okay?”
I nodded, not knowing my way around. Kate moved forward, already prepared to leave.
Suddenly, I remembered the vaccine. Scanning the room frantically, I began rifling through papers and opening cabinet doors. Kate understood, turning to Hartliss.
“What about the vaccine? The blue vial. Did you see what happened to it?” Her voice was slow and deliberate, as if expecting bad news.
Hartliss sighed once, and I turned in time to see him shake his head. “No clue. The Captain was obsessed with the damn stuff, so I can’t imagine that he let it too far out of his sight. But there can’t be much left, right? They must have dosed hundreds of stupid buggers before the shit got messy, eh?”
“It only takes a small dose—there could be enough left.”
I realized Hartliss was right; if Allred had truly taken an interest in the stuff, he wouldn’t let it out of his sight. Even after the shit hit the fan.
That meant I needed to get to the bridge.
I looked around briefly, searching for anything that could be used as a weapon. Chairs and desks were bolted down, and other than scalpels in the surgical case, there was nothing helpful. I left the operating instruments alone—a one inch scalpel wasn’t going to help against a zombie.
“When we get topside, I’m going to the bridge,” I said, as we moved toward the door. Kate turned, her big eyes narrowing.
“I thought we just barely established that you’re not crazy?”
I smiled briefly, “I don’t think we did. But that’s beside the point. If we lose that vaccine, everything we’ve done so far is for naught. We have to get that to people who can help. If we don’t, we might as well go down with the ship, because none of this matters.” I couldn’t help but raise my voice. I knew that it was true.
She simply stared into my eyes. I wanted to turn to jelly, she was so beautiful.
I nodded once, taking her silence as agreement, and reached out, squeezing her arm reassuringly and smiling.
“Remember, I’m a movie star. I’m too pretty to die.” I flashed my teeth in a st
upid grin.
She frowned, one eyebrow lifting up skeptically. “Or something like that.”
Or something like that indeed.
Moving into the hallway, Hartliss led, pistol raised and eyes alert. Kate followed, hand on his shoulder. The interior hallway was brightly lit and noises echoed throughout. Bumps and crashes from above; hissing steam and liquid passing through numerous pipes along the walls; our own footsteps, hollow on the metal floor. Ahead, more open hatchways leading deeper into the vessel. Doors on the left and right were all shut, rounded rectangular latches all secured.
We reached a narrow stairwell, ducking as we followed Hartliss’s waving hand, motioning for us to follow. Stepping carefully on the latticed metal stairwell, we moved cautiously, listening for sounds of pursuit. Below us, a hatch clanged against a wall loudly, and the sound of movement filtered up, echoing in the small space. A low, guttural moan sounded from beneath our feet.
Kate turned to me, and I quickly held up one finger in front of my lips, signaling quiet. Her eyes narrowed, and she nodded. We all moved quicker.
Two floors up, Hartliss stopped before a closed hatch. Leaning forward, he whispered, “This is one of the crew gyms, and it leads to the officers quarters, then the stairwell up through the machine shop. From there, we exit onto the flight deck. So we open her quickly, and we peek in, all right?”
Sounded fine if you had the gun, I supposed. But for lack of a better option, I nodded. Kate’s nod followed mine.
Hartliss turned back to the hatch and spun the circular latch, pulling the door into the hallway and leading into the room with his gun. A second later, he gave the all clear and Kate followed behind. I stepped forward, moving to close the door.
Above us, I heard the sounds of footfalls as if several people had entered the stairwell. Through the wire mesh ceiling, a drop of blood fell against my arm. Despite myself I cursed, loudly. The movement intensified, and I looked up, seeing several forms shambling down the stairs. One stumbled and toppled clumsily down a flight of stairs, landing impossibly contorted merely one flight up.
Nothing but a low moan and more movement followed.
Those weren’t sailors. At least, not any more.
I slammed the door shut and jumped into the gym.
It was deserted, but recently so. Only one light remained functional, two others having been destroyed somehow, and now hanging by their wires from the ceiling, flashing light giving the room an eerie strobe light effect.
In a corner near the leg press machine, a crumpled, mangled body in military PT clothes was a bloody pulp of destroyed humanity. Another body of the undead variety lay bent over the stack of plates inside the vertical incline press, head smashed underneath a hundred pounds of weight, body still twitching slightly on the rubber floor.
The doorway on the opposite side of the room yawned into the hallway, hatch propped halfway open by the body of a woman in a towel whose arm had been torn from her shoulder. Miraculously, the towel was in place.
Beyond the body, carnage reigned supreme; bodies could be seen littered near the doorway, and into the hall.
We moved across the room slowly, my eyes still searching for a weapon. As we passed the plates near the bench press rack, Kate’s leg brushed against a pile of metal weights. They toppled loudly against one another, the metal on metal clang resounding against the walls of the room and into the hallway. From behind us, there was an almost instant response. Hands beat hungrily against the steel door, the dead, metallic vibrations of their incessant tempo echoing in the room.
Kate cursed as Hartliss sprinted for the door, moving, perhaps, to close the hatch in front of us. But he was too late.
From behind the open door, several blue uniforms appeared. Bloodshot eyes and gray, pallid skin was pulled tightly over their frames, blood decorating their clothes. One man wore the bright yellow vest of someone who worked above-decks, and still wore his visor and ear protection. A large chunk was missing from his thigh, and he dragged his bad leg behind him, smearing fresh blood in a trail.
I froze in the middle of the room as Hartliss raised his pistol and fired. Two shots scored home, taking the first two in their heads, causing both to snap backward as blood and bone exploded into the air. Two more shots went wild, hitting the torso and arm of the last creature in the orange vest.
Hartliss moved back as two more appeared from the hallway. They moved forward, shuffling. Their arms extended out, fingers grasping compulsively.
I backed up, hand grasping around, searching for anything to use as a weapon. My hand found metal, and as Hartliss backed into Kate, I realized it was a long bar. Barely mindful of what I was doing, I brought my other hand across my body for a better grip, and cocked the bar back over my shoulder, bringing it around again with as much force as I could muster.
My head pounded briefly as my blood raced through my veins. The bar whistled through the air, shivering slightly as it made contact with a skull. The target exploded in a shower of discolored bone and gore. The momentum carried the swing through, taking the other zombie in the chest at an awkward angle, forcing it to crumple to the floor.
It staggered back as I moved forward, pressing my advantage. Shifting my grip, I pulled the bar back around my shoulder, and swung hard at the head. The creature groaned once as it reached out for me from the floor, and then the bar made impact. I looked back over my shoulder, motioning with my head toward the hatch.
“Come on. If we close that door we’re trapped in here.”
I dropped the bar, realizing it was too long for use in the hallways, and it fell heavily against the floor. Kate and Hartliss looked at me warily as they moved past, Kate’s mouth turned down in a slight frown. I glanced down as we moved toward the exit, and did a double take.
The metal bar I had been swinging like a broomstick was a forty-five pound bench press bar.
Jesus Christ.
“Mike! Let’s go!”
Must have been the adrenalin, I thought, moving toward the door.
I shivered reflexively and walked into the hallway.
Chapter 9
The hallway outside the gym was not empty.
It was full of bodies and gore.
There was no other way to describe it. It was simply hell.
A haphazardly scrawled sign that read “Inoculations” hung by one strand of thin chain from above a small doorway. An annex infirmary, according to the welded name plate next to the door. It was merely feet from the gym, and Hartliss cursed silently under his breath, realizing now that this was probably not a better way to the flight deck. From behind us, the steady, insistent pounding on the hatchway from the prior stairwell prodded us forward.
Bodies littered the hallway, all in some state of disrepair or disemboweling. I shuddered as I stepped over a young sailor whose stomach was simply gone, the bloody walls of his torso exposed to the air. His face bore the terror I know that it had expressed merely hours ago, eyes wide. A silent scream was etched into his frightened face. His dark blue uniform was black from the waist down with blood, shreds of cloth littering the floor in front of him, as if he had been torn into by wild animals.
Hartliss was stepping gingerly between bodies, gun trained on the corpses and I mimicked his cautious approach. In a world where the dead rise up at a moment’s notice, a hallway of dead bodies becomes a danger zone.
Every foot of the hallway was covered in bodies or body parts. It had been a hell storm of death in this space, and I was anxious to find shelter. I leaned forward to Kate, who was holding her hand in front of her mouth and nose as she skirted forward slowly, trying not to step in the blood and gore. It was an impossible task.
My feet sloshed through innards and I felt the wet compressions as my boots crushed other pieces and parts beneath the soles.
“Think we can move a little quicker? I can tell by the scenery that the natives are most assuredly fucking restless.” I glanced down at the particularly gruesome case of a Marine whose face had
been ripped raggedly from his skull. Two white, bulging eyes stared unblinkingly from the bloodied ruin. To his credit, and that of the Corps, he held his sidearm in his cold, dead hand. The slide was locked back, ammunition exhausted.
Semper Fi, my friend. In a world that is Semper Fucked, you took it to the max.
Behind him was a row of corpses, all seemingly shoved to the side of the floor against the wall in a frenzy of feeding; all in various states of revolting disrepair. Clothing had been torn from the bodies along with flesh, blood stained the gray steel walls and floor, pooling in the corners of bulkhead sections.
“Hartliss,” Kate whispered, “Fucking move, man. We’ve got less to worry about here than if more of the walking sort come dragging down the hallway and cut us off.”
Her voice was anxious, and I wondered vaguely if she was claustrophobic.
“I’m bloody moving as fast as I bloody can, thank you,” his voice was scared, now. He knew full well that any of these bodies could spring to life at a moment’s notice.
Well, not life, I guess. But animation, at least.
Bitey, painful animation.
His hand dropped briefly into a pocket, withdrawing a small map of the ship torn from one of many stations on the stairwells.
“Last doorway on the right is the stairwell, we go up one flight to the officer’s quarters, then up two flights to the flight deck.”
He spoke softly, turning his head slightly as he stepped gingerly over an outstretched arm, fingers resting in a pool of congealed blood. Far ahead in the dim recesses of the distant hallway, a creature appeared from a side passage, eyes shifting slowing in our direction. Slowly, silently, it turned the corner, placidly moving forward, toward us. Another followed closely behind, both clad in blue uniforms, dripping blood from badly mangled arms.
Suddenly, the fluorescent lights strung in neat rows above our heads flickered. From further down the hall, a robotic voice shot from the black speakers recessed in the hallway ceiling.
“Power failure imminent on this deck. Please proceed to designated stations.”