All Things Zombie: Chronology of the Apocalypse

by Various Authors

  Ming stayed in communication with him and repeatedly tried to convince him it was too dangerous.

  “It appears the station is badly in need of a paint job and perhaps some bodywork,” he joked while continuing to secure and repair equipment. He reported the solar panels looked like Swiss cheese. Forty-five minutes later he finished his repairs and finished adjusting the sensors. When Ming asked how much air the suit had left he only chuckled.

  “What's so funny?”

  “Actually, very little is humorous all things considered. There is no way back inside for me. The airlock's outer hatch has a hole ripped in it the size of a scythe.”

  “Roddenberry! Use the Roddenberry Compartment's airlock!” Ming shouted.

  “Please, do not be yelling in my ears. I can hear you quite well. Unfortunately I can also see equally well, and what is left of the Roddenberry section looks much like a rather large crushed soda can. You are lucky, Ming. If it had been Galileo, where you are now, that was hit you would be... very not alive... and quite flat. It seems another meteoroid destroyed Roddenberry. On the bright side, I believe you will soon have your wish to be alone granted.”

  “Pavel, you jerk, don't give up. At least try and fix the airlock hatch.”

  There was a drawn out aggravated sigh before he agreed to try. It was a fool's errand, both of them knew this but he did his best. While working on the hatch he explained that he'd rerouted the power cables so the electricity would no longer be sent to destroyed sections. He assured her there would be enough power for the rest of the undamaged station. She stayed by the airlock's inner hatch and attempted to comfort him as his suit's oxygen supply ran out. Even to herself, the words she spoke felt hollow. Especially when she went against her personal belief about religion and said, “You'll soon be with your family again... in heaven.”

  “You are very kind to say such a thing that we both know you do not believe in. You are stubborn and skeptical but also too smart to be an agnostic forever. I do appreciate the words you said, even with no belief in them, and hope someday you do believe.” A rapid, strident, electronic, chirping tone came through the headset as the suit's indicator warned of the exhausted oxygen supply. He muttered in Russian then muted the annoying sound. There was a calmness and surety in his voice as he said, “Ming... do not fear or fret about me. This is truly not the end of Commander Pavel Tolstoy. I am a gentleman and have always kept my word. I will not allow myself to come back from the dead as some kind of monstrosity. This... I pledge and s-swear to you,” were his final whispered and very sleepy sounding words.

  They turned out to be untrue and that didn't surprise her.

  When he died inside the airlock Ming was close to crying, felt her eyes watering up in fact, but even before the first teardrop could fall Pavel grunted. It was a brief sound and yet told her quite a bit. The grunt held a mixture of emotions. Predominantly it sounded angry, much like a snarling dog. There quickly followed a whining and whimpering that suggested uncertainty, confusion and perhaps (though she wasn't certain) even a degree of fear.

  Ming took several seconds before working up the courage needed to peer through the inner hatch's view-port. The outer hatch was mostly shut with the futile repair job remaining unfinished. Pavel was facing the outer hatch, and as his suit floated, both the arms and legs waved slowly around. To Ming it appeared almost graceful. The helmet bumped against the ceiling then Pavel's body slowly spun until his face was visible through the transparent visor. His eyes darted rapidly as he peered around the small chamber. There was absolutely no comprehension in his face, only a snarling confusion. The tears finally came and tiny round droplets of water drifted up and floated across the compartment.

  She moaned, “Oh, Pavel. I'm so sorry.”

  The communication link was still active and Pavel, or more accurately the thing that once was Pavel, heard her voice. He snarled, reached out, and energetically gyrated but found no one to seize inside the empty airlock. The suit spun lazily around on its axis despite all of Pavel's exertion.

  Ming felt stupid even as she asked, “Pavel? Can you understand anything that I'm saying?”

  When his face was once more visible to her she watched his confused expression become one of anger as his eyes spotted her through the inner hatch view-port. A series of nonsensical grunts followed as his arms reached out toward her. When he continued to spin around, unable to approach her, she shut off the communication link and wept.

  There's a whole world waiting for me and most of the inhabitants are just like Pavel, she thought morosely while trying to fall asleep. It was frustrating because it was a phenomenon Ming knew all too well. Whenever something big or worrisome was on her mind and she knew she needed sleep it never came.

  Running through a long list of mental checklists regarding her departure, Ming considered each item a sort of sheep leaping over a fence and fervently hoped sleep would come.

  The klaxon awoke her. Her thoughts were muddled as she tried making sense out of what was happening. In a matter of seconds Ming managed to extricate herself from the 'body bag'. She turned on the nearest computer screen and soon had the alarm silenced. After reading the message inside a large flashing red box on the screen, Ming shouted a choice selection of her father's favorite Chinese profanities.

  An inexplicable computer glitch, which she had no time to investigate, caused the heavy-lift rocket engines to fire early... Very early.

  Ming hurried from the bunkhouse into the Galileo compartment and quickly started climbing inside her EVA (Extra Vehicular Activity) suit. The improvised parachute backpack was securely stitched to the EVA suit's back harness with a supposedly fire-resistant type of parachute cord. She heard the computer announcing through the speakers.

  Attention! All crew members are advised to make their way to the nearest escape capsules. Altitude Warning! Outer hull temperature has exceeded maximum tolerance! Attention! All personnel should now abandon ship!

  Abandon ship? I've never heard anyone or even the computer refer to the ISS as a ship before, Ming wondered while hurrying to finish getting her gear and EVA suit ready. She glanced at her wrist mounted miniature computer screen. Crap, we already flew past Hawaii. This thing's going to be over California anytime now, she realized then hurried to the airlock hatch. Through the porthole she saw Commander Tolstoy standing beside the outer hatch. The undead man appeared to be staring at the long red and yellow flames and trails of sparks visible beyond the severely damaged and partly open outer hatch.

  Ming quickly double checked that the parachute rip cord was in place; her fire resistant luggage was sealed and secured to the suit's front harness. The luggage once had been a test chamber for experiments and was designed to withstand extremely high temperatures. Her laptop computer, food, and all other emergency supplies were stored securely inside it.

  She glanced at the primary computer screen. According to the trajectory map and the flashing red dot moving across it, which indicated the ISS location, the station was already well over the state of California. Even through her sealed helmet, Ming heard a deep heavy groaning of metal that went on while she unlocked the inner door of the airlock. The groaning grew louder until a combination of crunching and scraping noises were followed by a massive shuddering.

  It's breaking up! She realized while shoving Pavel out of her way then peered through the airlock's mostly open outer hatch. Dozens, perhaps hundreds, of blindingly bright contrails made by flames and sparks extended far behind the rapidly descending station.

  She failed to notice Pavel moving up behind her.

  Ming took a deep breath and was gearing up to leap through the outer hatchway when something grabbed her. Her grip on the outer hatch was lost as she felt herself being spun around.

  Pavel was face-to-face with her. Through both of their helmet visors his eyes appeared cunning or perhaps even demonic as the flames outside were reflected in them.

  It was disconcerting because over the last few months his eyes alw
ays appeared to be a dull grayish color. In spite of the flames dancing in his eyes, she didn't consider him a threat as much as a nuisance. Ming reached up and grabbed a onto bulkhead support bar and pulled herself toward the partly open outer hatch. As she reached for the handle, to pull herself through, there was a shadowy blur cast on the bulkhead followed by a flash of confused intense agony.

  Pavel swung a long titanium wrench at her as if it were a club. The end that smashed against Ming's wrist obliterated the microcomputer that was secured there in a brief flash of sparks. He lifted the wrench up again as Ming pulled back her injured wrist and swiveled toward him.

  The material of her EVA suit hadn't ripped, it was designed to be extremely durable, but the pain in her wrist didn't fade. Her eyes met Pavel's while she reached for the hatch with her uninjured arm. She was afraid the wrench had broken her other wrist but even this fear was less than the one caused by meeting Pavel's gaze.

  His eyes were intently staring at her and the corners of his mouth were upturned, giving the undead astronaut an impossibly huge Cheshire-Cat style grin.

  “Pavel, stop it! It's me, Ming!” She yelled even as he swung the wrench at her head.

  There was an intense jarring sensation accompanied by a painfully loud cracking sound inside her helmet. The noise reminded her of nutcrackers busting open walnuts. A tiny, white, hairline-fissure appeared at the top of her transparent faceplate then it quickly grew longer and branched out like a spider web before her disbelieving eyes. No, it just can't be. It will hold together. It has to, she thought.

  The flashing yellow warning lights on the bulkheads gave the airlock a decidedly dance club appearance. But there was only the sound of her own rapid heavy breathing coupled with loud klaxon alarms and a tortured metallic squealing that signaled that the station was being ripped apart.

  Ming backed toward the open outer hatch, unwilling to even momentarily turn her back on Pavel again. The undead man lifted the wrench and swung it. Or rather, he tried to but the tool's tip became entangled in a cargo net secured to a bulkhead.

  Ming took that as her cue and called out, “Geronimo,” while leaping backward through the airlock. She felt her body tumbling through open space and shouted, “I'm going to make it!”

  The words were barely spoken before her body was slammed into and pinned against one of the station's support beams. It didn't hurt anywhere as much as she imagined such a thing might.

  From her location, nearly fifty feet away the open hatch, the capsules she could see were nothing more than glowing blobs of flame trailing behind plumes of smoke and bits of burning debris.

  The feeling of helplessness was becoming absolute even as she kept trying to work loose of the beam. Ming swore every profanity she could think of in both English and Chinese but that did nothing to help. There was no one that could hear her, let alone be of any assistance.

  Or was that true?

  She heard a brief crackle of static over her helmet's headphones then a single, gravelly sounding, whispered, word was uttered: “Comrade.”

  Ming stared at the open hatch and watched as Pavel, standing at the threshold, threw the wrench at her.

  The glittering tool spun end-over-end directly at her. From Ming's perspective it appeared to be approaching in extremely slow motion.

  Her mind whirled in equal parts confusion, terror, and disbelief. The odds were incalculable that the tool could be thrown with such precision at such a distance and that it could possibly hit her. Ming's mind roared, “NO!” right up to the moment of impact. She watched the already damaged visor shatter then felt countless stabbing shards from the faceplate slicing into her screaming face.

  Somehow there was no pain, only a complete blackness and Pavel's undead whisper of, “Welcome to the dead.”

  Ming opened her eyes and spent several moments wondering how she could do it then instant realization hit her like a bucket of ice water.

  “A damn nightmare? Really?” she asked then touched her sweaty face with both hands as though uncertain if she were truly okay and awake.

  “Oh, that's nowhere near being fair. It's not enough that I'm probably going to die soon enough anyway, but now my subconscious is ganging up on me too. Well, screw it. I'm getting up,” she growled in great anger. It was an aimless fury with nothing to unleash it on.

  After leaving the bunkhouse and checking the navigation computer, Ming took a long steadying breath and whispered, “Gather around, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls of all ages. Its show time, folks.”

  The computer's automated sequence countdown indicated she had another thirty-two minutes before the heavy-lift rockets would begin firing. Ming switched off the alarm she'd set to wake her at the thirty minute mark then started gearing up.

  After slipping on the EVA suit and double-checking everything was in order, that every seal and connection was perfect, she spent several minutes inspecting the helmet. There were no cracks, dings, or even the tiniest of blemishes on it.

  The computer's maddeningly calm synthesized voice announced,

  Attention, all personnel. T-minus fifteen minutes until the firing sequence commences.

  Ming held the helmet and crossed over to one of the compartment's small portholes.

  Darkness enveloped the planet below. No lights, or even a hint of them, shined on the surface.

  She sighed and couldn't help wondering, do I really expect this harebrained scheme to have a chance in hell of working? Or is this just the most expensive and elaborate way ever devised to commit suicide? There are a lot of other much easier ways to kill myself.

  Ming eventually spotted a brief bright flicker in a remote valley. According to the navigation computer screen it was somewhere near the border between China and Nepal.

  She listened to the computerized countdown without leaving the porthole until it reached the one minute mark then lifted the helmet, slid it over her head, locked it in place, and waited.

  Unlike her dream version, Pavel was obviously not a threat. He was barely on board in point of fact. Ming guessed that as the station entered the atmosphere the rush of wind must have blown Pavel's body around inside the damaged airlock until his legs became stuck in what remained of the outer hatch. His arms waved sluggishly as the gloved hands quested for something to seize. Because he was face down on the floor, Ming realized she could pass by without him noticing.

  After double checking that her EVA suit and helmet were properly working she paused to take a last look at the compartment. Red and yellow lights flashed so rapidly it reminded her of discos and dance clubs, which brought back memories of the nightmare. She shook her head and embraced the idea of dancing at a club. Ming didn't even consciously realize she was humming the tune to the Bee Gee's disco era anthem: STAYIN' ALIVE. Most of the computer screens were black; the few that remained functioning displayed the same two flashing words: ABANDON SHIP.

  She ignored the message and tapped the screen. Nearly all systems were offline, according to the computer. She tapped the navigation map icon and a digital hourglass appeared along with the unhelpful words- please wait.

  After several moments an image of the earth filled the screen. The western coast of the United States materialized with the flashing red dot indicating her location. The dot was rapidly approaching the California coastline. The numeric distance indicators were blank with brief flashes of the words CALCULATING, Please Wait. Ming doubted the computer, GPS, and communications equipment would ever be able to give her an accurate report and instead focused on the map. The red dot was already somewhere over the city of Los Angeles and continuing toward the north east. Ming grunted in disgust as the computer screen flashed a dark blue color then went to black. A moment later the klaxon alarms and emergency lights died as well. There was an increasing shudder and vibration in the airlock.

  She noticed the wisps of smoke quickly beginning to thicken and nodded while whispering. “Approximate distance between L.A. and Cheyenne is a thousand miles, so-” Ming
estimated a variety of variables including the station's speed, air resistance, and the last altitude indication and guessed, “it's about time to shove off.”

  If she jumped too soon there was a risk of landing in Nevada, Utah, or maybe Idaho. None of those states conditions were known by her friends in Wyoming. Cheyenne itself had only recently been brought back to a bastion of relative safety. The undead never grew to huge numbers there for many reasons. One of the biggest factors was that the population was miniscule in comparison to major cities throughout the country. Just as important (unlike places where it was virtually illegal for citizens to own firearms) Wyoming residents were some of the best armed and skilled shooters around. As a result, while places with high populations and strict gun controls were very quickly overrun and the ranks of undead ballooned; Wyoming never experienced much of the nightmare.

  Ming finished her silent count to three hundred while expecting, at any moment, that the airlock would burst into flames. At three hundred she leaped through the thick smoke that made visibility nil. She tumbled through the wind and kept her eyes shut for several seconds. Upon opening her eyes there was much confusion when she saw nothing but a dark grayness beyond her helmet's faceplate.

  Her body felt achy and unaccountably tired as she reached up and rubbed a hand across the visor. Streaks of a soot-free view appeared and it took another moment for Ming to orient her free-falling body. She wiped away the smoky grime from the minicomputer secured to her wrist. The small screen was blank and she suspected the heat inside the burning ISS had either damaged or destroyed it.