Unleashed: A Science Fiction Horror Adventure (NecroVerse Book 1)

by Aaron Bunce

  A drone appeared from the spire below her, propelling itself noiselessly towards the damaged section of habitation ring.

  Anna glanced over at the station’s status monitor, the very readout she’d been actively avoiding. The affected compartments in C ring still showed zero atmospheric pressure, while the rest displayed wildly fluctuating oxygen and carbon dioxide levels. The screen flickered, darkened, and then brightened again.

  Everything is acting weird.

  It’s got to be hell down there, she thought, and picked up her data point again. The screen showed “no new messages”.

  “Damn it, Coby,” Anna cursed, and quickly tapped out another message.

  R you okay?

  She glanced at her screen, then looked back down and added another note.

  I’m stuck in a service pod and don’t know for how long. It’s bad. Real bad. Please send me a message as soon as possible. I’m kind of freaking out and need to know you’re okay. Shit hit fan. Massive splatter.

  Anna sent the message, dropped the data point, and scrolled through more updates on her pod’s H.U.D. Time crawled by, the minutes ticking by on her digital display. Another hour passed before she picked up her data point again, her anger bubbling forth. Still no response.

  “What…the…” she started to curse, until the loading icon popped up on the screen, spinning and spinning. The data point flipped between screens, the three-dimensional icons flickering in and out of sight.

  --Error—Messages saved as drafts. The network did not respond. Network fault. Try again in…error. Trying to connect…error.

  “Lana, I can’t get ahold of Coby on the station network.”

  Static crackled in her ear.

  “Lana? Sys ops, are you there?”

  More static.

  The numerous screens, gauges, and buttons in her pod suddenly glowed brighter, the lights flickering in a nauseating display.

  Anna covered her eyes and nervously reached up and fiddled with the climate controls again, despite the fact that the knob was already turned all the way down. She adjusted the com set and made sure it was still turned on.

  “Jerod, do you copy? Is your pod acting up?”

  The tech’s voice echoed back weakly, the static so thick she could barely make him out.

  “Say again, Jerod. I can’t hear you.” The pods continued their work, the bright light of welders and cutters flaring against the dark backdrop of space.

  A loud pop sounded through her earpiece, and then everything went dark.

  1900 Hours

  Jacoby was almost home when the passage went dark. He stopped immediately, holding his hands out to either side, a sudden wave of panic tightening his guts.

  The station seemed to rock from side to side and he staggered to his right, catching the bulkhead with his face. Stars blossomed in the darkness but he managed to keep his feet beneath him.

  “Back up lighting…now,” he whispered, rubbing his face and crouching against the wall, afraid of what would happen if he stood again. The darkness ensued. They lived through countless power blips and surges. Lights would flicker, and sometimes go out. They were just an unfortunate side effect of living on a station this far out. Some components were new – state of the art, while others were old, cobbled together with duct tape and prayers. But this power blip felt different.

  “Okay…and now.” Nothing.

  Jacoby listened, the passageway eerily silent around him. There was just nothing – no gently humming lights, beeping motion sensors, or whisper hiss of air flowing through the vents. He’d never heard it this quiet before, ever.

  Someone shouted down the hall behind him, followed by a bang bang bang of fists on a metal door. More people called out, hands, knees, or feet slapping and smacking against closed doors.

  He sat and waited for a telltale buzz or clunk, a whisper or rush of air, but nothing. With no circulation, the air became heavy around him, dead. Jacoby sniffed, noticing the strange odor he’d first smelled in the commissary bathroom. He stuck his nose into his shirt.

  Damn, it was him. He was pungent, but far from his normal stink. It wasn’t the sour of booze, either. In fact, he couldn’t ever remember smelling that way before. Was it something he ate…drank?

  Jacoby rocked back on his heels, the still air around him growing heavy with his smell. Desperate for a shower, he crawled forward on his hands and knees, trying to recreate the hallway in his mind. Jacoby felt his way along the wall, the cool, ceramic-coated panels giving way to a raised molding and the cool metal of a door.

  A pop sounded somewhere overhead, and a loud hum followed. A light flickered on down the hall, and then another just above him. Jacoby slapped a hand over his face, the sudden light burning his eyes.

  Something clicked, and then the door to his right slid open, the sudden movement sending him sprawling to the ground.

  “What…who…?” a man asked, his voice tight with alarm. “What are you doing out here? Were you trying to…wait, Jacoby, is that you?”

  “I was just,” Jacoby stammered and pushed back up onto his knees and crawled back. He looked up, forcing his eyes open, and flinched, a part of his mind telling him to expect a punch or kick at any moment.

  “Wow, easy. I’m not going to hit you,” the man said, and knelt down to help him off the ground.

  “I was walking down the hall when the lights went out. I got turned around and…”

  “Yeah, I was getting ready for a shower when it happened. The door wouldn’t open for a long time, and then when it did, you were there.”

  Jacoby straightened his shirt self-consciously and rubbed his eyes. Preston Graeves stood in his doorway, shirtless, his lanky frame filling the small opening. He was a lean man, with a well-toned stomach, sculpted arms, and a pleasant, mocha complexion.

  Jacoby looked away, aware and uncomfortable with how naturally he seemed to size the other man up. Preston was handsome, muscular, and athletic – everything he wasn’t.

  “What is it Preston? Is it maintenance? Do they…” Preston’s wife asked, appearing in the narrow hall beyond the door.

  “Can you not get into your room? Do you need us to call someone?” Preston asked. He’d always been one of the nice neighbors – always with a hello or a wave.

  “No, but thanks, Preston. I was just walking home when the lights went out. It was so fucking…sorry, it was so dark. I haven’t even tried the door yet.”

  “Say, are you okay, man? Are you sick? You’re all sweaty and pale. You don’t look good,” Preston asked, stepping halfway into the hall. The taller man sniffed loudly, took another audible breath through his nose, and snorted, before covering a cough.

  “Baby, who are you talking to? I asked you if it was maintenance. Do they know why the power went out?” Preston’s wife, Soraya, asked appearing in the now vacated doorway. “Oh, hey, Coby. I didn’t know you were out here.”

  “I was just–”

  “He was going home when the power went out,” Preston said, cutting him off, his tone taking on an edgier quality. Preston rolled his shoulders and flexed his pectoral muscles.

  “Is Anna home?” Soraya asked. She was tall – a former multi-sport athlete, the poise and muscular build still evident beneath her thin robe. Jacoby met her gaze, her large, almond-shaped chocolate-brown eyes bright and inviting. His gaze flicked down to her mouth – straight, white teeth and full lips, and then to her slender neck. Her skin, although a few shades darker than Preston’s, glowed with an undeniable luster in the warm overhead light.

  The thin fabric stretched tight over her large breasts, his eyes lingering for a moment before crawling down to her stomach, thighs, and shapely legs. Jacoby coughed and took another half step back as Preston moved a little closer, his bulk shadowing him.

  “Honey, are you okay? You really don’t look well,” Soraya said, and stepped out into the hall.

  No, stay away, he thought, but she was already next to him, her hands gripping his arms. She place
d a hand on his forehead, before cupping his cheek. Jacoby coughed, trying to sink away from her, but she was strong.

  “Baby, he’s so warm. Like you were just a few days ago, when you first caught that bug,” Soraya said, and helped Jacoby down the hall. He felt warm, but it wasn’t him. It was her. “Coby, why don’t we just help you to your room? I can help you lay down if Anna isn’t home. By the way, are you wearing a new cologne or something? I…I like it.”

  Soraya gasped next to him, her breathing as hard as if she’d just finished a run or workout. His odd smell was even stronger now that she was close. He could smell her, too – rich cocoa and shea butter, coffee, and…warmth? It was almost like he could smell her body heat. The air grew thick, and for a moment Jacoby was sure he could feel a single bead of sweat form between her shoulder blades and run down her back.

  “The man can walk himself to his own bed,” Preston grumbled behind them, sniffling and coughing. “He picked himself off the ground just fine.”

  “Don’t listen to him, Coby. I don’t mind helping. He’s just grumpy. He’s tired of being sick.” Soraya’s hands clenched and unclenched around his arms. Her fingernails were nicely manicured and painted, the paint a dark plumb color.

  “What did you say?” Preston asked, his voice rising in the confined hall. Jacoby wasn’t just hearing things. Preston sounded angry. He quickly glanced back to his neighbor and found the man standing in the middle of the hall, his arms shaking and his hands balled up into fists.

  “Just go back on in and take that hot shower, baby. That’ll make you feel better. I’m just gonna help Coby inside and I’ll be back. Don’t you worry.”

  Soraya guided Jacoby towards the door. He didn’t dare look at her, for fear of what he might see, say, or do. He didn’t want his thoughts to get jumbled again. What if he started to undress her in his mind? What if he couldn’t stop himself this time and he actually tried to do it? My god, Preston would kill him. Preston could actually kill him.

  They approached the hall and turned left. Jacoby was very aware of the woman’s body rubbing against his, lean muscle accentuating her attractive feminine curves beneath the horribly thin fabric. In fact, it felt like Soraya was pulling him closer, her grip almost forcing his hand inside the folds of her robe. She was smooth, strong, and graceful.

  A small thought was forming in his head, building with the pressure behind his eyes. Soraya was strong and sensual – an athletic and confident woman. That small part of him wanted her to dominate him, to take control and use him. The desire started to grow, despite Jacoby’s efforts to deny it.

  The thick quality of the air increased with the desire, the smell intensifying until he could practically taste it.

  “Lets…just…get…you…inside,” Soraya said, her voice rushed and breathing more rapid. She staggered and made a strange noise, but caught her balance quickly.

  They reached his quarters, half the lights in the hall either dark or flickering rapidly. Jacoby moved to extend his wrist to the scanner, but Soraya moved around him, grabbed his wrist, and slapped it against the wall.

  “You just go on home, babe. I’m just gonna help…him…inside, and get him comfortable,” Soraya called out to Preston again as the door beeped and slid open. She sounded flustered and out of breath…so very unlike her norm. Hell, he’d never even seen her drunk before.

  They were inside then, the quarters dark and quiet, save for the hall light outside the bathroom door. He heard the door close, and then they were alone.

  “I think I can manage from here, Soraya. Thanks, I’m just going to take a quick shower and get some rest,” he said, driven by the desperation to be alone. He needed peace and quiet, some space to figure out what was going on with his head.

  “You’ve soaked through your shirt. Let me help you out of it,” she said, and before he could argue, Soraya wrenched his shirt up over his head, tearing it in the process. She threw it down the hall.

  “Thanks…” Jacoby started to say, as her hand came to rest on his chest. Her skin felt hot and soft against him, her nails digging ever so slightly into his skin.

  “You poor thing, just look at your pants. You sweat through those, too,” she said, and slowly unbuttoned his pants. They fell, bunching up around his feet.

  Rich and strong. Give her control…let her do what she was made to do. The impulse is right.

  The pressure pushed out against his eyes, his headache seemingly filling his entire head now. “I really don’t think…” he stammered, trying to push her away, but his own impulses swept in and momentarily pushed away his objections.

  His thoughts jumbled again, just as it had with Lex in the commissary, but it wasn’t quite the same this time. He didn’t want to fight this time, but fall into Soraya’s arm and let her do whatever she wanted.

  No, damn it, he thought, cursing the strange thoughts and urges. It wasn’t him. This wasn’t him. She was a happily married woman, and he was no home wrecker.

  Soraya came forward suddenly, pushing him into the wall. Her lips pressed into his, her tongue sweeping into his mouth. She kissed him passionately, the warmth of her body settling over him like a hot blanket.

  “Wait…Soraya, what are you doing?” he argued, pushing her away, but she was lithe and strong. She reached down and wrenched her robe open, exposing a tight-fitting sports bra and bikini style panties. Her stomach was shapely and muscular. His eyes dropped to the curves of her hips and thighs.

  “I don’t know…what it is…but there is…something about…you. My body…it feels so alive,” she said and swooped forward again, smashing her body against his.

  Jacoby lifted his head, but she kissed his neck, working her tongue down over his chest and to his nipples, moaning and gasping. “You’re a…nice guy…but I’ve never…wanted anyone so badly before. So bad it hurts. Just want…to…need to throw you down and have you inside me.”

  “What about Preston?” he argued.

  Soraya ground her body against him, her breasts warm and soft against his chest. She pulled away suddenly, her eyes lifting to his. Her pupils were huge, the chocolate brown of her irises almost invisible against the black.

  “It’s not about love,” she hissed, her voice low and husky with lust. Her nostrils flared, her breath coming in short, powerful gasps. “You can feel it, too. I can see it,” she said, running a hand down over his shorts and against his throbbing erection.

  Yes, she feels it – the need. It is natural. Just give in to her. You don’t have to do anything, just let her take it. His thoughts started to jumble again.

  “No, not again,” he grunted, clenching his jaw and fighting to block out the strange thoughts.

  Soraya came forward again, her movements urgent and strong. She grabbed his hand and slid it against her stomach and inside the waistband of her panties. Jacoby tried to pull away, but his mind…his body, fought him. Part of him wanted this. She leaned forward and arched her back, moving his fingers down between her legs, the skin shaved bare and satin-smooth.

  “Do you feel it? Feel my need?” she gasped, her face against his neck. She bit his ear gently and guided his fingers back and forth, parting her lips – she was hot and wet, ready for him. Soraya moaned, rocking her hips forward against his hand, her body shaking against him.

  Yes. Strong and intoxicating like chocolate. Not fire, but chocolate and wonderful just the same.

  “Oh, Coby. I need it now…I’m going to fuck you, Coby. I need it so bad it hurts. Oh my god it hurts!” she moaned, her breath hot against his ear. Yes. In that moment he wanted it, too.

  Soraya pulled his hand out and reached for his shorts, but Jacoby snapped back to clarity and wrestled free. She clawed at him, her nails catching and scratching his shoulder. He managed two steps towards the bathroom before her hand hooked his arm.

  Why is she doing this? Jacoby thought frantically as he turned around to fight her off. It wasn’t like he’d never stared at her breasts before, or fantasized about what she lo
oked like naked while taking care of himself. Soraya was definitely one of the sexiest ladies on station, but this…this didn’t feel like a fantasy. After everything that’d happened lately, it felt more like an attack.

  “I like it when you struggle,” she growled.

  Jacoby swung around and pushed Soraya against the wall, using his weight to pin her. She fought back, the muscles in her arms, stomach, and legs flexing in the limited light.

  “Soraya, please stop,” Jacoby pleaded. She leaned forward, fighting and trying to kiss him.

  “Soraya, stop!” he yelled. She didn’t stop. With a primal snarl, she bent low and heaved him back, squatting his entire body off the ground in the process. Her momentum slammed Jacoby into the wall, the impact knocking his breath away and showering his vision with stars. Soraya muscled him upright and yanked his shorts down.

  “Yeah, baby, I’m gonna make you cum so hard…show you what a real woman can do,” she growled, her voice even lower…like a cat purring.

  Jacoby sputtered for breath, choking on his words, his thoughts a confusing mess. Soraya pinned him against the wall with a hand, her nails dragging down his chest and onto his stomach.

  This is what you need. Submit. Let it happen. Don’t fight. Purify her and make her ours. Make us all whole.

  “What does that mean?” he gagged, fighting to understand what it meant.

  He felt Soraya kiss his stomach, then her lips wrapped around the head of his penis and she slid his length into her mouth. Soraya pushed him back against the wall again, her hand firmly on his chest.

  Jacoby moaned as she worked back and forth, her mouth and tongue soft and firm around his cock. Her hand continued to push him back, pinning him against the wall. It felt right, part of him reveling in the soft warmth of her mouth…the small, subtle voice in his heard singing with a lustful fire.

  This is wrong, another part of him shouted and he moved to pull away, but she slapped him back against the wall. His thoughts swirled in a cloud of pleasure, doubt, and fear, the pain thrumming behind his eyes and between his ears.