Colony of the Dead
A stab at Gundam horror
UC 0077.05.06Entry log of Colonel Dr. Jeffrey Combs MD.
Unit 731, Biological Warfare Division, Mobile Assault Force.
Kycilia Zabi has finally approved sufficient funding and installations for my research of these past four years. All this time I have been a laughingstock! They could not- can not understand what I am trying to accomplish. Genetic bio-engineering and experimentation are the future in biological warfare, as I established in my papers those many years ago. The fellow doctors in my staff are young and openminded, much unlike those decaying scholars in the universities of ancient Earth, who dared to call me a madman.
UC 0077.05.10
We have been given a research facility on colony 'Quintzem', right in the heart of Side 3. The Earth Federation would never suspect the manufacturing of weapons of mass destruction in this place, since it is the only EF-friendly colony in the entire Side. A new addition to the staff arrived today, Dr. West, a virologist. He seems to comprehend my ultimate goal. The creation of a supersoldier; heightened tissue regeneration, improved senses, muscle increase, more intelligence and speed. Something more tangible than the prophecised Newtype.
UC 0077.11.21
Failure! Every human test subject died several minutes after the introduction of the serum into the bloodstream. I don't understand, all preliminary tests and results state that it should have worked… No choice but to bring in the first for dissection. West has opted that the serum mutated to adapt and overcome the leukocytes in the blood. Her Excellency will not be pleased.
UC 0077.11.22
1.45 AM. An unexpected turn of events. During dissection the cadaver of test subject 1 came back to live! Over the course of an hour all other dead test subjects stood alive and well in their holding cells. I'm most intruiged and will seek this out to the bottom, after I've had my sleep.
UC 0077.11.23
It seems that the serum has completely mutated the DNA of the host while in a dead-like state. We have done several tests on subject 2, he- it has shown enhanced smell and hearing senses. The creatures even have heightened tissue regeneration, we have so far killed subject 3 five times without staying dead. Conventional weapons and tactics are useless. They are not immune to bullets or schrapnel but can't be killed by it neither. Signs of intelligence however are not present, it seems to be driven by the primal instincts to feed and survive only. Further testing showed that it has a taste for fresh meat, especially brain tissue. You should see the remains of that sheep.
As for the serum, it steadily gasifies when in contact with oxigen. It is infectious when in fluid, gasious and presumably solid state.
UC 0077.12.03
I have reported my findings to Kycilia Zabi. She has shown great interest in this new development. She can see, just as I, that we can use my serum against the Federation once the Revolution will commence. Although she is eager to end the future conflict as soon as possible it didn't seem wise to deploy my bio-serum on Earth. I must agree, it's totally uncontainable on land, colonies and the lunar settlements are better for possible attacks.
Extra note: Lady Kycilia has dubbed the creatures 'Zombies', after seeing shot footage of them. The nickname will do until I find an appropriate Latin appelation.
UC 0078.01.28
Unit 731 is hereby ordered to use all its power and resources on the development of this new bioweapon. An onfortunate nurse was bitten and placed in quarantine, her description of the symptoms are most fascinating. An acceptable loss, it proved my earlier theory about the solid state infection. West has expressed a certain reluctance to Her Excellency's order over the matter of continuation. I'm beginning to doubt his loyalties. Even the people of this colony are growing restless, at some point or another this might turn ugly.
Extra note: 11.32 PM. The nurse's wailing had me disturbed, vocal cords surgically removed.
UC 0078.12.13
Almost completed! So close, so very close…
UC 0078.12.24
It is as I suspected, Dr. West has been sabotaging my lifework whenever he could. He even ranted to me last night how I committed incomprehensable crimes against God's Creation. It is a joke that he calls himself a man of science when he still puts ludicrous faith into a mass figment of people's minds! I created what no man's mind nor woman's womb could ever hope to achieve. There are great difficulties in getting raw materials for my research since martial law is still in effect after the riots and protests of the last two months.
UC 0078.12.25
Mass production of the serum is completed and stored in the massive newly-build storages of the research facility. When we strike the Federation will be crushed by their own dead soldiers. I have been invited to the estate of Her Excellency on Zuum City for the Christmas party tonight and celebrate the success of my proje-…
"Still playing God, Doctor Combs?" A voice interrupts.
The startled doctor looks up only to recognize his co-worker standing in a corner of the otherwise empty laboratory.
"West! Have you been drinking, man? You look like shit."
He takes a little step out the shadows and reveals his shabby condition. Keeping something hidden with his left hand in the pocket of his white overcoat. West's free hand twitches and he has a nervous smirk on his face.
"True, but the alcohol has finally given me the courage to stop this blasphemy."
"Blasphemy? Spare me your nonsense, West. Before what? God?"
Combs sneers at him.
"A God repulsed by the humanity he created in his own miserable image? I will not be shackled by the incompetence of your God. Where he failed, I triumphed. There!"
Combs points to a cooler filled with various vials, each in a different color. Tissue samples, blood packs, bio-agents, designer viruses and several vials of the serum, ranging from the early stages to the completion; the achievement of a lifetime.
"THAT is my creation!"
"This morbid doodling with humans, is this what it's all about? This is what all our great work has led to?" West becomes more unstable by the second. His hand still in that pocket holding something.
"Exactly what are you insinuating, West?"
"This is madness. I want nothing to do with it anymore!" He screams.
"Oh, I see."
"Shut up! It's time to put a stop to it. Do you know what this is?"
West's hand pulls out a vial, containing a black liquid, from his overcoat. It glows bright in the shine of the desk light.
"This is what your precious serum was going to be if I didn't influence your research now and again. It seems this is the only way to let you face your mistake."
"West, don't you dare."
Slowly West brings the bottle to his mouth. Horrified by what is about to happen Combs reaches for his sidearm. Aiming for the little spot between the madman's eyes.
"I have no problem shooting you."
West begins to laugh maniacal when he sees the clock hanging on the wall.
"It's already too late. Any minute now your creations will be unleashed upon this facility. Sieg Zeon!"
In a single draught West emptied the vial. When he looks back at Combs he can only see five muzzle flashes and collapses on the floor. Mere seconds later explosions shake the entire research base. Alarms go off and gunfire starts to erupt. Combs looks on one of the security monitors to assess the situation. Panic ensues him when he sees the horror, hordes of the zombies have been set loose and are overcoming the feeble defenses.
"You fool! What have you done." He yells to the direction where West's body collapsed.
It should lie there. Yet only blood spattered all over the place is present. Nothing more. Growling can be heard above him, tucked away in the shadows, cold marble eyes stare blankly at him. Only seven bullets left. No match for his formidable creations…
Base level –3, Hallway 12
10 minutes earlier
Guard duty. Dull, boring guard duty. The same walls, the same floor, the same piping, all the freaking time of this ordinary, boring month in a forgotten hole of the Principality. This isn't the way how Jordan Hilts wanted to spend his Christmas. Well, it's his fault. He shouldn't have joined in the MAF in the first place, let alone sign up for the special operations branch, just because the pay was better. Back then it had a sense of mystery around it; Unit 731, Biological Warfare Division. And it was safely in friendly territory, especially with all the prospects of an oncoming conflict. But now…
"I've had it, Sloan. First thing tomorrow I'm filling out a transfer request to the SAF."
"Hahaha. You know they'll send you to a front unit."
The older soldier next to him had to laugh about his comrade's decision. A veteran serving from when it was still the Zeon Elite Force, nothing better than a gang of thugs answering to the Zabi faction. Wounded badly after the riots and the political powerstruggle Ernst Sloan settled for the easiest jobs that the newly-formed MAF had to offer and he finally ended up here.
"So what? Combat pales in comparison to all the crazy things we've seen here. Don't tell me you're not disgusted of it."
"I don't get payed for that. See nothing, hear nothing and say nothing. And that's it, kid."
Again veteran Sloan was amused. Those vile experiments, the look in the prisoner's eyes, the screams and most of all the stench. All day the foul smell of rotting flesh. For some it's easier to block out, to turn a switch in their head. If you can't you'll break.
"Now I'm sure, gramps, you were chiseled out of ice. Fine, stay here and keep on playing securityguard of the damned. I'll be chilling on some colony garrison, drinking cocktails with the attractive locals." Jordan grins on the fantasy.
"Yeah right. Let's hear you talk in about a week or so. They say that the mobilisation begins around the start of the new year. No, I'll stay in the butcher's shop, thank you very much."
"The Zabi's have been ranting about a revolution against the Earth Federation since the first day they got in power. By the time it finally comes I'll be retired. Besides I th- what in blazes?"
Several well-timed explosive charges carry out their mission and tear the Advanced Laboratories wing into shreds. No sooner did it happen when the general alarm goes off. The patrol which just entered the area was killed instantly. Smoke starts to fill up the surrounding corridors. In the first minutes of panic every patrol team reacts to it and try to contain the situation there, without ever realising the dangers which were kept in those horrid labs.
Jordan and Sloan do the same, as it's standard operating procedure. They run down the hall, up one staircase, a left, then the third corridor on the right they stumble on a half caved-in hallway in which a sluice connects the facility to the lab wing. Torn pipings spewing steam across the ground, metal floorplates bent like paper, cables hang lifelessly from the ceiling. Under the cloud of mistlike steam a sticky puddle twists around the soldier's boots. The red emergency lighting warned them about the grave situation behind the double locked plasteel lock gates. In the background gunfire is echoed through the corridors.
"Me thinks we need to get to one of the other sluices."
Jordan mutters upon failing to open it manually from a nearby panel.
"I'm getting a bad feeling about this, kid."
Sloan squats to examine the floor around the outer lock gate. His hand slides over the texture of the plasteel, over the floor and finds plenty empty casings. ZMF-issue, 7.56mm, standard for the submachinegun that every guard here carries, they're still warm. Groping further he discovers even more. The features of Sloan's face don't lie about it when he shows his evidence found on the floor.
"Look at this. Bullets of ours. And we're standing up to our ankles in blood."
"Blood! Blood from what?"
"I'd say from the one who's arm this is." Sloan pulls a SMG, similar to theirs, out from the misty cloud of steam with a ripped off arm still attached to the trigger.
"SON OF A BI-"
"Sssshh…" The veteran shushes the swearing Jordan "You hear that? That growling noise… behind us."
From round the corner a slender form listlessly, step by limping step, hauls itself into the middle of the T-junction. Its head hangs weak upon the golden shoulderpads of the sullied Zeon uniform. The right leg drags a little behind and the person bends slightly through his one supporting knee. Both troopers look in awe to the macabre appearance. Instinctively they lock and load their SMGs and aim at the ominous figure.
"Sergeant Wallis? Is that you? What happe-"
Jordan abruptly stopped once those icecold eyes stared at him, empty and piercing his soul. Whatever is looking, that's not Wallis. Not anymore. The creature starts to moan, because of a broken voicebox, while slowly limping towards the two soldiers.
"I think we've found the owner of that arm." Sloan whispers when he notices the black bloodied stump where the arm should have been on the torso. And turns to the approaching person in a loud commanding voice and signals to go back with his hand.
"Look, Sergeant. Stand back! We'll get you a medic."
It keeps coming closer, its arms start to rise wanting to grab one of them. With each closing step the wounds on the body become more visible and they realise no man could live from such punishment.
"Last warning, Sarge! Stand back or be helped back. Your choice!"
It doesn't even listen and tries to throw itself unto Jordan. Screeching incomprehensable it attacks only to meet the barrel of Sloan's SMG.
"Have it your way, scumsucking zombie!"
The words weren't properly spoken when both emptied their weapons on the thing what once was their comrade. Bullet after burning bullet punctures through the rotting flesh, something what no man could survive. The creature collapses against the wall, out every bulletwound already clotting blood poors out like resin on a tree. It looks dead. It must be dead.
"Don't tell me that the bio-weapon has been set free, or the damn prisoner test subjects?!" Jordan Hilts screams out.
"Designer viruses, way of the future..."
"We didn't caught it, right? What if… if…" He even tries to cover his mouth in a feeble attempt to stop any airborne agents entering his body. The gunfire in the background starts to die off.
"Hmmph…Outbreak Protocol I reckon. Only one way to find out."
Sloan pulls out his walkie-talkie and switches it on to channel two.
"Team 4 calling Base. Base, come in please. Over."
"""This is Base. Go ahead."""
Even recognisable through the static is the voice of their commander, Sergeant-Major Edwin Ragel. The background sounds different from the regular times. Most likely the higher-ups have evacuated outside.
"Team 4 arrived at sluice B, labs are sealed from this point. I hope nothing escaped the quarantine. Please advise. Over."
"""The situation is under control, nothing to worry about. Remain where you are, specialised troops are already underway."""
"What do we do with people trying to exit the laboratory wing? Over."
"""Contain them at all costs. Shoot to kill, we can't take any chances. Over and out."""
And there Sloan has it. HQ sees it a minor accident, nothing more. Big deal, they only gotta shoot innocent people. Ernst Sloan mocks it; Ragel, don't expect to win any awards with those acting skills.
"We've just become expendable, kid. Time to get outta here before we become an article in the obituaries section." He halts for a second, taking to time to check the magazine of his SMG and think out the best course of action. Then he turns around to his partner, only to find him frisking the dead sergeant. "What in ol' Zabi's name are you doing, robbing the dead?"
"Cool it, gramps. I ain't taking chances with zombies that might be spread out all over this facility. This guy still got some ammo clips- hello, what's this? Even a grenade."
"Okay, strip him and let's g- Did he just twitch!?"
"Not funny, slimeball. Whaddaya- AAAAH!"
The zombie grabs hold of Jordan's hand, which is wrapped around the grenade. Again it starts to scream out and tries to bite his victim's face. Jordan himself is screaming and kicking like a pig in the slaughter. His free arm is held by Sloan who is trying to pull his friend loose. Pulling back and forth against this fiendish creature Jordan finally breaks loose.
Still staggering on his two feet he notices something attached around his index finger, a metallic ring of sorts. It starts to sink in to what it belongs. To what he held.
"Hit the deck!"
Barely they jump behind the corner when the live grenade explodes and tears the undead beast to shreds. Blood and decaying pieces of flesh scatter through the corridor. The racket has the nasty effect of attracting every undead in the area. Covered in muckus the two crawl back to their feet thank the heavens that they didn't get caught in the blast. Only to face curious newly born zombies which saunter through the hallways looking for their first prey to feast upon.
"Haul ass, boy! The main entrance, it's our only hope!"
Without fully realising both men run down the corridors, up stairwells, around corners like madmen. Just trying to keep those things behind them as if the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse were dead on their tracks. Focused so hard on the spot right in front of them that because of Doppler floor, wall and ceiling blur together into a generic background.
Running past dead bodies, small fires and all sorts of destruction which happened in the relative short timespan. Unexperienced in fighting such creatures many of the guards fell in the first few minutes. The rest followed shortly after when their ammo ran out. Jordan and Sloan seem to be last ones alive. Their steps start to grow heavy, boots soaked in the puddles of water coming from the fire extinguisher system. Out a side door a zombie dooms up, smelling the fresh meat since they first turned round the corner. Its labcoat stained and dripping with blood, screaming and flailing violently, ready for the kill.
"Pump 'em full of lead!" Jordan roars above the ratling of his SMG.
The undead falls to the ground, riddled with bullets. It already tries to get up when they run past. Both kick it up a notch when the horrendous moaning sounds appear to come closer and closer.
One, two, thre- As good as out.
Jordan throws his rifle away and unstraps his sidearm.
Suddenly they got to stop.
In front of them are at least six zombies, feasting on the remains of one of the lab assistants. Huddled in a circle around the body, clawing and ripping pieces of flesh to eat. For a antrophologist it would to be spectacular as they appear to resemble the theorised behaviour of the ancient cavemen. Under the present circumstances they're just applying for another ride to kingdom come. So far not a single one has noticed them.
"Now what?" Jordan whispers.
"Just one straight hallway past those doors behind them. I suggest I empty my last clip in that bunch and we run like crazy past them before they can get up." Sloan checks his magazine one last time and already unbuckles his pistol for precaution. "Just be sure to cover my-"
Deafening screams of terror interrupt Sloan as they can see a horde of zombies creeping in the hall through which Jordan and Sloan just ran. Just a mere fifty metres behind them now. What seems to be the leader of the small pack raises its head to see what the commotion is about among its brethren down the hall and sees the humans and the tasty brains inside them.
"FIRE IN THE HOLE!"
A short but bright explosion ripped through the rabble of advancing undead behind them. Three of them fall down, here and there some grave wounds, one who lost an arm, bu they just keep coming. Pain is something they don't know anymore. The grenade also set off the fire extinguishers located in the ceiling. Now Jordan has only his pistol left.
Burst after burst from Sloan's SMG tears through the rising zombies in front of them as they begin to fall down again. One, seven, nineteen, twenty-seven… Out of bullets.
"Now run, son!" The old veteran yells as he starts to limp forward.
Jordan acknowledges instinctively and runs as fast as his legs can carry him to the last door between them and freedom. There he turns back to see that his friend isn't nearly as far. Then he notices the limp and the trail of blood behind the dragging leg mixed together with the raining water. Barely moving beyond the zombies he just shot, Sloan falls to the ground when something grabs hold of his bad ankle.
No…
The undead, already rekindled with live, pile themselves unto the helpless soldier which is too busy trying to take hold on the ground to pull himself to safety. Bullets fly from a Zeon standard issue 9mm pistol and impact on the base of the skull of some zombies. Right between the eyes.
So close…
Amazed Jordan looks down the barrel of his sidearm to see that a headshot doesn't affect the undead whatsoever.
"Hey, in the movies they always die!"
From where Jordan Hilts is standing, seeing through the rain, the pile-up looks like a giant sea anemone. The clawing arms of the beasts resembling the tentacles wrapped around an unfortunate fish. Looking closer Hilts sees a different looking arm. It looks to be Sloan's. And it's holding something.
GRENADE!
Catapulted by his own force, and the fear of that suicide-grenade hitting him, Jordan crashes through the last door. He could feel the floor tremble. Dazed he lies on the ground trying to find a focal point. Thoughts rush through his mind without clear order. Gramps… Damn, run! Gotta make… almost ther- RUN. RUN!
"RUN!"
Jordan jumps to his feet, forgetting the pistol completely and rushes towards the main entrance just forty metres ahead. The double doors opened up and ready for a clean getaway. Why are those open at a time like this? No time to think… almost…
Those zombies are unstoppable, already they crawling through the doors and over the left behind gun. Just twenty more paces. Ten.
"MADE IT!" Jordan Hilts yelled excited when he layed his hands on the first reinforced armaplas-forged sluiceport.
So amazed he was that he didn't see what was outside. Until out of nowhere a piercing bright white light shines directly at him from the darkness that was before. Startled he stands in the opening waiting for his eyes to adjust to the strong spotlight. He could start to see a dozen or so figures in half a circle around the entrance.
Zeon Marines…
Squated and each carrying a full-automatic rifle, black leather gloves and skullshaped black gasmasks, fully covering the head to the shoulders. And he could see that the marine commander, the only one standing in the half circle, gave the order.
Goddamn marines. Just one more day and I- I…
The order to shoot. And down Jordan goes, collapsing just five steps away from freedom. The feeling to his legs lost and a burning whitehot pain in his lower back, the taste of metal starts to fill his mouth. Black spots in front of his eyes cloud the things he sees. They keep growing bigger.
And bigger.
And… bi-…gg- GAHK-…eeeeh…
The main entrance is sealed and welded shut by the marines. Then one of them speaks something into his walkie-talkie and within seconds a MS-06W Worker Zaku looms up and starts to shovel concrete into the hole in which the entrance is hidden.
"So, Sgt.Maj. Ragel. This is the only way in and out the complex. You are sure of it?" The marine commander, a captain actually, asked to the leader of the few allowed survivors.
"Yes. That's the only entrance." Edwin Ragel looked to the scene of the Worker Zaku in action and still sees the body buried beneath it. "I never thought we would ever have to use the Outbreak Protocol."
"There's a funny thing about that actually." The captain laughed quite hearable from behind his gasmask, only to turn icecold and points to the direction where the few other survivors are kept. "Our Protocol says: no survivors."
The commander snaps his fingers and five marines do what they were ordered to do. Behind Ragel the remaining survivors are executed. The sudden adrenaline rush pulls his chest together in anxiety. He turns back terrified only to gaze into the barrel of a pistol. Edwin Ragel tried to beg for his life. "Please… Her Excellency…PLEASE!"
"Orders are orders, Sergeant-Major. With the compliments of Lady Kycilia."
The shot echoes throughout the surroundings.
Far from the sight of the Zeon marine detachment, between the trees and bushes a lone small pillar stands. An air ventilation shaft. Unseen and unknown in the vast blackness of a colony-generated night. The hissing sound it makes reveals the decrease of the complex atmosphere, until a complete vacuum remains. Unknowingly releasing the contained virus particles floating in the air inside.
UC 0078.12.31
Quintzem Broadcasting Network
Extra newsbulletin, 01.00 PM
A sickly female newsanchor sits behind her desk with on the background live footage of Zeon ships and troops forming a military barricade around and inside the colony, now and then it switches with pictures of violent protests against the display of power. Her expressions can only be described as panicky and clueless about the entire situation. Then speaks to the viewers.
"""A strange sickness is sweeping our colony, the Centre for Disease Control is powerless to halt it. A colonial quarantine is issued and martial law enforced. Principality vessels have put up a blockade. Meanwhile massive riots have broken loose. Protests sprung up against the presence of Principality forces. The Earth Federation stands idly by while we are being mobilised against. Please stay in your homes, lock your windows and doors. Officials know nothing of the disease- broadcast terminated"""
The emergency test card slowly fades out to the proud golden sigil of the Principality of Zeon. A computerised voice reads the following message to the people of this colony.
"""This broadcast is terminated by act LIV-3bis, standard quarantaine procedure. Know that the Principality of Zeon will do anything in its power to help and assist the fair people of Quintzem. Zeon will not let anything purposely happen to its fellow spacenoids. Commander Aton Alferi, SAF, Quintzem Rapid Response Task Force."""
The end
So there you have it, my first attempt at gundam horror and Zeon zombies. It is intended to be viewed as your typical horror movie, not to be ment scary but just a cocktail of high bodycounts, blood, guts and severed limbs. I leave the scariness to the ones who want to make a gundam ghost story. Hope you liked reading it as I did writing it. It was pretty different to create than your ordinary gundam story, especially when you haven't written any horror before. Extra credit to the one who can guess the movie which I gave a tribute (sort of) to in the beginning. Maybe if I get more inspiration (read: reviews :p ) I could write maybe a couple more UC horror tales. And I hope that this might inspire others to do some alternative gundam stories for the future.