Here I go, firing off part two of "The Halls of the Damned." For those of you who are curious about the title, I did indeed use the name of Doom's E2M6. It is my favorite map of the episode. Try playing it on Ultra-Violence starting with nothing but a pistol and see how many times you have to restart. Proud to say - I can do it with 100% completion. Enough Rambling though. ONWARD!
2.
The corridors of Phobos Labs were different to me now. As I trudged through the bodies of the dead, I began remembering walking through this section of the facility. The floors, walls, and ceilings were all a dull light-grey. I would think of how boring it all looked. Now, I missed it. The floors had darkened and the tiles changed. They were almost black - just like the walls. I seemed as though the ceiling was so high up that you couldn't see it anymore in some places, though the absence of light in most of the areas contributed to that effect. This feeling of a lingering evil crept up my spine and took hold at my neck, putting me on my guard and had me seeing things that danced just beyond the threshold of the shadows. As I rounded a corner, a lonely mirror stared back at me. I nearly jumped out of my skin seeing another figure before me, but I crossed the room to get a better look at what had happened to me while I was out.
Holy shit, I need some clothes... I noticed, somehow for the first time that the only thing I was wearing was the "stasis-skivvies," as the lab boys liked to call them. As luck would have it I found one of the biggest marines I'd ever seen bent backwards over a partition. Poor bastard, I thought as I hefted his body to the floor. It appeared that other than his back being folded the wrong way, he hadn't suffered any other injuries. I had no qualms disrobing him. Ever since my episode in the genetics chamber, I couldn't help but feel this new sensation within me. It was like one moment my senses were heightened to the extreme, and the next it was just plain, old me - confused and weak with hunger. I put on the combat uniform and it fit snugly over my features. The marine's boots were slightly too big, but I was a bum among the heaps, so I put them on anyway. I stood up, ready for inspection. As I neared my reflection, I couldn't help but gasp in surprise. Not at my larger form, but at my face - namely my eyes. The whites had blackened to match my pupils, and my irises were red. Blood red, with an intensity I'd never seen in any other human.
I used to be average-looking. Just less than six feet tall, average brown hair with an unremarkable face adorned with a well-kept goatee. I was thin and pale, with a ponderous walk and hands that were slightly too big. Not a clumsy build, but pretty nerdy. Not that I had a problem with it, but in all of my twenty-eight years no one had ever called me "handsome" aside from my mother. My brother was the athletic one. He was huge - built like a brick shithouse with a two-car garage. The ladies hung on him. He was a marine and damn proud of it. I was proud of him. Now, as I looked my new self over, the thought crossed my mind that I was the big brother again. I wondered what John was doing and hoped with all my might that he didn't get sent here to this hellhole with those other marines. They were torn apart like ragdolls that had been found by the family dog, and I'd have hated to find his body among the dead here.
I wasn't far from the staff lounge. Just a few more turns down the corridors, past the weapons research and development labs, and through the double-doors. My mouth salivated at the thought of food. No amount of destruction or time would have spoiled some of the items that were stocked in the pantry. I only hoped that none of those monsters craved packaged foods, though my better judgment reminded me of the partially eaten bodies that lay with the rest in the halls. Once I rounded the last corner I began hearing faint sounds of a biological nature. It seemed impossible to me that anyone or anything still lived, so I dismissed it as my imagination playing tricks. As I neared the doors, the sound grew loud enough that I could hear words. Has to be one of the demo videos that drone on and on in the lounge, I thought aloud; but it stopped as soon as I finished the sentence. The dull, grey doors were slightly open and there was light beyond their threshold. Actual, honest to goodness light! It was only after I began pushing the doors inward that I thought to myself that this may not be a good thing. Apprehensively, I pressed forward as silently as I could, only opening the doors to the staff lounge wide enough to permit me entry.
The overhead flourescents were on, casting their white light on the tiled floor of the lounge. They flickered now and again and for those split seconds of darkness, I thought I could see movement. I cautiously stepped forward past the demolished benches just inside the door, listening for any sounds that might indicate a lack of privacy here. After nearly five minutes taking one step at a time, heart racing, I decided to relax and find the packaged snacks that the cupboards almost definitely held captive. My search began as I stepped around the counter segregating the kitchen area from the rest of the lounge. My stomach growled and contracted more and more with every cabinet door I opened, until finally - jackpot. The mother lode of junk food lay tightly and neatly packed into this cupboard. I reached out with the intent of devouring as much as I could handle. There were boxes of snack cakes, freeze-dried fruits, and even food paste tubes that were said to have vitamins and nutrients galore. I tore into the stuff, completely forgetting about where I was.
After a meal of snacks and the surprisingly good-tasting food paste, I felt great. I'd almost finished throwing away the empty packages when the sound of shuffling feet broke the silence within the lounge. I turned quickly and squinted my eyes. There was an area where just over a dozen tables sat unoccupied just beyond the kitchen. The lights were not functioning on that side of the room, so I scanned the darkness for the source of the sound. Soon enough, my eyes were greeted by a nauseating sight. He stood about my height. What was left of his hair was matted down by dried blood. The whole left side of his face seemed to have been torn off to reveal muscle tissue and bone and the remnants of his eye were smashed against his cheek. He'd been a marine before and his uniform was one of the worst I'd seen yet. The shambling corpse's remaining eye was a white orb and it wasn't even apparent how he could even see me, but he turned to move around the counter. At first, all I could do was watch in horror. I'd never believed in any of this crap - zombies, demons, monsters... and now here it was, hungrily shuffling toward me with a mouth full of rotted teeth and jerking limbs. I finally shook the paralysis locking me down and began searching frantically for something I could use as a weapon. The zombie stepped the first gnarled foot into the kitchen area just I fished the biggest damned carving knife I'd ever seen from one of the drawers. I reverse-gripped it and stood ready. The big, clumsy corpse closed the distance and lunged at me, emitting a half growl. Big mistake on his part. I showed him the error of his ways by jamming the blade into his temple and the corpse fell to the floor noisily. It twitched a few times before completely seizing up and I stepped over the bastard. It then occurred to me that arming myself was my next priority.
Just outside the staff lounge, across the hall, was a janitor closet. The door was unlocked and I stepped inside to find the damned thing untouched. Figures... Muttered the little voice in the back of my head. My gut still reeled from having to dispatch a member of the living dead, but it didn't stop me from being utterly annoyed at the prospect that these flesh-eating fiends may still be wandering the halls of Phobos base. I hadn't completely dismissed the possibility, but having to deal with it was something I didn't look forward to. I wasn't a violent person in the past, but if this shit kept up, I knew I'd be stripping the dead of their firearms before long. For now, a sturdy mop-handle would have to do. It was the longest, most durable object I could find in the closet. If I'd had eye protection and some kind of protective clothing I would have considered mixing some of the cleaning agents into corrosives and unleashing chemical warfare on the next shambling bastard that got within throwing distance. I gripped the mop handle near one end and brought the other end to rest on my shoulder then prepared for the long walk to the communications tower. If the equipment was still functional and I could figure out how to use it, I'd be able to contact someone and find a way off this god-forsaken rock.
So far, I've allowed one of my friends to read this and I must say I agree; It's not bad. I'll keep writing, so long as I've got someone telling me that it's worth a read. As stated before, don't hesitate to let me know what you think. Next chapter coming soon!
