CHAPTER VII: INFECTION
"DERRICKSON, GET A MASK!" shouted Turin desperately. "What about you guys?" I said. "You're closer!" he said, "Now go!" I ran to the opposite wall, where there was a rack holding gas masks. Three other guys got over there in time as well. The other eleven were down on the ground, being enveloped by the vapor. They began to writhe unnaturally, eventually laying still. The gas dissipated, and me and the three other guys took off our masks. "Let's get out of here," I said. "Why?" asked the guy nearest to me. "'Cause I've seen this before," I said, "Come on." I led them out of the room, making sure to close the door behind us. I hadn't seen any movement from those left behind. We found our way to the transport, and I said through my com-unit, "Hey, we're going to need to leave here. It was a trap." "You got it," said the pilot, "I'll fire up the engine." "Great," I said, "And hurry. It'll get a lot worse the longer you take." "Well, what happened?" he asked. I could hear the transport's engine roar. "Well," I said, "it looks like they rigged the ship to fly by itself, or maybe by remote control, and planted the virus onboard. They figured we'd all just die, and they'd have enough left over to do it again and again, just in case we send more." "Okay, we'd better tell Max, then," said the pilot. I was about to agree when a large red energy bolt appeared on the transport's left side.
It hit the transport, blasting a hole right through. The pilot's com-unit suddenly cut out. I ran up to the hole we'd cut to get in, leaning out and looking in the direction that the bolt had come from. I saw the smaller ship. But there weren't any guns on the exterior, and there didn't seem to be any closable ports for hidden cannons, either. I sighed, saying, "Whoever they're transporting is over there. And there's no way for us to get to it. We thought they'd transport their leader in a grand ship, not some space-dinghy." "Now what, then?" said one of the three with me. "Now, we watch out for the other eleven," I said. "The virus?" said the one who hadn't spoken until now. "Yeah," I said, "The virus. Right now, you've got a terrible choice set in front of you. You either get killed by your former C.O.s and comrades, or you kill them. And if we want to complete our assignment, we'll have to choose the latter." "Well, we need to find some place to lay low first," said one of the soldiers. Another said, "I've heard that those zombies can think a little bit, use the memories they had when they were human. If that's true, we can't go back to that mess hall." "Good observation, soldier," I said, "So that means we also can't use a storage unit. We did that too recently." "So where do we go?" said a soldier.
"If we bar the doors to their barracks, assuming they have some up here, we can stay there for a while," I said, "But we can't make a lot of noise. It attracts them. Now come on. We've got maybe ten more minutes before they come out of there." We headed down the hallway, our guns down but our knives out. Soon, we did find barracks. They were simple, just a small hallway with rows of stiff beds along the walls. But they would have to do. I closed the door behind us and smashed the keypad. "Okay, if we want to get out now, it'll take some tugging," I said, "And it goes the same for the zombies. They'll have to put a lot of effort into getting to us. Now, rest. As well as you can. When you wake up, you'll have a lot to do." We all got onto our own beds, trying our best to take a short nap. I was awake for a while, worrying that we'd fail. Or even if we did succeed, what we would be like afterwards. Soon enough, though, I did fall asleep with the rest. We were probably out for a couple hours. We all woke up around the same time, getting ready to exit the barracks.
A few minutes later, we gingerly approached the door, opening it slowly. We walked out of the barracks cautiously, making sure our footfalls didn't make much sound. I went out first, looking both ways down the hall. I turned and nodded to the others to tell them it was okay. We turned to our right, proceeding down the hall. We decided to form up so that two were facing the direction we were walking, and the other two were facing backwards. "It's so quiet," said the soldier directly behind me, "Are you sure it's the virus?" "I'm sure," I said, "They're just quieter than you'd think." "How quiet is that?" asked another soldier. "Sh," I said, noticing something amiss. There were a few loose cables hanging from the ceiling. "What's so important about those?" asked a soldier. "When the zombies first get up," I said, "they tend to thrash around and jump erratically for a few minutes. That usually means they tear up a lot of things, cables included." One of the soldiers gulped, nervous. "This has to mean one's near this area," I said, "Stay quiet." They all nodded.
We didn't say a word for a few minutes, simply looking forward, making sure there wasn't anything in our way. Suddenly, we heard a low, guttural growling from our left side. "Get it," I said quickly, "And don't get a good look." None of them asked why, instead simply firing. A decimated zombie fell out from the shadows. I turned it over. It was Miller. "That's why you don't get a good look," I said, "Otherwise you'll never be able to do it. We'd better move away from here. The gunfire will attract a few of them." We continued, and not long after, another zombie, a soldier I never knew, ran toward us. I deftly stabbed through its visor with my knife, the blade piercing through its entire head and coming out the other side. It weakly clutched at my sides for a few seconds. Its arms hung limp soon enough. It was just hanging from my knife blade at that point. I pulled the knife out, flicking the blood off towards the ground. "All right, that's one," I said. I looked back at the other soldiers. They looked scared. "What if we can't do it?" one asked. "You have to," I said, "Or something's going to get torn, and you'll get infected." I found that a feeling of intense indifference towards what used to be my comrades creep up my soul, and I didn't mind. All that mattered right now to me was surviving.
Still we pressed on, and three more zombies we had to kill. Or was it just me? The memory has faded too much by now. All I remember is that the fear the others were surely feeling simply didn't touch me. We had seven other zombies to get rid of at this point: Turin, Simmons, Richards, and four of the soldiers sent with us. With this on our minds, we walked the echoing halls of the ships still more. I paid no attention to the soldiers behind me. I didn't know the terrible mental state they were in at the time. If it was in fact just me who killed all the zombies, it meant that I was either being very brave or frighteningly aggressive, even though in life I could've been friends with the zombies. If it was bravery, then those soldiers were most likely in awe. If it was the latter, more disturbing possibility, they were, inch by inch, distancing themselves from me. Either way, the zombies were dispatched quickly. The first was stabbed. Three more were shot. Two were killed by pressure grenades. The final zombie, however stands out in my memory. It was Richards.
We were in search of him for who knows how long, traversing the whole ship. I checked my gun, realizing I was out of ammo. I sighed, holstering it and taking out my knife. I walked in front as ever, my blade in front of me. The atmosphere thickened with fear and anticipation. One last, dangerous zombie. I had observed slight learning habits in the zombies, so it seemed likely that it had something up its sleeve. So I decided to say, "All right, be careful. This thing might do something unexpected." "No kidding," said a soldier. "Just watch out, okay?" I said. "You don't have to tell us," said another soldier. I could tell they were aware of their situation and they were probably less scared. They were mentally prepared, as far as I could tell. I heard scratching ahead of us. I quickly held up my fist, and gestured to the others to get up against the wall, in the shadows. We all fell in, and we heard erratic footsteps coming from down the hall. A slight glow was emanating from that direction. I furrowed my brow, wondering what each of those signs could mean. I gestured towards the others to stay back. I went out into the hall, keeping close to the wall.
I saw after a few seconds the figure of the zombie. It was holding a laser machine-gun. "Perfect," I said to myself. I saw it clearly now, stepping out in the open. It turned towards me, roaring and aiming. It shot twice, and I ducked out of the way. I wasn't in time to keep it from knocking the knife from my hand. I clutched at my wrist, groaning softly. I went up against the wall, and the zombie looked around. The zombies had poor focus skills. If their prey got out of sight, they were immediately and severely confused. All you had to do was get out of its way, and you'd get a few seconds head start to take it out. And that's what I did. I didn't have time to go for my knife, so I had to resort to my hands. I ran out from the shadows, making sure I never looked at its face. I lunged and quickly punched it in the face. I didn't bother taking up its gun, instead, punching it again and again in the head. I knocked it down, straddling it and continuing to punch. I eventually heard several cracks, and I knew I'd broken its skull. Very soon, it stopped moving. I guessed a bone shard had pierced its brain. But as the blood seeped from its nose and mouth, I finally came back to myself.
I remembered the Richards I had met, the optimist who loved life and hated the aliens. I thought about how he had his human life unfairly taken, only to be replaced by a mindless idea of conquest and carnage. I broke down, crawling away and sitting up against the wall. The other three joined me. "What is it?" asked one. I gestured weakly towards the broken carcass in front of us, saying nothing. The others didn't say anything either, instead sitting beside me. "What are you doing?" I asked. One shrugged, "Well, by my count, that's all the zombies dead. That means we need to get out of here. We need to tell Max." "No," I said, "We need to get rid of that commander." We heard clanging from another side of the ship at that moment. We all looked up, wary. "What was that?" asked a soldier. I sighed, got up, and said to him, "That's the smaller ship. It's docking. He's here." I looked into the hall, and heard a deafening roar.