In space, no one can hear you scream.
Written by Gundam Butterfly
Author's note: This is a brand new fic, set in the future. I probably won't update this fic as much because of my other fic, Nightmare Island. Oh, and ignore the clichéd title. I couldn't think of anything better.
Disclaimer: 'Resident Evil' and all associated material are trademarks of Capcom, Inc. The characters, the vessel and anything else not linked to 'Resident Evil' in any way are mine.
Chapter 1
Hello. My name's Moore, Bradley Moore. I've been working for five years on the EUS Oxford, one of September freight's eight ships. We basically transport low-key goods from one planet to the other, cars, computers monitors, wood, etc.
But for some reason, there's a noticeable section of the ship that's closed off to everyone onboard, even the captain, and I've noticed that small ships have approached the vessel, but they don't turn up in the docking bay.
But hey, I'm just a normal repairman, and it won't affect me, will it?
***
I returned to my quarters at about 5.00pm. It'd been a normal day, fixing short-circuited mechs, picking up bits up broken vending machine, basically fixing all the shit the others screw up. It'd been a hard day, and just as I hit the bed in my sleeping quarters:
"Would Bradley Moore please report to rec room 3. Thank you." The ship's automated computer blared out.
"Ah, fucking hell." I said wearily.
"Hard day?" My roommate John said. John was a security guard, and a complete gun nut. It may be the future, but weapon technology was still stuck in the 1990's. There had been countless experiments, but trying to develop laser guns for the civilian market was difficult, and even if they cut more corners then a Swedish F1 driver, it would still cost a years wages to just to afford a laser pistol.
John was cleaning out is double-barrelled shotgun, and was about to move to his MAC 10 when I left.
***
"OK, what's wrong?" I asked. "Damn machine jammed when I tried to get a drink." The man standing by the machine said.
"Didn't I see you kick this beverage container earlier?" I said smarmily.
"Look, just fix the piece of crap, will ya?" He said, getting tetchy.
I just started replacing some fuses, learning that computer operators don't have a sense of humour when…
"Uhhrrrr."
"Oh, stop complaining. I'm going as fast as I can." I said.
"That wasn't me." The man defended.
I ignored his comment and got back to work again.
"Uhhrrrr."
"Shut up!" I shouted to him.
"I told you, it wasn't me." He defended again.
I sighed, and started tinkering with the control panel when I heard an annoying squelching sound.
"Um, mate, you might want to come look at this."
I groaned again and took my head out of the machine, and looked where the other guy was pointing.
What I saw would change my life forever.
A shambling, decaying figure of flesh was ambling towards us, it's arms outstretched. It's skin was grey, and it's eyeballs was a greying white, with no pupils what so ever. It moaned eerily, and half of its vital organs were missing, and in its chest was gurgling, yellow fluid, which I recognised as bile. And the most scariest thing about this entity was its heart. It wasn't beating. That thing was walking, moving it's arms and wailing, and the damn thing wasn't beating.
I reached into my bag of tools and produced a big, heavy plier. I swung it over my shoulder like a golf club.
"Uh, sir, the machine hasn't been fixed yet." The other man said.
The monster still crawled towards us, regardless.
"Sir, could you step back please?" The man repeated, with more tone. He held out his hand to signal getting back.
The creature replied to this by taking a big chunk out of it.
As the other guy jumped out of the way, screaming, I returned the favour by slamming the wrench deep into its skull. The insides burst all over the wall.
I looked at the other guy. He had a look of pain and shock on his face.
He moved his hand away from his injured appendage and examined it. There was a deep hole in his hand. It was bleeding profusely and you could see the muscle tissue and bone in his hand.
"Oh, shit! I'm going to the infirmary!" the man wailed, and he ran off out of the room.
I looked down at the man I'd just killed. "I'm in deep trouble for this." I said. The only way out now was reporting this to the captain. I sighed, and headed for his office.
***
I was lying on my bed with my head on the pillow. I explained what I did to the captain, how it was in self-defence and the thing was already dead, but he didn't believe a word of it. But who would? I wasn't believing it myself, even though the medical team was surprised at how fast the corpse had decomposed.
The door slid open, and John waltzed in.
"How are you?" John said. "You murderer." He said in quieter tone, trying to rub it in.
"I told you, it was in self defence!" I defended. "The maniac bit off half the guy's hand, for Christ's sake!"
"You know, there's a place for you on this ship." He said. "The psychiatric unit." He chuckled. Even though it was an insult, I was too depressed to think of a comeback.
"Ah, man, don't be like that." He said, trying to comfort me. "Besides, guess who's got the autopsy report!" John waved a brown envelope in front of my face.
"Ah, you read it first. Give me the gory details." I said.
The report wasn't very long; four pages in all, stapled together in the top left hand corner.
John was scan reading the document, murmuring things that made me very uncomfortable when he piped up.
"Hey, Bradders, according to this, the corpse was already dead when you killed it." He said.
"Tell me something I don't know." I said.
"The organs that were missing weren't removed by you. The DNA samples were different."
"Oh, just gimme the thing." I ordered. John handed me the papers. Nothing I didn't know.
"So what does this mean?" John said.
"It means" I said, "that the thing I killed was a zombie."
After an awkward silence, the door slid closed. John rushed over and tried to open the door.
"Shit!" he said, frustrated "Sealed."
"Due to an unknown viral leak, a ship-wide lockdown has been activated. If you are coming down with anything, please use the nearest phone to call the medical department, and a doctor will be dispatched to your location." The ship's computer blared.
John jumped into an armchair and started reading a gun magazine.
"John, what are you doing?" I asked, with an angry tone in my voice.
"Making the best of a bad situation." He replied.
"You should be helping me with my defence in court!" I shouted.
"Relax." He said. "With this lockdown, there won't be any trial. Or you just bought more time to help you prepare for your defence." He said.
"Well then you can help me out!" I shouted, while he went to the fridge.
"Aw, crap, we got no beer." He said dismayed.
"No beer?!" I yelled. "I'm gonna be dragged down, five years in the brig, my whole life in the gutter, and all you can think about is your stinkin' beer?!"
"To hell with your trial." He said. "I'm going for some beer."
"And how are you going to do that?" I asked.
"Easy." He said. He removed an air vent covering. "Ta-da!" He does a dramatic pose and points to the duct.
"The air vents?" I said, with a 'you're-a-pathetic-arsehole' tone that I was proud of.
"How else do think I got around during the food fight incident?" He said.
John grabbed a .22 pistol with five clips and his prized double-barrelled shotgun along with eight buckshot rounds.
"Why do you need all those guns?" I asked.
"I'll need them if I run into one of those things you encountered." He replied. John climbed into the duct entrance. "Come with?" he asked.
"Yeah, may as well." I replied. After all, it could have been my last major journey in the ship.
John continued into the duct while I clambered in.
"You know, you can really moody when you try." John said.
"Shut up." I replied.