Chapter 22 - One Womans Murder Is Another Womans Damnation

Debbie Howards had no idea where she was, but she couldn't care less about that. After all, waking up next to your husband's corpse was hardly the best way to start your day, a day she'd spent most of running, without knowing what it was she was running from, which led her to where she was now. Lost. She hadn't recognised anything for the last two hours but that wasn't all that surprising. She hardly ever left the deck she lived on, and if so, that was only to go to the gym every now and then. She'd always berated Burt for not keeping in shape, for letting himself go, but now she would never have to do that again because he was dead, slit from groin to sternum, entrails everywhere. Nope, no more complaining about his screaming when he woke up, no more nagging at him to clean up after himself, no more nagging at him to leave the toilet seat down. No more nagging, period. Maybe she could nag at him for being dead, but that was hardly his fault, was it? She knew little enough about what he actually did, just that he was an engineer on deck 47. But now, she couldn't even trust that. She could trust nothing and no-one, not after waking up next to her husband's bloody corpse.

It all started after that bloody explosion on Deck 47... when he came back from the infirmary he was different, it just wasn't my Burt anymore... but I never heard anything about that damn explosion anywhere else. Even Burt said he didn't remember it so what the hell did happen down there?

She was determined to find out, even if it cost her her life.

Which it invariably would...


"Corporal, she's disappeared."

"You WHAT!" she screamed.

"We've searched the entire deck and there's no sign of her."

"Ohshitohshitohshit..." Corporal Sascha Vicks paused, trying to figure out just what the game plan was going to be. "OK, it's gonna go like this. We've got to treat this like a normal homicide, plain and simple. We start by telling all of the people that know her, telling them that we're looking for her in connection with her husbands death. We tell them the basic facts. That he was found in their bed with another woman, both of them dead. Tell them that they died of stab wounds but do not, and I repeat, do NOT tell them exactly how he died or they'll never believe she did it. We'll keep that under wraps, OK? Well what are you waiting for? Get to work!" she snarled.

"Oh man, I'm gonna have to report this... he's gonna roast my arse..." Resigned to her fate, she searched for a corner she could sit in without being disturbed. Failing that, she found a bench and table close to a wall which she sat at. Pulling out the grey videocom device, she punched in her passcode and then the number for him. As his gnarled face popped up on screen, her throat caught, probably caused by her heart jumping into her mouth.

"Have you finished it?" came the cold voice.

"Uhm... there have been a few complications, but I'm right on top of it sir," she said, trying to keep her voice calm but confident.

"This is what happens when you incompetents try to take charge!" Slamming his hand down on his desk, he leaned forwards, glaring into the screen. "Do the job and do it well. No fuck-ups or you're gonna find yourself on recall as well!"

Abruptly, he cut the link and Sascha's screen faded to black. Leaning forwards onto the table, she supported her head with one hand whilst still holding the videocom in the other. She was so caught up in her thoughts that she never heard the steps behind her before too late. Whirling around, the last thing she saw was a metal pole rushing towards her head...


Cautiously, she dragged the body through the ventilation shafts that annexed the entire station. She only knew where a few places were on this deck but that was enough for the moment. Pushing open a grille, she pulled Corporal Vicks body past her and dropped her into the small supply room, following after her. Quickly getting to work, she grabbed some duct tape and bound Sascha's wrists and legs together. So she waited for the young woman to come to, praying she hadn't hit her too hard...

A few hours later, she proved successful. Coming to. Sascha Vicks's vision swam as she groggily shook her head. "What the fuck happened?" she mumbled, unsure of her surroundings. Trying to rise to her feet, she found her hands and feet bound.

"This happened," came a voice, and a metal pole was waved under her nose. Slowly, her memory came back. She'd just got off the videocom and she remembered being hit over the head. Slowly, her eyes moved along the pole and onto the figure clutching it. Her eyes widened as she saw who it was. Debbie Howards.

"Now, you're going to tell me what the hell is going on and who the hell killed Burt you bitch!" she cried, tears welling up in her eyes.

"If you let me go, I'll tell you everythi--" She shied away as the metal pole came crashing down on the floor beside her, the clanging sound ringing in the air for a few seconds.

"What the hell do you take me for? I know you're in on it! I'm not about to let you go... for all I know, I'm next and I'm not about to let you kill me like you did my husband!" She screamed, pure rage in her voice.

Knowing it would be her only way out of the room alive, Corporal Vicks told Debbie everything she needed to know, and some things she didn't. Slowly, over the course of the next hour, Mrs. Howards' expression changed from rage, to grief, to disbelief and then to stillness. When she finally finished speaking, Sascha watched Debbie as she stood up slowly, the metal pole still in her hand.

"So now you let me go, right?" she asked, a faint tinge of hope in her voice.

Hoisting the pole up to her shoulders, Debbie Howards stared at one of the sidewalls. "No. Now I let you die." With a quick swing, she smashed the pole into the side of Sascha Vicks' head, knocking her to the floor. Lifting the pole above her head, she swung down hard, again and again, hot, sticky blood streaking the walls, her clothes and her face as she slowly mashed Ms. Vicks' head into a messy pulp. Panting, she dropped down to her hands and knees and started retching, being violently sick over everything. She had just killed her first person in cold-blooded murder. Sobbing loudly, she swore she wouldn't cry again until this was all over or she was dead.

Resolving herself, she clambered back into the ventilation shaft, bloody pole still in hand, going to see if what the late Sascha Vicks had told her was really true. She prayed to God it wasn't...