Chapter 3: Altercation

What an absolute horrible way to die.

Bower was still counting his blessings that he was spared the same fate as Lieutenant Cooper. The sudden drop off within the shaft was a death trap seemingly laid out but the ship itself. It were as though his very surroundings were up against him and were conspiring to end his life. Bower eyed the vertical shaft around him nervously.

To save batteries, Bower switched off the flashlight and cracked another chem light. In the bright blue glow, he found a hatch on the floor next to the corpse.

There was nothing he could do for Cooper at the moment so he opened the hatch at his feet and dropped the chem light down below to illuminate the area. The glow stick settled into an open top storage bin a few feet below him. From memory, Bower recalled that the four foot tall by four foot wide bins were double stacked. The bin below was partially full of neatly stacked uniforms, boots, gloves and shoes.

Bower carefully climbed down into the bin.

Fumbling around with the door, he released the inside latch of the bin. The stacked items gave way under his weight and he tumbled out forming a pile of cloth, leather and rubber on the room floor. Bower wondered if his clumsiness was also linked to his memory loss.

Retrieving the glow stick, the blue glow showed him that this was a smaller storage room probably for the aviation personnel. It was much warmer here in the main area of the ship than it had been in the flight wing. The door to the storage room which lead to one of the main corridors was partially closed and it took a fair amount of strain to get it opened.

The door squealed and creaked like it hadn't been opened for a few decades. Bower had to use both of his arms and legs to move the damn thing even a few inches.

The air in the main corridor was stale like a tomb. The silence was eerie.

Without power, all of the normal ventilation and lighting was only working sporadically. The similarity of the passages in the darkness was going to make it difficult for him not to get lost while he was trying to find his way around.

Bower dropped the chem light in front of the doors to find his way back, then he turned towards the security bay.

The lighting was very limited. Shadows loomed, deep pools of nothingness in the vast area around him. Bower used the flashlight again, the beam seemed a lot smaller than it had within the maintenance shaft.

The main corridor was cavernous, stretching about fifteen feet high and about twenty feet wide. It was divided down the center by vertical steel support struts. Rough steel grating tiled the floor and below it all of the plumbing, air pressure pipes and ducts were visible. Along the walls were intercoms, deck directories and an occasional computer terminal. Normally, there were florescent panels overhead and brightly lit signs on the walls that pointed out potential hazards and bay nomenclatures but now they were dark and dirty.

The ship was much different in the darkness than when it was lit. It seemed oppressive, as if the shadows themselves were draping over him, weighing him down. Bower half-expected some unknown creature to pounce at him from the blackness, rending him fiercely with long wicked claws and dragging him off to some dark corner to be devoured. He shuddered with revulsion.

Sometimes an overactive imagination could be a curse rather than an escape.

Snap out of this shit, man! You're a soldier for fuck's sake.

Nevertheless, Bower was cautious as he made his way down the massive corridor. At the first junction, he heard a furtive sound barely perceptible, a quiet rustling. His ears must be playing tricks on him. His heart skipped a beat then began pounding in his ears.

Bower switched off the flashlight and peeked around the bay door to the adjoining corridor. Directly ahead he could barely make out a lithe form in the gloom. The person placed a heavy steel bar in between a set of side bay doors. With surprising ferocity, she pulled hard on the makeshift crowbar and the door creaked and slid open a few inches.

Who could she be? It was too dark to make out what uniform she was wearing. Each classification of civilian and military personnel had different colored overalls. Hers escaped him. Bower decided to use a direct approach.

Keeping his voice low, Bower used the friendliest tone he could muster, "Hi there! Am I glad to see—wait!"

The woman didn't even bother to turn and look at him. She pulled the bar from the door, turned and immediately fled full-bore away from him down the main passage.

"Wait!" He pursued her as fast as he could.

"My name is Corporal Bower," he called. "I gotta ask you some questions! You don't have to be afraid of me! Wait!"

She didn't wait and to his surprise she was actually outrunning him. Legs and arms pumping hard close to her body, she ran with aggression.

Having a decent lead, she rounded a corner ahead of him and he lost sight of her. He stopped and listened for her footfalls so he could continue pursuit but all he heard was his own wheezing.

Damn.

She had to be close by.

Bower clicked the flashlight on again and strode to the nearest junction, looking both ways. To his left, he saw her standing in the shadows of the hall.

"Don't run again, okay?" He diverted his light away from her so she wouldn't spook. "I don't care if you were stealing or anything." Cautiously, he took a slow step towards her watching her closely. "I just wanna ask you a couple of questions."

She stood silently facing him. Something didn't seem right.

Bower continue moving towards her. He felt a sense of dread, a heavy lump of fear in his stomach. Fighting against his instincts, he continued to approach her. He needed to find out what was going on, "How long have you been awake?"

More silence. She was ignoring him.

Bower crept closer, "Hello?"

Still no response. Stiff stance. No reaction.

What the hell?

He grew impatient, "Hello! What, are you fucking deaf?"

Now that he was closer to her, there was definitely something not right. Bower stopped, unsure of what to do next. Slowly he let the beam of his flashlight drift towards her.

Bower was fearful and spoke more quietly, "Hello?"

A hideous corpse hung from a thin cable. The neck was broken and stretched, head drooped to one side, face distorted into a painful grimace, eyes wide and its tongue extended out of its mouth.

Christ!

It was evident the poor guy had not died quickly. His neck was bleeding not only from the cable digging in so deeply but also from him clawing at it trying to free himself. His feet rested on the grating but that was normal in hangings. The neck bones break and the skin stretches downward as the muscles relax and the blood settles after the body has hung for a while.

Bower studied the cable. It was connected to some sort of rigging that had been attached to the overhead steel rafters. This smaller passage was only about eight feet high. The same steel grating was built in to support the cabling and pipes from the main corridor on its ceiling. There was a narrow crawlspace overhead for maintenance with manholes positioned every ten feet or so for accessibility.

The rigging had been set up in that tight crawlspace.

Was it a booby trap? If so, who would set a trap for their fellow crew members?

Bower didn't have time to ponder because as he took another step closer to the corpse, he was kicked in the side of the head. Half from the force of the blow and the other half from his recoiling in shock, he fell back on his ass, flashlight tumbling from his grip. The woman came into view from the shadows, moving low and fast at him. He scrambled to get back on his feet but she spun and kicked him again.

This strike landed more solidly. Even though he had put up his arms defensively to protect his face, he was still knocked flat on his back. With the agility of a cat, she rolled onto him, her face close to his, straddling him. He tried to buck her off and instinctively threw a punch at her face but she caught his arm. Her grip was like steel.

She pressed down on his captured arm and despite his resistance, she managed to tuck it under her leg at his side. In the limited light, her eyes were an icy blue. Her body was hard and strong like an athlete's. He felt cold sharp steel at his neck.

"Don't move." She whispered into his ear. Her breath gave him goosebumps.

Bower froze. Shit.

Her body odor was strange, like motor oil. Perhaps, she was a mechanic. He couldn't see much of what she was wearing but her uniform had been altered, tied and tucked in tightly to her body. She had the long pole on her back and he saw that it was a wickedly sharp spear.

She suddenly began to frisk him. She pulled out the photo of the blonde from his breast pocket, glanced at it and tossed it aside. Her hands moved lower searching him.

Bower felt violated.

"What are you looking for?"

She didn't answer.

"Wait," he pleaded, "Wait a minute. I'm with the flight crew."

She continue feeling him up, forceful swift fingers prying into his pockets.

"Really, I'm part of the flight crew." He lifted his head while he was speaking and she slammed an elbow across his forehead. He saw lights and was dazed by the blow.

"Don't you move," she hissed. Her tone was impassive but dangerous. She was speaking so softly he could barely make out the words. Why the hell was she whispering?

Evidently she was done searching him because she moved to her feet crouching over him with the long thin blade still at his throat. "Take them off," she breathed. He detected a slight accent.

"What?" he asked, not really sure what to think.

My God, she wants me to strip? What for? Rape?

Though grimy, she was undeniably beautiful.

Bower still bristled at the thought.

"Your boots," she murmured, "Take them off."

So the implication went from rape to petty thievery.

Bower didn't know whether to be disappointed or not.

He reached for his boots slowly, his mind racing for a way out of his predicament. He glanced at her footwear. She was wearing some sort of makeshift sandals with soft rubber soles and cloth wrappings. Bower remembered the room just down the hall. He was about to tell her about a much better selection of shoes and boots when he heard a strange clicking noise.

She gasped. Her eyes were wide like a rabbit detecting a nearby fox.

It was like the sound of a person clipping their toenails but louder and more rapid in succession. Tat, tat, tat, tat, tat. The sound traveled down the long corridors, echoing off everything. Bower could feel the powerful sound waves reverberating in his ears.

He risked moving to turn away from her and look down the corridor. It was dark and foreboding, like the mouth of an ancient giant creature.

Something roared from the inky blackness. It was an angry sound, a hungry sound.

Whatever it was, it could not be one of the crew members. Even the most vile and deranged person was incapable of such noises.

Bower turned his head back to her for answers and saw she had vanished.

Oh shit.

Getting to his feet, Bower grabbed up the discarded photo. He picked up his flashlight. He heard more inhuman cries from the other direction and realized that he was being surrounded. A cold coil of fear slithered through him.

Oh shit.

The hanging corpse was yanked violently upward into the manhole causing him to jump in fear.

Shit!

Awful sounds came from above. He chanced a peek with his light beam. He saw some movement and heard more sickening wet sounds of eating. My God, its eating the dead body! He nearly gagged.

The roars were closer now and getting louder.

Bower pivoted toward the storage room full of shoes and ran for his life.