Donohue was waiting for them with a stretcher, with Corbert behind her, looking like he was going to have a heart attack.
They set Hewitt down as gently as they could. Blood coated the bottom of his suit leg. Hewitt reached out for MacLean's hand. He grasped it as firmly as he could. "Sorry, man," he said. "I should have listened to you."
"Don't worry; Dr. Donohue is the best doctor in space. You'll be fine." He gently pulled his hand from Hewitt's grip. "You'll be fine," he repeated.
"We have to get him to sick bay," said Donohue. The men stood aside as she rushed him along the hall.
Corbert glared at Tse and MacLean. "Get out of your suits. MacLean, make sure everything is stowed properly. Tse, meet me in command directly." He stormed off down the hall, following the fresh trail of blood on the floor.
Tse got out of his suit and started for command. He stopped in at sickbay to check on Hewitt, who was spread eagle on the gurney, his space suit in tatters around him. Wires extended from all over his body, attached to a series of machines. A pool of blood was spreading on the floor.
"How is he doing?"
Donohue hunched over Hewitt's knee, attempting to seal the wound. "Not good, actually. He lost a surprising amount of blood." Tse walked over to get a closer look. A long, jagged gash slit the skin along Hewitt's knee, almost 6 inches in length.
"What's the deal with the blue colouration?" asked Tse. The wound had a distinctly bluish glow, and it looked like the veins around it were turning blue as well.
"Frankly, I have no idea. It's not bruising. There's no radioactivity, disease or infection. Right now, I'm just working at keeping him stable. I will solve the mysteries later."
The captain's voice came booming over the loudspeaker. "This is the captain, brace for an emergency takeoff." The ship started to shudder as it shot up into the atmosphere.
"What's going on?" asked Tse when he made it to command.
"Thanks for showing up. We got an emergency call from the colony. According to their sensors that sun is about to undergo a massive eruption. You know what that means?"
"That unless we get the hell out of here, our ship is going to be bathed in radiation. I don't understand, I thought that magentars were pretty predictable."
"Kid, the only thing that is predictable in space is that it's unpredictable. If we don't get behind the planet, our little bird is going to be hit with every kind of radiation known to man."
"Let's go."
The two men worked together to get the ship into orbit, trying put the planet between them and the sun.
"Here it comes!"
Seconds from rounding the curve of the planet, an intense blast of gamma rays, x-rays, and electromagnetic and positronic radiation buffeted the tiny ship. The blast threw them out of orbit. Corbert fought with the controls, kept the ship as steady as he could, with Tse attempting to contain the damage. Finally, they slipped out of the path of the eruption, and found protection behind the planet.
"Captain, this is Dr. Donohue."
"Go ahead, Doctor."
"I'm afraid we lost Hewitt," she said.
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"I'm not sure, sir, there was something wrong with that wound. I couldn't stop the bleeding. He died just as we were hit with the eruption." She suddenly screamed in horror. "Oh my god, what on earth? Stay back, stay back!" The speaker, overwhelmed with the sound of her scream, faded out in a hiss of static.
"I'll go check on her," said Tse, already jumping out of his seat. He came up short at the entrance to sickbay, realising that he should have stopped to arm himself. His fists would have to do. He stepped through the door, and into hell.
Blood covered the walls; the floor was sticky with it under his feet. The air was hot, and smelled of copper, Tse could almost taste blood in his mouth. It obviously wasn't just the drippings from Hewitt's knee; this was blood that had spurted out with great force, blood from something, or someone, torn asunder. Tse stepped forward, looking around at the horror on all sides of him. A drop of crimson fell from above and splashed down on his face. He wiped it off as best he could, and looked up. Dr. Donohue was hanging from the ceiling, or at least, her remains were. Most of her skin had been torn off, and her right arm was gone from the elbow. Someone had suspended her from the ceiling with IV tubes and scalpels that were jammed into the ceiling holding her up. Tse felt the urge to vomit, but clenched his jaw tight to control himself.
He turned slowly around to exit. That is when he noticed Hewitt crouched in the corner, calmly chewing on Donohue's arm.
Tse could no longer control himself, his jaw unclenched and he threw up all over the floor, vomit and bile combining with blood to make a terrible ochre mixture.
Hewitt looked up from his snack, his eyes were now glowing a dull blue. He dropped the bone and shuffled towards Tse, who froze in shock. Hewitt's knee bone was protruding through his skin, causing him to move slowly, limping ever closer, ever closer to Tse.
Tse regained his composure, realised that if he wanted to get out of there alive, he would have to run, and run fast. He feinted to the right, then turned and spun around Hewitt, trying to get to the door. Even in death, Hewitt was a big strong guy. He reached out and knocked Tse down. Tse slid away, the blood making the floor slippery. He scrambled to his feet and looked around for a weapon. He found a large metal surgical tray, and held it out in front of him like a shield, charging at Hewitt. Tse knocked Hewitt to the ground, and he took the opportunity to pummel him with the tray until he stopped moving. Skin and bone ricocheted from his body with each hit, splattering Tse's face with gore.
Tse stood up, breathing heavily, and took a step back from the lifeless form of Hewitt. It was then that Dr. Donohue reached down with her one remaining hand and ripped Tse's head from his body, bringing it up to her mouth. His blood spurted out of the top of his neck, showering her gruesome remains. She bit down on his ear and tore it off; chewing through the tough cartilage like it was liquorice.
In the kitchen, Michael Nostromo dropped the bowl of eggs he had been mixing.
"God-damn it," he cursed under his breath. He had been carrying those eggs from Earth, holding them back to make a soufflé as a special going home treat. He went to the small storage cupboard behind him and pulled out the collapsible mop. He pressed a button on the handle and it telescoped out, its one-foot length becoming full sized with a resounding crack. He dutifully began cleaning up the eggs, rinsing them out in the small sink behind him.
Behind him, Hewitt and Donohue shuffled in. Nostromo spun around, smelling the coppery odour of blood above the wasted eggs.
"Holy shit," he exclaimed, seeing the wasted corpses moving inexorably towards him. Blood was still pouring out of Donohue; she was leaving a trial of it behind her, like a snail. Hewitt's face was smashed in, his nose and cheek were broken, and one eyeball was hanging out of its socket, connected by the nerve, evidence of his fight with Tse.
Having nothing else at hand, Nostromo hefted the mop like a baseball bat, and swung hard at Hewitt with the handle. It connected with his head, and Hewitt went crashing to the ground. Nostromo charged forward, holding the mop like a lance. The handle easily slipped through the skinless Donohue, sliding between her intestines and stomach. Nostromo found himself face to face with her. She reached out with her one good hand, but Nostromo turned, the mop prying her guts out of her as he did so. She became entangled in them, and Nostromo had the opportunity to dodge around her. He was at the door, almost through, when Hewitt reached out and grabbed his ankle, pulling him to the floor. The mop slid from his hands, and went clattering down the hall. He saw Tse coming toward him, carrying his own head, his eyes still open, glowing blue.
Nostromo scrambled to his feet, pulling his ankle from Hewitt's grasp, and reached out for his mop. Tse was standing on the end of it, Nostromo pulled it up, sending Tse spiralling. He lost his grip on his head, and it went rolling down the hall. His body dutifully shuffled pa
st Nostromo to collect it.
Hewitt was back up, directly behind Nostromo, who dropped to his knees, collapsing the mop back in upon itself as he did so. Hewitt stood over him, looking down in surprise, or what approximated surprise on his ravaged face. Nostromo held the mop over his head, end pointed directly at Hewitt, and pressed the button. The mop shot up, telescoping out with surprising force, hitting Hewitt in the throat. Nostromo pushed up on the handle as he stood, ripping Hewitt's head from his body. He flicked the end of the mop, sending the head spinning down the hall. As with Tse, Hewitt started to wander off after his missing cranium.
Nostromo took the opportunity to get back into his kitchen, where Donohue was still trying to reassemble herself, pushing her blue and grey guts back into her body. Nostromo grabbed her by the neck and dragged her out into the hall. Tse and Hewitt had recovered their heads, and were coming back. Nostromo returned to the kitchen and pulled the hatch shut, locking it as he did so. Now a one-inch thick piece of metal stood between him and the zombies. It would have to be enough. He opened a cupboard under his prep island, and pulled out the largest knife he could find.
The zombies spent a minute or two banging at the door, but they obviously knew they would not be successful. The bangs grew quieter, until he could hear the zombies shuffling away.
"Damn!" he shouted, realising where they were going. He ran to the communications port, a small panel beside the door, and pressed the button to connect him with the captain.
"Captain Corbert, Captain Corbert," he shouted. Nothing but static. It was strange for the captain to leave the ship afloat while still in a planetary system. A gravity well could easily trap the ship, they end up crashing against a planet, or on a direct line into the sun.
As much as he didn't want to leave the safety of his kitchen, Nostromo knew he had to get to the command centre, find out what was going on.
"What this ship needs," Nostromo said to himself, "is more damn tunnels." He thought back to the science fiction movies he had watched as a kid, there always seemed to be no end to the tunnel running through spaceships, tunnels just large enough for a man to crawl through. Any tunnels in this ship were only large enough to fit a person's arm. There wasn’t space for anything else.
If he wanted to get to the command centre, Nostromo would have to take the hallways. The zombie ridden hallways.
Shit.
He pressed his ear up against the door, held his breath, listening as quietly as he could. He could hear nothing, nothing but the gentle hum of the ships engines. He wished the Firebird had more portals, wished he could see where they were going, but like most ships, the only windows were in the command centre.
He slid his knife into his belt loop, and for good measure got a few more. As silly as he felt carrying around a mop, it had served him well. He paused to pull off the cleaning fibres, and wedged one of his smaller knives into the end. It wasn't as good as a gun, but a telescoping spear was pretty sweet in its own way.
Quietly, ever so quietly, he slid open the door and stepped into the hall. The stairs were next. Now, he just had to get through the storage area, this would be the worst part of the trip. It was a big open space, mostly empty now, with only one way in and one way out.
Again, he listened at the doors. Nothing. Empty. Quiet.
Nostromo half ran half crept through the storage area, aiming for a balance of speed and stealth. He could see the evidence of the zombies as he crossed, blood trails lined the floor, with a large pool of it near the door. Probably MacLean, but Nostromo was not going to stick around to find out. Through the next door, one more hallway.
MacLean was sitting against the wall, near the command