by Heath Pfaff
“It looked like a shadow at first, but there was nothing there to cast a shadow that might look like that, and when you looked closely through it things on the other side of the shadow didn’t look right.” Hobbes looked at me, as if he was trying to gauge if I understood what he was saying. I wasn’t sure if I did. Everything had looked wrong to me for quite a while. “It was just off. Like someone had painted a shitty version of the room on the other side of the shadow. It felt wrong.” He continued, seeing that I wasn’t getting it. “It looked like the room we’d been staying in, but twisted, like it was being shown through some creepy video filter. It was subtle, though. You knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t point out why.”
He gave up and went on.
“The rest of us decided we needed to get out of there. We popped the security panel and our engineer managed to bypass the lockout on the door. None of us wanted anything to do with that creeping dark. We left the ones who’d already been exposed to it behind.” Hobbes looked guilty. “It wasn’t my decision, but most of the guys were worried they’d freak out like Marks or the other guy… I can’t remember what his damn name was. Anyway, we left them behind. They were fucked up. Two of them weren’t even conscious.”
“The problem was, the rest of the ship was fucked up too. Creatures like that one that attacked you were all over the place, and those weren’t even the worst of them. Some of them were bigger, more dangerous. We lost half of our remaining number to the first shit we ran into. That was in the cafeteria. We were looking for our sergeant so we could get some weapons, and we… well, we found him. The entire cafeteria was full of what we thought were torn up corpses, but we got in there and those fuckers started moving.” Hobbes was swearing more and more as he continued his story. I could see the shadows of horror on his features. As much as I wanted to believe he was lying, I knew he wasn’t. He was telling me exactly what he’d seen, so either he was as crazy as I was, or the situation was worse than I’d imagined.
“Fucking zombies, right?” Hobbes snorted in derisive laughter. “That’s bullshit, and it was… kind of. We thought that’s what they were when they first started wiggling, but then we realized what was really happening. They were being controlled by something else. There was this bloody cord strewn all throughout the room. It looked almost like intestines, but it was running to each of those dead crew members, and it was going inside of their bodies, connecting them all. I think it was feeding on them or something, but while it was doing that it could also control them. Fucking shit, if we’d known that ahead of time more of us might have gotten out of there. Once we fucking figured out you had to fucking cut the control cord we disabled enough of them to escape, but they just kept reconnecting, and as they tore us apart they added our bodies to their numbers.”
“We never even saw what was controlling the stringing of them all together, but we did see the sergeant before we finally cleared our way out of there and got the door sealed behind us. Fuck.”
Hobbes looked me straight in the eye. “I am trained in dealing with 47 different sentient and hostile alien species, and – unofficially – fourteen non-hostile alien races. I have never, Wright, never encountered anything like what is currently onboard this ship. These aren’t aliens. They’re fucking nightmares.”
I just nodded like an idiot. What was I supposed to say to that? I changed the subject instead.
“I’m feeling better now. Whatever venom was in those bites seems to have been kicked out of my system.”
Hobbes’ eyes cleared as if he was coming back out of a dream. “Yeah? Alright. That’s good.” He looked down the hallway, back the way he’d come from, and then further down along the way in front of us, towards the comfort center. “I’m headed that way.” He gestured down the hall in the same direction I intended to go. “We decided we’d look for the bridge crew if we could. With all the others dead I haven’t had any better idea. The guys in charge should know what’s going on, right?”
“You think they’re doing any better than us?” I asked, not really believing it myself. The bridge crew was probably dead, or worse.
Hobbes’ giant shoulders seemed to fall. “We’ve gotta go somewhere. Do you have a better idea?”
I opened my mouth to speak, and then let it close again without saying anything. I’d had the same thought myself, actually. I guess it was military training kicking in. When in doubt, look to someone with higher rank for answers.
“I hadn’t thought that far ahead.” I admitted. “I was just heading for the comfort center. I was going to decide what to do from there.”
“Then I guess you’re lucky we ran into each other. In my experience, places where people congregate are the most dangerous. Walking headfirst into that all by yourself might have been a big mistake. Though, I’m not saying that traveling in a group will be any better. It sure didn’t help my squad.”
I took a breath, about to speak, and the air that filled my lungs felt bitter cold. I exhaled sharply, and dark spots blurred across my vision. I gasped for another breath and more dark spots exploded in front of my eyes.
“Oh shit, I think I’m going to pass out…” I said the words as the dark spots began to grow wider, filling my field of vision. My mind raced, panic causing my head to spin even faster. The last thing I saw before the darkness swallowed up my consciousness was Hobbes dashing in my direction, perhaps to catch me as I fell, or perhaps simply to loot my body for useful items. My only thought was, ‘Did he drug me?’
I had never woken up standing before, but as I came to I realized I was on my feet. For a moment I felt as if I would lose my balance as I was taken by an intense sense of vertigo. I reached my hands up to my eyes to rub away the haze, and found that my right hand was wrapped around a length of steel. I looked at it, puzzled for moment before recognition finally dawned on me. It was Hobbes’ makeshift weapon, the chair leg from the cafeteria. Blood dripped slowly down the handle towards my hand and I quickly tipped it the other way, letting the trickle of blood drip towards the ground.
“What the fuck?” I cursed aloud, trying to sort out what had happened.
“I said, ‘I don’t mind.’” Hobbes’s voice came from behind me. I spun to face him, shocked to see him standing there. For a moment, just a brief moment, I’d thought I might have blacked out and killed him. I hadn’t just thought it - in my heart, when I saw the steel bar in my hand, I had believed that I had killed him and taken his weapon, even though I didn’t remember doing it. I smiled in relief. I had blanked out, but nothing bad had happened.
“Wright?” Hobbes questioned me, tilting his head to the left, his expression empty.
“Oh, sorry, spaced out for a moment, what were we talking about?” I didn’t want him to know that I had completely blacked out.
“You can carry the med packs and weapon if you want. I don’t mind. I can always find another club, and I haven’t needed the meds yet. We just need to be careful.” Hobbes said passively.
I nodded, clenching the steel bar in my fist. I wasn’t sure what had transpired while I was out, but I had apparently convinced Hobbes to let me have our only weapon as well as the medical supplies. That was a stroke of luck. I felt like now, at least, I didn’t need to worry about him leaving me with nothing. It also meant that he must trust me to some degree, or at least wasn’t afraid that I’d run off on him. If he wanted to be the trusting sort, that was fine by me. I didn’t mean Hobbes any harm, but if it came down to me or him, I didn’t think I was the heroic type.
“To the comfort center, then?” He asked, starting off down the corridor.
“Sure.” I said, falling in behind him. We must have come to some mutual agreement on a destination. Why couldn’t I remember any of it? What did these blackouts mean? There is something distinctly unnerving about having made critical decisions and not remembering doing so. At least this time I hadn’t woken up in a completely different location. Maybe I was getting better.
It didn’t take us long to reach the
lounge. I could smell the distinctive scent of the home world illusion before we were even in sight of the actual spectacle. I had been right earlier. That smell was immediately calming. Despite all that had happened, the scent of fresh water, trees, and the serene fields of green grass lifted the horrors of the day from my shoulders. When I saw the first green trees rising up into the simulated bright blue sky I couldn’t help but smile.
The smile faltered a second later when I saw a hooded figure making its way down one of comfort center paths. He wasn’t walking towards us, but was more meandering haphazardly along the artificial dirt walkway. Despite that, his outfit put him clearly out of place in the serene garden. He was dressed like a medieval monk, only the robes were a dusty, battered black rather than a traditional brown. His hands were crossed in front of him, tucked into his sleeves, and his head was bowed deeply, causing his hood to obscure his face. I kept moving forward despite the initial urge to turn and leave. As we drew nearer I saw more, similarly dressed figures walking through the digitally rendered trees.
The hall opened up onto five different paths that were interwoven through the illusionary park. The projection could be switched between several options, but generally this was the specific earth simulation that was active. While within the confines of the simulation it could be difficult to tell where the walls of the actual ship were, but I knew for a fact that some of the hooded figures I could see amidst the trees were walking far past the bounds of the walls, which meant they were somehow part of the illusion. Those on the path around us, however, were a different story. I couldn’t tell if they were real or somehow an illusion, but I did know that the comfort center did not reproduce human figures in their simulations.
The people who added the illusionary comforts to the ships were worried the crew might use them for less-than wholesome purposes if they included human facsimile. So what were the hooded people doing there? Some of them could really be there, but what of those walking through the trees beyond the walls of the ship? They were impossible.
Hobbes had drawn to a stop next to me. He stood quietly, as though waiting for me to make a decision.
I clutched the steel bar in my hand, firmly assuring myself that it was there if I needed it. Whatever the hooded figures were, they looked human in shape. I could cope with that if I had to. They stood between me and where I wanted to go, so there was nothing to do but walk past them. I strode forward and Hobbes fell in line with me.
As I drew closer to the nearest figure I could hear a wheezing, labored breathing coming from beneath the hood. I kept my attention focused on the black clad figure, waiting for it to spring at me, or for it to morph into some monster like the crew-thing from the hall. It shuffled about its aimless path, apparently uninterested in my passing. It didn't turn to face me, or even slow its motion as I passed within feet of it. I breathed an audible sigh of relief. I didn't really care who or even what it was, so long as it wasn't going to attack me. As the figure fell away behind me I felt a crawling sensation on my back, and I turned to see that the figure had stopped and turned to stare. Its face was upturned, and though I still couldn't see through the darkness below the hood I had the distinct impression that whatever eyes were glaring at me were inhuman and hostile.
I moved quickly away, glancing constantly back over my shoulder. The robed figure didn't look away.
I kept to the main path as it made its way through the comfort center. Each time it took us near one of the robe clad figures I did my best to stay as far away from it as I could, even going so far as to step off of the path entirely at times. Every one of the things that I passed stopped and watched me as I moved away. I didn't plan on letting my guard down for a second. Hobbes, for his part, had settled into a quiet funk. I wasn't sure what was wrong with him, but he seemed markedly different than the man I'd first met in the hall. Where before he'd been eager to speak and stay communicative, he now remained completely silent as we passed through the crowd of robed figures. He didn't even seem to be anticipating any danger. I might have yelled at him, had the prospect of attracting any more attention not scared me so thoroughly.
The number of dark robed creatures began to increase as we wound our way deeper into the comfort area. It wasn't a subtle change, either. It seemed they were growing thicker and thicker with every few feet of progress. They also seemed to be converging together in some rough semblance of order. They no longer seemed random stragglers wandering through the simulated park space, but instead a horde of black clad worshippers marching solemnly towards some unknowable spectacle that loomed ahead of me. Worse, they seemed to somehow be presentiently aware of my presence. Everywhere I went hooded heads turned to follow me with macabre stillness. When they were motionless it was a terrible thing. It wasn't like a man standing still, where you might see a slight shift of posture or a waiver of step. They looked almost carved of black stone when they froze in place, their only movement the ever so slight turning of their hooded faces to follow my movement.
Proceeding without running into them was growing more and more difficult with each passing minute. I felt like I was on a busy city street filled with wheezing zombies, and that if I confronted a single one they would all be on me in a minute. The worse part, I thought to myself, was that I wasn't certain how far from reality it was. It might have seemed a crazy flight of fantasy on any other day, but I had seen some strange and terrible shit already. What lay beneath the dark robes of the figures in the park was a secret that I wasn't sure I wanted to unravel. I was so intent upon not learning what these things were that I turned my gaze away from them and tried to avoid looking beneath their shadowy hoods.
Once, just once, I thought I might have saw a brow ridge lined with scales that looked almost reptilian in nature and a slotted eye that glinted silver in the bright projected sunlight. I'd only caught the vision from the corner of my eye as I'd passed one of the things, but it was enough to start my mind quaking in terror. That eye had been cold and lethal. If that was a window into the creature's inner being, then I didn't wish to known anymore about its nature.
Certainly there was a part of me that was curious, but that part was also presently hiding in the furthest corner of my mind, curled up in a tiny ball and sobbing like a little girl. It was easier for me to believe that I was just surrounded by members of the crew involved in some strange and elaborate ritual, and they all just happened to have a terrible wheeze-inducing sickness. It wasn't true, but it was what I wanted to believe.
Of course, there was another possibility all together. Hobbes had not said anything about the robed people in the park, perhaps they weren't even real. Was I experiencing a DSD hallucination? If I was, what did Hobbes think of me weaving and meandering my way down the pathway? I looked over my shoulder at the Shock Trooper, and his gaze met mine. His face was strangely empty. Was there judgment behind his eyes? Had he been weaving his way forward with me, or was he just walking straight through the hooded figures because they were illusions that only I could see? I'd checked on him a few times, but I hadn't really been watching him that closely.
He would have said something if I was acting too strangely, wouldn't he? I bit back a wave of panic. Perhaps he was just humoring me with the intent of taking me out when he got the chance? He'd given me the weapon and the med gear to make me feel secure, and now he was just biding his time until...
I forced myself to stop. What was I doing? I was going in paranoid circles again, looking for conspiracies where none might exist. I needed to talk about this with Hobbes. Once we were clear of the black hooded figures I'd have to take a moment to sort through things. I should probably tell him about my blackout, as well. He'd be able to tell me what I missed, and if I'd been acting strangely during that time. There was a very real chance that Hobbes was just fine, and I was the one with the problem. Deep Space Dementia was a dangerous sickness, and I had no idea whether I was under its influences or not.
It would have to wait, though. I didn't want to risk star
ting that conversation just yet. If I wasn't hallucinating, then it would be a bad idea to spark up a dialogue while surrounded by… whatever the hooded creatures were.
All motion around me suddenly stopped. The horde of black clad figures ceased walking as one mass, and I too was forced to draw to a stop, unable to see a clear way forward through their numbers.
Stillness settled around us, the area an unusual quiet broken only by the artificial wind rustling through the artificial trees. I searched in front of me for some way to move forward, but while lost in thought concerning Hobbes and our situation, I'd let myself walk into a group of the black monks that were too close together to let us pass between. They were now regarding us with hidden malice from the dark recesses of their hoods. The breeze stirred again, and it brought with it a chill wind that prickled my exposed skin like tiny, hungry teeth.
The cloaked figures now began to move, and not just the ones in our immediate area. They turned as a group, all of them pivoting in place until they were facing Hobbes and me. There was no pointing, no roar of an angry horde, just the terrible and inhuman gaze of all the things in the park. "Things" was the only word I could accurately use to describe them. Deep down I wanted to believe they were crew, but I knew on a very real level that they were not. They were creatures like the crew woman I'd fought earlier. Maybe they were a different variety, but I sensed the same black malice from them, the same hatred of humanity and life. The cold breeze blew again, and with it came a thousand whispers riding on the ephemeral current.
"...among us now."
"...is awakening soon..."
"...the Worm..."
"...Worm..."
They were just random shards of conversation drifting quickly past me, but hearing them injected fear into my system. It felt as though someone had doused my insides in ice water. ‘The Worm.’ I thought of the man in the archaic black suit with the empty eyes and terrible laugh. What was the Worm? Who was the Worm?
