LZR-1143: Evolution

by Bryan James

  “How do you think I paid for med school?” she asked, stepping inside before I could answer.

  I stared at the bulkhead.

  For a moment, she had me wondering.

  “Mr. McKnight?”

  Dr. Cowell’s voice floated to the doorway from inside. He appeared at the doorway, looking tired but alert. He nodded briefly at the good Corporal, who backed quietly into the hallway.

  Quizzically, he looked at Kate, then me. We walked inside into the office, and I leaned into the sleeping chamber to glance toward Hartliss, making sure he was still where we left him. He lay there, eyes closed, chest rising slowly but steadily.

  Still alone.

  I turned back to the Doctor.

  “Yeah, hi Doc. We were wondering if you had any Advil or something? I’ve got a killer headache.” I wasn’t lying. My head hurt worse now than it had before. Tiny pin pricks of light clouded the peripherals of my vision briefly, and I blinked them away. My neck was growing sore near my ears, and my face felt warm.

  He started toward me and Kate moved slowly into position near a nurse’s station piled high with charts and laboratory instruments.

  Kate spoke up, diverting his attention as I backed carefully against the counter behind me, hand snaking out to grab the stainless steel jar marked ‘Hypodermics.’

  “I think it’s a delayed reaction to the concussion,” she said, sounding authoritative. “I told him he just needed rest, but he’s a stubborn guy.” She put her hand on the Lieutenant’s shoulder, speaking as she did so.

  “Did you ever read that study about the …” Her voice faded off as she spoke conspiratorially to him, as if to tune out the uneducated one standing feet away.

  He turned back to her in response to the question.

  I fumbled with the jar behind my back, causing the steel to bang softly against the counter surface. Kate looked at me, annoyed, and coughed loudly in the middle of her sentence, trying to mask my ineptitude. As he turned away, I fished my hand into the jar, pulling out a paper-wrapped hypodermic needle and shoving it up the sleeve of my borrowed flight suit.

  “Well, I seem to remember…” he started to say, turning back toward me as he did. I nodded slowly to Kate. Suddenly her eyes fluttered and she sagged backward against the nurse’s station, knocking the binders and instruments to the floor and collapsing to the ground.

  “Nurse!” shouted Lieutenant Cowell, bolting to her side. Facing away from the rest of the beds. The nurse sped past me from her station near the sleeping patients.

  I moved quickly to Hartliss’s bunk, pulling the syringe free as I did. I figured I had about 15 seconds until someone looked around for me.

  Withdrawing the devilish blue liquid from my pocket, I plunged the needle through the rubber seal on the top of the bottle. I loaded only a minuscule amount from the bottle, having been told by Kate that it was likely a correct dosage. It looked about the size of the one I gave her, so I figured we were on the right track.

  Stumbling in sudden exhaustion, I dropped to a knee near Hartliss’s arm. I braced myself against the bed frame, worrying seriously now about my condition. Sweat popped out of my pores and within seconds was streaming down my face, burning my eyes. I tasted salt and suppressed the sudden urge to vomit.

  This was not good.

  Feeling the cold, hard steel of the floor under my knees, I raised the syringe toward Hartliss’s thigh. My head burst in pain and I almost dropped the needle in agony. My legs buckled, and my thighs refused to support me as I toppled against the bed frame. Grasping for purchase, I lashed out with my free hand, fumbling against the metal table next to the bed. My fingers brushed the steel just enough to cause it to rattle noisily against the floor.

  Hartliss’s eyes popped open suddenly, staring directly at my face.

  Behind me, I heard the nurse’s voice echo in my ears.

  “Hey! What are you doing!”

  Footsteps pounded on the steel floor behind me.

  I levered myself up to stare back, feeling my remaining strength pour from my body with the effort.

  As I came even with his face, he spoke, rasping voice sounding pained.

  “You look like shit, mate.”

  I smiled, feeling the unconsciousness creeping up. My limbs were going numb. This was definitely a problem.

  “Yeah, well … join the club,” I said, bringing the syringe down with as much force as I could muster.

  Behind me, the footsteps were gaining. The nurse’s voice yelled, “Doctor!”

  As my thumb jammed the plunger down into his thigh and he screamed in pain, I had one more thought as I descended into the darkness.

  This was not going to end well for me.

  Chapter 6

  I flew.

  Through air that was thin and pure, cold and dry. Ice formed on my face and my arms as I touched the sky.

  Despite my better judgment, I looked down. Something told me that I didn’t want to do it. Didn’t want to look toward the places below. But I did. I was that kind of guy.

  In the back of my mind, I knew that the world was changed. I remembered very little in my place of oblivious height, but I remembered that. I wanted to do something about it, but there wasn’t much to be done. I was too high. Too removed.

  Plumes of dark, oily smoke in the distance. Green fields speckled with fire and debris.

  Even from my height I could hear the screams.

  As I leaned to my side, I veered left, soaring effortlessly lower until I skimmed the treetops. Forest passed by below, and I reached my hand toward the treetops. I left a bloody trail on the evergreen boughs, normally unreachable by human hands from the ground below.

  Curiously, I raised my hand before my eyes. A gaping wound shone bright and red in the clear sun. Blood dripped slowly down the palm, flittering away into the air below, slowly, despite my speed. Air whipped my face but left the trail of coppery liquid untouched and unhurried.

  I wondered at the wound, at how I could be hurt when I was so high. So untouchable. It didn’t make sense. If it didn’t make sense, it couldn’t be. So I willed it to change.

  The skin obeyed. The muscles wound themselves together tightly, pulling one ligament to the other, closing skin over flesh and blood. Color returned to the members of the hand, turning dead flesh to living. That was much better. I smiled.

  But something drew me back to the ground below. Forest graduated to field, which led to suburb, which moved to city. Buildings burned and streets screamed in outrage.

  Sirens blared, but if no one living was left to hear them, did they make a sound?

  Shuffling forms raised their rotting heads in suffering supplication, mouths opened with dark glee as I passed above them. Food was near, and the hunters were abroad. The dead walked in the world of the living.

  But for now, I was above them all. I was different. New and untouched. Untouchable.

  I flew higher, wondering at the new world below. I remained detached, flexing my new muscles, feeling strong. Feeling alive. But I suppose life was relative in the world of the dead.

  It all had to end sometime though. I knew that much.

  Mushroom clouds exploded before me across the horizon, the shockwaves rippling the earth below them as they sped toward me. Air itself was crushed to oblivion as molecules collided and matter was ripped apart. Dead flesh evaporated in clouds of dust and the world as it was became a world of the past. In a blink of the eye the world was dead, and there were only voices and sounds. In the distance I heard them speak. Their voices cut in and out, like a radio losing its battery power.

  “…must be some sort of medicine. I’ve never seen anything …”

  This voice was a doctor. A man of authority. I tried to move. The earth prevented it, heavy on my chest. Nothing listened to me. My hands, my feet. All silent in the face of our predicament.

  Traitors.

  “Figure it out, Doc. I want to know what the fuck is on my ship.” Gruff and mean. Another man. It seemed lik
e I should know him, but in my new world, I knew nothing.

  Dreams flitted in and out of the clouds.

  Maria. That was her name, right? She was pretty. Then she yawned, and her teeth tried so hard to kill me. I struggled away. That was no good, no sir.

  Just keep on moving, nothing to see here.

  In my mind, I thought I could move.

  In my body…did I even have a body?

  Traitorous bastard, that body.

  But I was never alone. Oh no, never by myself. The voices. They stayed. They talked. They pretended they had a purpose and a plan. Silly voices. Plans are for people. You aren’t people. You’re just silly voices.

  The mean man was back suddenly. Or was it sudden? Maybe it was quite a while. Did I even own a watch?

  He sounded angry. Maybe with me. I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did.

  “…in the name of shit do you mean, you’re not comfortable doing that? You are an officer under my command, and if I order you to …”

  I wonder what happened there?

  I was bemused in the pain. Or was it curiosity?

  Then sleep. Always sleep. It was a retreat.

  The heat came when the cold was still there. I squirmed because it was hot. Because it was cold.

  I couldn’t even see…this was insufferable.

  Christ, it was hot in here.

  Could a man get a cup of water?

  No, clearly not. What the hell kind of place was this?

  I might as well just sleep.

  If I’m thirsty, I’ll just have to get it myself. Feeling better now, really.

  Well, hello there, Mr. Finger …

  Whoops! There went those voices again.

  “…his finger just move? Fuck, man, sedate him! We don’t know what he’s …”

  Why did they have to yell? The sound was so loud!

  I was right here.

  “I gave him enough to down a horse, Lieutenant. He just isn’t taking to the sedative.”

  Well of course I wasn’t. This was me, right?

  I was really feeling a little better.

  Gulp.

  Other than the urge to vomit. But it’s passed now. Who’s here with me, I wonder?

  Let’s try for a look see.

  Eyes opened?

  Check.

  Who is that angry man?

  Well, crap.

  “Oh for the love of …”

  Ouch!

  More pain, then … oh my that was the good stuff.

  Sleepy sleepy time.

  Voices when I sleep. Voices when I wake. I really needed to find a new hotel.

  No room service! Stop talking outside my door!

  “… don’t like the look of that…”

  “… the goddamned strap tied down on the left…”

  “…this isn’t right. She flat lined…why… how…”

  There was the man I knew again. Why didn’t he just come in?

  “Holy shit. Call the Captain, right goddamned now!”

  Clattering steel. Moving bodies. Raised voices.

  “Secure the fucking wrist!”

  A heavy metal grating sound, like a car scraping slowly against a metal pole, the driver too drunk to notice. The sound stopped. It was quiet. My ears rang with the echo of the clanging.

  Now this sounded complicated.

  Where was that water? I’ll ask when I wake up.

  Oh, was I going to sleep?

  This time I was flying. My hands dragged through the air, fingers brushing tree tops. This was nice. I could stay this way forever. No more voices, no more pain. I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the clean … putrid, rotting air.

  No, no. This wasn’t right. I shook my head. My eyes wouldn’t open.

  Then, in the silence, screams. From very close to me. In the air?

  No. I was … somewhere else.

  On land.

  No, it was a boat.

  A boat?

  Really? How did that happen?

  Wow, that was loud. I thought I was the only one that screamed.

  Wait, screaming? That couldn’t be good. What the hell had happened here?

  Time to try those eyes again.

  They slowly cracked.

  Dim, painful light invaded my pounding skull. My head was heavier than it should be. It took a monumental effort to turn to the side. The low light was agony on my eyes. They adjusted slowly. Painfully.

  Fuzzy shapes took eventual form; lines formed from shadow. Colors faded from gray.

  I opened them fully, hating myself as I did.

  This here was a shit pickle indeed.

  Chapter 7

  Kate was normally a pretty calm woman.

  Normally.

  Right now, I was kind of glad she was tied down.

  “...your sorry, movie-star, lunatic ass out of bed! Mike! Wake up! For Christ’s sake, wake the fuck up!”

  I focused on her horizontal form, 5 feet away, separated from me by one cot. Her arms and legs were secured to the cot with canvas straps, her face turned toward me, eyes blazing.

  Trying to raise my arm, I realized I was likely in the same predicament. My arms refused to move more than a half inch and my legs were tied even tighter. I raised my head slightly, scanning the room. We were in the infirmary, all but one of the beds empty. Hartliss was nowhere to be seen.

  The hatch to the office and hallway outside was shut firmly. Fluorescent light flooded the room, making me squint in discomfort.

  “Mike? Jesus. I thought you were going to sleep through all the fun. Look over to your right. To the other bed. Right now would be good.”

  I was more worried about the trail of reddish liquid that I could barely see leading to the closed hatch. Thick, red liquid that was only now congealing slightly with time. Streaks of it adorned the walls near the hatch, a handprint vivid on the door’s edge.

  Movement from my right jerked my head around. Kate’s voice rose.

  “Michael! Snap the fuck out of it and check the zombie on your right! I don’t think she’s going to wait for you to have your coffee!”

  Fuck me running.

  In my delirium, I finally noticed what she was referencing. A crew member in a blue crew uniform was strapped loosely into the only other occupied cot in the bay, her left arm swinging free from the table. Her legs were strapped firmly to the cot, her right arm held tight to her body by a plastic restraint. She was twitching and snarling, face turned toward us both. Foam speckled her gray skin, drool mixing with her blondish hair on the side of her face.

  “What the hell happened here?” I yelled, jerking hard against my bonds. “Did you black out too?”

  These things were tied tightly; there was no room for maneuvering. I slammed my head back against the bed in frustration.

  “No, I was faking mine, remember? You’re the one who took a swan dive in the middle of the rescue operation. What the hell happened to you?”

  “I don’t know, I was feeling feverish and then ... I don’t know! Maybe it was some sort of delayed reaction to getting bitten or something, maybe related to my body fighting off the infection for the first time. Who the hell knows? Shit. How long have I been out? And how the hell did this happen?”

  I tried to nod in the direction of the twitching zombie, but my head wouldn’t cooperate.

  “About eight hours. Didn’t you hear anything?” Kate asked. I could hear her shortened breath as she moved against her restraints.

  “Just snippets and weird pieces of conversation.”

  I was watching our friend across the room. She was still kicking and bulging against the straps. Her head rotated wildly as she thrashed against the cot. Her left arm grasped the air, and her bed was rocking gently.

  It moved slightly as her momentum jerked the frame.

  “After they found you, they found the vaccine. They thought it was a miracle cure, and the Captain started to order injections.”

  I glanced at our friend, who was moving the bed s
lowly. It rocked more severely as she thrashed, threatening to spill her to the floor.

  Her voice was resigned, sad. I knew what she was trying to say, even though she didn’t say it.

  “How many did they inject?”

  After a few seconds of silence, the answer I knew was coming.

  “I don’t know. Enough, apparently. I’ve been tied up here since they found you. They did most of the injections in the other room and in other parts of the ship. The Captain was forceful about it. The doctor wanted to do trials, test it out a little. The Captain wouldn’t hear it. He ordered it diluted and given wide distribution immediately. I heard at least a hundred people come through while I was laying here. Maybe more. The shit really hit the fan about three hours ago, not more than two hours after the first injections.”

  Her voice was tired.

  “I haven’t seen or heard anyone—any living one, that is—for at least an hour.”

  From outside the hatch, a sudden loud pounding. The metal vibrated and the room shook with the insistent slamming against the metal bulkhead. A groan could barely be heard from the opposite side of the metal door, clearly marking who was trying to get inside.

  “Well, shit,” said Kate, collapsing in her bonds in resignation. “We are truly in a situation here.”

  “Yeah … well. At least the guy outside doesn’t know how to use the door latch.”

  As I spoke, the cot on the far side of the room toppled to the floor, overturning and sending its occupant face-first into the steel floor. We heard the fleshy sound she made as she slammed into the ground and the crack of her nose breaking against the steel. Her groan was muffled by the cold floor, as she tried to move.

  Then we heard a sound more terrifying. Fingernails against the steel floor, and the scrape of a cot being dragged slowly by one arm. Neither of us could see what was happening at floor level, heads restrained from full movement by our bodies’ confinement, but we knew what she was doing.

  “Shit.” I said softly, truly straining against the plastic and leather bonds holding my arms. Remarkably, I thought I felt one give way slightly, but only by millimeters. Not fast enough, if she were able to get here within an hour.

  The pounding outside increased, as if our friend in the hallway could sense our plight. As if it could sense it’s comrade’s impending victory.