MJ: Sir, yes sir.
MCC: Hartz, this is a waste of mission resources. If you open that airlock you’re going to lose a lot of air. We cannot advise an EVA at this time.
JH: Understood. Marcia, get the hatch open.
[The following transmission was received directly from JH’s suit radio, a low-power signal at the threshold of what MCC was able to receive on Earth. As a result, some words were illegible. These sections are represented by four asterisks (****).]
JH: Okay. I’m through. I … wow. The module is just a mess, stuff everywhere, exposed wires. Oh, Jesus. The ****—**** hamsters we were raising to see how they developed in microgravity. They’re, uh, well, there’s some fur floating around in ****. Not going to think about what happened.
JH: Dark—my suit lights aren’t **** me much, with all this floating crap, but—yes, I can see Sergei, he’s—shit! He’s **** he’s moving! He’s … he’s walking on the treadmill!
JH: No, Marcia. No! Fuck you, he’s alive somehow, I don’t—I don’t care, I’m—yes, I see it too. Yes, I can see open space through that hole in the wall, **** **** **** yes, I know that means **** no air in here. No. No, Marcia … No. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck that.
JH: Sergei—can **** **** **** you hear me, buddy? No, no, of course not. Marcia, his eyes are open. He’s looking at me … he wants something **** **** ****.
JH: Sergei, are you **** **** **** **** ****?
JH: Going to just … release the straps holding him into this **** thing. Going to … gah. Okay, Sergei, just **** me a chance here, just **** hey, come on, just **** **** **** hey! Hey, get off, get **** **** **** Jesus! Jesus! Marcia!
JH: **** **** **** **** **** **** **** ****!
JH: **** bit my sleeve he **** **** **** teeth, just **** fuck! Fuck! I’m leaking, I’m **** Marcia, open the fucking **** leaking air, he just bit right through six layers of **** **** oh God, oh God, oh ****.
JH: Marcia! Open the ****!
[00:07 UTC.]
MJ: Control? Control, are you there? What the hell? Where are—
MCC: Sorry! Sorry, had to run to the bathroom, I’m not feeling great. Go ahead, ISS. Go … go ahead.
MJ: Jesus, Control. Are you okay?
MCC: Just, just tell us what happened, in there. In, ugh, in Destiny. With Sergei.
MJ: He attacked Hartz. Tried to bite him.
MCC: Oh.
MJ: It’s not … I mean, he can’t be alive, but he just, just attacked Hartz and bit through his suit’s sleeve. With his teeth, goddamnit.
MCC: Where is he now?
MJ: Hartz? He’s right here, trying to get out of the suit. He’s pretty shaken up but—
MCC: No, damn it. I meant Sergei. Where is Sergei?
MJ:… he. Uh. Well.
MCC: Where is he? Please be specific.
MJ: He’s, uh, still in Destiny. Hartz came through the hatch, in, you know, a hurry. He was pretty scared. And he kicked the hatch closed behind him, he … he sealed it before Sergei could come through. We decided together that … um …
MCC: Marcia, this … this is important, we need to know. Did Sergei break Hartz’s skin? Did he bite Hartz directly, or just his suit?
MJ: Not sure, just a second—
MCC: We have to know, Marcia. A lot depends on it.
MJ: Hold on … no, he’s—Hartz, would you sit fucking still? No, Control, no, he’s intact, he—Control?
JH: I’m fine, damn it. Fine.
MJ: Control? Control? Are you there?
MCC: Sorry, your previous controller had to use the bathroom again. It was an emergency. There’s a bad stomach thing going around down here. I’ll be taking over for now. So it sounds like everything is fine, Sergei is quarantined, there was no direct fluid contact, and—
JH: Fine? Things are fine? Oh, hell, you don’t even—
MJ: Control? What’s going on? What’s … I mean—what’s going on down there?
MCC: Nothing you need to worry about.
MJ: When I switched on the radio I heard … there were just … all over the radio, there were distress calls and maydays and even a couple SOS signals, from ships out at sea, from police stations and army bases and—
MCC: Nothing you need to worry about. You just focus on staying alive up there, okay? We’ll focus on getting you home. Deal?
MJ: I … guess. Deal.
[00:37 UTC.]
MJ: Control? Come in, Control.
MCC: Right here.
MJ: Not as many distress calls, this time. Maybe things are getting better down there?
MCC: Maybe. Listen, we’ve been talking to Russia, talking about getting a rescue mission together. It’s moving along. Can you hang in there a little longer?
MJ: Karl’s not going to make it. His breathing is … really bad, and his pulse is weak.
MCC: Okay.
MJ: It’s not, it’s not okay, but I guess—
MCC: We need to be realistic.
MJ: Yeah. I guess that’s what I was going to say.
MCC: Marcia. I need to give you some new instructions. You’re not going to like this. It’s important, though. If Karl dies, you’ll need to take … certain actions.
JH: Karl’s going to live. I know CPR.
MCC: Negative, Hartz. Do not touch him. Not now, especially not if he—if he dies.
JH: I won’t let anyone else die. Not on my watch. Not after Sergei—
MCC: Marcia, can you get to the Cupola?
MJ:… okay, I’m … I’m alone, that’s what you wanted, right? You wanted me to get to where Hartz couldn’t hear us.
MCC: Yes. Marcia, listen to me very carefully. The second Karl dies, the second you even think he’s dead. You’re going to have to bash his head in.
MJ:… hold on. I don’t—can you repeat that?
MCC: This is crucial. The second you even think he’s dead.
MJ: I don’t know if I can do that, Control.
MCC: It’s not optional. This is a direct order from your Flight Lead.
MJ: Control, you understand how crazy that sounds? Do you—do you understand—
[The transcript records that at this time, MJ’s conversation with Control was interrupted by a loud, repetitive clanging noise. No transmission was recorded for another five minutes. The clanging noise continues throughout.]
MJ: Control, it’s—
JH: It’s Sergei! He’s banging on the hatch, he’s banging on the hatch and he wants to get in, he wants—
MJ: Control, I know how it sounds, but Hartz is right, Hartz is—
MCC: Marcia, we have instructions for that, we have—
JH: I’m going to let him in, we can restrain him. It’s going to—
MJ: Don’t you dare!
JH:—going to be okay, we’ll be ready, we’ll pin him down, and—
MJ: Get away from that hatch! Hartz, you bastard, don’t you dare—
JH: I’m opening the hatch, Control. If he’s alive in there, then there must be air on the other side, it’s fine, it’s going to be—
MJ: Control, I’m trying to stop him, I’m trying to stop Hartz but he—but he—ugh!
MCC: Marcia, come in. Marcia?
MJ: Bastard just punched me in the face and now he—
[A loud, roaring noise is heard, presumably a rush of air leaving the Zvezda module. A scream can be heard, but its source is unclear. For a period of six minutes, only MCC’s side of the transmission is audible.]
MCC: Marcia. Marcia, if you can hear me. You know what you have to do.
MCC: Marcia? Are you receiving? You need to close that hatch. You need to get that hatch closed, and you need to make sure Sergei stays on the other side.
MCC: Marcia, you do what’s necessary.
MCC: Marcia, are you receiving?
MCC: Marcia?
[Normal, two-way transmission is restored at 00:48 UTC.]
MJ: I hear you, Control. I hear you. He …
MCC: You did what you had to do. You know what’s going on, don
’t you?
MJ: No. Damn it, no, I don’t know anything. I …
MCC: You’re a smart woman. You’re figuring it out. If I say it out loud then you won’t believe me. If you hear it out loud it’ll sound ridiculous. But you saw Sergei’s face, didn’t you? You saw the look on his face. I saw it down here. You must have seen it.
MJ: I did.
MCC: Yes.
MJ: You … you’re not the same controller I was speaking to before.
MCC: No. No, they’re all gone now. I’m all that’s left. And I’m … well, I won’t be here a lot longer, let’s just say that.
MJ: Oh, no. No, don’t …
MCC: Tell me what happened. Just say it, for me.
MJ: He … Hartz, I mean. He opened the hatch. There was no air, so … so our air just rushed out into space, and I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. Hartz, he, he was there, inside the hatch and then Sergei … Sergei grabbed him. Bit him, bit his throat out, Control. There was blood but it all got … got sucked out through the open hatch. Sergei pulled Hartz through the … through …
MCC: No. No, he didn’t. He bit Hartz, yes. But he didn’t pull him through.
MJ:… he …
MCC: We’re past the point of lying to each other, Marcia. Let’s promise not to bullshit each other now. I saw it on the video.
MJ: Okay.
MCC: Tell me what you did.
MJ: I … I pushed Hartz through. I pushed Hartz into Destiny and then I closed the hatch. Sealed it up.
MCC: You did the right thing.
[00:53 UTC.]
MJ: Now they’re both out there. They’re both …
[Repetitive clanging noises can be heard.]
[01:39 UTC.]
MJ: It’s … bad? It’s really bad down there?
MCC: Yes.
MJ: There’s no, there’s not going to be a rescue ship … is there?
MCC: No.
MJ: I, uh, I have something I have to do. Right? I have to, um, check on Karl.
MCC: Yes.
MJ: He. He’s. Well. He’s not breathing. No pulse. He. Oh shit!
MCC: Marcia?
MJ: Oh shit, oh shit! Jesus! Shit, his eyes, his eyes, they’re open but—but—but—
MCC: Do it.
MJ: Yeah, I mean, I mean yes, he’s stuck, he’s stuck in the sleepsac but he’s trying to get out, he, he—there’s a fire extinguisher.
MCC: Do it.
MJ: Oh God! Oh, God! What did I … Control, Control, there’s … there’s …
MCC: Go ahead.
MJ: There’s blood and, and bits of brain, everywhere, just everywhere, and it’s getting in the air vents, oh, God, I’m going to be sick, I just watched part of his brain get sucked into the, into the air filter, he’s—he’s—
MCC: Breathe.
MJ: And they’re still over there, in Destiny, they’re still pounding on the hatch, and—
[Transmission was lost, for unknown reasons, until 02:19 UTC. In the following, what appeared at first to be noise in the signal has since been identified as the sound of MJ, weeping.]
MJ: Control? **** Control?
MCC: Still … here.
MJ: **** **** **** **** ****.
MCC: Hey. Hey, now.
MJ: You sound **** **** ****. Were you … you know? Oh, God. **** **** ****.
MCC: Yes. I was attacked. I’m … I’m going to die, Marcia. And then …
MJ: No. Don’t say it. We both know it’s true, just don’t … don’t say it.
MCC: Okay.
MJ: Jesus. Jesus. **** **** ****. Shut up! Shut the fuck up! Shut the fuck up! Shut the fuck up! They’re still, they’re still beating their fists on the, on the **** **** ****.
MCC: You’re safe in there, Marcia. They can’t get to you.
MJ: Shut the fuck up you fucking bastards! Stop it! Just stop it, stop it, stop—****.
MCC: I’ll stay with you as long as I can.
MJ: Karl … and Hartz … I killed them.
MCC: You did what you had to do. Didn’t they teach you that in astronaut training? To survive, no matter what it takes? Didn’t they teach you that?
MJ: They … they did. But if there’s no rescue ship …
MCC: No.
MJ: I need to conserve power, but … when you feel it happening. When you know it’s almost time. Call me. Please.
MCC: You really want to hear it?
MJ: You’re all I have, now, Control.
[03:58 UTC.]
MJ: Control?
MJ: Come in, Control. Please.
MJ: Please come in.
MJ: Please.
[04:21 UTC.]
MJ: You bastard. You promised me …
MJ: They’re … they’re still pounding on the hatch. They don’t ever give up, if anyone’s hearing this … fuck. I’m still doing science, aren’t I? They sent me up here to do experiments on hamsters.
MJ: Now I’m doing experiments on … whatever these things are.
MJ: Test subject responds positively to acute cranial trauma.
MJ: Test subject does not require oxygen to sustain metabolic processes.
MJ: Test subject … oh, fuck this.
MJ: Shut the fuck up shut the fuck up just stop just shut the fuck up **** **** ****!
[06:46 UTC.]
MJ: Batteries all but gone. This is probably my last …
MJ: Jesus. The air in here. I’m, uh, seeing spots. Feeling a little … a little light-headed.
MJ: Please. Shut up … shut up … please.
MJ: Control? You aren’t … I mean, you might actually still be listening. I just … just thought of that. You might still be hearing me.
MJ: Maybe you’re thinking I sound like I would taste pretty good right now.
MJ: Maybe you’re thinking something else. Something … more human.
MJ: I … just wanted to say thank you. You stuck with me, I—
MJ: Control—what was that? That sound?
[06:48 UTC.]
MJ: It’s the crew of Soyuz. It’s the crew from Soyuz, and they’re … they’re missing pieces, and one of them, his faceplate is cracked, but I can see him, looking in at me, looking in through the windows of the Cupola and they’re beating on the glass, beating on the glass with their fists …
SNAGGLETOOTH
by Max Brallier
Beau Lynn had a rotted gray snaggletooth that bugged me half-mad and that’s why I blew his Adam’s apple through the nape of his neck.
Beau Lynn was the town dentist, and it was a goddamned dead decayed-to-the-center fang jutting from his face, long as I knew him. Believe that?
But it wasn’t the tooth that got it started.
What got it started was me and Deb Lynn on the porch out back of her house, sticky with July sweat, working our way through a case of Iron City.
Beau, her husband, the man with the rotted tooth, was in Pittsburgh for two days. For me and Deb, that meant no need for sneaking around that night—no quick, hard pawing, mauling in my rusted Impala. No wasted money at the ABC Motel.
We could sit on the back porch, civilized, and take our time easing into the fun part.
That back porch.
See, that back porch—it was like a damned deer blind. A field of tall grass ran nearly two hundred yards from the house to the woods, which backed up to the Allegheny Forest.
If that back porch was mine, I’d rest my Savage 99 on the railing, Bucs game on the radio, pick off whitetail bucks, no need to check them, no limit, the house too far out for anyone to be nosy.
Sure, it was that rotted snaggletooth that brought me to murder, but it was the thought of that back porch that had me listening when Deb leaned across the patio table, a spark in her eyes I’d never seen before as she said, “It’s a foolproof plan, Jack,” and I was shaking my head, drinking my beer, saying, “The only type of person calls a plan foolproof is a fool.”
Deb leaned back, arm like a twig resting on the flower print seat cushion.
I tol
d her, “I’m not sure if you watch too many movies or you don’t watch enough, but killing the husband of the lady you’re seeing, chasing after the insurance money? That tends to not go well.”
“But this is different,” Deb said, “because I took out the plan last month, and you won’t be doing the thing for half a year. Sure, you take out life insurance on your old man and he dies ugly two days later, yeah, people will be curious.”
I finished my beer and opened another, and that was enough for her to think I was half-interested.
She said, “You’ll do it while hunting, in December. Whitetail season.”
“What’s he even want to go hunting with me for anyway?”
“You went to war, he didn’t. He’s all tight about it, half the town going off, but him staying back.”
I drank, thinking, running my tongue over my teeth—feeling that sharp canine dagger.
Deb’s nails tapped the cloudy glass tabletop. “Beau’s got a fancy, loop-de-loop signature, but I spent time practicing, and I got it just right. Paperwork’s already on file with the insurance man. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, Jack. Two hundred and fifty thousand.”
“And we split it?”
“If you want.”
“Why else?”
“Because after, it’ll just be you and me, together. And what’s it matter whose is what, then? Would you like that?”
“I might.”
She slipped her foot out of her sandal, ran it up my leg—kept going until she got to the parts that started a man thinking less than straight.
“I certainly might,” I said, and stood, telling her I had to piss.
Inside the man’s house, then. Passing a table—knickknacks, wedding photos. There was Beau, holding some dental award—a big, goofy bronze tooth. No, not bronze. Plastic, painted like bronze, I bet.
Beau was grinning, looking out at me.
I had left for the war when I was nineteen. Drinks at Bull’s Tavern the night before I shipped, and Beau was there and he shook my hand and said good luck and his smiling lips revealed, as always, that rotted snaggletooth.
After my tour, the mood at the welcome home drinks was very different, but the rotted snaggletooth was the same.
It was foul.
Inconsiderate.
I had gone and done and watched friends get exploded to nothing and this man—the goddamned town dentist!—wouldn’t remove that hideous thing from his fucking mouth.
Nights of the Living Dead Page 14
