by Aaron Bunce
Anna passed crew quarters on either side of the hall. The darkness added a patina to the doors and walls, exposing stains, cracks, scratches, and pitting she’d never noticed before. The station looked more than just dreary in the low light, but old, and dilapidated. A dark stain marred one door to her right. She stopped to consider it a moment, just as something thumped and banged behind that door.
Was that stain there this morning? Surely she would have noticed something that obvious. The dark fluid had dripped down the metal and pooled on the floor, where it dried in a wide, flat puddle.
“It’s just in your head, Anna. It’s in your head,” she said, forcing her feet forward another half a dozen steps into the darkness.
Or is it? After seeing Randle in the exam room, and then Janice get sick in the waiting room, Anna wasn’t sure. Hell, she wasn’t sure what “real” was anymore. Shit was blowing up, people are going crazy and trying to kill one another, and Jacoby…
Anna moved through the pool of light from the one working bank. She didn’t want to think about all of it anymore. She…couldn’t.
A dull thud sounded beyond the door to her left, followed by muffled voices. A heartbeat later someone laughed distantly. Her tension broke and Anna let out a pent up breath, and then that person coughed, the sound louder and harsher than the laugh before it.
Anna froze, small hairs on the back of her neck immediately standing on end. She shivered and rubbed her arms, walking apprehensively forward into the darkness.
“Home, cup of tea…home, cup of tea,” she said, repeating it like a mantra. There was simply too much to think about…to figure out at once. She needed to sit down someplace familiar and safe to start sorting through it all – one messed up strand at a time.
The dark hall creaked and groaned ahead of her, a subtle glow from the adjoining hall ahead providing the only light. Another cough sounded somewhere down the hall behind her, then another ahead and just to her right.
Anna moved past the last quarters on the right, the shadows so deep she couldn’t even see the door. The gray walls and bulkheads looked like stone, the shadowy doorway a narrow cave.
Something in her mind shifted, and she almost forgot that she was surrounded by ceramic and titanium superstructure, and beyond that, the cold, black void of space. For a moment, her mind almost swept her away to shadowy halls where Grendel stalked would-be Danish heroes, or Baba Yaga led ignorant travelers to their deaths.
A shout split the silence, the voice muffled and unintelligible. A voice answered – this one deeper and louder. Angry.
“It’s not your business,” Anna whispered and moved past the door.
Something heavy thudded up against the bulkhead just feet ahead of her, a loud crash filling the space beyond a heartbeat later. The loud voices rose again, Preston’s voice immediately recognizable even through the sound insulated walls. The screaming reached a fever pitch and died away as something else thudded against the wall, a splintering crash following right after. A quiet voice rose up in the silence that followed. Anna held her breath – no, it was crying.
She slid through the darkness and stopped just before the dark door. Anna lifted her hand and rapped lightly on the metal door before she could think better of it.
The quiet crying continued somewhere beyond the cold portal, the air vent behind and above her buzzed gently, and her heart pounded uncomfortably loud in her chest.
Preston’s voice rumbled deep and low, Soraya’s crying gaining in intensity. Anna sucked in a steadying breath and pounded on the door again, this time much louder. The space beyond the door went quiet, the deep, almost imperceptible hum of the station the only sound.
“Soraya? It’s Anna. Is everything all right?” Anna asked, but her throat was tight, her voice small and strangled by the darkness.
Silence spanned for a moment, and then she heard someone just on the other side of the door. They sniffled.
“Soraya?”
The door clicked and slid open slowly a few inches, the motor and gears grinding audibly. The power to their door didn’t appear to be working. Anna made a mental note and wondered if she’d be able to get into their quarters at all.
“Anna,” Soraya whispered, her voice a low hiss. “You can’t be here right now, girl. Please, just go! Quick.”
A gentle glow filled the hall behind her, but Anna could see enough of her face to see that her cheeks were wet with tears.
“I heard a crash and yelling. I just wanted to make sure you both were all right. Are you?”
“Yes. I mean, it’s Preston. He’s just not himself…still sick. Just needs rest and to get himself back to straight again,” Soraya whispered and moved to push the door closed, but Anna forced her hand into the gap.
“Wait! What do you mean by ‘not himself’? Are you okay? What’s going on?”
“It’s me, Anna. I think I said something…no, did something stupid. He got mad. It’s my fault. Just go. It’s best if he doesn’t know you’re here, okay?” Soraya sobbed, her voice breaking as she tried to push Anna’s fingers out of the way and force the door closed.
A shadow passed behind Soraya just before she gave a startled shriek and fell away from the gap. Anna had just enough time to step back before the door crashed open the rest of the way.
“You again!” Preston growled angrily, his whole body shaking. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, you piece of shit!”
Anna caught a gleam off metal, spotted a short knife in his hand, and jumped back against the wall.
“It’s Anna, Baby. She was just saying ‘hi’, but she’s going home now,” Soraya said, reappearing behind Preston in the hallway.
He didn’t move or speak, his bulk continuing to block the doorway, the light from the room backlighting him and casting his face in impenetrable shadow. “Did you know about him? What he’s really like? W-W-What he does?”
Anna pressed her back against the wall, her attention pulling reluctantly away from the kitchen knife clutched in Preston’s hand. She tried to meet his gaze, to search his face and better understand his meaning, but the hall was too dark. He moved part way out of the doorway, his limbs expanding into the hall in an almost spiderlike fashion.
“Preston, why do you have a knife?” she asked, swallowing.
“Well, Anna?” Preston pressed, ignoring her question. The strange almost growling timbre of his voice sent a cold wave flooding down her back. There was something oddly familiar about his voice, but she couldn’t quite say why.
Preston stared at her a moment, his eyes slowly sliding over until he was staring just over her shoulder. His mouth went slack and his head started to twitch gently up and down.
Anna turned to see what he was staring at behind her, but it was just a blank stretch of wall. She waved a hand in front of his face, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“Heh, Preston, are you okay?” she asked.
Preston’s head snapped up, his eyes swiveling slowly to meet hers. He leaned out from the doorway, his fingernails scratching against the metal on one side and the knife scraping on the other.
“Did you? Know about him?” Preston asked, his voice turning gravely and hoarse.
“Know what about ‘who’? Who is really like ‘what’?” She backed away, her first impulse to run for their room, but he was only a few feet away.
Can I outrun him? Can I get the door open fast enough? Will it open at all? She knew it was stupid – of course she couldn’t outrun him. Preston was a former athlete, like Soraya. He was taller, stronger, had longer legs, and Anna had never been much of a runner.
“We always thought you two were nice – decent people…a couple friends looking out for each other way out here in the black,” Preston whispered as he pulled his body out through the doorway, a wet cough echoing deep in his chest.
“Preston, I don’t know…”
“Soraya helped him–” he interrupted, moving sideways into the hall to block the path to the elevator. Another raspy, wet cough
vibrated in his chest and a tear slipped from his left eye. The knife shook in his hand, the blade gleaming in the low light.
“We found him on the ground outside our quarters after the power cut out,” he said, pausing as a sickening noise echoed out of his stomach. He gagged and then coughed. “She helped him back to your quarters…thought he was sick…and when she comes back home.” Preston stopped suddenly and bent forward in a violent coughing fit.
“My god, Preston, you sound horrible. Maybe you should go to the clinic–”
“I knew something was wrong right away. I know her – how she moves, feels, smells, even if she was too embarrassed to admit it,” he said, snapping up and cutting her off.
“Did something happen? Is Soraya okay,” Anna asked, moving slowly backwards down the wall, silently hoping he wouldn’t see the movement in the dark.
“She was confused…uh, lost, had scratches on her shoulder and arms, and her robe and panties were ripped. You’re a woman, put it together.” Preston coughed again and Anna flinched back, her imagination filling in for what her eyes could not see.
“Jacoby wouldn’t do that…not to Soraya,” Anna argued, but watched as his arms and legs continued to twitch. “We play charades together and drink cheap wine, we tell stories, we complain about our days, and make fun of the stuffy up and ups you and guys work with in admin. He wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
“I…think…you…knew.”
Anna shook her head, but what was that worth in the dark? She knew Jacoby – his awkwardness towards women, his sometimes painfully shy way. He could come off as a little crude at times, but he was the last person that would pick a fight let alone assault a woman. He was the one that stood up for people, especially after the shit he went through growing up.
“Where is he?” Preston asked, moving slowly towards her and forcing her into the deeper dark.
Anna wanted to argue against his accusation, to try and get Preston, who always seemed so levelheaded, to stop and see reason.
“Come on, Baby, put down the knife and come back inside. You’re sick and you’re head is messed up. Once you’re feeling better you’ll see the truth. We just need to…just need to calm down and get you back in bed,” Soraya said and pulled on his free hand.
“Where is Jacoby, Anna?” he asked, dragging his wife down the hall.
“Can you put the knife down? I don’t want anyone to get hurt,” she asked, her gaze flicking from his dark hand to his face and back down, but immediately knew her error.
“Hurt? Hurt?”
Soraya slipped between them as Preston’s anger seemed to blossom, his breathing now wet and raspy.
“Baby, that’s not what she meant and you know it. Now come on, you’re out of control! Give me the knife and stop fucking around. Let’s go back inside before someone calls security and ruins everyone’s day. I told you already that’s not what happened. It’s…it’s not like that at all. Jacoby didn’t do anything. I can explain everything, but I am not doing it in the hallway. Just…come inside and–”
“That man tried to force himself on you, and she,” Preston growled, pointing the dark knife at Anna, “knew about it. There is no more talking. I know what happened in their quarters even if you won’t…admit…it. I could smell it on you…could see where he touched you–” Preston rumbled. He reached up and pounded a fist on the side of his head and swayed a bit.
“Anna, just go. His head’s messed up with this bug,” Soraya urged and tried to push him back, leaning all of her weight into his body, but he didn’t seem to notice. He grunted and smacked his head again more violently, something wet dribbling out of his nose.
“Ahhh! He hurt-hurt-hurt. I…hurt,” he stammered, the words mushy in his mouth.
“What’s got into you? Why aren’t you listening to me? Baby, you’re freaking me out. You’re not right…not right at all,” Soraya said.
A panel light flickered to life somewhere behind Anna, the flashing glow piercing the darkness like a strobe. She pushed away from the wall and tried to turn for their door but fell into the opposite wall and shielded her eyes. The flashing light…it made the floor and walls move, or that’s what her eyes tried to tell her.
The light popped and hummed loudly, its violent, strobe-like flashes hitting her in dizzying waves.
“H-u-r-t in m-e…you. I smelled him on y-o-u. T-a-s-t-e-d him when you kissed me. I know what he d-i-d. Ahhhh. I k-n-o-w!” Preston moaned.
“Stop this, baby! I’m scared. Your ass needs to be in bed before you drop dead in this hallway. Or…or, let’s go to the clinic so you can see a doctor,” she heard Soraya argue, her voice rising in volume and strength.
Preston didn’t seem to be moving anymore, his limbs twitching and trembling. Anna rubbed her eyes and squinted. Or was he? The light blinked more rapidly. Was he moving, or was it just the light?
Anna took a breath to speak, to quietly urge Soraya back and away from her husband, but flashing light played hell with not just her eyes but her sense of balance. The ground shifted and moved beneath her, the walls bowing and flexing. Was it like Randle in the clinic? She remembered him freezing, right before flying into a violent rage.
Anna knew that she needed to get Soraya away from him, get them both someplace safe, but that thought had barely planted in her mind before Preston started to cough and gag.
She moved straight towards Soraya and her husband, her feet stabbing out awkwardly at the ground. She held her hands out and swiped at the air, reaching and grasping, desperate to pull her back. Were Randle and Janice inflicted with the same thing? Would he become violent, or burst into sudden and horrible sickness? She knew people were sick, but could it be this bad? Had station administration lied to them?
“Soraya, you need to get back,” Anna whispered, only steps away from her back as best she could figure.
That damn light just needs to stop flashing. She couldn’t see in the dark, but at this point even blindness would be preferable. Just another step…another step and grab her arm. Pull her back to our quarters. Then close the door and call someone.
“He’s just sick, girl. He needs to get his ass into bed,” Soraya responded, but Anna could hear the fear and uncertainty in her voice.
“Soraya, get away from him. He’s not just sick. I saw it in the clinic. It’s bad. It makes them crazy,” Anna said, forcing her eyes wide.
“Come on, baby. Let’s go,” Soraya said, grasping Preston’s hand and then started to pull him back towards their door. She jerked to a halt and snapped back suddenly. Preston twisted and flung her into the opposite wall. Soraya screamed and cursed, the ceramic panels cracking under her weight.
“I know–know–know–no–no–nooooo,” Preston moaned, his fists flashing up and smashing violently into his head and face. Bone and cartilage snapped and popped as his knuckles cracked into his jaw and nose, the knife cutting into his cheek and ear.
“You mother f…what is wrong with you?” Soraya grunted as she rolled over and tried to stand.
Anna lurched forward, hooked Soraya under the arms, and pulled her back as Preston wheeled about, the knife swinging in a wide arc. He slapped at his head again, bent forward, and choked loudly. Anna used that moment to help Soraya to her feet.
They managed two cumbersome steps down the hall before a heavy weight crashed into them from behind. Anna used the momentum and shoved Soraya down the hall, sending her lunging, stumbling into the darkness.
“Go…just run. Find help!” Anna screamed, staggering. She tumbled face first, Preston’s weight bearing her into the ground. The hallway spun – darkness and flashing lights twirling around her, but she managed to kick around and roll to her back.
Preston thrashed atop her, his movements violent and wild, like an animal caught in the throes of death. She brought her hands up before her face, kicking and kneeing with every ounce of strength in her body. She tried to fall back on her self-defense training, to remember everything her jujitsu instructor had taught her about
leverage and movement, but that had been so long ago.
“Preston…please…stop!” she grunted, his weight smashing her right leg against the ground. Preston coughed and sputtered, his voice lost and strangled as if trapped in his chest.
Something wet and hot spattered her hands and face as he grew even more manic. She managed to wrestle her leg free, desperate and driven by the singular need to get away. He shifted, moaned, and swung his right hand down. Anna caught his forearm with both hands, the blade of the kitchen knife now pulled between the meat of his palm and fingers. Blood ran freely from his hand, the blade having already cut deep into his flesh.
Anna pushed as he leaned into her, all of his weight driving the knife blade down and towards her face. Blood dripped from the tip, seemingly jumping back and forth from the blade in the flashing light.
“Preston…please…stop!” she grunted again, but he couldn’t seem to hear her. Or if he could, he didn’t care or understand.
Surprised by her own strength, Anna wrenched the knife away from her body, lifting Preston’s weight back up. His chest started to vibrate and he moaned, pressing back in response. His mouth dropped open, a thick rope of drool spilling out and onto her shirt.
“Stop-stop-stop!” she cried frantically, cringing and flexing her entire body to push him away, but he was too heavy and strong. Her arms started to shake from the strain.
Anna kicked in again and again, her kneecaps striking solidly into his ribs but he didn’t even seem to register the pain.
“Preston, you know me. We’re friends, right? Please…don’t do this,” she pleaded, the cold and numbing realization stabbing into her chest. He wasn’t just lost to anger, he wanted to cut her, stab her. He wanted to kill her.
She contracted her core and managed to pull her knees in, wedging them under his body and pushing him away. He started to flail again, fluid leaking out of his eyes and nose, a series of loud snaps and cracks sounding from his body. The knife slid from his hand and clattered onto the ground next to her head.
Preston thrashed and broke her grip on his forearms, his hands crashing down and hooking around her shoulders. The hall light blinked on suddenly, bright, white light filling the space.
