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 slowly. 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
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 slowly. 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
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