Passage Graves by Madyson Rush

flinched as the airlock door slid shut behind her. She faced the man crouched in the corner and took a few steps forward.
    Unshaven, staring blankly at the floor, the survivor looked like he’d been to hell and back. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair disheveled.
    How could one man survive?
    She looked closely at his face, his ears and neck. There were no signs of trauma. At least no physical trauma, nothing related to subsonic noise. His knee was bandaged. He had stitches on his cheek. From what she understood, these were all injuries sustained after the fact.
    “David Hyden?” Her voice sounded inhuman through the hazardous materials suit.
    He didn’t move . He didn’t even blink.
    She squatted down, trying to meet his eyes. The body gear was too bulky.
    “This is crap ,” she said. Sliding open the neckline lock, she pulled the helmet off her head.
    Behind her, t he NCEC pathologist pounded on the glass door.
    Thatcher ignored him and brushed her hair away from her f ace. “Dr. Hyden?” This time she met his eyes. “A simple hello will do.”
    “‘Hello. ’” David’s monotone complemented his reclusive glare.
    “I’m Dr. Brynne Thatcher, a NATO Researcher and pathologist.” She opened his file. “I read through your report of the Stenness events. I can’t say it was entirely helpful.”
    “I told you people everything I know,” he murmured. “I’m not sick. I’m not going to get sick.”
    “That’s the problem.” She studied his body again for any evidence of exposure—not a single burst capillary. “You’re the anomaly.”
    “I need to get back to Aberdeen ,” he said. “My class meets Monday.”
    “That’s a bit unimportant, don’t you think? Especially after such an interesting turn of events?”
    “Interesting?” He didn’t appreciate her choice of words.
    “I find the facts rather remarkable.” She shuffled through his paperwork. “One, Stenness was a healthy, very much alive town. Two, it was visited by you. And three, every man, woman, and child is now dead—except fo r you. You’re a scientist, Dr. Hyden. What’s the catalyst here?”
    David stared down at the floor. “I didn’t kill them, if that’s what you’re implying.”
    “Explain to me why you’re the only survivor?”
    He didn’t respond.
    She looked back at the door. She knew Hummer was listening. “Can you describe your location last night?”
    “McLeod’s Bed’n’Breakfast. On the north end of town.”
    “Where was your room in relation to the town?”
    David looked up at her with mild interest. “I was on the second floor, facing east.”
    “ Was anyone with you?”
    “ Marta. Her room was directly below mine. She was in bed…when I found her.”
    “Y ou were alone upstairs?”
    “No.”
    During the debriefing, the pathologist insisted David had been alone. “There was someone else in your room?” she asked.
    “My dog ,” he said. “But you’d know that if you’d actually read the report.”
    Thatcher opened his file and found a photograph of the deceased dog. She chewed on her bottom lip. She had hoped the location of his room might somehow explain why he was unaffected by the noise. Perhaps something had deflected the low frequency sound waves. But if the dog died in the same room…?
    David surviving was unexplainable.
    She shut the file.
    Although puzzling, he was far from contagious. All the other evidence pointed directly at Sonja. Hummer had no doubt. From this point on, David’s presence would only impede their investigation.
    She s tood up. “Well, I appreciate your cooperation. I’ll be in contact if I need to question you any further. Please don’t leave the country without authorization.”
    David looked up at her, blinking in disbelief.
    Thatche r offered him a warm smile. “I’ve given you a clean bill of health. Go back to Aberdeen, doctor.”
    David’s knees made a cracking noise as he got up. He cringed from the pain and hobbled behind her to the airlock