Murmansk-13

The worst of the smell was emanating from the single ward behind her. Tala guessed that was where Mihailov had been detained – once they realized he was beyond salvation. The bulkheads and decks were smeared with gore, pinkish orange in the waxing light. Tala marvelled at the multiple ways the infection manifest itself. Of course, the outcome seemed largely the same – death, then resurrection in the least Christian sense. The person lost to feral desire, a trail of masticated bodies in their wake.

Hernandez blood trail, for she was sure it had been Hernandez’s, was lost beneath the wash of gore. She scanned the Medical Bay, but found neither terminus, nor continuation of the trail. Perturbed, she felt her hand tighten round the grip of the rivet gun, her finger cramping over the trigger. Aside from the whir of the air recirculation system and the gentle distant sounding application of orbital thrust, the bay was silent.

Tala felt dread exposed.

She began backing up, swivelling straight into the robust body of Hernandez. Tala yelped in surprise, her bare feet slipping in the puddle that had been Igor. She fell backwards, the rivet gun skittering from her grasp as she landed on her behind. Momentarily stupefied she stared at Hernandez. The motorman seemed to regard her with something nearing wide eyed recognition, his body jolting in epileptic paroxysms.

Tala could see bite marks, bloodied tooth imprints puncturing his arm. His face both pleading and slack. The shattered remnant of his lower jaw hung listlessly, held in situ by skin and tendons alone. Rust coloured stains coated his tattered longjohns. She watched as the whites of his eyes began blotting with blood, diffusing through the sclera like watercolours on canvas. He tried to say something, but it came out as an agonized, guttural noise.

He tried one last time. “Kill me.”

Tala reached for the rivet gun, but before she could round on Hernandez, he lunged forward. Diminutive but stout, Hernandez weighed down upon her, gnashing at her face as the final vestiges of life guttered from his eyes, his pupils dilated, his expression flattened. Watching the transformation chilled Tala more than her predicament. Desperately she tried to lift her arm, pinned to her side by the attacking corpse that had been her friend.

Squirming, Tala lay back, avoiding Hernandez’s exposed upper teeth that threatened to rake across her neck. Hernandez lunged again as Tala pushed up and rolled to her side, doing her utmost to duck and weave while pinned to the deck. She knew even the slightest puncturing wound to her flesh would be terminal. She remembered Oleg.

Better to be blown away by the Russians than face this fate.

Disadvantaged by the uselessness of his jaw, the corpse that had once been Hernandez couldn’t quite reach. It grunted with effort, the air that escaped from the widened maw was redolent of old blood and the nascent essence of decomposition.

Tala arched her back, forcing the dead assailant upward, allowing her to lever her legs beneath. Pushing up, she managed to lift Hernandez into the air, balanced on her steepled knees and palms. Hernandez wobbled maniacally in her grip, threatening to collapse her arms. Tala knew if she dropped Hernandez now, his teeth would sink into her face.

As her final reserves of energy began to short out, Tala tossed Hernandez to the side and rolled to where the rivet gun had rested. Twisting around on one knee, she saw Hernandez, thrashing to right himself. He turned his lifeless gaze on Tala one final time to see the rivet gun levelled at his face.

“I’m sorry, Hernandez,” Tala said as she squeezed the trigger. She continued to fire, rivet after rivet into her friends skull until the gun fell from her grasp, long emptied – her hand paralyzed by cramp.

Tala sank to the deck, absently massaging her convulsing fingers. The Medical Bay was silent now, Hernandez lay face down – the back of his cranium blown open, skull plates peeled apart like retched petals. For a moment she listened to the long dormant systems coming up to speed, the Riyadh coming back to life. Back to life…

Tears rimed her face, salty and stinging as they moistened the wounds on her lips, the cuts on her cheeks. She didn’t sob, the tears came freely and silently as she stared into nowhere in particular. She knew if the Soviets didn’t kill them, if any emotional spark could ignite, then the guilt would come. Absently she wondered where Katja was, if she’d escaped. Would it matter? Murmansk-13 had changed them, broken them all. Nothing usable was left, just inoperative fragments. How could anything ever be salvaged?

Tala stared into that sightless space within space, letting the unyielding passage of time freeze around her.

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