03 Deluge of the Dead

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Authors: David Forsyth
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away far enough to regain his feet. Craig, realizing that he had thrown Carla back on top of Scott, reached down to pull her off again: he was almost in time.
    Scott knew the meaning of true terror when Carla bit through the seat of his pants. As Craig pulled Carla in the other direction Scott tore away from her bite, leaving part of his pants and a little flesh in her teeth. This maneuver was unfortunate for Craig because the newly turned zombie was then able to take a bite out of his upper thigh before he threw her down the hallway. Scott and Craig exchanged horrified glances for an instant before both of them turned to face the zombie named Carla. 
    Scott cursed himself for not wearing his pistol aboard the ship this morning, but he was wearing his safari vest. As Carla gathered herself to attack them again, Scott withdrew a telescoping baton from a vest pocket and snapped it open to full length with a flip of his wrist. Before he could use it however, Craig let out a blood curdling battle cry and charged Carla with murder in his eyes. He grabbed her head in both of his large hands and twisted, oblivious to her fingernails raking his face, until there was an audible crack and Carla’s head rotated unnaturally. She stopped struggling as her spinal cord snapped, but her jaw kept gnashing, trying to take another bite out of Craig. He threw her body down in disgust and proceeded to stomp on her head repeatedly with his size fourteen boots.  He didn’t stop until Carla’s jaw was completely torn from her cracked skull. Then he looked ready to cry as he came to grips with the implications of his own wounds.
    Scott didn’t blame him at all. He felt the same way as blood soaked into the seat of his pants and trickled down his leg. The physical pain was minor compared to the mental anguish of knowing that his life was now measured in hours and minutes, instead of years and decades. All the money in the world, along with the ship and all of his toys, became meaningless in that instant. It was a crushing blow to his psyche and he wanted to reject the hopelessness of his plight, but it only took a moment to realize that it would be impossible to amputate his buttocks.  The infection was probably making its way into his torso already. There was no brilliant solution, no hope and no cure.  This was it.
    He realized suddenly that he wanted nothing more than to spend his final hours with Michelle and Billy. There was so much he needed to tell them, so many things that had been left unsaid. He needed them to know how much he loved them, but more than that, he needed to spend the remainder of his time ensuring that they would survive and that the plans he had set in motion would continue without him. It was only that sense of purpose that kept him from being overcome by total despair.
    “Come on, Craig,” he said gently but firmly. “Let’s get down to sickbay. Someone else will have to clean up this mess.”  He was referring to Carla’s body, but realized that his statement went far beyond such minor details. Craig just stared at him with tear filled eyes. Scott thought the big man might lose it and lash out for a moment, but then his eyes fell, he nodded and they both turned towards the elevator.
     *****
    There was no working television in the Aquarium of the Pacific, but they did have a stereo system and power from the emergency generators that kept the water circulating in the fish tanks. Scag’s gang usually played heavy metal rock CDs on the sound system, but someone had flipped on the radio that morning and stumbled across a special news bulletin. Now the announcement was blaring through the speakers throughout the aquarium for all to hear.  Scag wished they would have come and asked him first though. It would have been better to keep this news from most of the people until he had time to decide how to deal with it. He was still contemplating his next move as the message repeated for a third time.
    This is a Special

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