around here?” he asked.
“ Not this common.”
Greg continued staring out the window, searching for movement. There was nothing, just a bleak, gray landscape. He finally slipped his pistol into its holster, pocketed the extra clips of ammo and slung the shotgun across his back.
There was work to be done.
* * * * *
They all had breakfast in the mess hall. More sealed packets of freeze-dried food. Greg settled for pre-cooked bacon, reasonably decent eggs, and a can of amazing corned beef hash. He downed it all with milk, then grabbed a can of Vex and drained it, too. If he hadn't had an addiction to Vex before, he sure had one now.
After breakfast, Kyra went to work on the tangled mess in the radio room, delving into her work with determination and a toolkit. Greg and Cage took on the more menial tasks of collecting the new corpses.
They toiled in silence, gearing up in bio-hazard gloves and masks, then stripped the corpses of anything useful: gear, ammo, weapons, medical supplies. Minutes bled into hours. The sun struggled into the gray sky behind a thick cloud cover. When they were finished with that task, they finished cleaning up the thick black blood, almost like oil or tar, and threw the rags onto the pile as well. Greg stared at the bodies.
“ What should we burn it with?” he asked as he threw his gloves and then his mask onto the pile. The outpost was clean. The bodies were collected, the blood was mopped up, there was, viscerally at least, nothing left to show the zombies had ever been there.
“ There should be fuel around the garage we found behind the comms relay.” Cage set off toward the garage. Greg followed. The garage, previously unnoticed, had been discovered on their last search of the colony for all things undead. It was untouched by the battle, but empty of anything save for some barrels of fuel, boxes of supplies, and a couple of tool-scattered tables. They grabbed a pair of smaller fuel containers and carried them out.
“ Hey, Kyra, come out. We're going to light the torch.” Greg spoke into the portable comm.
“ You'd better wait ‘til I'm there. I wouldn't want to miss this.” Her voice came back tinny, made small by the radio.
The men dragged the barrel of fuel out to the bodies, which had been gathered in a heap a few dozen meters from the camp. Kyra emerged from the main building, hurrying across the camp to join them as they finished pouring the fuel across the bodies.
“What if this attracts more unwanted attention?” Greg questioned as they moved a safe distance away.
Cage pulled out his pistol. “Then I'll deal with it.”
He pointed his pistol at the heap and fired. The spark of the bullet lit the fuel. There was a brief plume of flame, which became a bigger one that whispered across the pile and soon encompassed the entire thing. It burned on, crackling fiercely despite the rain. Greg looked at the others, noticing how intently Kyra was staring into the flames. He wondered if this was liberating somehow, cathartic perhaps.
The zombies had come and torn apart her life, whatever it might have been before this. She handled herself well, but he wondered how much she kept in. His feelings were neutral toward the stumbling husks of men and women, apart from a fear that became less frenzied and more academic. What did Kyra and Cage feel?
“Will this burn, despite the rain?” Greg asked.
“ Yes,” Cage replied simply.
“ Come on, I'm hungry.” Kyra abruptly turned from the pyre.
Greg moved to join her. He hesitated when he realized Cage had yet to move from his position taken after firing the shot. “Coming?”
“In a moment.” Cage remained, still staring into the flames.
“ All right.” Greg shrugged and made for the mess hall. They ate. Conversation was light, becoming even lighter when Cage finally showed up. Everyone gave an update. Kyra stated she was going to take a break from the comms room and investigate the power station.
“ It's our
“ Not this common.”
Greg continued staring out the window, searching for movement. There was nothing, just a bleak, gray landscape. He finally slipped his pistol into its holster, pocketed the extra clips of ammo and slung the shotgun across his back.
There was work to be done.
* * * * *
They all had breakfast in the mess hall. More sealed packets of freeze-dried food. Greg settled for pre-cooked bacon, reasonably decent eggs, and a can of amazing corned beef hash. He downed it all with milk, then grabbed a can of Vex and drained it, too. If he hadn't had an addiction to Vex before, he sure had one now.
After breakfast, Kyra went to work on the tangled mess in the radio room, delving into her work with determination and a toolkit. Greg and Cage took on the more menial tasks of collecting the new corpses.
They toiled in silence, gearing up in bio-hazard gloves and masks, then stripped the corpses of anything useful: gear, ammo, weapons, medical supplies. Minutes bled into hours. The sun struggled into the gray sky behind a thick cloud cover. When they were finished with that task, they finished cleaning up the thick black blood, almost like oil or tar, and threw the rags onto the pile as well. Greg stared at the bodies.
“ What should we burn it with?” he asked as he threw his gloves and then his mask onto the pile. The outpost was clean. The bodies were collected, the blood was mopped up, there was, viscerally at least, nothing left to show the zombies had ever been there.
“ There should be fuel around the garage we found behind the comms relay.” Cage set off toward the garage. Greg followed. The garage, previously unnoticed, had been discovered on their last search of the colony for all things undead. It was untouched by the battle, but empty of anything save for some barrels of fuel, boxes of supplies, and a couple of tool-scattered tables. They grabbed a pair of smaller fuel containers and carried them out.
“ Hey, Kyra, come out. We're going to light the torch.” Greg spoke into the portable comm.
“ You'd better wait ‘til I'm there. I wouldn't want to miss this.” Her voice came back tinny, made small by the radio.
The men dragged the barrel of fuel out to the bodies, which had been gathered in a heap a few dozen meters from the camp. Kyra emerged from the main building, hurrying across the camp to join them as they finished pouring the fuel across the bodies.
“What if this attracts more unwanted attention?” Greg questioned as they moved a safe distance away.
Cage pulled out his pistol. “Then I'll deal with it.”
He pointed his pistol at the heap and fired. The spark of the bullet lit the fuel. There was a brief plume of flame, which became a bigger one that whispered across the pile and soon encompassed the entire thing. It burned on, crackling fiercely despite the rain. Greg looked at the others, noticing how intently Kyra was staring into the flames. He wondered if this was liberating somehow, cathartic perhaps.
The zombies had come and torn apart her life, whatever it might have been before this. She handled herself well, but he wondered how much she kept in. His feelings were neutral toward the stumbling husks of men and women, apart from a fear that became less frenzied and more academic. What did Kyra and Cage feel?
“Will this burn, despite the rain?” Greg asked.
“ Yes,” Cage replied simply.
“ Come on, I'm hungry.” Kyra abruptly turned from the pyre.
Greg moved to join her. He hesitated when he realized Cage had yet to move from his position taken after firing the shot. “Coming?”
“In a moment.” Cage remained, still staring into the flames.
“ All right.” Greg shrugged and made for the mess hall. They ate. Conversation was light, becoming even lighter when Cage finally showed up. Everyone gave an update. Kyra stated she was going to take a break from the comms room and investigate the power station.
“ It's our
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