Read Online Night of the Living Trekkies by Kevin David Anderson, Sam Stall, Kevin David, Sam Stall Anderson - Free Book Online
Tags: Fiction, General, Humorous fiction, Science-Fiction, Science Fiction - General, Fiction - Science Fiction, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Zombies, Science Fiction And Fantasy, Black humor, Science fiction fans, Congresses and conventions
Ads: Link
of them said. “We were supposed to do the bat’leth demonstration, but two of our guys got caught up in a riot. Down by the train station, I guess. They wanted me to pick them up, but no way am I driving in this traffic.”
“Did you say riot?” Jim asked.
“
They
said riot. It sounded like a riot.”
“Maybe it’s the zombies,” T’Poc laughed. “Or wait—maybe it’s vampires! The sun’s set and now they’re finally making their move!”
Gary and Rayna laughed. Jim didn’t.
He knew people didn’t toss out the word “riot” in idle conversation. Cell phone reception was bad, but it wasn’t
that
bad. The kid with the toy phaser had complained that his television didn’t work. There was no signal. Just static.
Jim’s instincts were screaming. He still couldn’t grasp the threat’s true nature, but he sensed its silhouette. And it was enormous.
He told Rayna that he was going to swing by the front desk to check with the manager.
“You do that,” Matt replied. “Tell them that the VIP in room 754 is having a meltdown about the shitty service. Use those exact words, okay?”
“Got it,” Jim sighed. “Meltdown. Shitty service.”
They rose from the table en masse. Their move triggered a general evacuation of the banquet, with everyone heading somewhat list-lessly toward the doors.
“You will come by, right?” Rayna said.
“Count on it,” Jim said. “Watch yourself until I get there.”
“Watch myself? What am I watching for?”
“Trouble.”
“Are you okay?You’re acting kind of paranoid.”
“Something’s going on. I’m not saying it’s zombies, but it’s something. I’ve felt it all day. Now, suddenly, it’s worse. So keep your head on a swivel.”
He watched as the group started down the hallway to the lobby. He hung around for a minute, waiting to see if anyone would appear to clean up the mess. No one did. Even the two servers seemed to have vanished.
Finally he stepped out into the hallway, turned out the lights and locked the door behind him. Jim closed his eyes and then slowly rolled his neck from right to left.
He opened them just in time to see Martock running out of the men’s room and heading toward the lobby. He was still in full armor and full makeup but moved with an urgency that didn’t look like play-acting. Jim was about to call out to him when he noticed something on the carpeted floor.
Something red.
Something wet.
Footprints.
Jim followed them to the door of the restroom. It was located halfway down the long hallway that linked the lobby to the Endeavour Room. He stepped cautiously up to the door and, not knowing what else to do, knocked. No one answered.
He took a deep breath and pushed it open. It resisted slightly. He heard something metallic scrape across the floor.
“Hello?” he called as he entered. “Everything okay in here?”
A quick glance downward revealed that everything was, in fact,
not
okay. The scraping sound had come from a bat’leth lying on the floor. Jim figured Martock had dropped it on his way out.
The blade was covered with blood.
Jim stepped over it and entered the bathroom, backtracking over the Klingon’s crimson footprints.
“Anybody in here?” he called.
A bank of toilet stalls to his right prevented him from gaining a full view of the room. Jim stepped around them cautiously until he reached the row of sinks and urinals in the back.
A blood-drenched body lay in a thick, red-black pool of rapidly congealing blood.
“Hotel security,” Jim said, inching closer. “Are you okay?”
He realized the body wore the same dirty athletic shoes he’d spotted on the woman sleeping in Martock’s booth.
Then he realized the body was missing a head.
Jim reeled back toward the sinks, managing to catch one to balance himself. Fighting nausea, he tried to put everything together in his mind. The Klingon had decapitated her with his bat’leth, then dropped it at the door and run away.
He turned around and
“Did you say riot?” Jim asked.
“
They
said riot. It sounded like a riot.”
“Maybe it’s the zombies,” T’Poc laughed. “Or wait—maybe it’s vampires! The sun’s set and now they’re finally making their move!”
Gary and Rayna laughed. Jim didn’t.
He knew people didn’t toss out the word “riot” in idle conversation. Cell phone reception was bad, but it wasn’t
that
bad. The kid with the toy phaser had complained that his television didn’t work. There was no signal. Just static.
Jim’s instincts were screaming. He still couldn’t grasp the threat’s true nature, but he sensed its silhouette. And it was enormous.
He told Rayna that he was going to swing by the front desk to check with the manager.
“You do that,” Matt replied. “Tell them that the VIP in room 754 is having a meltdown about the shitty service. Use those exact words, okay?”
“Got it,” Jim sighed. “Meltdown. Shitty service.”
They rose from the table en masse. Their move triggered a general evacuation of the banquet, with everyone heading somewhat list-lessly toward the doors.
“You will come by, right?” Rayna said.
“Count on it,” Jim said. “Watch yourself until I get there.”
“Watch myself? What am I watching for?”
“Trouble.”
“Are you okay?You’re acting kind of paranoid.”
“Something’s going on. I’m not saying it’s zombies, but it’s something. I’ve felt it all day. Now, suddenly, it’s worse. So keep your head on a swivel.”
He watched as the group started down the hallway to the lobby. He hung around for a minute, waiting to see if anyone would appear to clean up the mess. No one did. Even the two servers seemed to have vanished.
Finally he stepped out into the hallway, turned out the lights and locked the door behind him. Jim closed his eyes and then slowly rolled his neck from right to left.
He opened them just in time to see Martock running out of the men’s room and heading toward the lobby. He was still in full armor and full makeup but moved with an urgency that didn’t look like play-acting. Jim was about to call out to him when he noticed something on the carpeted floor.
Something red.
Something wet.
Footprints.
Jim followed them to the door of the restroom. It was located halfway down the long hallway that linked the lobby to the Endeavour Room. He stepped cautiously up to the door and, not knowing what else to do, knocked. No one answered.
He took a deep breath and pushed it open. It resisted slightly. He heard something metallic scrape across the floor.
“Hello?” he called as he entered. “Everything okay in here?”
A quick glance downward revealed that everything was, in fact,
not
okay. The scraping sound had come from a bat’leth lying on the floor. Jim figured Martock had dropped it on his way out.
The blade was covered with blood.
Jim stepped over it and entered the bathroom, backtracking over the Klingon’s crimson footprints.
“Anybody in here?” he called.
A bank of toilet stalls to his right prevented him from gaining a full view of the room. Jim stepped around them cautiously until he reached the row of sinks and urinals in the back.
A blood-drenched body lay in a thick, red-black pool of rapidly congealing blood.
“Hotel security,” Jim said, inching closer. “Are you okay?”
He realized the body wore the same dirty athletic shoes he’d spotted on the woman sleeping in Martock’s booth.
Then he realized the body was missing a head.
Jim reeled back toward the sinks, managing to catch one to balance himself. Fighting nausea, he tried to put everything together in his mind. The Klingon had decapitated her with his bat’leth, then dropped it at the door and run away.
He turned around and
Similar Books
