Free The Silver Ring by Robert Swartwood

he began walking forward, one slow step in front of the other. His arms were raised before him, and for a moment the idea entered his mind that he might look like a zombie in one of those old horror movies his parents never wanted him to watch when he was a kid. He would stay up late, though, when his parents weren’t home, and watch those classic B movies. Horror movies had always been entertaining, but science fiction was what had directed his life. If it hadn’t been for sci-fi, he never would have wanted to fly in space, and wouldn’t be here now.
    But where was here, and when was now?
    He couldn’t remember anything. Only that he had been on another mission, just the usual exploration. They had landed this time on a new planet, a rock about the size of Earth’s only moon. Then … well, he couldn’t remember what had happened next. But now here he was, slowly putting one foot in front of the other, blinded by this deep darkness.
    It took only a few moments before he finally felt the cold surface of the wall. He began to walk beside it, following it the best he could. The button to turn on the lights was located beside the door somewhere in this room. All the rooms were the same. It seemed that his was the only ship that hadn’t been upgraded with voice-activated lights.
    He continued to make his way to the right, both hands flat on the wall. He began to wonder which room he was in, why everything was so silent and still, when his foot struck something on the ground.
    “Whoa,” he said, catching his balance. He slowly reached down to feel what he had almost tripped over. It felt as if someone had misplaced their zero gravity suit. The material was the same—at least it felt the same—but there was more to it than just the suit. It seemed to have substance, too.
    He leaned a little closer, moving his hand upward. It was definitely someone’s zero gravity suit, but …
    “Jesus Christ!” he said suddenly, as he felt the body. This wasn’t just a suit left forgotten on the floor. There was someone in it.
    He was breathing quickly now, his breath rigid from the scare. Without thinking, he nudged the person, hoping to awaken them. But he knew it was no good even before he realized there would be no movement or answer. Whoever this was—Mark, Eric, Wayne, or Jenny—they were no longer in the world of the living.
    He let out a deep sigh of regret and thought about what he should do—nothing like this had ever happened to him before—and decided it would be a good idea to close the person’s eyes if they weren’t already. Sure, why not? He had seen it done plenty of times in movies after someone had died with a blank stare. The eyes were always closed by someone else, to leave them in peace.
    I should do that, too, he thought briefly, as he slowly moved his hand over the cold, still face. He could feel the chin, the rough feel of stubble, and quickly decided this body was anyone’s but Jenny’s. She was one of the pilots, along with Eric. Mark was the navigator, and Wayne was everything else—expect captain; that was his job.
    “Poor soul,” he whispered. His hand traced over the man’s nose, then up to his eyes. Feeling for the eyelids, he moved his hand slowly … and realized with sudden terror that this man had no eyes. The sockets were hollow, and for just an instant his own fingers probed, sliding easily back toward what was left of the dead man’s brain.
    He gasped, took a step back, his mouth open in a silent scream. He could feel his heart racing, beating like it never had before, and suddenly he wanted to sit down and be alone, just wanted to forget about everything. How easy it would be for him to simply do that, but he knew he couldn’t. Obviously something had happened when they landed on this planet, something that wasn’t good. He thought again about calling out for someone but decided against it.
    Doing so might lead whatever had taken this dead man’s eyes to him, and he did not want