Free LZR-1143: Evolution by Bryan James Page A

of disrepair or disemboweling. I shuddered as I stepped over a young sailor whose stomach was simply gone, the bloody walls of his torso exposed to the air. His face bore the terror I know that it had expressed merely hours ago, eyes wide. A silent scream was etched into his frightened face. His dark blue uniform was black from the waist down with blood, shreds of cloth littering the floor in front of him, as if he had been torn into by wild animals.
    Hartliss was stepping gingerly between bodies, gun trained on the corpses and I mimicked his cautious approach. In a world where the dead rise up at a moment’s notice, a hallway of dead bodies becomes a danger zone.
    Every foot of the hallway was covered in bodies or body parts. It had been a hell storm of death in this space, and I was anxious to find shelter. I leaned forward to Kate, who was holding her hand in front of her mouth and nose as she skirted forward slowly, trying not to step in the blood and gore. It was an impossible task.
    My feet sloshed through innards and I felt the wet compressions as my boots crushed other pieces and parts beneath the soles.
    “Think we can move a little quicker? I can tell by the scenery that the natives are most assuredly fucking restless.” I glanced down at the particularly gruesome case of a Marine whose face had been ripped raggedly from his skull. Two white, bulging eyes stared unblinkingly from the bloodied ruin. To his credit, and that of the Corps, he held his sidearm in his cold, dead hand. The slide was locked back, ammunition exhausted.
    Semper Fi, my friend. In a world that is Semper Fucked, you took it to the max.
    Behind him was a row of corpses, all seemingly shoved to the side of the floor against the wall in a frenzy of feeding; all in various states of revolting disrepair. Clothing had been torn from the bodies along with flesh, blood stained the gray steel walls and floor, pooling in the corners of bulkhead sections.
    “Hartliss,” Kate whispered, “Fucking move, man. We’ve got less to worry about here than if more of the walking sort come dragging down the hallway and cut us off.”
    Her voice was anxious, and I wondered vaguely if she was claustrophobic.
    “I’m bloody moving as fast as I bloody can, thank you,” his voice was scared, now. He knew full well that any of these bodies could spring to life at a moment’s notice.
    Well, not life, I guess. But animation, at least.
    Bitey, painful animation.
    His hand dropped briefly into a pocket, withdrawing a small map of the ship torn from one of many stations on the stairwells.
    “Last doorway on the right is the stairwell, we go up one flight to the officer’s quarters, then up two flights to the flight deck.”
    He spoke softly, turning his head slightly as he stepped gingerly over an outstretched arm, fingers resting in a pool of congealed blood. Far ahead in the dim recesses of the distant hallway, a creature appeared from a side passage, eyes shifting slowing in our direction. Slowly, silently, it turned the corner, placidly moving forward, toward us. Another followed closely behind, both clad in blue uniforms, dripping blood from badly mangled arms.
    Suddenly, the fluorescent lights strung in neat rows above our heads flickered. From further down the hall, a robotic voice shot from the black speakers recessed in the hallway ceiling.
    “Power failure imminent on this deck. Please proceed to designated stations.”
    I had time to murmur softly to myself.
    “Son of a —”
    From the corner of my eye, I thought I detected movement on the floor. Behind us, a door clanged against the wall and I whipped my head around, looking for the danger.
    Before I could locate anything, the hallway was plunged into darkness.
    Kate cursed loudly.
    From ahead, where Hartliss had been stepping lightly, a loud crash and a screamed “Fuck!”
    I reached out for Kate’s arm, but she must have moved forward and my hand brushed air. Behind us, I could definitely hear